“There’s no need to hurry.” Linnea gently guided her mother away from a pothole in the road. “I don’t want you turning an ankle.”
“How exciting it is to be heading to town. I have waited for this all winter.”
“And you’ll be waiting longer if you’re not careful.” Linnea tightened her hold on her mother’s arm. “Over here, where the road’s not so rough.”
“How sweet it is to have a daughter to fuss over me.”
“How nice it is to have you with me today. A new fabric shipment came into McIntyre’s the last time I was there. I think with the extra money I’ve made sewing, we can choose enough for a new dress for you.”
“For me? What good will a new dress do me? I have my sprigged lawn that serves me fine for trips to town, and I need for nothing more. What about a new dress for you, flicka? A pretty blue calico that brings out the beauty of your eyes?”
“I need for nothing and you know it. With you, I have all I need.”
“Ah, a daughter’s love. How fortunate I am.” Mama squeezed Linnea’s hand, and a lifetime of love could not be mistaken.
Sadness wedged like a blade in Linnea’s chest and she was glad her mother could not see it. How dear Mama was, and yet endlessly misguided. “A new dress will not make the major court me.”
“Ah, but it could not hurt.”
“He’s a widower. He buried a wife and children and he doesn’t yearn for another family.”
“I would not be too sure.” Mama’s chin bowed, as if she’d lost some of her grand hopes. “What loneliness there is in his voice.”
“He’ll be leaving after the harvest.”
“He need not leave alone.”
“Oh, you are stubborn when you want to be!” Linnea nearly dropped the starched and pressed shirts she carried. “This is a good life we have, and I know how lucky I am every morning when I awaken and every night when I go to sleep. End of discussion.”
“We will buy you cloth for a new dress. A single mistake should not a lifetime make, Linnea.”
But it did. She bit her bottom lip, holding back the words that would cause her mother only pain.
The sun, warm on her back, was like a soothing touch. Linnea listened to the song of the prairie—the melody of the wind through the new grasses, the trill of larks and the harmony of chickadees. She felt the tension ease from her clenched jaw.
Yes, this life was good. She did not want for more. And if it was a lie, she would not give it voice as she watched the prairie grasses ripple like a brilliant green ocean at the wind’s touch. The drooping blossoms of yellow bells nodded patiently, turning the meadows a bright yellow with their solemn peaceful presence.
A peace that comforted her like nothing could.
The rattle of a wagon wheel in the road behind them drew her attention. She spun around, gently tugging her mother to the far edge of the road.
“Goodness, it sounds like Ginny’s wagon, but could it be the Neilsons’ oxen?” Mama wondered, turning her blind eyes to the spot in the road where the team of black oxen drew a sturdy wagon.
Seth sat on the bench seat above them, holding thick reins in his capable hands. His hat was tilted at a jaunty angle to shade his eyes from the sun. “Look what a lucky fellow I am coming across two beautiful women on my way to town.”
“Major!” Mama clasped her hands together in delight. “You must be breaking sod. Where is your fine stallion?”
“Grazing in the shade back home, no doubt.” He drew the rattling wagon to a stop beside them. “I got a good price on these oxen, so I up and bought them. Would you ladies like a ride to town?”
Seth’s eyes sparkled, because he knew darn well Linnea wasn’t about to say no, not with her mother along. “Thank you. It’s a long walk for Mama.”
“Glad to be of service.” Seth hopped down.
Clods of dirt crumbled off his work boots as he touched the ground. Dressed for hard work, he wore trousers with a patch at the knee and one of her muslin shirts.
“I see they fit just fine.” She commented when he held out his hand to help her up into the tall wagon.
“Now, see here one minute,” Mama interjected. “I do not wish to be in the middle. Always have hated the middle. You help me up first, young man.”
“Are you sure? I might hit a bump in the road and the wagon might buck you right off the seat.” Holding back his grin and failing, Seth caught hold of Mama’s elbow.
