stung her ears. She’d promised Pa to return as quickly as she could, promised she would then hear Ted’s offer of marriage. It was only a formality. Ma and Pa both highly approved of Ted Rusk who worked with Pa in the store. When Jenny protested she didn’t feel like settling down despite her age, Ma cautioned, “Jenny, you must learn to think with your head not your heart.”
“Ted is steady,” Pa said. “He’ll settle you down.”
They knew what was best for her. And didn’t the scripture instruct her to honor her father and mother? She intended to obey God’s word. Didn’t intend to follow her foolish heart into any more disasters.
Both parents had given cautious consent to her plan to take Meggie to Lena’s family. No doubt they figured this adventure would get her restlessness out of her system.
She hoped it would, that she’d be ready to take her role as Ted’s wife and partner as she intended to. Having given her word, she would fulfill it. Her word was her bond. She would learn to still the restless voice whispering from the dark corners of her imagination. She knew too well the risks of listening to that voice and would never again do so.
Meggie wouldn’t settle and begged to be held. They were both sticky with heat but Jenny gathered the baby in her arms and rocked her, crooning soothing sounds which did little to ease Meggie’s fussing and nothing to ease Jenny’s feeling of being watched.
Stealing a glance from under her eyelashes, she saw the dark-eyed man studying her, a tightness about his mouth. He realized she looked at him and nodded, giving a smile that barely widened his mouth and pushed the tightness upward to his eyes. Yet he didn’t look so much disapproving as simply hot and tired like the rest of them.
She nodded, her own smile small and polite even though inside she felt such an unusual touch of excitement. Again she ducked her head and studied the back of the bench before her.
Lord, I have promises to keep. I have tasks to do. And You know me. I have a side of me that rebels, overreacts, enjoys a breathless gallop. She thought of the verse Ma had drilled into her head and heart, ‘Godliness with contentment is great gain.’ There was no point in longing for things she couldn’t have. She tried to find contentment even as she wondered that God had made her a woman—one who must abide by the tight restraints of society when she longed to be free to explore and adventure. She smiled as she thought of how she had—in the not so distant past—tried to talk Pa into heading for the Black Hills to look for gold.
Pa laughed. “Pepper, don’t let the glitter of gold make you blind to the beauty of stability.”
She loved Pa. He understood her better than anyone, perhaps even better than she understood herself. That’s why she’d promised she and Ted would be engaged as soon as she returned. Pa approved of Ted and thought he would be the perfect mate for her. She trusted Pa’s love and wisdom.
The conductor came through the car calling, “Buffalo Hollow next stop.” He paused at Jenny’s side. “I’ll help you with the little one when we get there.”
Her insides did a tumble as she thought of what faced her. She must find transportation to Lena’s brother’s ranch and turn Meggie over to the man and his wife. She would see Meggie settled as she promised then return home. But—she allowed a trickle of excitement—the settling-in period would surely give her a chance to explore the countryside. Just the thought made her shift so she could watch out the window. The golden prairie drifted past. The sky seemed endless, making her feel small yet light, as if she could float forever under the blue canopy.
The train jerked to a halt, puffing and groaning. The old woman muttered about having to endure the ride longer. All the men rose and headed for the door. Only the black-haired man paused to indicate she should precede him.
Flustered at his kindness, she fumbled to pull the two traveling bags from the overhead rack—an impossible task with Meggie clutched in her arms. She tried to put Meggie on her feet so she could manage but Meggie clung to her and refused to stand.
Jenny grew even warmer as the man patiently waited.
“I’ll take your bags. You carry the child.”
She managed to untangle her thoughts enough to murmur “thank you,” then hurried down the aisle and let the conductor assist her to the platform.
The stranger set her bags on the wooden platform. He considered her with a dark intense look. “Ma’am, if I might give you some advice?”
She nodded.
“Go home. This is no place for a woman and child.” He tipped his head in good-bye and strode away.
“Go home?” she sputtered, but he continued on without a backward glance. No place for a woman and child? Who was he to make such a statement? Lena said her brother had sent for his intended six months ago. That woman had come out—no doubt happily married by now. Besides—she sniffed—did he think women were too fragile for frontier life? Too fussy? Too soft? She sniffed again. She could prove him wrong if he cared to hang about and see.
But of course he didn’t and would never know how she would welcome the challenge of this life if it were offered to her. However, that wasn’t going to happen. She would deliver Meggie and return home to her stable life. But not—she glared at the place where the man had disappeared from sight—because she couldn’t stand the challenge of living out West.
As Burke Edwards rode from town he restrained the urge to lean forward and gallop all the way home. He wouldn’t find any sense of peace and release until he could shed his Sunday-go-to-town clothes for jeans and chaps, and ride out on the prairie. He’d wished for a different outcome to his trip though in the back of his mind he knew the futility of hope. Had known, he supposed, from the first, but he had fought it. Perhaps if he’d accepted it from the beginning, made the necessary changes, all this would have turned out differently.
He sighed and settled back into the saddle, letting the rhythm of riding and the familiar scents and sights of the open prairie soothe his troubled mind.
Unbidden, unwelcome, his thoughts turned back to his recent train ride.
He’d noticed the girl the minute he got on the train—her hair trailing in damp disarray from the roll coiled about her head, her bonnet askew as the baby batted at it, her brown eyes both weary and patient. When he sat facing her he saw how her smiling brown eyes darted about, taking in everything. He admired her for coping with the fussy little girl, for smiling and nodding politely when the other passengers complained of the noise.
But the way she peered out the window in awe brought such a surge of heat to his brain, he’d seen stars. He wanted to tell her, yup, that’s what most of Dakota Territory was like—flat, endless prairie. Great for cows and horses. Deadly for women.
He’d studied her. Held her gaze steadily when she glanced his way. In that moment he’d felt something promising, even hopeful as if she dared him to venture into the unknown with him.
Just remembering that fleeting sensation made him snort. “I guess I’ve learned my lesson,” he muttered to the silent prairie and uninterested horse. This was no place for a woman. He’d told her so then marched away without giving her a chance to reply.
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Her eyes had fired up a protest. She’d sputtered. Would have argued if he’d given her opportunity. If he hadn’t learned his lesson a little too well he might have paused long enough to see her let off steam. Instead he marched away. Heard her words of protest follow. Had to steel himself not to turn and satisfy his desire to see how she looked all het up.
For a moment he wondered at her destination. He knew most people from the area who did business at Buffalo Hollow. Hadn’t heard of anyone expecting a visitor. From what he’d overheard the woman explain to the conductor, this was more than a visit. She’d said something about joining an uncle. He’d heard her mention the child’s father dying from a fever and guessed she was a widow.
He shrugged. He’d not see her again, of