Montana Wife (Historical) by Jillian Hart Read Free Book Online Page A

the sight took Rayna’s breath away. Daniel Lindsay was so different a man than Kol had been. Tall and tough and distant, instead of round and gregarious and jolly.
    Daniel seemed like a man who neither smiled nor laughed often.
    Yet he was not harsh, she decided, remembering his tenderness last night when he’d bandaged her hands.
    She unhooked the gate. “You should not be doing my work, Mr. Lindsay.”
    â€œAre you going to warn me off your chores? Too late.” He unfolded his big frame, hefting the nearly full pail with ease. “How about we barter my labor for breakfast?”
    â€œRather forward, aren’t you? Helping yourself to my chores and inviting yourself to my table?” She couldn’t help the words. They came harder than she meant, but seeing him here reminded her of how her life had changed. And life wasn’t done altering on her.
    Not by far. “I suppose I could fry up a few eggs for you.”
    â€œThat’d be fine, Mrs. Ludgrin. I’ll be up to the house shortly.”
    â€œGive me the milk then, and I’ll add some fresh biscuits to our deal. I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss.” She reached over the wooden gate with her bandaged hands. Dried blood had seeped through the white cloth.
    Daniel’s stomach clenched. She was too fragile for the hard work this land required.
    But Rayna Ludgrin did not complain, she simply took the full bucket he handed over, steaming in the cool air and frothy with foam. The sweet scent of milk was nothing compared to the fragrance of her—a woman’s soft, warm smell and lilacs. She smelled like spring. Why that made his eyes burn, he couldn’t rightly say.
    He seemed to tower over her, the small thing she was, as she handled the heavy pail as if it were light as air. For one span of a breath, only the distance of the wooden gate separated them. He was close enough to see the deep hue of the dark circles bruising her delicate skin, making her blue eyes seem huge in her pale face.
    Sympathy hit like an anvil on his chest and he turned away, not sure of the tangle that seemed to coil up behind his breastbone. A tangle of emotions that he wasn’t familiar with at all. But they were powerful and he didn’t know what to do.
    He grabbed the pitchfork and went to work, keeping busy until the dainty pad of her step had disappeared into silence and he was alone with the livestock.
    The cow gripped his trouser leg with her teeth and gently tugged. Her grain trough was empty. She waited, her long tail swishing while he took a deep breath to fill his lungs. But the coil in his chest remained.
    He snatched a battered dipper and dropped another pile of grain into the wooden tray for the cow who released her hold on his trousers, mooed in gentle appreciation and lipped up the sweet-tasting treat.
    The cow in the next stall gave a long, sharp protest. He knew what to do about that—he grained her, milked her, which kept him busy enough that he didn’t have to pick apart what was troubling him. He had plenty enough of that as it was. His crop was a total loss that would set him back a year in more than just profit. Wind damage to the fences and outbuildings would cost him in lumber and sweat. He had enough of his own concerns.
    He didn’t need to add Rayna Ludgrin’s problems to his already heavy load.
    He wanted her land. It was as simple as that. He was willing to pay her a fair price. Good wheat land was hard to come by on these stubborn plains. It was as if the prairie fought to take back the land it had lost, and it was a constant battle for the average rancher. Montana was a hard enemy, but he was equally tenacious. The wind blew colder through the open barn doors, cutting through his long-sleeved work shirt as if in challenge.
    It would be a hard go of it.
    Daniel eyed the tight-hewn timbers overhead and the loft brimming with soft hay. The feed room was nearly empty, save for a