“Did anyone teach you not to question your elders?”
“Yes, ma’am, but I couldn’t help playing the devil.”
He stepped up on the frame, holding the frail woman steady as she climbed onto the seat. His grip on her bone-thin arm was gentle but steady. There was no mistaking the care he took with her.
Something sharp passed through Linnea’s chest, leaving her strangely vulnerable. What a wonderful man he was. Good to the core. As he settled her mother on the seat and made sure she was comfortable, she felt the pain again. Harder this time. Sharper.
With the sunlight blazing around him, he came for her. His hand lighted on her shoulder, and desire for him burned all the way to her soul.
She wanted him. More than she’d wanted anything in her life. She wanted this man to hold her close when the night was cold. To know the depths of his kiss and the strength of his heart. To share with him her body and to hold him deep inside.
She could smell the tart scent of the earth on his clothes and the hint of salt on his skin. Dark stubble clung to his jaw, as if he hadn’t taken the time to shave before starting his work in the fields.
“Let me take your package.” He slipped the bundled shirts from her arm.
She was hardly aware of anything but the pressure of his hand on her elbow as he helped her up. Of the worn-smooth seat back and the rhythm of his breathing. Breathless, she climbed onto the bench seat and accepted the package he held for her.
While her heart raced with emotions too frightening to name, Seth looked at her with gentle regard. The way one neighbor looked upon another.
You’ve fallen in love with him, just like you swore not to do. She had no one to blame but herself. Certainly not the wonderful man settling onto the seat beside her.
She was too much a dreamer.
One thing was certain. She’d keep this secret in her heart. No one—ever—would know how foolish she was, loving a man she could never be worthy of.
* * *
She was like touching spring. The fire of it. The beauty. Seth gritted his teeth and refused to so much as look at Linnea out of the corner of his eye. Her thigh pressed against his and as the miles passed, the constant soft, firm pressure had built into a tingling heat that flowed like molten lava through his veins.
The town neared and the roads became busy and the oxen were young and needed his attention, but the truth at the back of his mind remained.
He couldn’t believe it. He’d never thought he’d feel this way again.
“My, but the mercantile sounds busy.” Mrs. Holmstrom turned toward the store as if she saw it. “Shoppers are everywhere. I can hear their shoes on the boardwalk.”
“It’s a popular day to come to town.” He pulled the oxen to a halt in the street. “That’s the closest I can get.”
Linnea’s hand curled around his wrist. “This is fine. You don’t have to help us down with the traffic so busy.”
“I’d be disappointed if I couldn’t. Helping beautiful ladies is my calling in life.”
She blushed, an innocent bloom of gentle pink across her porcelain cheeks. “I know a sweet-talking con artist when I hear one. Mama, don’t pay this silver-tongued devil any mind. Give me your hand.”
How she could make him laugh! He felt alive in a thousand different ways and it was as precious as a dream. He circled the wagon and held out his hand to her mother.
It had been a long time since he’d been courting and for the life of him he couldn’t remember the first thing about it. But he had no doubts about what he was going to do. Seth guided the older woman to the boardwalk, and then returned to find Linnea climbing from the seat.
He caught her before she landed, his hands banding her arms and holding her in midair for one brief moment. The jangle of the harness and the drone of voices faded into silence. He met her gaze, wildflower-blue, and his heart tumbled in his chest.
Yessir, he had no doubt. Not a single one.
“Wait for me and I’ll drive you back,” he offered. “Your mother doesn’t need to walk all the way home.”
“You’re a thoughtful man.” Linnea looked at him as if he’d hung the moon, with her eyes wide and lit from within. Then the light faded and she withdrew to a proper distance, reaching to tug at her bonnet ribbons. “We won’t be long at the mercantile.”
“I’ve got a few errands, and I’ll be back.” He tipped his hat.
