Dakota Father (5 page)

Jenny lifted her arms to the sky.

She could almost touch the clouds. Float on them across the endless sky.

“Oh, Pa,” she whispered. “If you could see this. Feel what I feel, you'd understand the restlessness of my soul.” She didn't want to be confined within four walls, constrained by the bounds of town life.

But she would honor her parents. She lowered her arms and crossed them over her chest.

She would keep her word and return.

Surely, once she was back she would forget this moment.

She knew she never would. In fact, she stared at the vast prairie for a long time. She didn't want to forget. She wanted to brand it forever on her brain, a secret place she could visit in the future and find again, this wonderful sense of freedom.

 

Burke watched Jenny and Meggie head past the corrals. His arms tingled with apprehension. How would she react when she saw how empty the prairie was around her?

At his side, Lucky watched, too. “She's different.”

Burke knew what Lucky meant—Jenny was different than Flora.

Lucky went on as if Burke had asked him to explain. “She's got a sense of humor, for one thing. And she sat with us like she didn't think she was better.”

Flora had made it clear she would not share the table with servants. She'd wanted Burke to join her at eating separately, expecting Paquette to wait on them.

Burke had refused. It was only a small thing. He should have found a way to compromise. Perhaps it would have made a difference. He watched Jenny as she reached the end of the path and drew to a halt.

In the end it was the emptiness of the land that did in Flora. As it did so many. Why, just a few months ago the marshal had taken away Stan Jones to the north of here and Mr. Abernathy had packed up and gone back east because his wife couldn't take it anymore. Burke had heard Mrs. Abernathy now had a personal nurse to care for her.

Jenny raised her arms over her head. What was she doing? Trying to hold the emptiness at bay?

Lucky watched, too. “Is she laughing?”

Burke threw down the hammer he held and headed after her. If he didn't need her to help Meggie settle he would send her back to town first thing in the morning. Before her laughter took on a shrill note.

He had gone but twenty feet when she turned and
headed back toward the house. A smile wreathed her face. She looked positively happy—excited even.

Burke shifted direction and returned to the fence he'd been repairing with Lucky's help.

Lucky continued to stare at Jenny. “She's different, I tell ya.”

Burke wouldn't watch her but he couldn't stop himself from glancing up from pounding a nail. She walked with a carefree swing. Her face glowed as she glanced skyward. Her laughter rang out as Meggie said something. From his first glance he'd been attracted. But nothing had changed—not the land and not him. “She's only been here a few hours and she isn't staying more than a few days. No need for her to concern herself with anything but Meggie.” No need for her to think about what life was like out here, how living here day after day would feel.

“Boss, not all women are like Flora.” Lucky made his soft comment then grabbed the other end of the plank and drove in a spike, making conversation impossible.

Burke stuffed back his response. It didn't matter whether Jenny was different or not. He wasn't about to repeat his hard-learned lesson.

Jenny and Meggie went inside and a crackling tension he'd been unaware of—or maybe just unwilling to admit—eased off.

He should ride out into the prairie until his
thoughts settled into acceptance of the reality of his life, but he lingered in the yard listening to the sounds coming from the open windows of the house.

Jenny must have put Meggie to bed. He heard the baby fussing then Jenny singing a lullaby. The notes caught his memories and teased them forward. He remembered his mother holding Lena and rocking her to the same tune. He hadn't thought of his mother in a long time. Not since he'd moved out west.

Now Lena and Mark were dead of a fever and he was guardian to their child. It was a repeat of when he became Lena's guardian.

They had done well together.

Only Meggie was so much younger.

Jenny's singing grew softer.

He strained toward the sound. It had stopped. Meggie must have fallen asleep. He drew in a relieved breath. Must be hard on such a little one to lose her parents and all.

But once she settled in, he would teach her how to have fun, how to enjoy the wild land. Satisfied, he headed for the barn.

A wrenching sob stopped him in his tracks. Meggie again. Poor child sounded heartbroken. No doubt she was.

Burke longed to be able to comfort his niece. Knew she wouldn't accept any offer from him. Jenny's soft,
soothing tones underlay Meggie's cries and the child quieted again.

