Second-Chance Bride (Dakota Brides Book 3)(7)
It took ten seconds after she wound down for him to realize she’d finished. “And I only want someone to watch the boys until I’m done planting.” He would not think of the land that he must plow after that. Surely by that time something would fall into place. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe slowly. He had no sister, no mother. Yes, he had an aunt, but he’d move to the North Pole before he’d let her near his boys.
Mrs. Haevre had gone back to standing with her arms crossed. He couldn’t say if it meant impatience or not. The boys turned over another rock and squatted down to watch whatever bugs they had unearthed. He looked again at his neighbor. “You want them at your place or mine?”
“They’re your boys. What do you think would be best for them?”
“Mrs. Haevre, it would be best if they had a mother to take care of them, but they don’t.” At the pained look on her face, he wished he could pull his words back.
“I would have liked to have children,” she murmured. “There were always lots of cousins around when I was at home. Always a baby or two.” She slowly filled her lungs. “That is not to be.” She drew herself up. “However, I will have the home Baruk and I planned even if it means accepting help.” She looked at the two boys. “They might be happier to be at their own home. So I will come here each morning until you’ve seeded your crop.”
“And then I will seed yours. Why don’t I bring the boys to your house the days I am working your field?”
“That will be fine, Mr. Rollins.”
“Perhaps you could call me Ward.”
“If you wish. Would it be easier for you to address me as Freyda?”
He liked the way her name sounded with her accent. “It’s a pretty name.”
Was he mistaken in thinking her cheeks grew pink?
They faced each other without looking directly at the other. The air shimmered. The sounds of the boys faded.
She jerked about to look at the pair. “Do you want me to take care of them now?”
“Fine. I’ll get back to work.” He trotted out to his team of horses who waited patiently for him. He resumed work, part of his attention on guiding the big horses and part on watching the activity around the house. Occasionally he glanced to the north where his fledgling herd of cows grazed. Dorothy had not wanted him to have more than a milk cow and a steer to butcher but his heart was set on cows. He’d dreamed of riding after a herd, eating at a smoky campfire, sleeping under the stars. He’d hoped he could enjoy that pursuit on occasion after he started the homestead. But Dorothy couldn’t manage the boys on her own.
He turned his attention back to his home. Freyda perched on a rock near where the boys played. He still had no reason to trust his sons wholeheartedly to a woman who wasn’t even from America. But he had no choice. Milo had made that clear.
Like Freyda had told Ward—she’d have to work at being comfortable using his Christian name--this wasn’t the way she had planned things to be. But then, shouldn’t she be used to that?
She watched the boys play. Milo glanced at her and shifted so she got a good view of his back. He was different than her boisterous cousins. More like—
She chuckled. More like she’d been as a child. Defensive, and, as the youngest of her siblings, always trying to prove herself. In fact, wasn’t she still doing the latter? It continued to irk her that Baruk had refused to bring her with him to America. She could handle the challenges. If she’d been here, she might have nursed him back to health. Instead, he died alone in the new land with only his neighbor to check on him.
She hadn’t asked Ward for details about Baruk’s passing. All she knew was what was written in the letter sent by Reverend Sorrow. I regret to inform you of the passing of your husband, Baruk Haevre. He died 01-14-1886. He succumbed to pneumonia. His neighbor, Mr. Ward Rollins, was with him at the end. Your husband had a good Christian funeral attended by friends and neighbors. He is buried by the church in Grassy Plains, Dakota Territory. My sincerest condolences.
Her family assumed that was the end of her dream of going to America.
Her family was wrong. She would not let anything deter her. Not two stubborn horses nor two motherless boys. Her heart saddened at what Milo and Kit had to deal with. It made her realize how sweet her childhood had been even though there were times she was pushed aside because she was the youngest and no one thought she could keep up. Baruk’s refusal to let her come to America with him made her feel the same way she had when she was shuffled off with the younger cousins.
Milo and Kit had been steadily moving away and she followed them.
Milo glared at her. “You stay away.”
Freyda shook her head. “I won’t bother you, but I do need to keep an eye on both of you to make sure you’re safe.”
“I can take care of myself and Kit.”
She barely managed not to smile at how familiar his words were. “I know you can, but I have an agreement with your papa to watch you.”
Milo grabbed Kit’s hand and dragged him out of sight behind the barn.
Freyda followed, keeping as much distance between them as safety allowed. At least Milo couldn’t swing from the loft door any more.
He found a sharp rock and jabbed at the ground, digging a hole. He whispered to Kit as he worked.
Freyda caught a few of his words, enough to know the boy meant to dig a cave so he and Kit could hide in it.