Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(45)

“That’s my goal.”

Any hope he had that she might continue to need him faded. That was good, he told himself repeatedly as the morning progressed. The boys had settled down considerably since Freyda started caring for them. That gave him hope that he could take them to the field with him and let them play within sight.

His questions and doubts had been answered. Which should have given him a light heart.

It did not.

As noon approached, he tried to think how to ease his mind.

Nothing came except a great relief to see her walking across the yard to call him for dinner, a smile upon her face.

As he stepped into the house, he saw evidence of her having had a busy morning. Unbaked buns rose on trays. A spicy-smelling cake cooled on a rack. Dried apples soaked in a bowl. He’d noticed the roast beef she’d purchased at the store. It now simmered in a pot, the savory scent teasing his nose. The house was hot enough to fry an egg on the floor.

“I don’t have to ask what you did all morning.” He waved his hat before his face to cool it. No wonder the boys lingered outside the door.

She waved her hands around the kitchen. “I intend to impress my visitors.”

Tomorrow was Sunday and he knew she meant Anker and Lena. “I’ll be impressed if you survive the heat.” A plate of sandwiches stood in the middle of the table. “Let’s eat outside.”

She almost beat him out the door.

He grabbed a blanket on the way out and spread it on the ground. He asked the blessing and they ate in silence a few minutes with Smokey wandering between them, rubbing against whatever body part he encountered and purring loudly. Kit lay on his back and the kitten climbed to his tummy and sat down like it was his home. Kit giggled. The kitten readjusted himself.

Milo kept looking at his father until Ward asked, “Did you have a question?”

“How many more days until you’re done here?”

“You’re anxious to go home?”

Milo shook his head. “How long?”

“Three if all goes well.”

“Then what?”

Ward wished he knew what his son really wanted to know. “Then we go home.”

“Does Mrs. Haevre come to look after us?”

The question echoed in Ward’s head. A repeat of his own. He waited, hoping Freyda would answer it. Instead, she looked down at her half-eaten sandwich.

“Mrs. Haevre will stay here. She has her own place to take care of.”

Milo jolted to his feet. “If you get Mrs. Wright again, I will run away and never come back.” He took off as fast as he could run, down the trail toward home.

Freyda and Ward were both on their feet.

“I’ll get him,” Ward said. After all, it was his son, his problem.

He was out of breath by the time he caught Milo. He sat on the ground and pulled the boy to his legs. “Milo, you can’t run away because you don’t like things.”

“Mama did.”

“No, Mama was sick and weak and her body couldn’t fight any more.”

“She didn’t want to get better. She told me so. Said she was tired of little boys and farming and everything.”

Ward closed his eyes and rocked his son. He had no idea Dorothy had been so frank with Milo. “None of it was your fault. Mama wasn’t strong.”

“Mrs. Haevre is strong and she’s nice.”

“Yes, she is.” Ward added a few descriptors of his own—stubborn, determined, and beautiful. The first two meant she wouldn’t change her mind.

“Why can’t she look after us?”

“Because.”

“You told me because is not an answer.”

“I know, but it’s all I have.”

Milo got up from Ward’s lap and started down the trail toward Freyda where she waited. He murmured something that sounded an awful lot like, “I’m going to ask her.”

“No, Milo.” He hurried after the boy, but Milo was ahead of him and took Freyda’s hand.

She bent over him. “Are you okay?”

Milo nodded and gave Ward a victory look.

Ward leaned back on his heels and studied his son. Apart from pulling him from Freyda and warning him to not say anything, what could he do? And even if he did, Milo would simply wait until Ward was gone to say what he wanted.

“I’m going back to work.”

“But you haven’t finished eating,” Freyda protested.

“I want to get the crop seeded.” He grabbed a sandwich as he passed up what should have been a pleasant noontime picnic.

He returned to seeding and refused to look toward the house, knowing Milo and Freyda would be having a serious talk.

Maybe Milo could persuade Freyda to give up her dream.

And do what? Become his housekeeper? Come back and forth every day? Become a partner?

None of those felt right.

Would she become his wife?

He shook his head. He wasn’t ready to ask her to make that sacrifice—give up her dream for a man like him.



Freyda hugged Milo. “Promise me you won’t run away. Not from me and not from your papa. I would worry so and if something happened to you, I would be so sad.”

“Then you need to keep taking care of us.”

Kit had joined them and she pulled them both close. “I love looking after you, but I don’t think your papa wants another woman in his house.” Nor in his heart.