Montana Wife (Historical) by Jillian Hart

caught in shadow, the cool, new light falling all around him. Summer was gone, and with it the vibrant warmth. The season had turned, and Daniel felt as if something unnamable were slipping away and just out of his reach, something he didn’t even know he’d been missing until now. When it was already gone.
    Or maybe it was just that he realized Rayna had disappeared into her house. Seemingly taking the summer with her.
    He left the pail of milk on the back porch, in front of the open door. Through the pink mesh of the screen, he could see her at the stove. Her back was to him as she worked, her long hair shifting and moving like liquid gold. Overcome, he turned away, wondering if her hair was as soft as it looked. It wasn’t his right to wonder such a thing.
    If things went his way, she’d be gone and this land would be his. And he would be alone, as he was meant to be. As he’d always been.
    His boots crushed fallen rose leaves and satin pink petals as he retraced his path across the back lawn. Toward the livestock gathering at the empty wooden feed trough. For a long second, it felt as if time had stopped marching forward and the earth had stopped turning between one step and the next. His breath stalled in his lungs. A strange flickering trail skidded along his spine.
    What was happening to him?
    Awareness moved through him, different from the jerk of instinct that warned him of a predator in the field, but just as strong. It was an awareness that had him turning on his heel to gaze back at the house in time to see Rayna framed in the window. With a batter bowlanchored in the crook of her arm, she returned to her work as if she hadn’t been watching him.
    He headed to the far side of the trough and kept out of sight of the house while he finished the rest of the morning chores.
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    At the first tap of his boot on the porch, she straightened. Taking a breath, she wiped the stray wisps from her eyes and dug the hot mitt from the drawer.
    You can do this, Rayna. She was a grown woman after all. She had to face the unbearable truth. What was done was done, there was no going back and changing it. Kol hadn’t meant to die, of course, and he would never have wanted her to be in this position. Never would have wanted his family broken and his land sold…
    It’s too much. Too much to manage alone. He never would have wanted that for her. Anger drained out of her and her hand started to tremble. She couldn’t get a good grip on the baking sheet through the layers of dense rug yarn that padded the mitt.
    The biscuits, golden and fluffy, tipped dangerously and she slid the sheet onto the waiting trivet, the one Kol had sanded and shaped from river rock the long winter when she’d been carrying Hans.
    She swallowed hard, somehow managing to flip the eggs without breaking all but one of the yolks. She watched the smear of yellow bubble in the grease and steeled herself for what was to come.
    The rap of his knuckles on the door frame was quiet, not bold or demanding, but seemed like the ring of gunfire. She would do this now, while the boys were sleeping in from another rough night, when it was just her and Daniel. So she could spare her boys the heartache.
    Daniel Lindsay’s step was sure and sturdy as he lethimself in. He was a good man, Kol had said so many a time. And would take better care of her land than Mr. Dayton or whoever won the auction from the bank. Surely that was the wisest decision. Maybe he would give her enough time to settle her affairs and contact her relatives to see if anyone would take her and her boys in.
    â€œDid you sleep at all last night?”
    It wasn’t what she expected him to say. Surely he’d seen the mortgage papers on the table; they were obvious and hard to miss. “I’ll have time to sleep later.”
    â€œNo, you need to take care of yourself now. Your boys depend on you.”
    It was the decency in his voice that undid her as