Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(6)

“I found them out here. Or more correctly, I found Kit here.” She nodded toward a nearby spot. “And Milo up there.”

“Nothing unusual about that. He often plays in the loft. Kit won’t go there though.” He wondered if Milo went there to get away from his younger brother.

“No, you do not understand. He wasn’t in the loft.”

“But you said he was up there.” Did she not have the right words to say what she meant?

“He was clinging to the chain.” She pointed.

Again he wondered if she used the wrong word. “Do you mean the block and tackle?”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I was redd…scared when I saw him. I thought he would fall.” A shudder crossed her shoulders.

He stared at her. Could she be right? He turned to study the block and tackle. It had been moved. He’d noticed that. His stomach clenched so hard he groaned. “If he’d fallen—” He couldn’t go on. “How did he get down?”

“I went to the loft and pulled him back.” She looked at him and her eyes widened. She reached out a hand as if expecting to have to catch him if he crumpled to the ground. “Are you all right?”

“My son…” He pointed at the loft door. He couldn’t get another word out. Couldn’t think beyond what might have happened. And then anger raged through him. He turned to the woman beside him. “You were supposed to be watching him. How can I even think of trusting my children to your care? Take your horses and go home.”

The boys had returned and stared at him with eyes too big for their faces.

“Papa?” Kit’s voice was thin.

Poor child had seen and heard too much for his young years. Ward took him in his arms. “It’s all right, Kit. We’ll take care of each other.”

“But Papa, she saved Milo.”

It was true. “Thank you.” The words grated from his tight throat. But she wouldn’t have needed to save him if she’d been doing what she said she would.

“I will leave now.” She lifted her skirts and gave a glance toward the loft again. She gasped. “Milo!” The color drained from her face.

He spun around and his heart punched into his ribs. “Milo!” The boy clung to the block and tackle as it swung in an arc out the loft door. He put Kit down and raced into the barn. He was up the ladder and skidding across the floor in seconds. He edged to the opening. Dizziness filled his head as he saw how far it was to the ground. He grabbed the chain and slowly pulled Milo to safety.

As soon as Milo was in his arms, Ward’s anger and fear exploded. “What are you thinking? You know how dangerous that is. And I hear this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. Milo, you can’t do such foolish things.” His glare bored into the eyes of his son.

Milo nodded. “Okay, Papa.” But Ward feared it was not compliance he saw in Milo’s eyes. What had Mrs. Haevre said? An unhappy child is a naughty child. Was he responsible for making Milo unhappy?

The question weighted his shoulders. “Let’s get down.” Where it was safe.

He took Milo to Mrs. Haevre, surprised to see she held Kit. Had he handed his son to her? He honestly couldn’t remember. “Milo, stay here with your brother and Mrs. Haevre until I get back.” He took the woman’s agreement for granted.

He strode back into the barn, found spikes and a hammer, and climbed to the loft. He nailed the chain of the block and tackle to the floor. No child would be able to get it free. Then he closed the loft door and drove spikes in to hold it closed.

He shook the door, pushed on it with his shoulder. Satisfied it would not break free, he returned to the three waiting for him. Kit’s eyes were wary. Milo’s guarded and perhaps challenging. He looked at Mrs. Haevre last. Saw sympathy and regret and also challenge.

“I know when I’m beat.” He rubbed at his neck, wishing the muscles would relax. “If you will watch the boys while I work I will put in your crop. Are you in agreement?”

She shifted Kit to one side and held out her hand. “Agreed.”

They shook on it.

She set Kit on the ground. He and Milo chased after a bug. At least Ward could see they weren’t in any danger. Mrs. Haevre had crossed her arms and waited as if she expected him to say more. But he’d agreed to her idea. Wasn’t that enough?

“Now what?” she asked.

He must have looked as puzzled as he felt.

“How do we do this?”

“This?” He scrambled to figure out what she meant. Had he missed something?

“Where will I look after the boys? Here or my place? What time should I come?” She lifted her hands heavenward to indicate she had more questions she didn’t bother to ask.

“Well, I don’t know. The only reason I’m prepared to do it is I see how quickly Milo can get into trouble. This arrangement isn’t something I’ve given a lot of thought to. None, in fact.”

“Nor have I. I’d prefer to manage on my own. My pride says I must. My practical side says it might be Christmas before I can persuade those silly horses to stay home and work for me. I have one goal in mind and that is to prove up the homestead and do what I set out to do. And I will. Once the crop is in, I will have time to deal with the horses and learn how to handle them. So you see, it is just a temporary thing.”