Page 5 of A Steadfast Heart (Wind River Mail-Order Brides #2)

W hat have I done?

Early the next morning, Kaitlyn looked around the bare room where she’d passed the night. No pictures on the rough wooden walls. A single window that needed a good scrubbing. If she went through with this marriage, she would be trapped out here in the Wyoming wilderness.

But Michael would hold no power over her once she said I do .

Drew would.

She got out of bed, trying not to trip over the hem of her borrowed nightgown. She picked up a handful of extra fabric, but the hem still brushed against her ankles.

Last night, Drew had escorted her to his room and told her it was hers now. He’d sleep downstairs with David. Some of his first wife’s things were in the bottom drawer of the bureau, he’d said. Kaitlyn could use what she needed.

There’d been several awkward moments with him standing out on the landing and her inside the room. This morning, she had to wonder whether he was still in love with the woman who’d worn this very nightgown. He’d certainly made it clear he had no interest in Kaitlyn.

And you’re not looking for love? Because I can tell you, you won’t find it here.

His words from last night had given her pause. She’d been so concerned about escaping Michael’s grasp that she hadn’t fully considered what it meant to marry a near-stranger. Drew seemed determined that this would be a business deal, no emotions involved.

She hadn’t thought about it in a long time—not since girlhood dreams had faded—but she’d always imagined having a family of her own. A husband who loved her.

Was this business deal worth what she would give up?

What choice did she have?

Kaitlyn hiked her chin.

She wasn’t looking for love, was she? Being needed was better. People didn’t throw away what they needed.

Bickering voices filtered through from the kitchen, interrupting her thoughts.

Kaitlyn threw on her traveling dress and shoes, then quickly put up her hair. She’d never thought she’d be grateful for Michael’s spendthrift ways, but at least his inability to pay staff meant she knew how to help with the work around here.

Two girls’ voices rose higher as Kaitlyn descended the stairs. Knots curled in her belly. She knew how to manage the cleaning and cooking, but her main job was caring for the children. She’d been shocked yesterday at how wild they’d seemed. Surely the memories that had plagued her as she’d tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed had exaggerated just how rowdy and improper the children had acted.

She pushed away the uncertainty. She had planned to teach in a classroom. This couldn’t be that different.

And she had no other choice. Michael had stripped them all away.

The clatter of a log shifting in the wood-burning stove drew Kaitlyn to the kitchen doorway. Tillie stood on a chair, cracking eggs into a bowl, and Jo rolled out biscuit dough while one of the brothers—was it Nick or Ed?—sliced ham. The worktable in the center of the room easily accommodated all three of them, the girls on one side and their uncle on the other.

“Jo, I dropp-ed more shell in.”

Jo grabbed a fork and moved to lean over the bowl, sighing as if this wasn’t the first time. “You’re such a baby, Tillie. If you could do anything without help, I’d be able to go work in the barn.” Jo scowled as she flicked the piece of shell onto the counter and then returned to the biscuits.

“Jo,” the man warned, though he didn’t even look up at the squabble.

Tillie’s lower lip stuck out. “I’m not a baby.”

“Yes, you are.” Jo ran the rolling pin across the biscuit dough. “You still need someone to look after you all the time.” Jo’s complaint in the last words probably meant she was usually assigned the task. “And I can’t even take you to the barn, ’cause you’re too loud.”

Ed-or-Nick looked over at Jo sharply, and at the same moment, Tillie looked over her shoulder and caught sight of Kaitlyn. The girl jumped off the chair and ran to Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn dropped a hand on her shoulder as the girl hugged her waist.

Jo dropped the rolling pin on the counter with a clatter. “Finally. You slept late. Uncle Nick, can I go to the barn now?”

Kaitlyn might’ve hoped for a warmer greeting. She shored up her smile. Jo must still be getting used to the idea of Kaitlyn staying here. It was an adjustment for all of them.

At least Nick was glad to see her, if his smile was any indication. “There’s coffee on the stove. Finish the biscuits, Josephine,” he said firmly.

Jo scowled again. “I don’t want to. I want to help Pa and David in the barn.”

Nick’s chin dipped and for a moment, the only noise was the snick - thump of his knife before he answered Jo. “You are a lot of help in the barn, short stuff. But your pa tasked you with making those biscuits for the family.”

“But I don’t want to. David never has to help in the kitchen.”

Tillie moved back slightly and tugged on Kaitlyn’s hand. “Will ya help me crack the eggs?”

Kaitlyn followed her to the worktable, nose wrinkling slightly at the scattered flour and bits of eggshell on the dirty surface.

Jo glared at her sister. “You’re useless. If you could do the eggs by yourself, I wouldn’t be stuck in here.”

