The Forever Man(20)

       
           



       

His scar and crooked nose didn't seem to be a deterrent there, Johanna  thought. Leah had obviously taken a shine to the new man in town. And  then with a burst of charity taking hold of her accusing thoughts, she  decided that the young woman was in good company. Certainly, the man's  appeal wasn't dependent on perfection. The sparkle in his gray eyes and  the cocky grin he was flashing right this minute were enough to set any  young woman's heart to pounding.

Including her own. And I'm the one he's married to, she thought with a small degree of triumph.

"Next year, Leah," Johanna said, answering for Tate, who hadn't the  faintest notion of the young woman's name. "Mr. Montgomery decided to  letter Pete at home this winter. When he's a little older, we'll be  putting him on a horse and sending him off to school."

From beside her, she caught the sharp sound of Pete's indrawn breath and  the quick word that followed it. "Really?" His hand tugged at her  dress. "Do you mean it, Miss Johanna? Will I really get to ride to  school on one of the new mares?"

"That's what he got them for, Pete," she told him quietly, pleased by the pleasure painting his features.

"She won't be ready for you to ride for a while, son," his father told the boy.

That admonition had little effect on Pete's enthusiasm, so far as  Johanna could tell. His eyes gleamed with anticipation as he bounced on  the balls of his feet. "When I'm eight, Pa? That's when I can ride her?"

"When will you be eight?" Johanna asked him, basking in the warmth of  his undiluted exuberance. For the first time in weeks, he was grinning  at her with unhampered glee, his dimples exposing the pure happiness he  exuded.

"Come next April," the boy told her without hesitation. "And that's only a little ways away."

"We've got the whole winter to get through first," Tate reminded him.  "And we haven't even had the first real snowfall. Next spring will come  soon enough."

Pete scampered ahead of them, scrambling into the back seat of the  surrey, his eyes bright, his color high, as he bounced up and down on  the leather upholstery. "Will that lady be my teacher, Pa?" he asked,  scooting over to make room.

"Looks that way." Tate plopped Timmy in place and looked around quickly.  "Where's Selena Phillips? There's room for her with the boys."

"She's on her way now," Johanna said, climbing up to the front seat, Tate's arm firm beneath her fingers.

In seconds, Selena was settled in the surrey, one boy on either side,  and they left the church. Twice up and down Main Street satisfied the  requests of Timmy and Pete for a longer ride for the postmistress. Once  would have been enough for Johanna, certain that the catalog was a copy  of the new Sears and Roebuck. She'd read it all the way home, she  determined, eager to open the cover, inhale the scent of fresh newsprint  and then digest the myriad offerings its pages would spill before her.

Within minutes, Tate's letter in his pocket, the catalog in her lap,  Selena's goodbyes in their ears, they headed down the road, a two-mile  journey that could only be too short today, to Johanna's way of  thinking.





"The letter was from my sister-in-law, Bessie."

Johanna had wondered yesterday, had known he must have read it privately  and had decided to mind her own business. This morning had been rushed,  what with loading the wagon for the Monday-morning trip to town, the  most productive of the week, as far as Johanna was concerned.

She'd scurried around, getting breakfast out of the way, readying  herself and the boys, doing her best to ignore Tate's withdrawal from  his family over the past hours. He'd spoken to them, smiled at Timmy's  foolishness and been unfailingly courteous. All that, but he just hadn't  been there.

He'd had little to say, for the most part, since they finally headed out  for town, covered baskets of butter and eggs safely tucked in the back  of the wagon, both boys dangling their legs from the rear.

Johanna, though rarely impetuous, had had enough. She'd turned to face him, concern alive on her features. "Is something wrong?"                       
       
           



       

And then he'd told her. "The letter was from my sisterin-law, Bessie."  He shook his head. "No, nothing's wrong. At least I don't think so.  Guess it depends on your point of view." His gaze met hers, head-on.  "Aren't you curious about how she knew where to send a letter, Jo?"

Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I guess I didn't think about it. I  suppose I figured you'd let your family know where you were once you  decided to stay here."

"I don't have any family," he said after a moment. "Bessie's about it,  and now, legally, we're not really family anymore." He slapped the reins  on the backs of his matched pair of horses and urged them into a trot.  "Her husband died."

Johanna's indrawn breath signaled her surprise. "Thought you said there  wasn't anything wrong? Seems to me that's a pretty big problem."

"You wouldn't think so if you'd known Herb Swenson. He was probably the  crudest, rudest drunk in Fall River, Ohio. I never could figure out how  Bessie got hooked up with him. Anyway, he went out hunting, half-lit  before he started, and managed to fall on his gun, climbin' a fence."

"What will she do?" The vision of a woman alone didn't provoke feelings  of despair in Johanna's mind. Being alone wasn't the worst thing that  could happen, to her way of thinking. Although, if Bessie was a  clinging-vine sort, it might be hard on her.

"She'll be all right. She's got the house, all paid for. And she does  sewing for ladies in town. Charges a fancy price for it, too. And I  suspect Herb left her pretty welloff. He was a good worker when he  wasn't drinking, and he saved his money. Anyway, she's thinking about  taking a trip up here, down the line a bit, to see the boys and all."

"Does she know you're married?"

He slapped the reins again, and the team obligingly stepped up their  pace. "I told her I'd bought up your mortgage when I wrote to let her  know where we were. I expect she knows we got married."

Johanna faced forward, folding her hands, rubbing her fingers together  with a slow movement inside her woolen mittens. "I don't think you told  her, did you?"

His scowl was threatening. "I wrote before we made up our minds. Right after we got here."

"When you took over the mortgage, we were already committed to it, Tate."

"Well, I told her I was going to pay off your debt and you were going to  mind the boys and we'd share the farm. She should have known from that  that we were gonna get married."

Gruff and belligerent were the only two words Johanna could think of to  describe his attitude. Though she supposed she could add embarrassed to  the list.

"Well, shoot! She thought it was a stupid idea, lookin' for a woman to  watch the boys, when she'd been handy for so long. How was I supposed to  tell her I didn't want to stay in Fall River, what with all the bad  memories there? I'd have ended up scourin' the bushes for a mother for  my boys and having all the eligible women in the county thrown at my  head. I wanted to do it my own way.

"But most of all, I wanted to get a fresh start" His expression was  dark, but the blustering attitude had disappeared, leaving only a man  seeking approval.

"Do you think I was too old to be starting over, Johanna? That's what  Bessie said when I left. She told me I was being childish, running away  from the facts."

"I don't think we're ever too old to make a new beginning, Tate. I've  made a couple of them myself." Her fingers untangled slowly as she  turned once more to face him. One hand lifted to present itself to him,  palm upward, as if she were seeking his goodwill.

Without hesitation, he grasped it, lowering it to rest against the hard  muscles of his thigh, his own covering it, easing her fingers to curl  within his palm. "You can read the letter if you want to, Jo."

She shook her head. "I don't need to. You've told me what it says." She  drew in a breath of the cold air, noted the few snowflakes that swirled  beneath the feet of the team and looked skyward. "We're in for a little  snow, aren't we? Do you think it will amount to anything?"                       
       
           



       

"Just like that, Johanna?"

She regarded him steadily. "Just like that, Tate. Only make sure you  send her my regards when you answer the letter. Tell her that you and  your wife send their sincere sympathy in the loss of her husband."