High Country Bride Read Online Free PDF

hoped he was doing his share. He touched his hat brim. “’Scuse me, ma’am, I’ll say good night, then.”
    “Thank you for your kindness.” She moved from the doorway with a rustle of petticoats and a hush of skirts, careful to keep her distance from him. “Good night, Mr. McKaslin.”
    When he crossed the threshold, he could feel her sigh of relief. He made her uneasy, and it troubled him as he hiked through the growing grasses, for he was uneasy, too. He’d never thought there would be another woman on his land—even for just the night and even in the shanty.
    He kept going until the shanty was nothing more than a faint black outline against the shadowed sky. Kindness, Mrs. Nelson had called it, but it was nothing of the sort. He was only doing the right thing, and that did not come without cost.

    “Ma, that was a mighty fine supper!” James’s grin was so wide it was likely to split his face. “I cleaned my whole plate.”
    “Yes, you did.” Joanna lifted the kettle of water steaming on the back of the stove. “You be sure and thank Mr. McKaslin the next time you see him.”
    “Yes’m. I’m puttin’ him in my prayers tonight. I was gettin’ mighty tired of creek fish.” The little boy slid his plate and steel fork next to the washbasin on the table. “Are you sure we can’t stay here forever?”
    “Yes, I’m sure. This is only for tonight.” Holding her heart still, Joanna carefully poured the steaming water into the basin and returned the half-full kettle to the stove. Mr. McKaslin. Now, there was a puzzle. She could not figure that man out. In the field, when she’d come up with water from the creek, she’d been afraid of him. He’d been so angry. Now she realized it wasn’t anger at all. No, not if he’d brought them here.
    She reached for the bar of lye soap she’d brought in from the wagon earlier, and began to pare off shavings, which fell into the hot water to curl and melt. She felt a little like those shavings, wilting a bit. She wasn’t used to taking charity, but as she watched her children move about contentedly, she was grateful to Mr. McKaslin. Somehow she would find a way to repay him for his kindness.
    Daisy sidled close with her plate and yawned hugely.
    “Is it time for bed already?” Joanna glanced at the shelf clock, which sat mute, the motionless hands frozen at ten minutes after one, clearly the wrong time. “Go on, you two, wash up and get changed.”
    “Ma.” Daisy tugged on a fold of Joanna’s skirt, looking up with big blue eyes full of worry. “What about the angels?”
    Joanna’s heart twisted hard. The first night they’d slept in the wagon, she had told them that the wagon cover was better than a roof because it made it easier for the angels to watch over them. “The angels will be able to keep an eye on you just fine, baby. Now, you wash up and we’ll read more from our book. How’s that?”
    Daisy’s smile showed the perfect dimples in her cheeks.
    “That’d be mighty fine!” James, listening in, looked as if he could not believe his luck.
    As they scampered to finish their washing up, Joanna left the dishes to soak in the water and plucked a sheet from the small box she’d brought in earlier. There, in the small mirror above the washbasin, her face was staring back at her.
    That’s me? She froze, gazing at the strange woman in the mirror. She’d never been pretty, and she knew it. Her husband had always taken pains to point out her plainness. But she could never remember looking this poorly. Her hair—her only vanity—was dry and flyaway instead of glossy and sleek. Her face was ashen and the hollows beneath her eyes were as dark as day-old bruises. Her cheeks were gaunt and her eyes too big. Sadness had dug lines that had not been there before.
    That was not her, she thought, ashamed. That was not the face of a twenty-eight-year-old woman. No wonder Aiden McKaslin had barely glanced at her, and, when he did, it was with that