Montana Wife. Jillian Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ and just out of his reach, something he didn’t even know he’d been missing until now. When it was already gone.

      Or maybe it was just that he realized Rayna had disappeared into her house. Seemingly taking the summer with her.

      He left the pail of milk on the back porch, in front of the open door. Through the pink mesh of the screen, he could see her at the stove. Her back was to him as she worked, her long hair shifting and moving like liquid gold. Overcome, he turned away, wondering if her hair was as soft as it looked. It wasn’t his right to wonder such a thing.

      If things went his way, she’d be gone and this land would be his. And he would be alone, as he was meant to be. As he’d always been.

      His boots crushed fallen rose leaves and satin pink petals as he retraced his path across the back lawn. Toward the livestock gathering at the empty wooden feed trough. For a long second, it felt as if time had stopped marching forward and the earth had stopped turning between one step and the next. His breath stalled in his lungs. A strange flickering trail skidded along his spine.

      What was happening to him?

      Awareness moved through him, different from the jerk of instinct that warned him of a predator in the field, but just as strong. It was an awareness that had him turning on his heel to gaze back at the house in time to see Rayna framed in the window. With a batter bowl anchored in the crook of her arm, she returned to her work as if she hadn’t been watching him.

      He headed to the far side of the trough and kept out of sight of the house while he finished the rest of the morning chores.

      At the first tap of his boot on the porch, she straightened. Taking a breath, she wiped the stray wisps from her eyes and dug the hot mitt from the drawer.

      You can do this, Rayna. She was a grown woman after all. She had to face the unbearable truth. What was done was done, there was no going back and changing it. Kol hadn’t meant to die, of course, and he would never have wanted her to be in this position. Never would have wanted his family broken and his land sold…

      It’s too much. Too much to manage alone. He never would have wanted that for her. Anger drained out of her and her hand started to tremble. She couldn’t get a good grip on the baking sheet through the layers of dense rug yarn that padded the mitt.

      The biscuits, golden and fluffy, tipped dangerously and she slid the sheet onto the waiting trivet, the one Kol had sanded and shaped from river rock the long winter when she’d been carrying Hans.

      She swallowed hard, somehow managing to flip the eggs without breaking all but one of the yolks. She watched the smear of yellow bubble in the grease and steeled herself for what was to come.

      The rap of his knuckles on the door frame was quiet, not bold or demanding, but seemed like the ring of gunfire. She would do this now, while the boys were sleeping in from another rough night, when it was just her and Daniel. So she could spare her boys the heartache.

      Daniel Lindsay’s step was sure and sturdy as he let himself in. He was a good man, Kol had said so many a time. And would take better care of her land than Mr. Dayton or whoever won the auction from the bank. Surely that was the wisest decision. Maybe he would give her enough time to settle her affairs and contact her relatives to see if anyone would take her and her boys in.

      “Did you sleep at all last night?”

      It wasn’t what she expected him to say. Surely he’d seen the mortgage papers on the table; they were obvious and hard to miss. “I’ll have time to sleep later.”

      “No, you need to take care of yourself now. Your boys depend on you.”

      It was the decency in his voice that undid her as he gently removed the spatula from her hand, took her elbow and tugged. Who was this man who’d bandaged her hands, who’d tried to harvest her fields with his machinery and horses, who by rights should have been as happy with her change in fortune as her other neighbors?

      When her feet didn’t move, he laid his other hand on her back, on the space between her shoulder blades. His touch was unwelcome. He was not her husband, and close contact with her was…well, it was wrong. But the broad pressure of his palm on her spine was comforting, too.

      Lord knew how much she needed comfort right now. So she allowed his closeness and let him nudge her to the closest chair. She eased onto the seat, more tired than she’d ever been.

      And more defeated.

      Daniel Lindsay moved away, leaving her alone in the cool shadows. She shivered. She couldn’t get warm, even a few yards from the blazing cookstove. There was a clink and a clatter of stoneware and then a steaming cup of coffee appeared before her on the table, left there by the tall, silent man who’d taken over her duties at the stove.

      The coffee was piping hot and stung her tongue. But it steadied her to ask what had to be asked. “What would you say this land, even with the house, is worth?”

      “I’d have to find out all the debt owed. And if a fair deal is possible. If so, then I would make you an honest offer.”

      “I know you will.” She took another bracing swallow of coffee. Felt the heat burn inside her. It was the closest thing to determination she had at the moment. “I’m afraid any offer you would want to make wouldn’t cover all the debt I owe. What happens then?”

      “I’ll talk to someone at the bank and find out. Likely as not, if you can’t make your next payment or if you can’t sell for the amount of your mortgage, then the bank will repossess.”

      She’d known he was going to say that.

      He turned with two full plates in hand and set them on the table, one before her and the other at Kirk’s place, where he sat. A solemn man with grim lines cut around his mouth and his eyes. Not the face of a young man, but of a hardworking one. A decent man.

      Gratitude warmed her more than the coffee had. When she was down, he’d pulled through for her.

      He took a bite of biscuit and chewed, reaching for the loan papers. More creases dug into her brow as he scanned the pages. His granite jaw stilled.

      As the clock ticked the seconds away, Rayna watched Daniel’s reaction as he appeared to read. The tension cording in his throat. The grim set of his brows drawing together as he leafed through the pages.

      Like the hand of destiny laying down the final step in her path, the silence stretched between the ticks of the clock. Unbearable silence. She saw, as Daniel bowed his head and covered his face with his hands, that it was worse than she’d figured. And that meant—

      No, she couldn’t face what that meant. With great control, she rose from the table and pulled two plates from the cupboards. Each scrape of the spatula as she began to fill the plates with the rest of the fried eggs, diced potatoes and salt pork gave her something to concentrate on so she could keep the truth from settling in.

      If she couldn’t sell the land, with the hopes of keeping the house, then she would have no place to go. No way to make a living.

      A chair scraped against the wooden floor and Daniel’s sure gait tapped on the floor. “I’ll talk to the bank. See what I can do. But I don’t know how it will turn out.”

      His silence sounded oddly helpless. “I would truly appreciate any help, Mr. Lindsay.”

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