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

hundredweight bag of grain that wouldn’t see the Ludgrin livestock far into the month. There was enough hay for feeding and straw for bedding to see the animals through the autumn, judging by the size of the stacks he could see out back.
    But the winter? No. More feed would have to be bought.
    The workhorses were in good shape, young andstrong and healthy. The cattle—he’d have to take a ride out in the fields to get a good look; see if they’d bring a good enough price this late in the year.
    He leaned the pitchfork in the corner, out of the way, and took a moment to look around. He’d learned long ago to see beyond the surface of things, so it was no trouble to purge the soggy-brown mess of the ruined crops from the acres of fields.
    Yep, that was a mess now, but all a man had to do was to turn the sod before winter set in and these would be good fertile fields to sow come spring. Fields he wanted. A good water supply, even a running creek most of the year. He’d been up half the night working out the numbers on his old school slate and he knew he could just manage it.
    It all depended on what those papers on Rayna’s table said. Bank notes. He couldn’t read, but he knew a mortgage note when he saw it. And judging by the number of pages, more than just the property was encumbered.
    But, if Rayna was willing and her asking price was reasonable, this could be his. Sure, it would take hard labor to turn the soil, to plant and harvest one hundred and sixty acres in addition to his own bottom land that kept him busy as it was. He’d be working from dawn until midnight for a good part of the next year. That was a formidable prospect, but the gains would be worth it.
    Hell, he’d come this far already. He might as well see if he couldn’t improve his circumstances.
    Daniel straightened his shoulders as the tepid rays of dawn washed over him, bright but without warmth. His shadow stretched out before him, long and wide, on the ground littered with wheat chaff blown from the fields by last night’s heartless wind. Ground that would be his?
    I sure hope so.
    Determination turned his spine to steel. A little hard work was all it would take. He wasn’t afraid of hard work. It was the only kind he knew. What he didn’t like was that his future hinged on a woman’s decision.
    She’d already agreed he’d have first option for the land. But did the bank’s mortgage cancel that? Or would she be able to keep her word if a better offer came from one of the other neighbors?
    There she was—a blur of dark blue calico and matching sunbonnet—visible through the slats of the chicken pen. She emerged from the coop with a basket on her arm. She was obviously egg gathering. Hens clucked and pecked at the scatter of feed on the dirt and squawked angrily when the snap of her dress startled them.
    The wan light teased her blond hair, which she hadn’t pinned up yet and fell in a long golden spill from her nape, where a ribbon bound it into a thick ponytail. With it down, she looked young and dainty, her shadow a thin wisp behind her as she swished up the path to the garden gate. She seemed far too young to be a widow and a mother of two boys, one of them fourteen years old.
    That tangle of emotions was back, wedged like an ax blade right through his breastbone and bore deep until he couldn’t breathe at all. Feeling as though he were suffocating, he watched Rayna Ludgrin with her curving figure and flowing hair and her feminine graceful manner. He was a man. He couldn’t help wanting.
    But it was more than that. It was admiration he felt at the grit of her spirit. Not many women would have worked like she did without complaint. Even though she trudged heavy with exhaustion and grief, she was graceful and quality. As if she were far too fine for the burden of this land.
    We can help one another, he thought, a lone man standing in the threshold of the barn,