"There you are, Mr. Montgomery," he said, walking toward the counter where Tate stood. "Thought I'd save you a trip to the bank when I saw your surrey outside."
Tate moved quickly across the floor, grasping the banker's arm and turning back to the door. "Let's go outdoors and talk, August."
Johanna's brows lifted as the bell rang again, the door closing behind the two men. What could all that be about? Tate hadn't mentioned stopping at the bank today. She took one step toward the door, but was halted by Selena's low voice.
"Just men's business, I'm sure, Johanna."
Johanna hesitated, strangely uneasy. "Yes, I'm sure you're right," she said, her eyes still focused on the tall figure of Tate Montgomery outside the door.
The train station was just ahead, and Johanna eased back on the reins, pulling the team to a slow walk as they neared the red building.
"Will the train scare the horses, Pa?" Pete asked, wide-eyed, as he looked up the track, northward, where even now the iron monster was making its way toward Belle Haven.
"I don't know, Pete. Guess I'd better hold the harness when the engine lets loose with a blast, hadn't I?"
Timmy hugged the seat, only his head showing over the back. "Maybe I'll stay here in the surrey, Pa." His eyes huge with awe, he cast a wary glance at the chugging beast that neared the station.
Tate jumped down, striding to stand before the horses, holding their heads, but they needed no reassurance, giving scant notice to the noisy engine. He patted the satin noses of his team and turned to the surrey, snatching his sachel from the back before he looked at Johanna.
"Will you wave from here?"
She nodded. "I think so. Pete wants to get closer, though. Timmy and I will be happy to watch from the surrey."
Tate leaned over the side to snatch a kiss from his youngest son and whisper a word in the boy's ear. Then he reached to hold Johanna's chin in his palm and drew her face closer for his farewell, glancing around first, lest his action draw the notice of onlookers.
She kissed him, aware of a sense of loss, as if his leaving were causing a rift. Struggling with sadness, she accepted his caress and his whispered words of goodbye.
Within minutes, the train was heading south, Pete was trudging back to the surrey and she'd picked up the reins, turning the horses around for the trip home.
"How long is Thursday, Miss Johanna?" Pete wanted to know as he settled in the seat next to her.
"Three days," she answered.
"That's this many," Timmy said from behind her, waving his fingers beside her head. "Can I come up there and sit with you, too, Miss Johanna?"
"Yes, of course," she told him, pulling the team to a halt and lifting him over the back of the seat.
He settled next to her and, reaching up, took the ends of the reins in his hands, mimicking her movements as she urged the horses into motion.
"When I'm big as you, I'll be able to drive the team too, won't I?" His grin was infectious, and she answered it with one of her own.
"You can help me drive now," she told him, and then lifted him to sit in her lap, needful of the warmth of his small body against her own.
The surrey moved quickly, but not as rapidly as the setting sun, darkness overtaking the trio long before they reached the farm. Still a good distance away, from her kitchen window, a beam of light beckoned, and Johanna's heart was stirred.
Even in his absence, Tate had managed to remind her of his concern and caring. With determination, she set aside the unease that had plagued her this day.
Chapter Fourteen
The bed was terribly empty without Tate's warm body next to hers. Johanna punched her pillow, then brought his closer, hugging it against herself, doubting she'd be able to sleep. Yet even as she inhaled the scent of his shaving soap from the pillowcase that had known his head only that morning, she found her eyes closing.
For two days she lived with the memories of her lonely existence before Tate Montgomery had entered her life, and the process was enlightening. The boys were good company, and good help, for that matter. But the absence of their father was a blight on their days. Scarcely an hour passed when one or the other of them didn't mention Tate's absence. Johanna didn't have the heart to be impatient, for her own thoughts never strayed far afield from him, either.
Mr. Cooney had been there when they arrived home from the train station. He'd taken on the milking and much of the caring for the stock, trudging about with goodwill. That Tate had planned for this, asking the neighbor to lend a hand, was but another reminder of his thoughtfulness.
She'd told him once that her heart was full of love for him and his boys. Once, she'd said those words. And not again. The thought of his inability to feel that same deep emotion for her had somehow prohibited her from releasing her spoken avowal into his keeping.
So foolish she'd been. What did it matter if he never dealt in the rituals of courtship? Tate Montgomery had shown his caring in numerous ways over the months, had spilled his tender concern upon her from the first day. And she was stewing over his lack of love?
On Tuesday, Johanna churned butter and washed the eggs, sorting them into baskets, holding the largest for Tate's consumption. She fed the new mares and the heavier draft horses, enjoying the companionship of the big animals, talking to them in the same low, crooning fashion as had Tate. And in every task, every moment of those two days, she missed the man she'd married with a ferocious intensity.
Tuesday night found Timmy at her bedside, dragging his quilt behind him. She sat upright, startled by his appearance in the middle of the night, and reached for him.
"Timmy! Are you all right? What's the matter?"
He leaned against her, warm and soft and smelling like a little boy, a mixture she could not have described if she tried. She only knew it was a special aroma, peculiar to the children who lived in her house.
"I'm awake, Miss Johanna," he said through a yawn.
"So I see." She hugged him close, tugging him up onto the mattress beside her.
"Can I sleep with you?" he asked plaintively.
Arranging the covers over him, she tucked him next to her, just as Pete trailed through the doorway.
"Where's Timmy?" he growled.
"I'm sleepin' with Miss Johanna," Timmy piped up from his vantage point on his father's pillow.
"You can climb in, too, if you want to," Johanna said, pleased by the company the presence of the boys offered.
"Gimme the quilt, Timmy," Pete ordered, his tone bossy. He snatched up the heavy covering and climbed up to curl himself at the foot of the bed. Mumbling beneath his breath, he pulled the quilt around himself until all that could be seen was a blurred lump near Johanna's feet.
"Is today the day? Is this Thursday?" Timmy's question preceded him into the kitchen as he clambered down the staircase, his high-pitched voice bringing a smile to Johanna's lips.
Turning to the doorway, she welcomed the child with open arms, and he leaped into her embrace with vigor. "Yes, today's Thursday," she told him, her lips pressing kisses against his dark hair. How she loved this little bundle, this wiggling, chattering boy.
She looked up to see Pete leaning against the doorway. "When are we going to town?" he asked, stifling a yawn as he scratched his nose.
"As soon as breakfast is done and the chores finished." Johanna deposited Timmy on the floor and turned back to the stove. "The oatmeal is about done, Pete. Why don't you and Timmy put your coats on and feed the chickens, so Mr. Cooney won't have to? I'll need the eggs gathered, too."
"I don't like the chickens," Timmy offered. "They squawk at me."
"That's 'cause you chase 'em," Pete told him with a scowl.
"You don't like 'em, either." Timmy made a face at his brother as he tugged his coat from the peg by the door.
"That's 'cause they try to pick at me when I steal their eggs." Pete scowled at the younger boy, wrapping Timmy's scarf around his neck before donning his own heavy jacket.
"Put on gloves first, Pete. They can't hurt you that way." Johanna covered the oatmeal with a lid and opened the oven to check on the leftover biscuits she was warming, calling after the boys distractedly. "Hurry now! Breakfast is almost ready."
Still wrangling good-naturedly, the two boys left the house, and she glanced out the window to watch them crossing the yard. The sun was up, the eastern sky washed with its glory, and she closed her eyes for a moment. It was almost too much, this joy, this inner exuberance she felt sometimes.