Carolyn Davidson (8 page)

Marjorie hoisted herself into the buggy and lifted the reins, turning the vehicle around before she raised a hand to wave a goodbye. “Why, looky there!” she exclaimed, pointing toward the road. “Isn’t that your husband coming now? And will you look at that string of horses he’s got!”

Johanna gaped at the sight. Tate, atop one of his mares, led three more horses behind, one of them a huge creature—a stallion, if her eyes weren’t playing tricks.

“Yes, I see,” she muttered, waving a farewell, even as she headed down the steps. If she hadn’t waited till Marjorie was well on her way to the road, she’d have beaten him to the barn, but as it was, Tate reached there first.

If ever there were a thundercloud walking, Johanna was its name. Tate eyed the woman who stalked across the yard, heading for the barn as fast as her legs would carry her. Her skirts were swishing, her feet raising small clouds of dust with every step. Her mouth was pursed, and her eyes flashed signals that he was more than a little wary of.

This was Johanna Montgomery in a snit.

“Where did you get the idea we needed three more horses? We’ve got the two you brought with you, and it seems to me that’s enough to be feeding for now. We can’t use but two at a time to pull the wagon, anyway.”

Framed in the barn door, Tate watched her approach, listened to her scolding, admiring the high color in her cheeks and the way her dress clung to the rise of her full bosom.

“I’m not plannin’ on using them to pull the wagon, Johanna. Matter of fact, that stallion would be insulted if I tried to put him in harness.” From the box stall within the barn came a trumpeting call from that very horse.

“What earthly good is a stallion, Tate Montgomery?”

His lifted eyebrow questioned her lack of knowledge. “Why, even a young lady like you ought to know the answer to that one, Jo.”

Her quick blush made his grin widen. And her abrupt about-face earned her a muffled chuckle as he lifted a closed fist to his mouth, attempting to conceal his humor.

“I know what stallions are used for,” she muttered darkly. “I just don’t understand what makes you think we need one here.”

He stepped closer to her and bent to whisper in her ear. “I’m planning on using him to make those two mares I just brought home into mamas. There’s good money in raising horses, Jo.” His breath was warm against her neck, and she shivered, which only increased his good humor.

She spun away, stamping her foot in a quick display of frustration. “You had no right to buy any animals without talking it over with me, Mr. Montgomery. I thought we were partners in this farm.”

His hands settled at her waist, and he turned her to face him, his mouth drawn firmly, his eyes meeting hers with no trace of foolishness in their depths. “I was offered the mares at a good price from a man who’d stopped at the
blacksmith’s place. He was passing through town, heading back east and needing to make some money from his animals. He sold them at a loss, Jo, and I snatched them up. We’ll need a riding horse for the boys to get to school by next fall. And as far as money’s concerned, I’m gonna spend a little more this week. I’ve ordered us a two-seater surrey, for going to town and to church on Sundays.”

“A surrey?” Not to ride on the wagon any longer? That was a temptation she could barely resist. And she didn’t even try. Johanna relaxed in his hold and took a deep breath. There was one more battle to be fought. “What about the stallion?”

His grin was back and, to her dismay, she welcomed it. “I borrowed him for a little while, just long enough to have the use of his services, and then I’ll take him to his new owner. A fella the other side of town bought him, and he’s lettin’ me have the use of him. It was part of the deal, Johanna. He’ll only be here for a week or two, at the most. Not much longer, anyway. Just till those two little ladies are ready for him.”

Her blush deepened. “I don’t think I want to hear about this, Tate. And make sure you keep the boys away from your shenanigans.”

His hands rose to frame her face, and his head lowered until their noses were almost touching. “Is that what you call it? I’d have put a different word on it, but I guess we can settle for
shenanigans,
Mrs. Montgomery.”

In a quick movement she couldn’t have dodged, even had she wanted to, Tate planted a kiss on her open mouth. And then, after a second’s hesitation, during which she could only stand and blink her surprise, he came back after another taste of her soft lips.

“The boys…” was all she could utter as he drew back the second time.

“…are up in the loft with the kittens,” he managed between
chuckles. “I explained to Timmy about boy cats and girl cats this morning, by the way.”

“You did?” Her own laughter joined his, and Tate barely resisted the temptation she offered, her eyes shining, her lips smiling.

“Yes, ma’am. Now he wants to know who the daddy of those babies might be, and I had to admit my ignorance. Told him he’d have to talk to you about that part of it.”

“Oh, my!” Her mouth formed a small O of distress as she considered that idea. “It was probably the Cooneys’ old tom. He was hanging around for a week or so a couple of months ago. I guess that’s when she…Well, you know.”