He hopped into the wagon and released the brake. The oxen were edgy from the noise around them, but they seemed to settle a bit when he took the reins. Talking low to them, he glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Linnea slip through the glass-fronted door and out of his sight.
But not out of his mind. He pulled the team up in front of the seamstress shop where sun reflected in the window around a dazzling red-and-white quilt, the one Linnea had sewn with her two hands.
He wasn’t sure what made him tether the team and hesitate outside the door. With his dirt-streaked clothes, he wasn’t dressed to step inside the elegant shop, but he turned the brass knob anyway.
A dainty bell tinkled over his head as he pushed inside. He took one look at the half a dozen women, their backs to him, looking through thick books at the counter, and almost turned around. He swept off his hat, feeling more awkward than he’d felt in his entire life.
“May I help you?” a handsome woman asked quietly, approaching from the side.
“I’m not sure,” he answered truthfully. He couldn’t say why he’d even stepped through the door. “I’d like to look around.”
“I have plenty of gifts for a courting man,” the woman said wisely, keeping her voice low so that it wouldn’t carry. She gestured toward the racks of satin and silk dresses and the display of fancy bonnets. “Or, a smaller token. Take your time and please ask if you’d like help in choosing.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am.”
He couldn’t imagine Linnea would have much use for a huge hat with feathers or imitation fruit on it. And as pretty as the dresses were, he figured it’d be forward to buy clothing for a woman he wasn’t married to. So he stepped up to the display counter where silver and gold gleamed.
“When are you going to take that quilt out of the window, Ellie?” one of the women from the group asked.
“When I sell it,” the proprietor answered from the far end of the shop. “You may well consider it for your daughter’s wedding bed. What a beautiful remembrance it will make.”
“I’ll not buy something made from Linnea Holmstrom’s needle, thank you very much.”
“Be charitable. The poor girl paid well enough for a single mistake,” another answered.
Seth glanced at the door and back at the gaggle of women in their tailored dresses. Small towns, small minds. It happened in the best of places, and here was no exception.
“Do you see anything you’d like?” The shop owner turned away from the women and approached him, back straight and chin up.
“I’ll take those things. Right there.” He had no idea what they were called, but they were pretty enough. A gift a country woman like Linnea Holmstrom with her love for sewing and beauty could use.
“What a fine choice. Let me wrap these up for you. It will only take a moment.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He ambled over to the window display.
That was Linnea’s quilt. He couldn’t imagine having the patience and skill to make those tiny stitches. No doubt about it, that was the most beautiful quilt he’d ever seen.
“—stole the woman’s husband. Twice—” a whispered voice rasped just loud enough to carry the length of the room.
Seth glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the women looking at him. He turned his back, troubled by the harsh words.
“Poor Ginny, stuck out in the country right next to that woman—”
They were talking about Linnea. Seth clenched his jaw and tamped down his anger. He had no doubt the women were speaking just loud enough so he would hear. So that he couldn’t help wondering about her past. Part of him wanted to know the truth, but it wouldn’t be right or respectful to Linnea. He willed himself not to listen even when the woman grew louder.
Maybe he’d wait out on the boardwalk until his gifts were ready—
“Major.” The shop owner approached, her face tight. Although he didn’t know her by name, she knew who he was. “Here you are. That will be nine dollars and fifty cents.”
He reached for his billfold, feeling the curious women’s stares and the rapid thud of his pulse. “I’ll take that quilt, too. You’re right. It would look mighty fine on a wedding bed.”
“What a good man you are.” The seamstress beamed at him and he had the strange idea she knew exactly why he was buying the quilt. “I’ll wrap it well in paper. Just two more minutes.”
She stepped away, hugging the quilt to her.
The well-dressed women remained silent, staring at him as he counted greenbacks from his billfold and laid them on the counter. He recognized a familiar face. “Good day, Mrs. Johanson.”
The widow turned beet red. “Hello, Major.”