Tillie’s shoulders shook as she swallowed a sob. “I’m not useless, am I, Miss Kaitlyn?”

“Of course not.” Kaitlyn pulled the child into her arms. “You’re just little.”

“That means the same thing.” Jo smirked.

Tillie wailed.

Kaitlyn ran her hand along Tillie’s back. Was it too late to go back to bed and start over? The wool fabric of the girl’s dress was rough beneath her fingers, and her cries didn’t abate.

Of course they didn’t. Kaitlyn’s head spun. What did she know about comforting a distraught child?

Jo pushed hard on the rolling pin, working the dough to nearly pie-crust thickness. Intentionally sabotaging the biscuits, no doubt. Kaitlyn bit her lip. Step into the girl’s trap, or eat burnt crackers for breakfast? Neither choice appealed.

Jo dug one end of the rolling pin into the dough and dragged it, ripping the mixture down the middle. Her smirk grew wider.

Kaitlyn’s stomach tensed. She knew a challenge when she saw one. Unfortunately, the odds weren’t in her favor, no matter how she chose to respond. Still, how much madder could the girl get? Kaitlyn released a still-sobbing Tillie and moved next to Jo. “I think you got the dough a little too thin.”

“We like it that way. What do you know about living on a ranch anyway?”

“Not much, but I can learn.”

Jo scoffed. “You ain’t gonna be here long enough for that. You’ll leave, just like Ma did.”

“Josephine McGraw!” Nick’s cheeks flushed, and his lips folded into a flat line.

Kaitlyn’s stomach tightened. Could there be truth to Mr. Quade’s story? Was Drew divorced, not widowed? She leaned against the sharp edge of the worktable to steady her weakened knees.

Nick sighed and put his knife down. “Tell you what, Tillie. Why don’t I teach you how to cut out biscuits. Jo can check on the chores in the barn.”

And wasn’t that just how her parents had treated Michael? Whatever it took to get him to quiet his current tantrum. Still, Kaitlyn needed answers, and she wasn’t likely to get them with the girls in the room. As soon as she found her footing, she’d be prepared for Jo’s stubbornness.

Jo threw the rolling pin into the mess of torn dough and ran out the back door.

Kaitlyn tweaked one of Tillie’s crooked pigtails. “Why don’t you go with her?”

Nick’s eyes squeezed shut, but he didn’t argue.

Tillie, her tears miraculously calmed, ran after her sister.

Nick picked up his knife and cut another slice of ham. “I wish I could tell you that was unusual, but so far, this has been a fairly typical morning. Still, if you can handle the butchering, I don’t guess a few dramatics will chase you away.”

“What chased the children’s mother away?”

“Amanda. Her name was Amanda.”

“And?”

He sighed. “Drew wouldn’t be happy to hear us discussing this.” Even his ears were red.

“I have a right to know if the man I’m about to marry is a widower, divorced, or even…” Her cheeks heated and her eyes dropped to the worktable. She gathered the biscuit dough into a ball and rolled it out.

Nick paused in his chopping and turned to face her. “No, Kaitlyn. He wouldn’t…I mean, it never crossed my mind that you’d think—” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Let me start over, okay?”

Kaitlyn nodded.

“Amanda came from money. She couldn’t adjust to life here, or maybe she didn’t want to.” He chuckled. “I know she would never have pitched in like you did last night.”

Kaitlyn’s shoulders relaxed just a bit. She’d done something right, anyway.

Nick returned to slicing meat. “I guess I should be kinder. She stuck it out for almost four years. Then she ran off with one of the hands. Said it was a mistake for her to come west with Drew and she was going back to Boston. She took both girls, but David was out working with Drew. The train derailed. Amanda died.”

Kaitlyn shuddered. No wonder Drew didn’t want to talk about it. She swallowed hard. “The girls?”

“Cuts and bruises. Jo had a broken arm.”

“How old was she?”

“Five.”

Kaitlyn’s eyes squeezed shut. So young to have her world turned upside down.

Nick sighed. “Nothing’s been the same since.” He shook his head. “No, nothing’s been right since.”

Kaitlyn wandered to the window and pushed aside the curtain. The dirty glass felt cool beneath her fingers. Drew was hunched over a piece of farm equipment. Tillie stood next to him, watching. Jo had vanished, probably into the barn.

Amanda had told Drew he was a mistake. Had left with another man, fracturing this family. Kaitlyn’s heart ached. David had held back from her. Jo had pushed her away. Tillie had latched on to her, holding tight. All responses to the trauma of their mother dying.

Was she supposed to fix this? And if so, how?

* * *

Ouch!

