Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(50)

“It’s been nothing but a pleasure.”

The boys finished their cookies and got down to play with Freyda’s kitten.

Neither adult made any move to leave.

“Now it’s time to plow, ja?”

He had not heard her revert to Norwegian in a long time. Something she had done previously when she was too upset or excited to stick to English. Which was she now? He couldn’t say.

“That’s right. We are expected to live on the homestead for five years and make improvements on the land every year and then the land is ours.”

She nodded. “Then I will break some more land.”

Silence fell between them. Seems they had said all there was to say. The agreement between them was over. Each had fulfilled their part. He drained his coffee cup and rose. “Boys, time to leave.”

Milo scowled. Kit looked uncertain.

“There are two kittens at home who have been left alone too long.”

With that, the pair said their good-byes and they returned home.



Ward spent the next two days breaking the sod in a field he planned to sow next spring. As he worked, he couldn’t help but see Freyda also at work. She struggled with the plow. She would soon figure it out.

He would have gladly helped her, but she didn’t need him.

Friday night it rained heavily. The rain slashing down. He couldn’t sleep through the deluge and rose to stare out the window. The moisture was welcome but he didn’t care for the way it pounded.

Something dogged his thoughts. He couldn’t put his finger on what bothered him.

As dawn arrived, the rain subsided. The yard was full of puddles. There would be no plowing today and perhaps not for a few days.

He fed the boys breakfast and remembered he had to make dinner and supper as well. Life had been easier when Freyda did that. It was too muddy for the boys to go outside so he tried to keep them amused indoors.

Several times he went to the window that allowed him a view of Freyda’s home. Once he saw her cross the yard. Doing her chores, no doubt. Seeing her should have put his mind to rest, but it failed to do so. Perhaps he should walk over and make sure she was okay.

Why wouldn’t she be? It was just rain, and already the sun was hot, the moisture steaming from the land. Rain was good for the crops. Good for the grass to feed his cows.

He jerked upright. His cows. There was something about those muddy hooves that he didn’t like. He should have checked on them that day or at least gone back at some point. He had to do so now. His insides burned with urgency.

“Boys, I’m taking you to see Freyda.”

They cheered.

“Wait here.” It would be hard pushing, but he’d take the cart so they wouldn’t get muddy.

He pushed them along the trail as fast as he could, making them laugh.

Freyda heard them coming and came out to wait. Her smile glowed with welcome. For the boys? For him too? He didn’t have time to sort it out.

“Can I leave the boys here while I check on the cows?”

“By all means. I was getting a little bored.”

“Thanks. I shouldn’t be long. I’ve just got to put my mind at ease.”

She waited until the boys went inside. “About what?”

“It might be nothing but—” He told her about how unusual it was for his cows to have such muddy feet. “If there’s a mudhole it will be much worse by now.”

“Then go. The boys will be fine with me.”

“I know that.” He trotted back to the farm, saddled his horse, rode to the pasture, and went through the trees to the creek. It was worse than he imagined. The ground had eroded away one bank leaving an overhang of dirt and trees that could come down at any minute. A cow struggled in the muck.

He roped her and pulled her. She balked. He saw the problem. A branch was caught between her hind legs. There was only one solution. He dismounted, took off his boots, and waded into the cold, muddy water. “Whoa, bossy,” he murmured as the cow snorted and tossed her head. At least she couldn’t kick him. He slipped the rope from her neck and his horse backed up.

After a few minutes of tugging and twisting, he got the branch away from her legs, slapped her haunches, and gave a sharp whistle.

She reared forward and lunged free.

He staggered in the mud as he headed for dry ground.

A rumble, followed by a pop-slush, and the undercut bank slid into the creek. A tree plopped into the water and mud splashed into his eyes. He fell to his backside, the muddy water encasing him to the shoulders. A pain shafted through his legs. The tree had him pinned.

Ignoring the pain, he leaned his shoulder into the trunk and pushed. It did not budge.

He shivered. The water was cold. The sun had gone behind a cloud. He glanced up. Thunderheads rolled and spiraled.

A flash of lightning slashed earthward. Thunder rolled down the hill.

His horse bolted for home.

Great. He was stuck in the mud with no hope of rescue. Even if Freyda thought he might need help, she would not venture out in a thunderstorm.

He would not die here. His boys would not end up orphans. He squirmed, trying to free his legs. He dipped his head into the muddy water and tried to dig underneath them so he could pull free. He pushed at the tree trunk until he was exhausted.

He was so cold. So angry and frightened. All he could do was call out to God to save him. “At least look after my boys.” Perhaps Freyda would keep them if something happened to him.