She laughed, her fit of pique almost forgotten, knowing and reveling in the power she held over this man. Her eyes half-closed, she tilted her head, willing the moment of unease to pass from her. His mention of a letter from Bessie had hit her the wrong way. That the woman missed the boys was probably true. That she was coming here for more than that obvious reason was also more than likely.
It had been her opinion from the first that Bessie Swenson had been unwilling for Tate and the boys to leave Ohio. Not only because of missing her sister's children, but because of the man who had fathered them. And now that her own husband was gone-and good riddance, from what Tate had said-Bessie was about to make an appearance.
"What about the news from town? You got a haircut. Did you talk to Jacob Nelson? Did he ask Leah to the church social?" The new barber in town had been obvious in his looks of longing toward the young schoolteacher during Sunday-morning church service. And that young lady was in dire need of a suitor, if her sidelong glances at several of the handsomer menfolk was any indication.
Tate shook his head. "I didn't hear anything about Jacob, but Esther Turner said Mr. Shrader from the bank was calling at the store twice a day last week, once to check his mail from the morning train and again in the afternoon to pick up groceries for his supper."
"He has a housekeeper to do that," Johanna said, her brow furrowing as she considered Tate's news.
He grinned. "He even asked me if I thought Selena would be agreeable to his company on a regular basis. Esther thinks Mr. Shrader is looking to court Selena. She said he spends an awful lot of time looking over his mail every noontime."
"Selena?" Johanna's eyes widened with surprise. "She's too young for him. Why, he must be almost sixty years old."
"Selena's no spring chicken, honey."
"I'll bet she's barely forty," Johanna said, denying his words.
He nodded sagely. "That's what I mean. She's beyond the age where she'd be looking for a husband."
"I think she's lovely!" Johanna cried, as if to deny Tate's assertion. "I'm just not sure August Shrader isn't too old for her." She considered the matter for a moment. "What else did he say to you?" Her brow furrowed. "When did you talk to him, Tate?"
"I stopped at the bank for a few minutes on business, Jo." Backing from her, he snagged a coffee cup from the cabinet, reaching to fill it from the pot on the stove.
She watched him, sensing a reluctance in his reply. He eased into his chair at the table and blew on the surface of his hot coffee, then turned his attention back to her.
"Anyway, I doubt Selena will be asking for advice, from what Esther said." Tate leaned back in his chair, his mouth curving in a satisfied grin, as if he relished his bit of news. "They're going to the social together. Esther overheard him asking and saw Selena nod him an answer."
"He's courting her! Sure enough." And suddenly the age difference disappeared from Johanna's mind, dissipating like a puff of smoke as she thought of the slender postmistress and the lonely life she led. A tender smile graced her lips as she looked across the kitchen at Tate. Even the thought of a visit from Bessie could not mar her joy as she basked in a vision of Selena wearing a wedding gown.
"Looks that way," Tate agreed. "Why don't you check out that stew and see if it isn't ready to eat, honey? Those boys of mine complained of empty stomachs all the way home from town. They'll be headin' in the back door before you know it."
"Yes … " She drew out the word, still caught up in the excitement Tate's news had engendered. "Perhaps they'll have a spring wedding, Tate."
"Maybe," he said agreeably, and then pounced, deciding to prevail on her good mood. "You want to drop Bessie a line and issue the invitation to come visit, Jo? Maybe she'd feel more welcome if it came from you."
There it was again, that faint reluctance as he spoke her name. But she brushed it aside and nodded. "Yes, I can do that. Do you think she'll wait till the weather breaks?"
"Don't know. Sounded like she was anxious to come. Trains run winter and summer, honey. No reason why she couldn't be here in a week or so, once she gets your say-so.
But the reply from Ohio was a surprise to Tate. When Bessie's letter arrived after the first of March, he found that she would not be making the trip until early April.
"That's all right," he said, watching while Johanna read the words Bessie had penned to him. "It'll give me time to make a trip to Chicago this month."
Johanna looked up quickly. "Why do you need to go to Chicago, Tate?"
"I'll be wanting to arrange sending that bunch of steers to the stockyards pretty soon. They've fattened up good over the winter."
Her brow furrowed. "But can't you do that without making a trip there? My father-" She paused, aware she was questioning his authority in the matter, unwilling to step on his toes. The cattle were his concern. He'd taken on their care, lifting the load from her shoulders. Now was no time to be shifting the burden. She was too glad to be shed of it.
"It will only be for a couple of days, Johanna. You and the boys will be fine here." He turned away from her, looking out the kitchen window, and a sense of disquiet seized her.
"Tate? I don't mean to interfere. I know the cattle are your concern, but … "
"Jo! Trust me in this, will you?" Unwilling or unable to meet her gaze, he offered her his back, and she heard his request with disbelief. "Johanna?"
It was a nudge for her to accept his decision, and she nodded. "Yes, I … You know I trust you, Tate." Indignation tinged her words, as if he had somehow insulted her by his asking for a verbal acknowledgment of faith.
He turned, and she was struck by the tenderness of his gaze. "I had no right to insinuate otherwise," he said quietly. Stepping from the window, he gained her side, reaching to clasp her hand, turning her to face him. "Anything I do is for you and my boys, Jo."
She bit at her lip, for once unsure of the direction in which he expected her to go. Life with Tate had been without surprises, except for that of finding herself in his bed. And that particular gift she was willing to accept without second thoughts. But today there was about him an air of secrecy, a quiet urgency she could not digest. As if he intended something she was not allowed access to. As if there were plans in the making that didn't concern her.
"Johanna, don't look so serious. This is something I've been meaning to do for quite a while. Now just seems to be the best time for the trip. Don't fuss, sweetheart. You'll be safe here. Sheba is a fine watchdog. And I'll ask Jonas Cooney to stop in and check on you if you like."
"No! That isn't necessary. We'll be all right" She bit at her lip again, hating the almost foreign sense of insecurity that was overwhelming her.
"I want you to write to Bessie again while I'm gone. Tell her to wire us the date she'll arrive. And I think we'd better not mention it to the boys until it's about time for her to get here."
Once he made up his mind about something, it appeared, Tate Montgomery felt no reason to waste time. Johanna felt she'd barely heard his plan to take the evening train to Grand Rapids and there board the early-morning Chicago express before he was packed and ready.
A faint sense of being shuffled about was blackening her disposition as he lifted her to the front seat of the surrey late on Monday afternoon.
"I think I need to take the reins, Tate," she announced as he climbed in next to her. Behind them the boys bounced on the second seat, excited at the prospect of watching the train arrive, thrilled at the prospect of what their father would bring them on his return from this trip.
"If you like." Amiable to a fault today, Tate handed her the leathers and leaned back, his arm riding the back of the seat as he turned his genial smile on her.
"I haven't driven your team but in the fields and down the street in town once or twice," she said, "and then it was with the wagon."
"You'll find a little difference with them pulling the surrey. It weighs less, and they tend to kick up their heels a bit."
Her eyes flashed a challenge. "I can handle them." She snapped the reins and clicked her tongue, and the team obeyed, settling quickly into a fast trot. Tails held high, hooves reaching forward eagerly, they headed for town. As if they sensed a different pair of hands on the reins, they behaved skittishly, heads bobbing, then tossing back, delighting Johanna with their antics.