Carolyn Davidson (15 page)

“It will only be for a couple of days, Johanna. You and the boys will be fine here.” He turned away from her, looking out the kitchen window, and a sense of disquiet seized her.

“Tate? I don’t mean to interfere. I know the cattle are your concern, but…”

“Jo! Trust me in this, will you?” Unwilling or unable to meet her gaze, he offered her his back, and she heard his request with disbelief. “Johanna?”

It was a nudge for her to accept his decision, and she nodded. “Yes, I…You know I trust you, Tate.” Indignation tinged her words, as if he had somehow insulted her by his asking for a verbal acknowledgment of faith.

He turned, and she was struck by the tenderness of his gaze. “I had no right to insinuate otherwise,” he said quietly. Stepping from the window, he gained her side, reaching to clasp her hand, turning her to face him. “Anything I do is for you and my boys, Jo.”

She bit at her lip, for once unsure of the direction in which he expected her to go. Life with Tate had been without surprises, except for that of finding herself in his bed. And that particular gift she was willing to accept without second thoughts. But today there was about him an air of secrecy, a quiet urgency she could not digest. As if he intended
something she was not allowed access to. As if there were plans in the making that didn’t concern her.

“Johanna, don’t look so serious. This is something I’ve been meaning to do for quite a while. Now just seems to be the best time for the trip. Don’t fuss, sweetheart. You’ll be safe here. Sheba is a fine watchdog. And I’ll ask Jonas Cooney to stop in and check on you if you like.”

“No! That isn’t necessary. We’ll be all right” She bit at her lip again, hating the almost foreign sense of insecurity that was overwhelming her.

“I want you to write to Bessie again while I’m gone. Tell her to wire us the date she’ll arrive. And I think we’d better not mention it to the boys until it’s about time for her to get here.”

Once he made up his mind about something, it appeared, Tate Montgomery felt no reason to waste time. Johanna felt she’d barely heard his plan to take the evening train to Grand Rapids and there board the early-morning Chicago express before he was packed and ready.

A faint sense of being shuffled about was blackening her disposition as he lifted her to the front seat of the surrey late on Monday afternoon.

“I think I need to take the reins, Tate,” she announced as he climbed in next to her. Behind them the boys bounced on the second seat, excited at the prospect of watching the train arrive, thrilled at the prospect of what their father would bring them on his return from this trip.

“If you like.” Amiable to a fault today, Tate handed her the leathers and leaned back, his arm riding the back of the seat as he turned his genial smile on her.

“I haven’t driven your team but in the fields and down the street in town once or twice,” she said, “and then it was with the wagon.”

“You’ll find a little difference with them pulling the surrey.
It weighs less, and they tend to kick up their heels a bit.”

Her eyes flashed a challenge. “I can handle them.” She snapped the reins and clicked her tongue, and the team obeyed, settling quickly into a fast trot. Tails held high, hooves reaching forward eagerly, they headed for town. As if they sensed a different pair of hands on the reins, they behaved skittishly, heads bobbing, then tossing back, delighting Johanna with their antics.

“It seems I didn’t need any practice with them after all,” she announced, her chin tilting, her smile filled with satisfaction. The reins laced through her fingers, her feet braced against the floorboards, she controlled the prancing horses with ease.

Behind her, the boys urged her on, Timmy chortling his glee while Pete watched with a trace of envy. “When can I learn to drive the team, Pa?” he asked, leaning against his father’s arm, peering between the two in the front seat.

“Won’t be long, Pete,” Tate answered. “We’ll let you take a shot at it come spring, when we cut hay.”

“Is that when I’m gonna get to ride one of the new mares?”

“Want to hear about a surprise, son?” his father asked, drawing out the query, as if there were some doubt as to the boy’s answer.

“Sure!” Pete fairly danced on the floorboards, leaning to touch his chin on Tate’s shoulder.

“I’ve ordered you a small saddle for your birthday. Thought it might be better than trying to learn on mine.”

Pete’s dark eyes lit with a blend of wonder and enthusiasm as he considered that idea. “Will I be riding the littlest mare, Pa? The red one?”

“That red is called chestnut, son,” Tate told him. “She’s going to be Johanna’s to ride, but I’m sure she’ll share her with you.”