“I found someone to sew for me.” He said it quietly, so there would be no misunderstanding. To any of these women with more time on their hands than they had principles.
He had no doubt of the gossip that would result from this, and he didn’t care. He had nothing to hide. A man who’d just realized he still had a heart, that it wasn’t dead and buried, didn’t care much what busybodies thought.
When he left the shop, the quilt slung heavily over his forearm, happiness hit him full force.
* * *
“These are the last shirts I can accept, I’m afraid.” Mrs. McIntyre looked as unrelenting as a northern blizzard as she laid the shirts on the counter. “Shannon will pay you up front.”
“But I’ve already come down on the price.” Linnea kept her voice low so her mother, shopping an aisle away, couldn’t overhear. “I need this work, Mrs. McIntyre.”
“It can’t be helped. Mrs. Johanson made a more reasonable offer and I’ve chosen to go with her from now on. Do not bring your work here again because my decision is final.”
“But I don’t understand. You’ve never made one complaint about the shirts.”
“The shirts aren’t in question.” Mrs. McIntyre’s cold gaze turned sharp.
“The sewing I do for you is most of my income.” She felt her face flush, because the store was quieting. She could practically feel the dozens of shoppers listening. And her mother was one of them. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Shame filled her. Somehow her wobbly legs took her one step forward. Then another. She made it across the silent store. Anger lashed through her and she fought to keep her temper.
At the counter, Shannon filled an envelope with dollar bills. “The customers are always pleased with your shirts. I thought maybe you’d like to know there’s never been one complaint.”
Linnea pushed the envelope in her pocket, wishing she could thank the woman who’d once been her best friend. Humiliation balled hard and hot in her throat, and she didn’t dare try to speak as she turned away, the heat of so many glares making her feel small and ashamed.
“—strapped with that old mother of hers, the woman can’t have an easy life. You can’t blame her for looking for a little affection—” whispered a voice on the other side of the canned goods aisle.
“A decent sort of woman doesn’t go looking for a man’s affection. You’d think one nine-month’s shame would be enough.”
Linnea fisted her hands and kept walking. Her vision dimmed around the edges and her shoes rang unnaturally loud. She caught sight of her mother at the yard goods counter. “Mama, it’s time to go.”
“But I must wait for Donna to cut the cloth.” Her mother appeared as cheerful as ever, but Linnea could see the lines of strain around her mouth and how her eyes lacked their usual sparkle.
Pain tore through her like a summer twister. How dare Mrs. McIntyre say words that would hurt Mama! “We will buy fabric somewhere else.”
“But here it is cheaper and I have chosen what I think you will like.”
“We cannot afford a new dress now. Let’s head outside for some fresh air.”
“This is to make you happy. To show my dotter’s beauty.” Chin high, she clung to the counter’s edge and refused to move. “Donna helped me choose the right color of blue to match your eyes, and enough to make a bonnet.”
Across the store, boys stood openly in the aisle and snickered. Boys old enough to have manners.
“Mama, come.”
“Ah, here is Donna. How much do we owe you?”
Linnea read the pity in the clerk’s quiet gaze. She hated the way her hands shook as she counted out the few dollars from the envelope in her pocket.
No shirts to sew. She’d hated sewing them, it was true, the endless basting and piecing and interfacing. The careful repetitive detailed work that gave her a knot in her neck and a pain in her wrist. But it provided for Mama.
Now what would she do?
Taking her mother’s arm, she led the way down the aisle. Shoppers had returned to their browsing, but the boys were still pointing. She could read on their lips the nasty words they were saying. Words that made filthy the foolish love she’d felt—once so pure and innocent—for Jimmy McIntyre.
“Is the major waiting for us?” Mama asked, stubbornly cheerful, as if that had been the real reason Linnea had pulled her out of the store.
“Not yet.”
She felt her heart was exploding. Long ago she’d been a stupid girl believing a handsome man would choose her to love. And she was being just as ridiculous now, a grown woman who knew better.