His heart flooded with gratitude to Jenny for comforting Meggie when he was powerless to do so.

He thought again of the way she'd flung her arms skyward, the brightness of her smile as she returned from her walk. He smiled remembering the spider joke she'd told the men. And how she'd sat at the table with everyone. Pictures of her calmness on the train brought again the flicker of admiration and interest he'd felt at the time.

He snorted. He would not be mistaking gratitude for attraction.

There were things he could do to keep himself busy in the barn and he headed that direction. As he checked harnesses and cleaned out a pen, he strained to catch any sounds from the house. No more crying. A relief. No more singing. Too bad—no, he was not disappointed.

The interior of the barn grew dark and he headed out into the dusk.

Against the darkening sky, at the end of the path, Jenny stood outlined, standing in the same spot where she'd been when he watched her with her arms raised.

From deep inside him a strident voice called, demanding acknowledgement. Something about this
woman pulled at his heart, made him want things that were at cross-purposes with his intentions.

Drawn by a silent, invisible cord, he sauntered over to stand at her side. “Mighty lonely place.”

“Listen.”

He did so. “It's silent.”

“No. It's full of whispers. I hear the breeze tickling the grass. It almost sings. And way off a bird is calling good night.”

He listened, hearing tiny sounds he'd grown used to until he no longer heard them. The sky faded to gray. Pink hovered at the horizon.

“It's so pretty.”

A mournful wail came from one side.

She turned toward the sound. “What's that?”

An answering howl came from another spot and a sharp yapping sound from another.

“Coyotes.” He waited for her to shiver and head back to safety.

“They're singing.” She sounded pleased rather than scared.

Flora had fled to the protection of the house, shivering and frightened. “Wild animals. This place is so uncivilized.”

Seems Lucky was right. Jenny was different.

Not that it changed a thing. This country was hard enough for a man, not at all suitable for a woman.

They stood watching the last light fade, listening to the coyotes sing and the prairie whisper.

Unwilling to break the spell of contentment, he didn't speak though a thousand words flitted across his mind, questions about who she was, what her dreams were.

Finally she sighed. “I guess I better get back and make sure Meggie is okay.”

She headed for the house and he fell in at her side.

Meggie. A topic he could safely mention. “It took her a long time to settle.”

“Poor little girl. She's lost everything.”

“She still has me.” And you, until you leave.

“I'm sorry. I meant everything familiar.”

He'd been too quick to take offense but wasn't sure how to correct it without drawing undue attention to the fact. “She'll soon settle in and feel at home here.” Why did the idea not feel as good as it should?

“I expect so.”

They'd reached the veranda and paused. “Good night,” she said.

A lamp sat on the kitchen table and sent a golden glow through the window putting Jenny's face into a shadow.

He told himself he wasn't disappointed he couldn't see her expression as they parted ways.

He strode to the bunkhouse and headed for the
bed he'd claimed as his own six months ago when he'd convinced Flora to visit the ranch. He'd been so sure she would learn to love the place as he had even though she had insisted on staying in town for weeks.

He'd been wrong.

Jenny enjoyed the coyotes singing.

“Seen you out walking with Miss Jenny,” Dug called. “Pretty gal.”

“She ain't staying,” Burke growled. He didn't want her to. Wouldn't ask her to consider it.

He turned on his side, giving the men a good view of his back, indicating this topic of conversation was over. He felt their watchful stillness then rustling as they settled themselves at something else.

If only his thoughts would obey as quickly but they kept painting pictures on the inside of his eyelids— Jenny walking and laughing with Meggie, Jenny at the table telling a joke. Jenny reaching for the sky.

He opened his eyes so he couldn't see the pictures, but then sounds filled his thoughts.

Jenny singing to Meggie. Jenny laughing. Jenny whispering at the magic of the prairie evening song.

He groaned silently.

How long would it take for Meggie to settle in?

It couldn't be too soon for his peace of mind. The sooner Jenny left, the better.