He took pity on his bride, placing his hand loosely over her mouth, more to hide the temptation she offered than to quiet her explanations. “I know what you mean, Johanna. And all you have to tell Timmy and Pete, if they ask, is that the daddy lives at the Cooneys’ place. They won’t ask more than that.” He lowered his hand, cupping her chin in its depths, and eyed her moist lips longingly.

“Don’t you dare, Tate.” Her eyes darted everywhere but to where he wanted them to focus, and he smiled at her innocence. So barely had he awakened her needs, so little had he shown her of his own masculine yearnings…so fresh and pure was the gaze of those blue eyes. The urge to wrap her in his embrace was almost overwhelming this morning, and only the thought of his two sons happening upon them kept his arms from the caress they longed to instigate.

Tate settled for one more brush of his lips across hers, one more taste of the sweetness she would have denied possessing, had he spoken his thoughts aloud. Like a prickly hedgehog, she’d bustled from the house—and now, like a hand-fed fawn, she looked at him, wary and hesitant.

“You shouldn’t be kissing on me like that,” Johanna said after a moment, breaking his hold as she stepped back.

“We’re married, Johanna.” He reached to tug her shawl over her shoulders, snuggling it around her throat.

“Not really.” Her gaze fell from his, intent on the third button of his jacket.

“According to the law, we are.”

“You know what I mean, Tate. We have a bargain.”

He stuffed his big hands in his pockets, scrunching his jacket up in the doing. It was the only way he could stop them from fastening on her and hauling her into his arms. “I’m willing to make some changes in the deal we made.”

She turned from him and ducked her head. Her steps were quick as she walked back toward the house. “I’m not, Tate.”

From the barn, the noisy trumpet of the stallion sounded once more, and Johanna’s shoulders stiffened at the sound. “You’d best find a secure place to hold that animal for the next two weeks, Mr. Montgomery. One male creature on the loose around here is about all we need.”

T
he spanking-new two-seater surrey was a sight to behold, rolling into Belle Haven on Sunday morning. Selena, nodding and smiling, lifted one hand to wave a discreet greeting as it passed her by. Beneath her breath, she murmured her blessing. “He was worth waiting for, Johanna Patterson. I’ll warrant he’ll put a bloom in your cheeks and a baby in your belly before the winter’s out.”

She’d been the girl’s stoutest defender when Neville Olson’s suit was denied. Marjorie Jones had said “the Patterson girl should have snatched up the Olson boy, probably the best chance she’d ever have, at her age.” Selena had secretly thought Neville’s fascination was with the Patterson farm, not with the young woman who owned it.

Now, watching the surrey progress toward the church on this crisp late-autumn morning, Selena felt more than vindicated. If ever a fine figure of a man had existed in this town, Tate Montgomery was it. From the top of his head—each dark chestnut hair held firmly in place by a discreet application of pomade—to the tips of his shiny boots, he was a man worthy of respect.

She’d heard he’d ordered the surrey without Johanna’s say-so, bought the mares on impulse and built a new corral in jig time, all in the first two months of his marriage to
the sharp-tongued young woman. What Johanna had to say to all that was a mystery, since she’d never been known to confide in anyone hereabouts.

The surrey pulled smartly into the churchyard, Tate lowering himself to the ground with an ease that spoke of physical strength. Fast on his heels, the two boys riding in the back seat slid to the side and, with quick movements, he lifted them down. Finally he turned to the woman he’d married.

“Would you like a hand, Mrs. Montgomery?” His dark gaze glittering with a silvery sheen, he held out his hand to her, and Johanna slid across the black leather seat, aware of more than just one pair of eyes focusing in her direction.

But it was the man before her who drew her attention. The scar ridging his cheek should have detracted from his male beauty. Indeed, the small white slash nicking the edge of his lip might have been judged an imperfection, had another man borne it. Instead, they only distinguished Tate Montgomery with their silent message. This was a man not to be underestimated. His face bore intriguing marks, from the crooked bridge of his nose to the scars he wore with self-assurance. She’d married a man to be reckoned with.

And unless she missed her guess, the day of reckoning was fast approaching. Johanna gripped the wide palm he offered, placing her feet carefully as she turned to climb from the surrey. His hand at her waist took her unawares as he guided her down, the other still grasping her fingers.

“I’ve got you.” Steadying her as she got her bearings, allowing his warmth to creep past the woolen cape she’d worn, he pressed his advantage.

A habit he’d gotten into lately, Johanna thought ruefully. Every chance he had, every time an opportunity arose, he touched her. Like now, this very minute. By now she should have gotten used to the pressure of his palm against her back as he guided her up the path, toward the church
doors. They’d been observing this ritual for two months now, since their marriage in September.

But then, some things took a lot of getting used to. Like the way his gaze seared her with heat every time he took a slow survey of her form. Not in any way Johanna could make a big fuss over, not with the boys around, anyhow. And then there was the trick he had of telling her goodnight and watching her climb the stairs. Her cheeks burning with a mixture of unease and excitement, she would lift one foot, then the other, knowing without a shadow of a doubt that those gray eyes were marking every move she made.

