Dakota Father. Linda Ford
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up a protest. She’d sputtered. Would have argued if he’d given her opportunity. If he hadn’t learned his lesson a little too well he might have paused long enough to see her let off steam. Instead he marched away. Heard her words of protest follow. Had to steel himself not to turn and satisfy his desire to see how she looked all het up.
For a moment he wondered at her destination. He knew most people from the area who did business at Buffalo Hollow. Hadn’t heard of anyone expecting a visitor. From what he’d overheard the woman explain to the conductor, this was more than a visit. She’d said something about joining an uncle. He’d heard her mention the child’s father dying from a fever and guessed she was a widow.
He shrugged. He’d not see her again, of that he was certain. He only hoped she’d heed his words of warning and leave this country before it destroyed her.
The thoughts he’d been trying to avoid all afternoon flooded his mind, tearing up his plans, his dreams, his future. He’d known it was coming but had refused to accept it. But today had been final. The words left no room for doubt or hope. At twenty-five years of age, he, Burke Edwards, knew his future would take a different shape than the one he’d had in mind when he headed West three years ago with big ideas and bigger dreams.
The ranch came in sight. The house was intended to provide a home for a growing family. It would not happen now. Or ever. The house was only partially finished. He’d intended to extend it further to create a large front room where he and his growing family would gather in the dusk of the evening and enjoy each other’s company. He figured there would be a woman in a rocking chair knitting or mending, he in another chair reading the paper or making plans for the future and someday, children at his feet or on his lap. Knowing it would never happen didn’t make it easy to push those imaginations into the distance, never to be revisited.
Guess he’d known what the final outcome would be because he had abandoned all pretense of work on the house several months ago. It no longer bothered him that it looked forlorn and neglected. He would probably never complete it. No need to. It was adequate for his purposes.
He reined back to study the place and analyze his feelings. Shouldn’t he feel something besides disappointment that there was no reason to finish the house? Shouldn’t he be mourning the fact he and Flora would never marry?
“Guess I’ve known it for a long time. I’ve just been going through the motions of asking, waiting, hoping because I knew that’s what I should do. But you know what, horse? I expect I’m happy enough to let it go. In some ways it’s better that it is over and final.” Still he couldn’t quite shake a sense of failure. He should have walked away from the ranch when he’d seen how Flora felt about it. He didn’t need her parents pointing out that her present condition and her current incarceration in the insane asylum was due, in no small part, to his failure to do so.
He flicked the reins and rode into the yard, turning toward the barn. He dropped to the ground. “Lucky,” he called to the squat little man hanging around the corrals, wielding a pitchfork. The man was past his prime, one leg all gimped up from an accident. But he was handy around the place and had proven to be a loyal friend. “Look after my horse.”
“Okay, Boss.” He dropped the fork and sprinted over to take the reins. “Good trip, Boss?”
“Glad to be home.”
Lucky chuckled. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say.”
“What’s new around here?” He’d only been away two days but it felt like a month.
“Nothing, Boss. Though Mac said he thought the spring over to the west was drying out.”
“I’ll ride over tomorrow and check.”
“And the mosquitoes been awful bad. I’m about to start a smudge over past the barn for the horses.”
“I’ll do it.” Burke welcomed the chance to be out in the open doing something mindless and undemanding. He didn’t want to think of Flora or his failures. He smiled as he recalled the look on the young woman’s face as he warned her this territory was too tough for a woman, then he shook his head.
He didn’t want to think about her, either.
His restlessness returned with a vengeance matching the vicious prairie winds. “Lucky, throw my saddle on another mount. I’ll ride out and have a look at things.” He strode to the house with an urgency that had no cause and quickly changed into his comfortable work clothes. He paused long enough to build the smudge, smeared some lard on the back of his neck to protect himself and rode into the wide open spaces where a man could enjoy forgetfulness.
Forgetfulness was all he sought—all he needed.
Jenny jolted to one side as the buggy bounced along the trail. She feared little, hadn’t blinked when caring for Meggie’s parents in their final days. Nor had she felt anything but a trickle of excitement at the task they had given her before their death—deliver their child to her new guardian. But trepidation gnawed into her bones as the miles passed. She’d soon have to meet Lena’s brother and his wife and inform them of Lena and Mark’s deaths, then turn Meggie over to their care.
Jenny smiled at the child in her arms. It was appreciably cooler riding in the open buggy and Meggie had fallen asleep. She loved this little girl. It would be a wrench to leave her.
“How much farther?” she asked the man she’d hired to take her to the ranch in the far corner of the Dakotas.
“Lookee there and you can see the buildings in the distance.”
She followed the direction he indicated and indeed, saw a cluster of buildings. “Looks almost as big as Buffalo Hollow.” The little prairie town had proved dusty and squat but friendly. The store owner had allowed her to wash Meggie and tidy them both up as best she could. Customers had offered greetings and given her details about the ranch she was about to reach.
“Big place.”
“Boss works his men hard and himself harder.”
“Too bad about what happened.”
When she pressed for details on that latter bit of information she found the people of Buffalo Hollow suddenly reticent.
Too bad? A fire perhaps or a broken bone.
Now, as she studied the far-off buildings, she wished she’d insisted someone tell her what they meant. She could almost hear Pa’s voice and she smiled up into the sky. ‘Pepper, you must learn to guard your inquisitiveness. Sufficient to the day is the trouble thereof.’ He meant everyone had enough troubles and trials of their own without borrowing from others. And that included wanting to know more than she needed about other people.
She turned her attention back to Meggie. Despite her attempts to clean them up in the tiny town, they were both dusty and soiled, and smelled of coal smoke and sour milk. Not the way she would have wanted to arrive on a stranger’s doorstep. She could only hope Meggie’s new guardians cared nothing for such things and only for the well-being of their orphaned niece. Suddenly she wanted this meeting over with and had to remind herself to be patient. Like Pa would say, “Settle down, Pepper. You can’t make the world turn faster.”
They rounded a corner, ducked between two sharp embankments crowned with a jagged row of rocks and headed toward the buildings.
She strained forward, assessing everything. A barn surrounded by rail fences with a horse in one of the pens. Several low buildings on either side of the alleyway running from the barn to the rambling frame house that sat like the crowning jewel a little apart. Smoke twisted from the rock chimney.
She squinted at the house as they drew closer, anxious for a good look, wondering what sort of life Meggie would be thrust into.
A roofed but wall-less lean-to covered the sides of the house—a sort of veranda though it seemed to come to an abrupt halt midway down one wall.
Even several hundred yards away she could see an untidy assortment of things under the roof of the lean-to. As