“Mine?” Johanna blinked at Tate’s casual statement. “I don’t ride, Tate. Pa never let me on his horse.”

“Well, then, it’s past time you learned, Jo. I think your pa—” He hesitated, wary of the disparaging remark he had almost uttered, fearful of tarnishing whatever small amount of good memories she held of her parent

“I’ve been up on both of them. The bay is a little skittish, but the chestnut is quite a lady. They need to be ridden more before I trust Pete on a saddle, but before you know it, he’ll be riding off to school.”

The outskirts of Belle Haven surrounded them, and Johanna pulled back on the reins, holding the team to a more sedate pace as the shiny surrey rolled past the schoolhouse.

“It will be full dark by the time you get home,” Tate said quietly. “I lit the lamp in the kitchen, so you won’t have to go into a dark house.”

Johanna sighed. Just when she was about to feel set adrift by his departure, he gave her reason to feel secure. No matter that she had been alone in the dark more nights than she wanted to remember over the past year or so. Tate was concerned that she not arrive at the farm with no light other than that of the moon and stars.

“If you don’t wait for the train to leave, you can get back to the farm before nightfall,” he said, leaning to speak close to her ear.

She shook her head. “I can’t do that. We promised the boys they could see the train, and wave goodbye to you.”

“I’ll be back on Thursday morning, early, Jo.” As though he recognized her unease at his going, he reminded her once more of his return. “I put the last two bushels of the snow apples on the wagon and covered them up good so they won’t freeze in the barn. You can bring them along to town Thursday along with your butter and eggs.”

“Thank you.” She’d not looked forward to the chore of loading the last of her crop from the underground fruit cellar. She’d canned up all she wanted of them and dried more
than she’d use till summer. It was time to be rid of the leftovers.

“I’m going to miss you.” Her whisper had barely been given voice when she felt his hand rub against her shoulder and he bent closer to brush his mouth against her ear.

“I’ll bring you a present too, sweetheart.” The words were breathed against her flesh, bringing a shiver of delight, and she ducked her head.

“I’ll just bet you will, Mr. Montgomery.”

The general store was on the right, and Johanna pulled the team to a halt in front of the hitching rail. Tate climbed down, the boys on his heels and tied the short line, holding the horses close to the rail. He bent to scoot beneath the long pole and approached Johanna, raising his arms to her, his hands grasping her around the waist as he lifted her down.

“I’ll get the eggs, Jo. You can carry the butter.” He handed her the wicker basket she’d packed the golden rounds in, each of them about a pound and marked with the sign of a daisy pressed into the surface. The flower designated them as coming from the Patterson farm, and Johanna felt a sense of pride as she carried the heavily laden basket.

Tate held the door open, and she stepped inside the general store, Esther Turner’s wave and smile greeting her from behind the far counter.

“Yoo-hoo! Johanna! It’s good to see you. And you, too, of course, Tate.” Beaming, she reached for the butter basket and placed it before her on the countertop. “We never have a bit of trouble selling this,” she proclaimed, patting the handle. She opened the lid and counted the rounds within. “Twelve, as I see it, Johanna.”

“Yes, and six dozen eggs, Mrs. Turner.” Johanna motioned to Tate, and he placed the egg basket close at hand.

“I’ll just put them in the crock,” Esther said, her hands
quick as she transferred them, four at a time. “I declare, you do have the largest eggs of anyone around, Johanna.”

“I kept the double yolks at home,” Johanna said, willing her voice to be devoid of the rightful pride she felt at the storekeeper’s praise.

“I could get a good price for them.” Esther’s words were coaxing. “The hotel likes serving them, and my Joseph thinks they’re something special.”

“So does my Tate,” Johanna answered flippantly, and then flushed when she heard his laughter.

“You’ll not get the best of her, Mrs. Turner.” His tone was confidential as he leaned across the counter. “She’s got a sharp wit about her.”

“Johanna!” From the far corner of the store Selena Phillips called her name, and Johanna turned quickly.

“It’s good to see you! I’ve wanted to talk to you, but I didn’t get a chance after church yesterday.” Hurrying to where the postmistress sat behind her desk, Johanna smiled her pleasure. “I heard you’re going to the social with Mr. Shrader on Saturday.”

Selena flushed a becoming pink and brushed at her hair with the back of her hand. “News travels fast” She leaned forward. “But I wanted you to know, Johanna. I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do, but I couldn’t say no when he asked me. He’s…he’s a kind man.”