J
enny lay on her bed fighting her thoughts. It was wrong to think of Burke as she did. After all, she was all but promised to another man. She'd given her word to her parents. Yet here she lay with every word Burke had said, every gesture he'd made playing over and over in her mind. But even those memories weren't as condemning as her wayward reactions.

She'd almost grabbed his hand in excitement when she heard the coyotes howl—a mournful sound that made her want to sing along. If Burke hadn't been at her side she might have tried imitating them.

Besides being wrong, her thoughts were so futile. He made it clear she wasn't welcome here. And there was still the mystery of the missing fiancée. What happened to her? He said he'd never marry but perhaps he was only angry with the woman. A lover's quarrel.

She focused on that thought until her wayward imaginations came into order.

Father God, be Thou my hiding place. Keep me safe from my impetuous nature.

Finally she fell asleep.

Twice during the night, Meggie wakened and Jenny sang to settle her.

Next morning, she rose with her resolve returned. She had a task to complete. Today she would start doing things necessary to get Meggie ready for her to leave.

She knelt at the bedside, careful not to disturb Meggie who still slept.
Father God, I need Your guidance today. Put a watch before my mouth so I speak only kind words. Show me the things I need to change for Meggie's sake. Most of all enable me to guard my heart so I don't think and feel foolish, inappropriate things
. She didn't say exactly what those things were but God saw her every action, heard her every word, knew her every thought. He knew how she loved the sense of adventure in challenging a new, forbidding land, just as He knew something about Burke drew her eyes to him more often than was appropriate.

Meggie yawned and stretched. She turned to see Jenny kneeling at her side and smiled as sweet as an angel. She patted Jenny's cheeks with her warm soft hands.

“Good morning, little miss. How are you this fine day?”

Meggie babbled excitedly.

“I'm sorry, sweetie. I don't understand.”

Meggie caught Jenny's face between her palms and looked intently into her eyes and repeated the indiscernible words. Jenny couldn't look away from the intensity in the child's eyes. It filled her with sorrow that she was unable to understand what Meggie wanted.

Sounds came from the kitchen. Pots rattled. Boots scraped across the floor.

“I think we might have overslept. How about we get you dressed and then you can go see your uncle Burke.”

Meggie had jumped from the bed at the idea of getting up but at the mention of her uncle, her face crumpled.

Jenny scooped her up before she started to cry. “Your uncle Burke would like to play with you. Wouldn't that be fun? Perhaps you could show him your dolly.” As she talked, she slipped the nightgown over Meggie's head and pulled on her clean dress. Quickly she put on socks and tied the little boots. As soon as she released Meggie, the child grabbed her doll and hugged it close.

“Do you think you'd like to show her to Uncle Burke?”

Meggie shook her head.

“That's fine.” It would take time but that was
first on her agenda. Right alongside urging Burke to hurry and resolve his differences with his fiancée. She ignored the way her heart quivered at the idea. She pushed resolve into her thoughts. Getting Meggie properly settled was her only concern.

Hand in hand, they stepped into the kitchen. Paquette stood at the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of porridge. Two huge frypans sizzled.

Burke put a bucket of foaming milk on the cupboard. Good. There would be milk for Meggie. That was essential.

“Good morning, Paquette, Burke.” His name clung to her tongue. She forced herself not to duck away as he met her gaze, even though she knew her cheeks likely hinted at her awareness of him. She swallowed hard and dismissed those awkward, wayward feelings.

Intending to begin the way things should continue, she turned to Meggie, still clinging to her hand. “Meg, say hello to Paquette and your uncle Burke.”

Meggie's chin quivered. Her eyes glistened but she read Jenny's silent insistence. They'd done battle before. Meggie knew she'd have to give in eventually so made the wise choice to do so from the beginning.

“'Lo, Pa—” She stumbled on the name, shot Jenny a look.

Jenny nodded encouragement.

Meggie tried again. “Pa—et.”

Paquette chuckled.

Jenny waggled Meg's hand and indicated she should greet Burke.

Meg gripped Jenny's hand hard and hung her head. “'Lo Unca Burke.”

Burke knelt to Meggie's level. “Hello to you, too, little Meggie. Did you sleep well?”

