Montana Wife. Jillian Hart

and the next could stretch forever. Then maybe time would forget to move forward. The clock’s pendulum would freeze. The next hour would not chime. The night would not end. The dawn could not come.

      She’d rather remain in this emotionless night where her soul would not have to endure another lethal wound. Another loss so unthinkable she would not survive it.

      But her heart beat, her lungs drew in air and the clock’s echoing tick pounded through her, loud and unstoppable. The rain turned to mist and fog as the dark became shadow, and the shadow twilight, and the twilight dawn.

      A shadow lengthened on the floor, a shade darker than the room.

      “Rayna?” Daniel’s voice. His big, awkward hand gripped her shoulder.

      That was not the halo of the sun behind the horizon. She would will it back if she had to.

      The shadow knelt beside her, warm substance of a man pulling her from her numb cold state as the crest of the sun peered over the rim of the prairie, the distant slate-blue hills topped by gold and peach.

      The world seemed to take a breath as the dawn came and tender, newborn light painted the land, illuminating the miles upon miles of downed wheat, sodden and defeated.

      Nothing of the harvest could be saved. Not even the stalks could be salvaged for straw.

      Her sorrow was reflected in Daniel’s eyes. On his face. His hair was a pleasant dark brown, from farther away it had appeared black, and tangled from a night in the wind and rain.

      The harsh, square cut of his hard jaw was stubbled with a night’s growth. His mouth was a severe line that did not yield as he turned from the endless acres of desolation. His boots squeaked on the wet floorboards as he straightened. His grip remained.

      “Even with my losses, I can afford to lease your fields. You should be able to keep your house.”

      The warm, steady grip of his hand on her shoulder remained, so different from Kol’s. Heat radiated through her cold shoulder and into her arm. Into her torso. Dawn’s light spilled through the window, too bright after a night of utter darkness and it thawed her, too. The clock marked the hour, chiming in a pleasant dulcet tone five times.

      Morning was here and time marched on. She’d not been able to hold it back, of course. Somehow she had to find the steel to face the decisions she must make. Decisions that would break her. She could already feel the cracks, little fissures in her soul, splintering like ice melting on a shallow pond.

      She turned to Daniel, but he was gone. She hadn’t been aware of his hand leaving her shoulder or his strong masculine presence moving away. Alone, she shivered, only now feeling the coolish air skimming across her damp face. Goose bumps stood out on her forearms.

      The iron door of the stove clacked into place. She recognized the rapid crackle and snapping of dry kindling feeding a new flame. Daniel’s boots knelled on the floor and the ring of his gait echoing in the still room was all wrong. Too quick, too assertive, not the easygoing thud of Kol’s gait.

      He’s gone, Rayna. She knew that. Logically she accepted she would never again hear Kol’s shoes drumming the length of her kitchen floor. The air around her turned to ice, leaving her chilled and aching for the morning routine that had marked the beginning of nearly every day for fifteen years.

      How he would come up behind her, wrap his brawny arms around her waist and tickle the crook of her neck with his full beard. She would laugh, spinning in his arms to eagerly accept his kiss and forgetting about the frying eggs—and remembering just in time to save them from charring.

      “Rayna?” It was Daniel’s voice again, deep with concern. “I’ve got the coffee on. Are these the milk pails by the pantry door?”

      Morning was here, and so the morning chores would need to be done, regardless of what was to come. “While it’s good of you and neighborly, the cows are my concern. Not yours. You have chores of your own, I imagine.”

      “They’re already done. You weren’t the only one unable to sleep. I’m betting half the ranchers in Bluebonnet County didn’t get as much as a wink last night.”

      The bucket handles clinked and clattered over the punch of Daniel’s gait. The screen door hinges squeaked as it was opened and banged shut with a wooden slap. Morning light found him, the golden rays laying a path before him as he cut across the lawn. The carpet of grass, with rain droplets heavy on a thousand delicate blades, gleamed like jewels in the sun.

      As if there was hope to be found on this day to come. What hope would that be? Rayna wondered as she rose from the chair, wincing at her stiff knees and hips. Her muscles burned with yesterday’s hard labor in the fields, and the raw blisters on her palms had her jaw clenching.

      Anger roared through her like hot, greedy flames, burning her up in one bright moment. She was at the stove in a second, not aware she’d crossed the room, huffing with a rage so intense it blurred her vision. Made her feel ten feet tall. How could Kol have done this to her? To their sons? They were nearly penniless. And mortgaged to the full value of their land.

      She banged the fry pan on the stove, but the ringing bang gave her little satisfaction. She huffed down into the cellar and pounded back up the wooden steps, flinging the hunk of salt pork, the last that they had, onto the worktable. I trusted you, Kol. I trusted you to provide for us. “Don’t worry,” you always said. “I will take care of my precious wife.”

      She wouldn’t have believed what he’d done if she hadn’t seen the papers for herself. Notes on the livestock and buggy. And of all things, a mortgage on their land. Their homestead. Earned free and clear through their hard work together. And he’d encumbered it without telling her.

      I’m so mad at you, Kol Anders Ludgrin. Never once had he mentioned any debt. And to think there was so much of it! She lobbed the basket onto the counter and watched in horror, her anger vanishing, as the eggs inside rolled and knocked together. Fissure cracks raced through the delicate shells. The clear gel inside oozed out, bringing the stain of yellow yolk.

      What was she doing, getting worked up into a rage at a dead man? She wished Kol were here so she could give him an earful. She wished for the strong breadth of his chest, the sheltering band of his arms, the way any hardship seemed bearable with the capable strength of his hand tucked against hers.

      One thing was for certain. She was not done dealing with Daniel Lindsay. She found him in the barn, hunkered down on her little three-legged milking stool. He was humming the chorus of some song she’d never heard of, but she liked the sound of it, she realized with surprise.

      Moll, the gentle-natured Jersey, crunched on a generous helping of corn and molasses, at ease, her weight cocked on three legs as her great jowls worked. The gentle-eyed cow turned to her and mooed a low, sweet welcome.

      Daniel fell silent as he became aware of her presence. His wide shoulders tensed as he continued to work, one cheek resting against the cow’s soft brown flank. He looked gargantuan, balanced on the tiny stool, and far too accomplished as he stripped long streaks from the cow’s full udder.

      With the sunlight slatting through the cracks in the weathered board walls and highlighting the capable set of him, the sight took Rayna’s breath away. Daniel Lindsay was so different a man than Kol had been. Tall and tough and distant, instead of round and gregarious and jolly.

      Daniel seemed like a man who neither smiled nor laughed often.

      Yet he was not harsh, she decided, remembering his tenderness last night when he’d bandaged her hands.

      She unhooked the gate. “You should not be doing my work, Mr. Lindsay.”

      “Are you going to warn me off your chores? Too late.” He unfolded his big frame, hefting the nearly full pail with ease. “How about we barter my labor for breakfast?”

      “Rather forward, aren’t you? Helping yourself to my chores and inviting yourself to my table?” She couldn’t help the words. They came harder than she meant, but seeing him here reminded her of how her