“Is that important, Selena?” Johanna’s hand reached to cover the other woman’s, and she squeezed gently at the slender fingers. And then answered her own query. “Of course it is. Kindness is a fine quality in a man.” She glanced to where Tate stood at the counter, and her eyes softened.

“You were very fortunate, Johanna,” Selena said softly. “I only hope I can be so lucky.”

“With August Shrader? Do you care so much already, Selena? You’ve only—”

“I’ve been thinking about him for quite a while, Johanna,”
Selena said quietly. “We’ve passed the time of day, and he’s dropped by my home of an evening several times.”

Johanna’s eyes blinked. “I didn’t know that. I hadn’t thought about the two of you till Tate told me about Mr. Shrader asking you to the social.”

“We kept it very quiet. It really wasn’t proper for him to call on me, with no chaperone present, but I felt beyond the stage of having to account for my actions. I’m fortytwo years old, and if I want to entertain a gentleman caller, I think I’m within my rights.”

“Yes…of course you are,” Johanna agreed quickly, seeing the gentle woman with new vision. “You shouldn’t be alone, Selena.”

Selena looked down at her hands, folded in a graceful fashion before her. “Sometimes there are things in our lives we don’t like to think about, or talk about, for that matter. It takes a special sort of man to understand those things, don’t you think, Johanna?”

Johanna’s breathing quickened, her heart pounding unevenly as she digested the oblique statement. Selena knew. Somehow, the secret Johanna had thought hidden from the world was known to this woman. “Yes,” she whispered between dry lips. “Sometimes it takes a special man.”

“I’m so glad you have Mr. Montgomery. I knew he was right for you. Just as I know Mr. Shrader is right for me.” Selena smiled, a strange, sad little twist of her mouth. “We’re very alike, my dear. Not in all things, but in some ways we’re amazingly similar.”

The door of the store opened, the bell sounding the entrance of another customer, and Johanna looked up. August Shrader stepped inside, hat in hand, and wiped his feet on the mat provided.

“There you are, Mr. Montgomery,” he said, walking toward the counter where Tate stood. “Thought I’d save you a trip to the bank when I saw your surrey outside.”

Tate moved quickly across the floor, grasping the banker’s arm and turning back to the door. “Let’s go outdoors and talk, August.”

Johanna’s brows lifted as the bell rang again, the door closing behind the two men. What could all that be about? Tate hadn’t mentioned stopping at the bank today. She took one step toward the door, but was halted by Selena’s low voice.

“Just men’s business, I’m sure, Johanna.”

Johanna hesitated, strangely uneasy. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right,” she said, her eyes still focused on the tall figure of Tate Montgomery outside the door.

The train station was just ahead, and Johanna eased back on the reins, pulling the team to a slow walk as they neared the red building.

“Will the train scare the horses, Pa?” Pete asked, wide-eyed, as he looked up the track, northward, where even now the iron monster was making its way toward Belle Haven.

“I don’t know, Pete. Guess I’d better hold the harness when the engine lets loose with a blast, hadn’t I?”

Timmy hugged the seat, only his head showing over the back. “Maybe I’ll stay here in the surrey, Pa.” His eyes huge with awe, he cast a wary glance at the chugging beast that neared the station.

Tate jumped down, striding to stand before the horses, holding their heads, but they needed no reassurance, giving scant notice to the noisy engine. He patted the satin noses of his team and turned to the surrey, snatching his sachel from the back before he looked at Johanna.

“Will you wave from here?”

She nodded. “I think so. Pete wants to get closer, though. Timmy and I will be happy to watch from the surrey.”

Tate leaned over the side to snatch a kiss from his youngest son and whisper a word in the boy’s ear. Then he
reached to hold Johanna’s chin in his palm and drew her face closer for his farewell, glancing around first, lest his action draw the notice of onlookers.

She kissed him, aware of a sense of loss, as if his leaving were causing a rift. Struggling with sadness, she accepted his caress and his whispered words of goodbye.

Within minutes, the train was heading south, Pete was trudging back to the surrey and she’d picked up the reins, turning the horses around for the trip home.

“How long is Thursday, Miss Johanna?” Pete wanted to know as he settled in the seat next to her.