“Now do you see why you must stop with this hoping?” Linnea hated her harsh words. “I’m too old to marry. And a woman who’s made my mistakes doesn’t get a second chance.”
“You were young and in love.”
“You are too forgiving and I can’t stand it.” She didn’t want to hurt her mother, but she stared down the street and saw everything she couldn’t have.
Women climbing out of their buggies, holding babies in their arms. Healthy, beautiful babies that wiggled their tiny fingers and waved their chubby arms and cooed adoringly.
The hole in her heart opened a little wider.
Mama touched her brow. “I did not mean harm, my flicka. I did not think. Of course you are right, but then I love you, my own precious daughter. I know the beauty in you that no one else can see because they are blind.”
Linnea guided her mother out of the way of passersby, tears blurring her vision when she’d vowed not to let them. Love for her mother so bright that it hurt filled her. What would she do without Mama, whose love never dimmed or doubted?
A man’s rumbling “whoa” drew her attention and she saw Seth perched high on the wagon, drawing his oxen to a stop. How wonderful he looked, even streaked with dirt from the fields. So noble her soul sang from simply looking at him.
“Are you two lovely ladies ready to head home?” He set the brake and jumped down.
He looked at her with respect, treated her as if there were no taint to her reputation. As if people weren’t whispering about the time Seth had been spending at her place.
“Why don’t you take Mama home?” she choked out, managing to hold back the hot, aching tears. “I need the walk.”
“But Linnea—” Mama reached out.
Linnea caught her frail hand. “I need to be alone. Besides, you’ll have the major all to yourself.”
“You will walk safely?”
“Linnea, I’m not leaving you behind.” Seth’s dusty boots strode into her line of sight, and she couldn’t look at him. Had he heard the rumors, too? “I’m a gentleman, remember? I can’t ride knowing you’re walking in the hot sun.”
“I love to walk,” she lied the best she could, and hurried off, nearly tripping down the boardwalk.
She would not make matters worse by reading anything into his kindness. He was a good man, through and through.
And she was done with wishing and dreaming for what could never be.
From this moment on, she would pack away her hopes into a box and close the lid. No matter how lonely she was, how empty the house after Mama went to bed and the night lent itself to dreaming, she would never hope, never imagine. Never believe.
Her arms would remain empty.
Nothing—and no one—could change it.
* * *
Seth’s wagon stood in front of the barn, and his oxen were picketed in the shade, grazing. Dread filled her as she took off across the fields. Seth was probably in the house, held captive at her mother’s table by yesterday’s batch of cinnamon rolls. Knowing Mama, she probably wouldn’t quit hoping for a son-in-law, even after today.
“Linnea!” Seth’s call resounded across the plains. There he was in the corral behind the barn, holding the wild mustang with rope and the strength in his arms.
She wasn’t going to go near him. Not with the tongues wagging in town. So she turned away, letting the restless hush of the prairie soothe her.
A white-tailed jackrabbit stood up on his hind legs to study her with his long floppy ears laid back and his nose twitching. Then he leaped in long strides, disappearing in the thick prairie grasses.
She climbed a rise and stared out at the horizon where land and sky made forever. How she wanted to let the wind blow her there, where there were no troubles or pain. A red-tailed hawk cried out in the blue skies overhead, sailing on wide reddish-brown wings. He circled lazily as if no worries could tether him.
What was she thinking? She couldn’t go anywhere. She had Mama to care for. The dear, sweet, stubborn woman who refused to stop loving her no matter the mistakes she’d made.
The crosses stood barely seen amid the calf-high grasses and the nodding yellow bells. Linnea knelt in front of them, tracing the words she’d carved there herself. Olaf Holmstrom, her cherished father. All the guilt in the world couldn’t bring him back or change the existence of the second grave.
She could barely look at the marker she’d made years ago. She’d been shaking with weakness from a prolonged labor and it showed in the unsteady writing. Christopher Olaf Holmstrom, it read, Beloved Baby Son.