One would have thought that the familiarity of the ritual would have eased her into a comfortable rut. Her mouth pinched as she considered the thought. There were no ruts in the life she’d chosen to share with Tate Montgomery, and not a lot of comfort, either, for that matter.

His hand shifted on her back, sliding up to center between her shoulder blades. It was a silent message, and she lifted her face to his, caught by the small smile he sent her. So well she knew this man already. And yet she knew him not at all. She’d washed his clothing, folding his stockings and undergarments into precise, neat piles for storage in his chest of drawers, leaving them on a hall table outside his door. She’d ironed the very shirt he was wearing, yet never touched the flesh it covered.

“Selena is waving at you.” His head bent low as he delivered the message in a soft whisper.

Johanna peered past him. Selena hurried across the churchyard, skirting the muddy spots. One hand uplifted in an unmistakable signal, she silently bade Johanna wait

The postmistress was past her prime. Johanna knew she had to be at least forty years old, and she certainly had lost the bloom of youth. But the firm flesh on her face and the golden hue of her curling hair allowed her the distinction of being one of the loveliest woman to inhabit Belle Haven.
Why she’d never married had long been a source of speculation, but over the past few years, she’d been accepted as just exactly what she was—a woman alone, beyond the age of marriage, a permanent fixture in the small post office that took up one corner of Joseph Turner’s general store.

“Johanna! You didn’t come to town yesterday.” The words weren’t an accusation but a statement of fact, and Selena accompanied them with a swift hug and a brushing of cheeks.

“We were in on Thursday,” Johanna told her. “Twice a week, just like always.”

“Well, I knew I could look for you tomorrow, but I wanted to let you know that there was a catalog at the post office for you, and a letter for your husband. I thought it might be important.”

Tate halted before the double doors of the small church. “When did the letter come, ma’am?”

“It came yesterday morning. It may not be of importance, but I’d be willing to open the office and give it to you today, if you’d like, Mr. Montgomery.” Without waiting for his reply, Selena’s gaze flowed to rest on Johanna’s face. “You’re looking well, Johanna. I’d say marriage agrees with you, but I’m sure you’ve heard that from numerous others in town already, and I don’t want to be a copycat.”

“Thank you,” Johanna answered, aware suddenly that a line of hopeful entrants to the church was gathering behind them on the path. “I think we’re blocking the doorway, Tate. We’d better move along.”

His hand slid to her waist as he opened the door and ushered her through the portal, motioning to the postmistress to follow his wife. As Selena passed him, he nodded. “I’ll be most appreciative if you could make a Sunday delivery of the mail, Miss Phillips. We’ll come by after church. Perhaps you’d like a ride in our new surrey, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery.” Sliding into her usual pew, Selena watched as the couple moved up the aisle. The Patterson family had always sat on the right side, in the fourth pew from the front of the church. Not that their name was attached to the polished oak seat, but by habit, the pew belonged to them. Now it was occupied by the newlyweds and their two small boys.

The service was joyous, a celebration of Thanksgiving, in honor of the holiday to come just four days hence. The congregation sang with vigor, the small choir adding considerable volume to the music. Theodore Hughes had gathered up all the scripture he could find that signified reasons to be thankful and presented them with gusto. Indeed, so long was his list that Johanna began sympathizing with the wiggles of Timmy and Pete long before the sermon was over.

“Let us pray!” The young minister bowed his head, amid sighs of relief from almost every young person in the congregation, and pronounced the benediction over the heads of his congregation. “…now and forever, amen.”

The noonday sun was brilliant, unseasonably warm and more than welcome as the congregation flowed into the churchyard. “Good to see you, Mr. Montgomery,” Esther Turner chirped. “You too, Johanna.” Her keen eyes scanning the couple, she smiled her regard. “You two certainly make a fine pair. Haven’t seen you look so good in a month of Sundays, Johanna.”

Tate slid a proprietary hand to rest against the curve of his wife’s waist and dipped his head in a nod of thanks. “I think she always presents a fine image, Mrs. Turner,” he said politely, steering Johanna toward the surrey, parked amid a dozen others at the hitching rail.

Leah Ibsen, teacher at the schoolhouse, stepped before them. “I thought I might have your eldest boy in class, Mr. Montgomery,” she said politely, her eyes fixed on the ruggedly handsome man.

His scar and crooked nose didn’t seem to be a deterrent there, Johanna thought. Leah had obviously taken a shine to the new man in town. And then with a burst of charity taking hold of her accusing thoughts, she decided that the young woman was in good company. Certainly, the man’s appeal wasn’t dependent on perfection. The sparkle in his gray eyes and the cocky grin he was flashing right this minute were enough to set any young woman’s heart to pounding.

