Dakota Born (5 page)

Lindsay had noticed.

“You have a minor in education, don't you?” Maddy reminded her.

Lindsay glared at her friend.

“We need a teacher in the worst way.” Hassie gazed at her, eyes bright with hope.

Move to Buffalo Valley?
Her?
As a teacher? It was enough to make Lindsay choke on her drink.

G
age Sinclair had spent the morning riding the field cultivator down the long rows of maturing corn. He had nearly a thousand acres planted in corn, two hundred less than the previous year. If the weather held, he could expect to clear a hundred bushels per acre, but if there was one thing he'd learned in his years of farming, it was not to count his bushels before the harvest.

His mother was waiting for him when he parked the cultivator and climbed down. Days like this he had a thirst that wouldn't quit. He'd taken a half gallon of iced tea with him, but that had disappeared quickly.

“Lunch is ready,” she called when she saw him.

“I'll be there in a minute,” he called back, looking around for his half brother.

Gage hadn't seen Kevin all morning, and he suspected the boy had stolen away to be with Jessica again.

Gage washed up, then walked into the kitchen, inhaling the mouthwatering aroma of freshly baked bread. His mother routinely baked bread and cinnamon rolls on Saturday mornings.

“Where's Kevin?” he asked, pulling out a chair.

Leta glanced up, surprised. “I thought he was with you.”

“I told him to change the oil in the pick-up when he finished his chores,” he said between enormous bites of his sandwich. It'd been eight hours since he'd last eaten and he felt hollow inside. It was going to take more than a couple of roasted chicken sandwiches to fill him up.

“He did that a couple of hours ago.” Leta turned her back to him and busied herself with something he couldn't see, but Gage wasn't fooled.

“You talked to anyone in town lately?” he asked. He didn't need to elaborate; they both knew he was referring to the crisis with the school.

“No,” Leta mumbled. “Don't worry, Gage. Everything will work out.”

Her optimism and faith had become an irritation to him, although he should be accustomed to both by now. Hassie Knight wasn't any better. They seemed to believe that, somehow or other, a new teacher would be found to replace Eloise Patten. As if hiring a replacement was a simple, everyday occurrence. Gage knew it wasn't going to happen. “Mom, it would be doing Kevin a disservice to send him away to finish high school. It's time he accepted responsibility for the farm.”

“I agree.”

“Then you'll consider letting him home-school?” Gage was well aware of all the problems with that solution. He knew it wasn't ideal, especially for Kevin. But it was the best he'd come up with.

His mother sighed. “We've already gone over this countless times, and my position hasn't changed.”

“You can't keep ignoring the realties.” Gage wolfed down the second sandwich before the discussion ruined his appetite. Moving Kevin in with his aunt and uncle wasn't the right solution. He should be learning more about the everyday operation of the farm. True, the boy deserved a decent education, and Gage was willing to see him through high school—some college, if possible—but this land technically belonged to Kevin, not Gage. Unfortunately, his half brother had some difficult lessons to learn. The land didn't hold his heart, not the way it should. At this point in his life, Kevin thought about only two things: Jessica and his sketchbook. He did what was asked of him, but with little pride and less joy.

Gage, on the other hand, couldn't imagine doing anything else. Farming was his life and like generations before him, he felt most alive when his eyes were filled with grit, his lips chapped and his neck red with sunburn. The land sustained his soul. If he never left North Dakota again, it would suit him just fine. He knew plenty of farmers who'd lived their entire lives without ever traveling outside the state. Whether you raised crops or livestock, the land meant responsibility, day in, day out. A man didn't leave behind what was most important to him.

“Kevin's probably drawing up in the hayloft,” Leta said.

“Not in this heat.” Drawing was all well and good, but it wasn't
serious,
not for them. Not like farming. But Gage couldn't force Kevin to care about something he obviously didn't. He lived with the hope that eventually the boy would appreciate the rhythm of life played out each year on the farm. That he'd learn to see the particular beauty that was so much a part of his inheritance.

