Montana Wife. Jillian Hart

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СКАЧАТЬ upon a generous fee for the privilege of harvesting it.” She sent the sharp curving blade through the tender stalks and they fell with a tumble of chaff.

      What was in the hearts of some men that they came like vultures, looking for quick money? It made her angry, that’s what it did, and the heat of it flashed like a flame in the center of her stomach. It was a good thing! She wasn’t as aware of the pain in her raw hands and the gnawing ache in her spine as she swung the scythe.

      More chaff tumbled like rain to the earth as the stalks fell, lost amid the stubble. Would she lose half the wheat before she could get it into the wagon?

      Frustration burned behind her eyes, gathering like a thunderstorm, and the pressure built within her. “That’ll be all, Mr. Lindsay. Don’t you have a crop to bring in?”

      “That I do.” His shadow fell across her. The worn leather toe of his boot blocked the next swing of her scythe. “I have come to bring in yours, too.”

      “Thank you, but I am declining your offer.”

      “There’s no reason.” He did not move but stood as solid as granite as she swung the blade around him.

      His wide hand settled on the wood, stopping her. Daniel Lindsay was a big man, tall and broad. Standing as he did, towering over her, he was intimidating.

      Would another seemingly kind neighbor bully her? Kol had been the first to help any number of their neighbors over the years and without a single expectation of payment or compensation, no matter the crisis.

      Was this how his generosity was to be returned? “I’ll thank you to let go.”

      “It’s not right, you laboring this way.”

      When she expected hostility or scorn, Daniel Lindsay’s words were kind. “I have my harvester waiting alongside the road. May I have your permission to take down a section of fence so I can harvest this wheat? I’ll get you the best market price I can at the station.”

      “You’d do that?” She knew her mouth was hanging open, but she couldn’t seem to close it. He’d come here to help her? When so many hadn’t? “I imagine you’ll want to be paid for your trouble, the way Mr. Dayton did.”

      His dark eyes narrowed. “What did he offer you? A right to half the wheat?”

      “Half? He said I could keep a quarter of the value he got at the mill.”

      “That swindler. He’d cheat Kol Ludgrin’s widow?” Daniel Lindsay’s hard face turned to stone.

      Rayna swallowed. She released the scythe and crossed her arms in front of her breasts. He wasn’t looking at her, but she felt vulnerable. Angry, he was, and an imposing man while doing it. “I would appreciate it if you would be on your way.”

      “No.” He strode away, taking her scythe with him. There was a clunk as he tossed it in the back of the wagon bed. “Kol helped me bust sod that first spring I came here. I was as green as a Kentucky boy could be. He gave me his help and his advice while we worked. Some of that made a difference, and I managed to hang on. I’ll harvest your wheat free of charge, Mrs. Ludgrin, for what he did for me.”

      “What else are you wanting?”

      “Only that I have the first option to lease the land, if that’s what you decide to do. Or buy it, if you’re of a mind to sell out.”

      “The first option? I don’t understand.” She felt the burdens upon her shoulders weigh more heavily.

      “You can trust me.” It was kindness, nothing more, as Daniel Lindsay gathered the long reins from the tangle on the sun-baked earth and held them out to her. “Go home. I’ll manage from here.”

      “Y-you don’t want money? Or the land? Mr. Dayton had asked for it outright.” Crop’s already rotting in the fields, he’d lied to her with the fervor of a traveling salesman. But this neighbor, Mr. Lindsay, had his own lookout. Why was he doing this?

      “One good turn deserves another,” Daniel said as he laid the reins in her bleeding hands.

       Chapter Two

       T he powerful knock rattled the front door in its frame, echoing through the house and into the scorching kitchen. Startled by the disruption, Rayna set three pans of bread on the stovetop to cool, if such a thing were possible in the stifling heat.

      No breeze stirred the lace curtains as she tossed the hot pad on the table and hurried through the rooms. Her youngest was upstairs taking a nap, for his sleep during the last few nights had been interrupted by nightmares and she did not want him startled awake.

      She yanked open the door just in time to see old man Dayton with his beefy fist in the air, ready to knock a second time. The man clothed in trousers and sweat-stained muslin spit a stream of tobacco juice across the porch into the dirt at the roots of her favorite rosebush.

      Not a benevolent man. He hadn’t come for a pleasant visit.

      She might as well stand her ground from the start. “Your son was here earlier. I’ve found someone else to harvest the fields for me.”

      “I saw that tenderfoot from Kentucky haul his old threshing machine down the road past my place.” Another stream shot across her porch. “He ain’t worth dirt when it comes to cutting wheat. He probably offered to do it cheap, and I’m sure money is a concern, so here’s what I’m gonna do for you.”

      “And what a courteous way to convince me to let you harvest my wheat. For what? Only three-quarters of the profit? Or are you willing to drop down to only half?”

      “Now, Rayna, you know the growing of a crop is the easy part. A little dirt, seed and enough sunlight make the wheat grow. But harvesting it, that’s backbreaking labor. I’ve got the newest harvester. It came by railroad last week, and it wasn’t cheap.”

      “After all that Kol has done for you over the years. He died in your fields. And you would charge me?”

      “Friendship is one thing, Rayna. Business is business. A woman can’t understand—”

      “I understand all too well. I’ve made a business decision and I won’t be changing it. Good afternoon, Mr. Dayton.” Careful of her bandaged hands, she shut the door with force.

      The flat of his hand on the wood and the jam of his boot in the threshold stopped her. “Be smart. You can’t be thinking you will actually keep your land?”

      “I would never sell my home.”

      “You’ll have to. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

      Her Kol had built this house with his bare hands, and she’d helped him by holding the floor joists in place, handing him nails and bandaging his scrapes and gashes as they went. She’d been young and in love and expecting her oldest son. How happy they’d been.

      Her children had been born in this house.

      “Please remove your foot. I’d like you to go.”

      “Fine. You’ll learn soon enough. It’s a hard, brutal world without a man to provide for you. Who СКАЧАТЬ