Dakota Father (7 page)

He needed to work away his foolishness and he rode horse after horse until his whole body ached. Still every time he paused, his thoughts headed for the house to wonder what Jenny was doing.

He should pack his saddlebags and head out into the distance. He could check the herd. Explore the countryside—

But he couldn't. He now had a little girl to look after. Things would be a great deal more complicated when Jenny left and Meggie became his sole responsibility. Of course, Paquette would help as much as she could.

He needed to stop worrying. Meggie would adjust quickly and as she grew older, she would learn how
to look after herself. Why, by the time she was three, she'd be riding all over with him. Maybe he'd see if he could find a small pony for her….

 

Jenny wished she could avoid Burke. It seemed the only way she might hope to control her thoughts. But even when she couldn't see or hear him, her thoughts wouldn't be so easily controlled.

And then there was Meggie. The sooner she got Meggie used to things, the sooner she could leave. She had hoped to see a more suitable arrangement concerning Meggie's care, but Burke was her guardian and it was up to him to see to that. She ignored the pricks of her conscience that said Lena expected more.

She could only do so much. She shivered as she admitted her weakness—how this adventure pulled at her thoughts, how Burke was a magnet to them.

She needed to return home before she did anything foolish she'd regret the rest of her life.

 

Over the next few days, they settled into an uneasy routine. After the evening meal Burke and Jenny would take Meggie for a walk. First, they visited the cats. If it was cool enough they strolled down the trail away from the house; otherwise they wandered about the yard, pausing to speak to the horses or the men.

Jenny often waited until Meggie was asleep for
another walk, which took her down the path to the open prairie. She loved the open plains, especially in the evening. Sometimes Burke joined her. Like tonight.

To keep her thoughts from running in forbidden directions she spoke of her family. “Mary is a year older. She got married last fall.” She'd married John Stokes, a man Ma and Pa fully approved of. So many evenings she had overheard their conversation—John is steady. He'll be good for Mary. A man with a solid future. She heard the unspoken words—they feared their daughters would choose unwisely and suffer a dreadful future. She understood their concern. But sometimes a safe and solid life threatened to imprison her. Surely it was only her current situation—so foreign and exciting—that made it so difficult to control her thoughts. She pulled them firmly back to obedience and continued telling of her sisters.

“Sarah is fifteen.” She chuckled. “Going on eighteen. I think she's been trying all her life to catch up to Mary and me.” They were a strange trio of sisters. Mary wanting only to be like Ma and Pa. Jenny longing for adventure and excitement and little Sarah trying to grow up too fast.

“Tell me how you met Lena.”

“The first Sunday they came to church I introduced myself. We just seemed to suit each other. She was so full of life. Not afraid of anything.” Only
Mark's opinion carried any weight with Lena. And then Meggie's needs became foremost. “She was a devoted mother right to her death.” Jenny's voice thickened. She owed it to her best friend to follow her wishes to a tee. Who would care for Meggie when Jenny left? Paquette? She was fond of the child but so crippled she couldn't even lift her.

“Have you known Paquette a long time?” Perhaps he would replace her with someone who could manage the child.

“Since I arrived here.”

“She come with the place?” Jenny wanted to know more about the woman and what options might be available.

Burke laughed.

It was the first time she'd heard him so amused and the sound roared through Jenny's defenses, leaving her struggling to keep from staring at him. Finally, in order to stifle the thrill bubbling to the surface, she bent, plucked a blade of grass and examined it with devout concentration. “Didn't realize I said anything amusing.”

“This place didn't exist when I came out here. I've built it up from scratch.” His voice rang with pride. “Nothing will make me leave here.”

She wondered at the harshness in his voice. “Can't see why anyone would want you to.” Her gaze swept the circle of the horizon.

“What do you see?”

A smile started in her eyes, spread to her mouth and smoothed her heart. “I see space. Opportunity.” She allowed herself to meet his gaze. Knew immediately she'd made a mistake as his dark eyes sought and found entry into her heart. They regarded each other silently, exploring—

It was only because she envied him living out here in the open, inviting prairie. Nothing more. Nothing that knocked at forbidden doors in her mind.

She sought to escape her treacherous thoughts. When she felt in control, she straightened. “Paquette?” Did her voice sound as hoarse as it felt? “Where did you find her?” She tried to force herself to look some place other than into his eyes but she couldn't pull away. She realized what she'd said. Find. As if he'd gone looking for Paquette. Hopefully he would understand what she meant to say. “I mean where did she come from?”

His eyes creased with amusement. “You're right. I did find her. Literally. In a little shelter made of animal hides. She was so sick she couldn't walk and was on the verge of starving to death.”