She let the tears come, hot and steady, ripping through her like claws. Tears she had refused to shed in the mercantile where Mrs. McIntyre, her baby’s grandmother, scorned her. Where others pitied or disdained her for this child resting in the earth, this child who’d never taken a first breath or wiggled his tiny perfect fingers or gazed with wonder at the world.
Shame, they called him. But he was her son and her whole heart.
Nothing hurt like broken dreams, buried and without life.
She cried until there were no more tears. Until there was only emptiness and the wind racing across the prairie, leaving her behind.
* * *
Coyote song haunted the night, making the prairie eerie. Linnea hesitated on the bottom step the instant she spotted light through the cracks in the closed barn doors. Seth was here.
She almost turned around and went back in the house. It was well after midnight and she couldn’t put off going to bed any longer. As she filled her arms with wood for the morning fires, she kept her back firmly to the barn. With any luck, he’d stay inside until she was safely locked in the house.
“Who-who?” asked a barn owl as he glided on soundless wings to the ground. He captured a field mouse with his hooked talons. Like a phantom, he lifted into the air and disappeared from sight.
“Are you all right?” Seth asked from behind her.
She dropped the wood with a ringing clatter. “That’s twice now you’ve done that to me.”
“Sorry. The coyotes are loud tonight. Full moon.” He knuckled back his hat but his face remained in shadow. “You didn’t come to the corral today. I called out to you.”
“I had some things on my mind.”
“I noticed. Did you want to come with me now?”
“I need to go in. Chores are waiting.” She knelt to gather the wood, but he was already there, so close their arms brushed.
His eyes darkened. His gaze slipped to her lips. Her lips buzzed as if he’d closed the distance between them. She jerked away, leaving him to gather the wood.
As she headed back to the house, she could feel his question in the air. And like the haunting cries of the coyote packs, it made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She marched into the front room and grabbed the empty wood tin. Without a word, she dropped it onto the porch outside the door.
“How are you and the mare getting along?” He ambled up the stairs and into the light.
“Well enough.”
“She’s nearly healed. I let her run around the corral today. Kept her hobbled so she couldn’t jump the fence and take off. Are you two becoming friends?”
“She won’t eat from my hand. But after I’m gone, she’ll eat the apples I leave for her.”
“Give her time.” He dumped the wood into the bin, his movements relaxed and easy. “I’ve nearly got the fields plowed and sowed. Bought the rest of the seed today.”
“I’m sure Ginny appreciates it.” Her stomach twisted and she retreated toward the safety of the house.
“Linnea? I’m sorry about what Ginny did.” His apology stopped her just as she was about to shut the door. He stood like a warrior on her porch, strong and as unconquerable as the night. But it was his tenderness that touched her.
He moved close. Too close. “Ginny speculated to a few of her friends on what you and I have been doing together. She had no right to hurt you.”
“She didn’t hurt me.” Words came easily, because she wasn’t going to malign Seth’s family. Whatever manner the woman, Ginny McIntyre was his rightful sister. “I don’t think you and I should be spending time alone together from now on. I’m certain it would only give the neighbors more fat to chew.”
“I don’t care about the neighbors.” He caught her hand and pulled her away from the safe haven of her parlor and into the shadows. His grip was strong, but his touch tender. “I’ve learned the hard way what matters in life.”
“I have, too.”
“Good.” He leaned closer, his gaze arrowing to her mouth. The air buzzed between them, and Linnea watched in horror as he dipped his head and tilted just enough so he could fit their lips together.
“I’ve got Mama to tend to.” It was the only excuse that came to mind as she splayed her hands on his forearms and shoved him hard enough to dodge his kiss. “She’s asleep, but I need to keep an eye on her.”
“Listen.” Seth caught her wrist so she couldn’t escape into the house. “The horses.”