Meggie nodded without looking at her uncle. Burke shifted his gaze to Jenny. From this position she could see how his black hair glistened, how slight waves formed across the top of his head. Then she realized he'd spoken to her asking how she'd slept.

She cleared her throat and hoped he'd think her hesitation was from being thirsty or anything except the truth—she'd again been distracted by her wayward thoughts. “Well. Thank you.”

He rose slowly, holding her gaze as he did. Her heart rose with him, pushing against her ribs as if wanting to rush out into open space. “Heard some crying,” he murmured.

She nodded, forcing her gaze to leave his face and return to Meggie's upturned, watchful face. Meggie held her doll in one hand, watching them with an expectant look. “I think she wants you to say hello to her doll.”

Burke blinked.

Jenny grinned. “It's a great honor.” It somehow
pleased her to see this tough cowboy faced with the challenge of a little girl and her doll.

To his credit, Burke knelt again and touched the doll gently. “Is this your baby?”

Meggie nodded and allowed him to stroke the yarn hair on her precious dolly.

“She's very nice, isn't she?”

“My dolly.” She cradled the toy against her neck and stuck her fingers in her mouth.

Jenny suspected Lena would have scolded her daughter for sucking her fingers but Jenny had decided to overlook it, allowing the child whatever comfort it provided.

Burke studied his niece a moment more. She considered him with equally serious intent. Neither of them made any motion toward the other.

His quiet caution around Meggie, giving her space to get used to her new surroundings, gave Jenny another moment's struggle with the reactions of her heart.

Burke straightened. Her eyes followed him, never leaving his face. Meggie pulled away and climbed up at the table to play with her doll.

“She's very attached to it, is she?”

Jenny struggled to make her tongue work, to bring her thoughts back to where they belonged. Seeing Burke with such interest was definitely not where
they should be. What would Pa think if he could see her, read her thoughts?

Sudden guilt dried her mouth. She'd promised to marry Ted and yet here she stood with her heart pounding, her pulse racing at the sight of another man.

Hot regrets at her foolishness made it easy to turn her attention to Burke's question. “She's very fond of it. Lena made it for her just before she got ill. In fact, she put the finishing touches on it when she was almost too weak to work.”

“That makes it extra special.” His voice held a rough note as if his throat threatened to close off, which only made Jenny forget her resolve to keep her thoughts on practical things. A man who made room for emotions, who honored the effort that went into creating a pretty doll, touched a chord deep inside Jenny, making her want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Burke cleared his throat. “I better get back to the chores.”

Jenny nodded and turned to Paquette. “What can I do to help?” She didn't look back until she heard the door close and Burke's boots thud on the veranda floor.

“You not work. You company.” Paquette watched Jenny without looking directly at her. She'd refused
help before. Suggested Jenny expected to be waited on. Jenny realized Paquette was somehow testing her.

“I'm not company. I'm only here on an errand. What kind of person would I be if I sat around instead of helping?” She rubbed her hands together. “Do you want me to fry the bacon?”

Paquette moved to one side, allowing Jenny to stand at the stove. The fat spattered. “Oh, I should have brought an apron.”

Paquette reached under the cupboard and brought out a big apron made from white flour sacking but decorated with a red and gold geometric pattern. “Wear dis, you.”

“Thank you.” Jenny examined the design. “This is beautiful. Did you do it?”

“I learn from ma mere. She use beads and quills. I use…” She sought for a word. “From plants.”

“Dyes?”

“Oui.”

Jenny hesitated. “It's too nice to use for frying bacon.”

Paquette laughed, a merry sound unlike the usual chortle. “It can wash.”

So Jenny reluctantly donned the apron feeling she had stepped into another world, one full of adventure and excitement, bold cowboys and women with strange accents. She was dangerously close to stepping over a line she had firmly drawn for herself,
one forbidding her to follow wayward paths, yet she couldn't keep back a smile as she turned the meat.

A few minutes later the men trooped in for breakfast. Jenny had the table set, the bacon fried, the bread sliced and piled high. She'd made coffee under Paquette's guidance while the other woman fried potatoes and eggs.