“How awful.” The horror of the idea allowed her to shift her gaze away from his intense look. “Why was she alone?”

“She'd been abandoned by her Métis husband when she got sick.”

“That's terrible. How could he walk away from her, leave her to die?”

Burke sighed. “I expect he figured she was going to die anyway so the best thing he could do was take care of himself.”

Slowly, knowing she risked being caught in a struggle with her wayward thoughts, she brought her gaze back to him. “Is that how people out here feel?” She thought she knew the answer but wanted to hear it from his lips.

“A person ought to be prepared to deal with challenges, inconveniences, whatever they must, in order to fulfill their promises.”

She nodded. “What sort of promises?”

“Like the promise of marriage, whether an engagement or a signed, sealed marriage.”

His voice rang, conveying just how important this was. He would be shocked to know she'd once or twice over the past few days considered reneging on her promise to Ted—or more accurately to Ma and Pa.

Burke continued. “I think there are unspoken promises about family, too. Like Meggie. I will provide her a home no matter what it takes. And even this ranch. I've committed myself to it. What sort of man would I be if I simply walked away when things got tough?”

She couldn't speak as her mind whirled with
words—commitment, marriage, family—he was a man who faced challenges. Oh to stand at the side of such a man. Face those challenges together. Conquer them.

Firmly, with every ounce of discipline she'd been taught and tried so hard to learn, she pushed the ideas from her head. “So you rescued Paquette and gave her a home?”

“As soon as she got her strength back she took over running the house. She rules the roost.”

“Is that what happened to Flora? Paquette wasn't willing to relinquish her position?” Somehow she couldn't see Burke allowing such a thing especially after what he'd just said about promise and commitment. But something had happened and the very fact he wouldn't speak of it made her unduly curious.

Burke snorted—a sound ripe with something she couldn't identify—perhaps bitterness or maybe mockery. “Flora had no objection to Paquette doing the work.”

She stared at him, knowing her surprise showed in her eyes. “Was she overwhelmed by the work, then?”

“That's a good way to describe it. Yes, I guess you could say Flora was overwhelmed.”

She waited, suspecting he meant something more than Flora was overwhelmed by work, but he seemed disinclined to explain. She ached to know. To
understand the tension drawing his shoulders upward. Oh, if only she had the right to reach out and brush her hand across his arm and offer comfort.

But she did not. It would be well to remember that fact.

B
urke shifted so Jenny couldn't see his face as a blast of emotions swept through him. Disappointment that his plans had been thwarted. Sorrow at his loss, though he had to confess the loss of Lena far outweighed Flora's loss. Then determination settled over it all. As he said, he was committed to this ranch.

He'd let himself swim in the silent messages blaring from her brown eyes. Allowed himself to think what it would be like to share his love of the land, his determination to conquer it with a woman of like mind.

Hadn't he thought that's what he and Flora would be doing? They'd corresponded three years. She'd written words glowing with hope for a new life, a fresh start—as if life back East was not to her liking. Then she came for a visit. They'd planned for the visit to end in their marriage.

Overwhelmed? Guess that explained why she re fused to help Paquette, refused to eat with the men. Why she shuddered when she looked at the prairie and why eventually she had run screeching across the land. Her screeching hadn't stopped even when he brought her back. The marshal said he'd seen it before. “Prairie madness,” he'd called it and told stories of both men and women suffering the effects of days of loneliness and emptiness. Burke didn't see how loneliness applied to Flora. She had him, Paquette and the men. In the end it had been the land she couldn't take. He'd had no choice but to let the marshal take her to the insane asylum. She'd lasted two months out here.

Burke had never told Lena. Couldn't find the words to explain what happened.

Jenny touched his elbow. “I don't know what happened but I'm sorry it didn't work out.”

Slowly he turned to face her, allowing himself to drink from the kindness in her eyes. Something shifted in his heart. He felt an uncertain hope for the first time in months.

Hope? He pretended it wasn't so. He didn't hope for anything but success in running the ranch. And now being Meggie's guardian. Nothing more. Not God's help nor any woman's help. “I demanded too much from her. I won't make that mistake again.”

Something closed behind her eyes as if she didn't
want him to guess at her thoughts. “Not everyone would be overwhelmed by this country.”

Again hope swept through him. If only—he shook his head, driving such thoughts into nothingness.

“What about Paquette?” she persisted, as if she must prove a point. “She's survived this country even when she was ill and abandoned.”

“She's born and bred in the wilds and even then, it almost destroyed her.”

“Then what will happen to Meggie?”

“She'll be raised to survive.”

Jenny turned away to stare out at the darkening landscape. “Seems to me you're expecting failure from all women just because Flora somehow failed.”

