The Forever Man(4)

"My dear Miss Johanna! I only thought to help. Mr. Montgomery comes with  letters of recommendation from bankers and ministers in his hometown.  He is on a legitimate quest, and my only thought was to give aid where I  could." The Reverend Hughes was distraught at her accusation, his  dismay apparent on his youthful face.

"This is my fault, ma'am," Tate Montgomery said bluntly. "I should not  have revealed my knowledge of your circumstances so quickly. I only  thought to present my thoughts for your consideration. I am here to  propose marriage, ma'am."

"Marriage! To you?" Johanna was aghast. The man was a stranger who in  the course of fifteen minutes' time had suggested taking over her  mortgage, and marrying her to boot.

Tate nodded. "It would be a business proposition. I need someone to tend  my boys and make a home for them. This would be much better in the long  run than my hiring a housekeeper."

She snorted inelegantly. "You mean I couldn't quit the job when I'd had a bellyful, don't you?"

He couldn't help the grin that escaped at her phrasing. "I guess you could put it that way, if you like," he said agreeably.

She shook her head. "This is ridiculous. I have no intention of marrying. Ever."

"You don't like men?" It was a simple question, he thought. And if the answer was not to his liking, he'd be on his way.

She was taken aback, her thoughts scattered. Like men? "What's to like  about them? They're fond of making messes and being waited on and  spending time in the saloon."

"All of them?" His brow rose quizzically. "Perhaps you've been around the wrong breed of men, Miss Johanna."

She backtracked a bit, silently acknowledging her haste in the judgment  she'd spouted. "My father was not himself the past few years. Perhaps I  had a bad example set for me in his recent behavior," she said  grudgingly.

"There are good men to be found," Theodore Hughes ventured to say from the corner.

Johanna nodded in his direction. "I've met several in my time," she  admitted. And then she looked at Tate Montgomery with a guarded glance.  "I'll take the reverend's word as to your sterling reputation, but I'm  not interested in marriage."

He nodded politely. "Perhaps if I enlarge on my idea, you might consider  it. more carefully." He cast a look at the man who had brought him to  this place. "Would you leave us for a few minutes, sir? I think this  discussion merits some privacy."

Theodore Hughes nodded agreeably, stepping to the doorway and out on the porch.

Tate leaned over the table and faced Johanna from a foot away. If she  was unwilling to hear him out, he'd head on out. But it was worth giving  it a shot. And the memory of his first sight of this house and the  capable woman who was struggling to hold things together here provided  the impetus he needed to speak his mind.

"We could have a good arrangement, Miss Johanna. I am willing to assume  any financial burden you have, in return for a half ownership of the  farm. You would take my boys in hand and tend to the house and whatever  chores you want to assume outdoors. I'll make the place run. I'll make  it run better than it's ever run before, and I'll do it well. You won't  have cause to be ashamed of me. I don't drink and I don't chase women. I  won't be expecting you to sleep in my bed, and I won't lay a hand on  you in anger."

Her blue eyes blinked, widened, and blinked again. "Well!" Spoken with  emphasis, the word was vibrant with meaning. Her thoughts were jumbled,  stunned as she was by his list of rules and regulations regarding the  marriage he proposed.

"What would you expect of a wife, Mr. Montgomery?" she asked finally. If  the man didn't want a woman to take to his bed, he must be willing to  settle for little more than a housekeeper, when all was said and done.

"I have sons, ma'am. I don't need more children. I just need these two fed and clothed and schooled properly."                       
       
           



       

"And nothing for yourself?"

A faint ridge of color rode his cheekbones, accenting the scar on the  side of his face. "I'll need to have my meals provided and my clothes  washed and ironed. I'm already well schooled."

She ducked her head. "You don't need a woman?"

"Not an unwilling one."

She lifted her gaze slowly, as if it pained her to face him but she  recognized that she must. "I'm not willing. I don't think I'd ever be  willing. I never intended to. marry."

He nodded slowly. "All right. I can deal with that."

A vision of the apples awaiting her in the orchard, crates overflowing  and needing to be carried, burst into her mind. She thought of the cows,  impatient to be milked, morning and night. The hay field, awaiting the  mowing machine, and the assessing looks she received from the men in  town, recognizing her as a woman alone.

Images of Tate Montgomery, tall and robust, working the orchard,  planting and sowing and dealing with the storekeeper and the mill owner  cascaded through her mind in rapid profusion. Her gaze rested on his  hands-heavily veined, broad and capable, fingernails clean, fingers long  and straight. She would need to check out his letters of  recommendation, but instinctively she knew him to be a man of honor. Why  it should be so, she couldn't have said. But something about him, his  innate dignity, his gentlemanly ways, his prideful look, his way with  the small boys he'd handled with gentle touches, spoke of a man to be  trusted.

"I'll give you my answer tomorrow."

It was more than he had bargained for. He'd been warned by the preacher  that she was a hardheaded woman, that she'd turned down offers aplenty  for her place, that she was considered to be a spinster by the  townsfolk. He'd thought to find a dried-up specimen of womanhood. He'd  been prepared to look her over and leave if the years of hard living  she'd endured here had made her unappealing for his purposes.

Neither of those two things had come about. Instead, he'd found a  slender, stalwart female who'd been bowed low by life's burdens and yet  managed to rise above the problems she'd faced after her father's death.  He'd found a woman of strength and courage, willing to work herself to a  frazzle to keep her farm running. A woman who deserved better than what  she'd been handed by fate.

"Tomorrow," he said firmly. "And in the meantime, can I make a bed for  my boys and myself in your barn? It will save me taking the wagon back  to town overnight."

She considered him for a moment, taking in the dark eyes that hid his  emotions, allowing only a faint approval to shine forth as he met her  gaze. His chestnut-colored hair was swept back from a broad forehead  bronzed by the sun. Apparently the man didn't wear his hat all the time.  His jaw was square and firm, his nose a bit crooked and prominent, but  no larger than it should be, for such a big man. He could be considered  handsome. Or at least appealing, she decided. If a woman was in the  market for a husband, she supposed, he'd be a likely specimen.

"All right," she agreed. "The barn is available for the night. I'll tell you tomorrow what I decide."

His breath released on a silent sigh. "Thank you for your consideration," he said simply. "I'll tend to my boys now."

He rose from his chair, and she followed suit, standing across from the  table from him, aware once again of his size, at least three inches over  six foot, she'd venture to say. "I don't mind sharing my supper with  you and your sons," she offered. He hesitated in the doorway, then  turned to face her.

"That's kind of you, Miss Johanna. I'd be much obliged for the favor."  He clapped his hat on his head and nodded abruptly. "I'll be in the  barn."

Johanna followed him out on the porch, her hands reaching for the china  cups the two boys had used. They gave them into her keeping with bashful  looks and awkward murmurings of thanks at their father's urging, and  she smiled at their childish gestures.

They romped across the yard at his side, and she leaned on the post at  the corner of the porch to watch. They were like two young puppies, she  thought, frisky and energetic. He spoke quietly to them as they walked  and then, upon reaching the barn door, bent one knee to the ground to  place an arm around each of them. His words set their heads nodding, and  their faces looked earnest as he spoke. Apparently instructions for  their behavior, Johanna decided as they walked with dignity through the  barn doors into the shadowed interior.                       
       
           



       

If she married him … The thought spun crazily in her mind. If she married  him, they would be hers, those two small boys with dark hair and  straight, sturdy bodies. It would be a weighty argument in favor of his  suit. The joy of caring for children had been denied her. Indeed, the  thought of having a child of her own had been denied her for ten years.  It would never be. But now, now she could tend these two young boys,  perhaps earn their love.