Jenny had thought of claiming a place at Paquette's side. After all, didn't she need to be available to help the woman? But she couldn't make herself do so. No matter where she sat, she would be aware of Burke with every beat of her heart and every breath she sucked into her tight lungs. Sitting next to him would enable her to encourage a friendship between him and Meggie and so she settled in the place she'd sat the night before.

Again the men reached for food as soon as everyone sat. Paquette cleared her throat. Everyone stopped, suddenly remembering Jenny's request for grace.

“Who's going to pray this morning?” Burke asked.

Dug shook his head. “I did it last night. It's someone else's turn.”

The others mumbled.

Amused at how this was like a bunch of young boys arguing about whose turn it was, Jenny ducked her head to hide her smile.

Mac sighed loudly. “I'll say the words rather than starve to death.”

Jenny snorted as she tried to contain her laughter.

Mac, beside her, grunted. “I know how to pray. Me old mam taught me.” He bowed his head and murmured, “May God be with you and bless you. May you see your children's children. May you be poor in misfortune, rich in blessings. May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward. Amen.” He sucked in air like he had forgotten to breathe throughout the recitation. “Pass the bacon, please.”

Jenny stared. It was the most unusual grace she'd ever heard. “That was beautiful.” God's blessing. Children's children. Happiness. No doubt what they all wanted.

She couldn't meet Burke's eyes even though she felt him watching her. She didn't want him to see the ache she knew would be evident. Didn't want to acknowledge it. God's blessing required obeying her parents.
Honor thy father and mother that thy days on the earth might be long.
Sometimes it was hard to quench her rebellious spirit. Remembering how often she'd failed to do so and the near disastrous consequences of one such time, she prayed for a submissive spirit.

The meal was almost over. She had to begin implementing her plans. Her heart had settled and
she could face Burke without revealing anything but a calm, disciplined spirit. “Perhaps you would give us a tour of the ranch after breakfast.” She rushed on before he could say anything. “I need to familiarize Meggie with her new home and teach her safe boundaries. As well, it would give you two a chance to get to know each other.”

“Not a problem.” He seemed unconcerned, as if this day was like any other. Hadn't he felt any of the emotions she had at Mac's prayer?

Of course, he hadn't. Why should she expect he would? He'd made no secret of what he wanted—her to be gone as soon as possible. Only she was foolish enough to want something more—something completely out of her reach.

She resolutely pushed aside a dying dream of adventure, excitement—why should she long so for things she couldn't have? It was this country. The open spaces grabbed her heart and wrenched out her childish dreams, pouring them into the sunshine like a stream of golden honey. When she returned home, she would realize how foolish all this was. “I'll help Paquette clean the kitchen first.”

“Fine. Come outside when you're ready and I'll meet you.”

 

It was all Burke could do to walk calmly from the house, the men at his heels. Everything in him
wanted to race away from the warmth of the kitchen and the snarl of his thoughts. Mac's prayer had almost been his undoing—God's blessing, children's children? Where was God's blessing in Burke's life? He certainly hadn't seen any evidence of it. First, the fiasco with Flora and now Lena dead.

His gaze had rested on Jenny. Something about her made him remember his big dreams of a short time ago—home, blessings, family.

He shifted his gaze to Meggie. This was his family. He supposed that was a blessing from God. Yes, of course it was. Only somehow it didn't satisfy.

“Where's the fire, boss?” Lucky asked.

Burke realized how fast his steps had become and slowed. “No fire.”

“Maybe anxious to get back to that little gal?” Mac's teasing always sounded so serious that many took offense.

Purposely misunderstanding, Burke said, “I'll need to spend some time with Meggie getting to know her so she'll be happy here.” He pretended he didn't notice the sly glances the men exchanged. Every one of them knew Mac hadn't meant Meggie. It didn't matter. They'd soon enough realize Jenny and he would part ways. He ignored the ache twisting through his gut at the knowledge. “Dug, you ride out and bring in the rest of the horses. We need to get them broke before fall round up. Mac, check the
pasture to the north. Lucky, see if there's any hay to cut south of here.”