Across the prairie beat the drum of a hundred hooves. Faint and growing louder across the face of the night, pounding with life and power. Closer they came, soaring like magic, manes and tails shimmering in the moonlight, barely earthbound. The stallion lifted his head and neighed. The forlorn sound echoed across the plains.
The mare inside the barn answered, the sound strangely melancholy.
“She sounds lonely.”
“She surely does.”
Linnea listened again to the stallion’s call and the mare’s answer. The remaining herd sailed over her fence and into her pasture.
“I’ve never been so close to a wild herd. Look at them.” Seth swept off his hat, gazing with awe and desire at the beautiful horses gleaming in the silvery light.
The mare’s cries filled Linnea’s ears until she couldn’t stand it anymore. She tore away from Seth and ran. Her skirts caught the wind and nearly tripped her, but she kept going. Ten feet away on the other side of the road, the dangerous stallion’s neighs rang shrill with warning and he pawed the air with his hooves.
“Linnea!”
Seth was behind her. He was going to stop her, and she couldn’t bear it. She’d had enough loneliness. Enough sorrow. With all her strength, she pulled open the door and raced into the darkness.
“She could hurt you. Linnea. Wait!” As if he knew what she planned to do, he was already trying to stop her.
His hand caught her shoulder, and she twisted away. Dodging the center post, she dove toward the stall and pulled the latch.
“I’m not keeping her captive.” She wasn’t crying, but her cheeks were wet as she tugged open the gate.
“Linnea.” He wrapped his arms around her.
But she squirmed away. She found the rope holding the mare and jerked the slipknot free.
The mare reared. Seth hauled Linnea against the back wall and the mustang galloped away with a clatter of hooves and high triumphant neighs—calls to her herd that she was free.
Linnea felt better, stronger. Crushed against Seth’s chest, she could hear his rapid heartbeat. Had he been afraid for her?
Their gazes met in the darkest shadows. In the scant glow of moonlight through the weathered boards, she could see his fear.
“You could have been trampled.” He tightened his arms, trapping her against him. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I’m fine.” She could feel him breathe, feel the flex of his muscles as he moved.
His hand smoothed across her brow. She wanted to give in to the warm caress. To close her eyes and let him take away the loneliness. She needed his kiss, she craved his touch.
It took all her strength to tear away from the shelter of his arms. Away from the comfort he promised.
She headed toward the large swatch of light made by the open barn door. Anything to get away from him.
“Linnea?” His step pounded after her. “I’m getting tired of chasing you. Maybe you can tell me why you let the mare go. I made some progress with her today.”
“She deserved to be free.”
“Freedom is a dangerous place. That’s how she wound up in your care.”
“Life is a dangerous place. It can’t be helped.”
“Damn it, that’s not what I meant. You had something to offer her. A safe place to live. Hay and grain and a comfortable bed at night.”
“She wanted her freedom.”
“In time, she would have made a good saddle horse. She would have been happy.”
“Do you see her staying around? Look.” She swept her hand toward the prairie, where the galloping mustangs were distant silhouettes against the horizon. “She made her choice, and I’m glad.”
“You are the darnedest woman, Linnea Holmstrom.” He shook his head. He sounded angry; he sounded amused. “Is there a chance now that you’ll invite me in for a cup of tea or something?”
“Not a chance on this earth.” She left him standing in the yard, bathed in moonlight, looking as confused as she felt.
She’d been mean to him. It weighed on her conscience as she bolted the front door and turned down the light. Darkness filled the parlor. There. Maybe that would stop him from coming back to the door and knocking. Trying to get the kiss she’d denied him tonight.
But she sat at the window and peered through the night shadows. She spotted him against the dark night. He walked home, his head bowed, his hat in his hands.
She’d hurt him. When she’d only meant to keep a proper distance between them. Troubled, she leaned her forehead against the cool glass. She’d done the right thing, but it didn’t feel that way. Not one bit.