Drew pocketed his file and examined his fingers. No blood, thankfully. He should know better than to get distracted while sharpening a plowshare.

Laughter drifted across the barnyard from where David and Ed stood outside the weathered barn, chatting. Drew’s stomach tightened. David had been avoiding him all morning. He leaned back toward the equipment, the cold from the frozen ground seeping through the knees of his pants. His file screeched against another burr. Whoever had put up the plow last fall had forgotten to coat it with oil. Now it would take nearly a day to get it ready. One more chore in an endless list.

Hoofbeats stopped nearby. Drew glanced up, swallowed another sigh. Isaac waited, all kitted out and obviously not planning on staying at the homestead today. Drew put down the file and walked over.

“You headed out?” Drew ran his hands over his pants legs, wiping off the dust from the plow.

Isaac nodded. “Thought I’d check on the new calves and the last few pregnant cows.”

“I’ll see you tonight, then.”

Isaac shook his head. “I heard some wolves pretty close. Thought I’d make sure they weren’t building a den somewhere nearby.”

Isaac’s voice sounded steady but lacked the note of humor that used to be a near constant. What had killed Isaac’s laughter?

Drew rubbed the back of his neck. “Last night you said you wanted to talk to me.”

Isaac looked toward the path he’d be riding, his face expressionless. “It can wait. You’ve got a lot on your hands.”

The conversation had already waited too long, to Drew’s way of thinking. He glanced down at his brother’s waist. No pistols. Isaac hadn’t worn them since he’d returned home without his badge. “Isaac?—”

“I said it could wait.” He guided his horse toward the pastures.

Drew turned back to the plow, his heart heavy. When had Isaac lost his smile, his joshing good humor? Growing up, he’d been behind most of the mischief the brothers had made, and most of the fun as well. Now he seldom smiled. Never laughed. Looked like he never slept.

The file jerked in Drew’s hand, caught on another burr. He wiggled it, but it wouldn’t move forward or back. Drew sighed and left the file where it lay. He had bigger fish to fry. What could he do to help his brother? Isaac needed more than Drew could give him. For now, only the vast empty land seemed to give Isaac peace. If the cost of that peace was more work for Drew, so be it.

He stood and jostled the plow handles. The rungs had worked loose again. They’d have to be tightened before he plowed more land for the hay his larger herd needed. Maybe he’d expanded too fast. Drew pushed the thought away. His brothers deserved their own land, their own places. They’d just have to make it work. With the old plow.

But for now, he needed to get the team. A few minutes later, he led the dappled grays out of the barn to the wagon. Ed ambled up and took one horse, quickly moving to the front of the wagon.

Drew’s shoulders relaxed. He could always count on Ed to jump in with whatever needed doing. They busied themselves with straps made stubborn by the cold.

Ed adjusted a buckle for a better fit. “We could start tearing down the bunkhouse while you’re gone, to recycle the lumber.”

“No need. I’m headed to town. I’ll see what I can get for that bull and price lumber while I’m there.”

Ed nodded. “The bull needs selling, but where will we get money for a new one if we use the money from his sale on lumber?”

“I’ll handle it.” And without touching his bride’s money. That wasn’t part of their deal. If Kaitlyn could just help Jo, she’d more than pull her weight.

Except he couldn’t let his brothers pay the price for his own pride. The ball of guilt that had taken up permanent residence in his gut grew. The original homestead couldn’t support four families. It made sense that he’d inherited it, as he was both the oldest and the only brother with a family.

But if it made sense, why did he feel like a thief?

The front door slammed, and Jo stomped down the porch steps. “I don’t wanna wear this dress,” she hollered. David followed her, stopping to kick at something.

Ed cleared his throat. “Are you sure about this marriage?”

Drew adjusted a strap that already lay perfectly smooth. Fact was, he wasn’t sure about anything. “It isn’t real, you know. The marriage, that is.”

“Once you’re in front of that preacher, it’s as real as it gets. No going back.”

David moved closer to Jo, his expression scornful. He said something Drew couldn’t hear, and Jo took a swing at him. David danced back out of reach.

Was this marriage the right thing for the kids? He shook his head. He couldn’t predict the future. He only knew they couldn’t continue as they were now. David longed for more education than Drew could provide, and Jo? Well, he didn’t even know what Jo needed.

The front door opened, and Tillie stepped onto the porch. Kaitlyn followed. Tillie’s hair was pulled back into a bow. A bow, of all things. He didn’t even know they had ribbon. Tillie took Kaitlyn’s hand and pulled her toward the wagon, her smile wider than he could remember seeing. Drew’s heart lightened.

Ed stopped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you sure, Drew?”

“I’m sure. I’m getting married.”