Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(44)

“One of the happiest moments of my life was the year Grandfar helped ten of us each plant a little garden. He said he would give a special treat to the one who grew the biggest turnip, the biggest cabbage, and the biggest pumpkin. I won in all three. And Grandfar gave me a rare old coin called a rigsdaler. I still have it. It is one of my most cherished possessions.”

“Success is very important to you, isn’t it?”

She considered her answer carefully. “Maybe it’s not success so much as having people see me as someone to take seriously.”

He looked at her, his eyes guarded so she couldn’t guess his thoughts. “You don’t think people see you for who you are?”

She couldn’t look away. “I guess you could say it that way.”

He touched her shoulder. “Maybe it is you who has to learn to see yourself as the person you want to be.”

She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Sometimes I’m not sure who I am or what I want.” She jerked away and faced straight head. “I didn’t mean that.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment but she waited, hoping he would offer some kind of comfort or assurance. Anything to ease this uncertainty tearing at her insides.

“I think you spoke unguardedly, and so there is more truth in your words than you want to believe.”

So much for comfort and understanding. “You’re wrong. I know exactly what I want.”

“To be a woman farmer?”

The fact that his tone remained completely neutral made it impossible for her to take offense. She was left having to confront the question. Was it what she wanted? If she said no, then why had she fought so hard to come to America? Just to prove she could? That made her sound like a petulant child. That was one thing she would not be.

Not wanting to continue this line of conversation, she asked him what news he had learned in town.

“Well, the Hamiltons have bought a new bull. The talk is he is big and well-muscled. Yup. Sounds like a good purchase. ’Course with all those sons, he needs to expand his farm.”

“Hmm.” She’d hoped for something a little more interesting.

“Heard too that one of the Hamilton boys is courting the oldest Nilsson girl. You know them?”

“I know the Nilssons. But Kirsten can’t be more than fourteen years old.”

“Getting nigh on to marrying age.”

“Really?” Did he hear the warning in her voice? “I’m twenty-two. Does that make me a spinster?”

“You’ve been married. That makes you a widow.”

“I know that.” How could she have momentarily forgotten? She looked to her right, not wanting to meet Ward’s look, but she felt his study of her. “Well, sometimes it’s hard to remember. He’s been gone longer than I knew him.”

“And this is all so new and different?”

“Yes.” She was grateful for an excuse for her lapse. They arrived at her place and he helped her down then carried her purchases into the house.

He stood at the table, his hands jammed into his pockets. “I’ll be back tomorrow unless it rains more.”

Her muscles froze. “Another thunderstorm?”

He caught her shoulder. “We get lots of rain without thunder and lightning.”

“I know I’m being foolish. I can’t help it.”

“I guess we all have things we’re afraid of whether or not it makes sense.”

“What are you afraid of?” Knowing he had a weakness would go a long way to easing the frustration she felt at herself over this fear.

He dropped his hand from her shoulder and stepped back to the table. “I fear—” He broke off. Shook his head. “I need to get the boys home.” He hurried away as if running from her.

Before she reached the door, he was rolling down the trail. What had he been about to say? Did he fear her? Why would he?





11





Ward’s jaws hurt by the time they reached home, but he couldn’t make his muscles relax. She’d asked what he feared. The answer had burst into his brain and almost out of his mouth.

He feared trusting someone and being disappointed.

He didn’t mean trust them to fulfill an agreement, or to deliver goods they’d promised. He meant trust them to treat him kindly. By extension, he also meant to guard his boys from the kind of treatment he’d been subjected to.

But he trusted Freyda, and that frightened him. Especially when she was so adamant about wanting to manage on her own. There was no room in her life for failure or even for adjustment of her goals. That left no room in her life for someone like Ward—a disillusioned man with two sons to raise.

There was only one thing between himself and Freyda—their agreement to work together.

He repeated the warning to himself throughout the evening, after he’d tucked the boys into bed, and the next morning as he went to Freyda’s farm. Only a few more days were needed to get her crop in and their agreement would come to an end.

Then there was new land to plow. How would he manage the boys on his own? How would she manage the horses on her own?

She had Boots and Boss harnessed to the seeder when he arrived.

That answered his second question.

“You did it on your own,” he said.