“I need to drive into town this afternoon,” his mother told him when he'd finished lunch. She hesitated, then added, “You could use a haircut.”

Gage ran his hand through his hair, knowing she was right. Cutting hair wasn't something she especially liked; she'd do it, but preferred if he had Hassie take a pair of scissors to his thick head.

“I've got things to do.”

“Whatever it is can wait.”

His mother didn't disagree with him often. Suggesting he drive her into town was her way of telling him he'd been working too many hours, and it was time for a break.

“Fine.” She was generally right about matters such as this, and he'd learned to heed her wisdom.

She patted him on the shoulder as she walked into the bedroom to gather her things.

Grumbling under his breath, Gage washed, changed his shirt and dragged a brush through his hair. It was nearly a month since he'd last been to town, not that there was much to see these days. He'd have Hassie cut his hair, if she had time, and then share a beer or two and some conversation with whoever was over at Buffalo Bob's.

“I left a note for Kevin,” his mother told him when he joined her. She had a basket of eggs over her arm, her purse and a vase full of flowers. The eggs and flowers were for Hassie in exchange for the haircut. Like him, Leta never expected anything without payment. As a farmer, Gage often skimped on luxuries, but he'd never run short on pride.

Gage turned on the car radio as he drove into Buffalo Valley. KFGO, “the Mighty 790” AM radio station in Fargo, played country music, which Gage and Leta both enjoyed. Working out in the fields, Gage rarely listened to the radio. He didn't need music when he could hear a melody in the wind. Besides, the radio distracted him. The time he spent on the tractor helped him sort out the answers to life, answers he found in silence.

It was a thirty-minute ride into town.

“You recognize that car?” His mother motioned toward the new Bronco parked in front of the pharmacy.

“Can't say I do.” A new car would have been cause for celebration in Buffalo Valley. The only person he could think of with enough money to squander on a car would be Heath Quantrill, but the banker wasn't likely to park outside Hassie's.

“My!” his mother exclaimed, “look how clean it is.”

Most folks didn't bother to wash their vehicles more than once or twice a year, if that. No need to show off the rust. In any case, it was a waste of time, since a vehicle parked near a barn would be caked in mud again as soon as it was driven out of the yard.

Gage parked a few spaces away, not wanting to emphasize the contrast between his battered green truck and the shiny new Bronco. His diesel truck had turned over two hundred thousand miles last month. John had bought it shortly before Kevin was born, Gage remembered. It'd been used ever since.

Gage had hoped to replace it last autumn, but grain prices had been down, just like the year before and the year before that. He'd eke another six or eight months out of this old truck. He'd been holding on for the past ten years, so one more wasn't going to make much difference. Thus far, whatever had failed he'd been able to repair, but that wasn't always going to be the case.

Gage could hear Hassie talking up a storm even before they entered the pharmacy. One glance at the two women sitting at the soda fountain told him they were from the city. Some Southern city, he guessed, judging by the slight—and very attractive—drawl. Atlanta? New Orleans? Their skin was pale as winter wheat, and their clothes looked like they came out of a fashion magazine. Gage didn't know anyone from Buffalo Valley who dressed in such bright colors. Both were young and pretty, and he couldn't imagine what would bring them to Buffalo Valley.

“Leta…Gage.” Hassie greeted them both with enthusiastic fondness. “Come meet Lindsay Snyder and her friend Maddy Washburn. They're visiting here from Savannah—imagine that! Lindsay is Anton and Gina's granddaughter.”

Savannah. Yep, he'd guessed right. Close enough, anyway. Gage touched the rim of his cap and nodded in their direction. His mother reacted with characteristic pleasure and started chatting about old times and what a dear person Gina Snyder had been.

Seeing that he'd walked in on a hen party, Gage was eager to make his escape. He would have left immediately if not for Lindsay Snyder. He'd given her a perfunctory glance but noticed the way her gaze stayed on him. Their eyes met again and held. Seemingly embarrassed, she offered him a small, apologetic smile and looked away.