Including her own.
And I’m the one he’s married to,
she thought with a small degree of triumph.

“Next year, Leah,” Johanna said, answering for Tate, who hadn’t the faintest notion of the young woman’s name. “Mr. Montgomery decided to letter Pete at home this winter. When he’s a little older, we’ll be putting him on a horse and sending him off to school.”

From beside her, she caught the sharp sound of Pete’s indrawn breath and the quick word that followed it. “Really?” His hand tugged at her dress. “Do you mean it, Miss Johanna? Will I really get to ride to school on one of the new mares?”

“That’s what he got them for, Pete,” she told him quietly, pleased by the pleasure painting his features.

“She won’t be ready for you to ride for a while, son,” his father told the boy.

That admonition had little effect on Pete’s enthusiasm, so far as Johanna could tell. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “When I’m eight, Pa? That’s when I can ride her?”

“When will you be eight?” Johanna asked him, basking in the warmth of his undiluted exuberance. For the first time in weeks, he was grinning at her with unhampered glee, his dimples exposing the pure happiness he exuded.

“Come next April,” the boy told her without hesitation. “And that’s only a little ways away.”

“We’ve got the whole winter to get through first,” Tate
reminded him. “And we haven’t even had the first real snowfall. Next spring will come soon enough.”

Pete scampered ahead of them, scrambling into the back seat of the surrey, his eyes bright, his color high, as he bounced up and down on the leather upholstery. “Will that lady be my teacher, Pa?” he asked, scooting over to make room.

“Looks that way.” Tate plopped Timmy in place and looked around quickly. “Where’s Selena Phillips? There’s room for her with the boys.”

“She’s on her way now,” Johanna said, climbing up to the front seat, Tate’s arm firm beneath her fingers.

In seconds, Selena was settled in the surrey, one boy on either side, and they left the church. Twice up and down Main Street satisfied the requests of Timmy and Pete for a longer ride for the postmistress. Once would have been enough for Johanna, certain that the catalog was a copy of the new Sears and Roebuck. She’d read it all the way home, she determined, eager to open the cover, inhale the scent of fresh newsprint and then digest the myriad offerings its pages would spill before her.

Within minutes, Tate’s letter in his pocket, the catalog in her lap, Selena’s goodbyes in their ears, they headed down the road, a two-mile journey that could only be too short today, to Johanna’s way of thinking.

“The letter was from my sister-in-law, Bessie.”

Johanna had wondered yesterday, had known he must have read it privately and had decided to mind her own business. This morning had been rushed, what with loading the wagon for the Monday-morning trip to town, the most productive of the week, as far as Johanna was concerned.

She’d scurried around, getting breakfast out of the way, readying herself and the boys, doing her best to ignore Tate’s withdrawal from his family over the past hours. He’d spoken to them, smiled at Timmy’s foolishness and been
unfailingly courteous. All that, but he just hadn’t been there.

He’d had little to say, for the most part, since they finally headed out for town, covered baskets of butter and eggs safely tucked in the back of the wagon, both boys dangling their legs from the rear.

Johanna, though rarely impetuous, had had enough. She’d turned to face him, concern alive on her features. “Is something wrong?”

And then he’d told her. “The letter was from my sisterin-law, Bessie.” He shook his head. “No, nothing’s wrong. At least I don’t think so. Guess it depends on your point of view.” His gaze met hers, head-on. “Aren’t you curious about how she knew where to send a letter, Jo?”

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I guess I didn’t think about it. I suppose I figured you’d let your family know where you were once you decided to stay here.”

“I don’t have any family,” he said after a moment. “Bessie’s about it, and now, legally, we’re not really family anymore.” He slapped the reins on the backs of his matched pair of horses and urged them into a trot. “Her husband died.”

Johanna’s indrawn breath signaled her surprise. “Thought you said there wasn’t anything wrong? Seems to me that’s a pretty big problem.”

“You wouldn’t think so if you’d known Herb Swenson. He was probably the crudest, rudest drunk in Fall River, Ohio. I never could figure out how Bessie got hooked up with him. Anyway, he went out hunting, half-lit before he started, and managed to fall on his gun, climbin’ a fence.”

“What will she do?” The vision of a woman alone didn’t provoke feelings of despair in Johanna’s mind. Being alone wasn’t the worst thing that could happen, to her way of thinking. Although, if Bessie was a clinging-vine sort, it might be hard on her.

“She’ll be all right. She’s got the house, all paid for.
And she does sewing for ladies in town. Charges a fancy price for it, too. And I suspect Herb left her pretty welloff. He was a good worker when he wasn’t drinking, and he saved his money. Anyway, she’s thinking about taking a trip up here, down the line a bit, to see the boys and all.”