Dandelions on the Wind Read Online Free PDF

regain her balance on the stool.
    Woolly burst out with a laugh. “She doesn’t appreciate the distraction.”
    Shaking her head, Maren resumed her task. She understood the cow’s frustration and lack of patience. She also agreed that the man was distracting.
    “To answer your question … yes, I want to stay.” He slid his worn boot onto the lower rail. “I want to be a father to Gabi, or at least try.”
    “Then you must persuade her that you belong here.”
    “Yes ma’am.”
    Mrs. Brantenberg had a good heart, if he had the patience to wait for her to come around.
    Finished with the milking, Maren carefully lifted the bucket from under the cow and stood. She hung the stool on a hook, then walked to the open stall gate, the gate where Woolly now stood. He smelled of soap and fresh hay instead of years on the road, and he’d trimmed his beard.
    “How long ago did you arrive from Denmark?”
    “I left there nigh onto four years ago.” And she would rather not say why. She stepped through the gate and closed it.
    “A corporal I met had come from Denmark.”
    Orvie Christensen? She wanted to ask, but what good would it do her to know? Even if he were alive, he didn’t want her. If he did, he would’ve married her … come home to her.
    Woolly held his hand out to her. “May I take that inside for you?”
    “Yes, of course. Thank you.” In the exchange of the milk bucket his hand brushed hers, sending a shiver up her cotton-clad spine.
    At the barn door, Maren lifted the basket of eggs off the hook and stepped out into the morning sunlight. Curious, she looked at the man beside her. She knew what it was like to be away from home for four years and had thought a lot about what it would be like to return. That’s what Woolly had done. “How does it feel to be home?”
    He removed his cap, then set it back on his head. “Like I’m waking up from a long, restless sleep. A sleep filled with night terrors.”
    Maren slowed her steps. The man could be intense, and she didn’t know how to talk to him. His experiences in battle would no doubt make her struggles here seem small.
    “The first of this year, the army sent me to Arizona Territory to protect the settlers from Cochise and the Chiricahua Apaches. The warriors had burned out a settlers’ camp.” He scrubbed his cheek. “The whole tribe paid the price. A little girl lost her parents and two brothers in the raid.” He blew out a deep breath. “I was at the creek when I heard whimpering. The child, about Gabi’s age, cowered in the reeds.” Another deep breath, this one accompanied by a fluttering exhale. “Her family got killed in the raid ordered by our lieutenant.”
    Maren blinked back tears. “That poor girl.” And this poor man . He knew personal sorrow in losing his wife and had seen even more pain in two different wars.
    “My child still had a father, and she needed me.” His voice cracked. “And I didn’t know it at the time, but I needed her.”
    “You were blinded by your grief.”
    He nodded, bouncing a brown curl at his forehead. “I was.”
    Although the sun had risen bright this morning, the night’s chill persisted. Maren pulled her cape tight. “Family is important.”
    “You left your family in Denmark?”
    “My mother, my older sister, Brigitte, and my younger brother, Erik.”
    “Is it too personal for me to ask why?”
    “I left Denmark because of a letter.” And because of a longing for a family of my own .
    Maren stilled her steps and met the man’s gaze. “You mentioned you met a corporal from Denmark.”
    “I did. An Orvie Christensen. Said he lived here in Saint Charles for a short while.”
    Maren nodded, swallowing the bitter bite of regret. “Mr. Orvie Christensen’s uncle lived in Silkeborg and was a carpentry apprentice with my PaPa.”
    “You knew the corporal?”
    She drew in a deep breath. She’d already said too much, but felt compelled to answer the question arching Woolly’s eyebrows.