Gage quickly excused himself. “I'll be over at Buffalo Bob's,” he said as he hurried out the door. Getting his hair cut could wait; his mother could do it that night if it truly bothered her.

“Tell Bob he's going to have guests tonight,” Hassie shouted after him, looking pleased with herself.

Gage didn't think the two visitors would be eager to linger in this town, but he'd pass the word on to Buffalo Bob and leave it at that.

Brandon Wyatt sat in the bar off the restaurant in the 3 OF A KIND, and Gage climbed onto the stool next to his friend and neighbor. The place was dim and mercifully cool, and he could hear Garth Brooks in the background.

“Get you a beer?” Buffalo Bob asked him.

Gage nodded. Bob—ex-biker and now the owner of this establishment—was the only man Gage knew who wore his hair in a ponytail. For that matter, he wore a black leather vest year-round. Still had a Harley, too.

“Howdy, neighbor,” Gage said to Brandon.

Brandon glanced over at him. “Good to see you.”

“You, too,” Gage said. He'd known Brandon his entire life. Their properties adjoined each other and they'd shared just about everything farmers do over the years.

“How're Joanie and the kids?” Gage asked, raising the cold beer bottle to his lips. He hadn't seen Brandon for some time. Joanie used to stop at the farmhouse once a week or so, but come to think of it, Gage hadn't seen her in a while, either.

“Everyone's fine.”

It was the clipped way Brandon said it that alerted Gage to trouble. He stared at his friend and wondered if he should ask. He decided against it. Brandon would come to him if he wanted advice, which he seldom did. That wasn't how they did things. They were independent men who mostly kept their own counsel. As far as friends went, Brandon was about the closest one Gage had, but they rarely spoke, rarely spent time together. If he needed anything, though, he could count on Brandon, just like his neighbor could count on him.

They'd gotten together more often before Brandon married Joanie, but that had been eight or nine years ago. Brandon had gone to Fargo to buy a new tractor and the following weekend had found an excuse to return to the city. Soon he was spending as much time there as he was on his own farm. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out there was a woman involved. Within the year, Joanie and Brandon were married. A daughter and son followed soon after, a little more than two years apart. They were eight and six if he remembered right. Cute kids.

Gage didn't know Joanie all that well, but from remarks his mother let drop, he suspected she hadn't made the transition to farm life as easily as the couple had hoped. Life on a North Dakota farm could get desperately lonely for women, especially in the winter months when it wasn't unheard-of to go two or three weeks without even leaving the house. Women, especially women not born to this life, seemed to think that sounded romantic until they experienced it themselves.

Gage's mind wandered away from Brandon and Joanie to the two women visiting at Hassie's. Both seemed vibrant and full of energy. He'd have to be a dead man not to notice. Over the years, Gage had given some thought to marriage but time and opportunity had worked against him. It wasn't like single women were exactly plentiful around here.

He had to be realistic, and his chances of meeting someone in Buffalo Valley were slim to none. All that meant was that he had to venture farther afield. He had to be realistic in other ways, too. He wasn't going to appear on any of those he-man calendars, but he was fairly good-looking. He possessed a strong work ethic and had a powerful sense of what was important. True, he was responsible for his mother and Kevin, but if he did find a woman willing to marry him, he'd take the necessary steps to care for their needs and see to his own and his wife's, as well.

As far as he knew, there were only three eligible women in the vicinity and he'd known them his entire life. Sarah Stern—used to be McKenna—was one, but she had something going with Dennis Urlacher and that put her off-limits. Margaret Clemens was the second possibility. She was a rancher, and she worked the land with her father. The Clemens family had one of the most prosperous herds in the state on their Triple C spread.

Margaret was complicated, though. She might be a woman, but she'd never dressed or acted like one. He wouldn't be surprised to find out that she cursed and chewed right along with the hired hands.