“Not all women. Just eastern-raised ones. This is not a life for them.”

She spun to face him, her eyes blazing. “I don't think you are equipped to make that kind of decision for others. After all—” She clamped her mouth shut. Then she headed toward the house, her breath rushing in and out so hard he feared she would pass out.

He strode after her. “No reason for you to take this personal, is there?” Did she love the prairie and wish she could help tame it? Hope again reared its persistent head.

She slowed considerably. “Of course not but it's still presumptuous on your part.”

“Maybe.” But she hadn't said anything to indicate how she felt or to give him any basis for his flagging hope. Even though he could easily catch up to her and walk at her side, he stayed several feet behind, as he reasoned his way back to the truth—words were easy. Even Flora had no trouble writing the right thing. But living the life was far different. Overwhelming, as Jenny said. “I'll say good night here. I have things to tend to.” He didn't wait for her to answer but headed for the corrals as if he could outrun his thoughts.

“Good night,” she called.

Next morning, he watched her more closely than usual. She helped Paquette. Did she do it out of a sense of obligation or did she enjoy the work as much as she seemed to?

She normally took Meggie for a walk after breakfast and he hung about outside until she showed up then joined her. He didn't miss the way Dug chortled as if this simple event meant impending wedding bells.

He told himself it was only so he could spend time with Meggie. But he knew it was far more. Something about Jenny had drawn him from the beginning and now her comments about some women not being overwhelmed had him curious. Did she mean herself?

And if she did?

Only curiosity made him want to know. It wouldn't
make any difference to his decision. Would it? He couldn't answer the question. Instead he fell in at her side. “She's settling in well, isn't she?” He nodded toward Meggie.

“Yes, I think she is.”

Meggie caught his hand and pulled him toward the barn. She pointed to the opening for the loft. “Kitties.”

He understood immediately what she wanted. All the cats had disappeared. She'd noticed they often went that direction. He made a low whistling.

Meggie laughed. “More.”

He did it again.

Meggie held out her arms. He lifted her. When she allowed him to hug her, his love for her burned through him, stinging his eyes.

“'Gain,” she said, touching his lips.

He chuckled, which of course made it impossible to whistle. At her insistence, he sobered and again made the sound.

Mama cat meowed as she came to the familiar call.

“Kitty.” Meggie almost launched herself from his arms.

“Hold on there, little miss.” He released her so she could go to the cat.

“She's certainly warming up to you.”

“That's good.” He avoided looking at Jenny,
feeling slightly foolish at how tight his lungs were and how his eyes stung at Meggie's acceptance.

Meggie had a routine she insisted they follow so they moved on a few minutes later to greet the horses, then she raced down the trail until she found something on the ground to study.

“She's settling so well, I'll soon be able to leave.”

Leave? The idea seared his mind. “No need to rush away.” They walked side by side in Meggie's wake. He didn't dare look at her for fear he would reveal how much he wanted her to stay.

“My family might not agree.”

“Only your family?” The question hung between them.

“Pa has picked out someone for me. I promised to give my answer when I return.”

He stumbled a bit. Not enough for Jenny to notice and wonder what had tripped him when the ground was worn and smooth beneath his feet. Picked out? Promised? “Does that mean you haven't made up your mind?”

She didn't speak for so long he turned to study her and watched determination replace confusion. “Pa knows what's best for me.” For one fleeting second she met his eyes. He would have said she seemed regretful. And then she jerked her chin upward. “I'll accept his choice. I'll say yes.”

“You're letting your father pick out your husband?” Doing so wasn't unusual. But it didn't seem to fit what he'd learned about Jenny. “I thought you were more self-sufficient. More…” He sought for a word to describe the way she swung her arms over her head, the way she clapped when he broke a horse, the way she asked questions about the ranch, the way she touched dark corners of his heart, made him hope for things he thought were over. “I guess I took you for a woman with lots of grit.” He knew his sentence ended on a bitter note. He had only himself to blame that he'd let thoughts of the future include her. She'd certainly never given him any reason for hope.

“It is sometimes a mistake to follow your own wayward heart. Doesn't God warn us that ‘our hearts are deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked'?” Satisfied with her explanation, she nodded. “I prefer to trust God for the details of my life. I believe He is concerned about them and sends guidance through my parents and…other means, too, of course.”

He wanted to argue but he couldn't. God seemed little interested in guiding the details of his life and yet following his heart had proven to be a mistake. Still—

“I guess if you love him.” Speaking the words felt like arrows striking his soul.

“Ted's a good man.”

Ted. The man had a name. He wished he didn't
know it because he disliked him for absolutely no reason. Other than he was a good man. Good enough for Jenny to choose to marry. “I better get to work.” He strode away so fast his boots kicked up clouds of dirt.

The truth could not be avoided. Jenny was anxious to get back home. She only needed to be reasonably certain Meggie would be fine without her. He lifted his face to the sky. Did God delight in manipulating the affairs of man to see their reaction? To see them bleed with sorrow? Wilt with unfilled hopes? He would never understand why God allowed bad things to happen.

Such questions were too profound for him. He had to accept that God ruled the universe but seemed to have little concern for the everyday little things of puny man. Not that he blamed God. He must get tired of the way people messed up.

Well, Burke didn't plan to mess up again. An eastern-born woman did not belong out here where there was nothing to see except the horizon on all sides and where life required day after day of unrelenting labor.

The sooner Jenny left, the better for them all.

He needed a plan for getting Meggie settled into ranch life so Jenny could go home to her Ted.

 

Meggie lay stretched out, snoring gently. Her afternoon nap usually lasted an hour or two.

Restless, Jenny wandered outside. No men lingered about. That was just fine. She didn't want to see Burke. Things had shifted between them since she'd told him about Ted. Though in reality she'd said very little about him. But Burke insinuated she was somehow weak in following Pa's advice. But why should she care if Burke seemed disappointed with her? She knew her own weaknesses, knew God, in His almighty, infallible wisdom, had given her a father to guide her.

She wandered toward the corrals. Many of the pens were empty. The men had taken some of the horses they'd broken and moved them to another pasture. But behind the barn she found one horse alone. A big horse black as polished coal. “You're a pretty one, aren't you?”

The horse reared and snorted, backing into the far corner.

“Got to put on a good show, do you? I know how you feel. Lots of times I feel like I have to put on a good show, too.”

The horse tossed his head.

“I guess I don't know what kind of show I'm putting on right now. Am I pretending to be an obedient daughter, an obedient Christian when I long for
adventure?” She thought of sharing life with a man like Burke. Her heart kicked into a gallop. Despite her resolve, she was drawn toward him, aching for the chance to work side by side in conquering this land, establishing a successful ranch. “You know what?” She waited for the animal to paw the ground as if asking for an answer. “I think I'm just confused because I'm so far away from home and everything here is new and exciting.”

The horse waggled his head as if agreeing.

“You, too?”

Jenny chuckled to herself.

“I should write a letter home telling them I've arrived safely and explaining I'll have to delay my return until I'm satisfied Meggie will be provided for as Lena and Mark would want.”

Soft noises from the horse made her laugh.

“You're a regular font of wisdom. Come here and let me pat you.” But the big black animal shook his head as if saying no. “Fine. Maybe next time. Now I'm off to write a few words.” She hesitated. “Nice talking to you.” Laughing, she returned to the house and penned a letter. She didn't know when she'd get a chance to mail it but she felt better after she'd written to Ma and Pa.

When Burke came in to fill his canteen she asked when she could hope to post the letter. “Dug will go to town Saturday night. He'll be glad to take it. He
picks up any mail for the ranch at the same time.” His words were clipped as if he had too much work to deal with her questions.

Fine. She wasn't here to be amused.

She spent the rest of the afternoon pulling weeds from around the house.

She would have skipped the evening walk but Meggie insisted. Her disappointment that Burke didn't join them far outreached reasonable. “He needs to spend more time with Meggie,” she murmured to the silent prairie.

 

Next morning as soon as breakfast was finished, Burke turned to his niece. “Meg, do you want to go with me today?”

Jenny wondered if he had read her thoughts of the previous evening and decided to act on them.

“Me go.” Meg jumped down and headed for the door.

“Hang on. I'm not quite ready.” He turned to Jenny, his expression hooded so she couldn't guess at his thoughts. “It's time Meggie and I got used to spending our day together.”

She nodded, hoping she hid her feelings as well as he. “Where are you taking her?”

“I thought I'd show her more of the ranch. After all, it's to be her home.”

Jenny stomped back an unreasonable burst of
jealousy. No one had offered to show her more of the ranch. Of course they hadn't. She was here to get Meggie settled. Nothing more. “How far will you walk?” Maybe he'd ask her to accompany them.

“We'll ride.”

Ride? “But she's only two.”

“How old do you think children are when their parents pack them across the country to start a homestead?”

What that had to do with taking Meggie for the day, Jenny couldn't begin to comprehend. She studied her empty dish. Remembered a lady did not vent all her feelings. Recalled Ma's word to temper her reactions.

Apparently Burke took her silence for acquiescence. “Would you like that, little Meg? To ride with your uncle?”