Read Online Marrying Minda by Tanya Hanson - Free Book Online Page A

had found a loaf of bread sent home from the wedding, and a pot of some kind of jam. That would keep her and Ned busy while Minda had words with Brixton.
    “Morning, Miz Haynes,” Brixton said without turning around. “Looks like little Silly cooled right down.”
    Minda rolled her eyes at the triumph in his voice, but let her ire pass. Thankfully, his idea had worked. “Yes, thank God, but it's Priscilla , thank you.”
    “I left some coffee and grits for you. I'll be off soon's I get my jacket.”
    Be off? So he was leaving. She kept her face as immobile as possible. And why not? They'd both agreed the baby was fine.
    “Well,” she said, unable to think of a proper good-bye.
    He straightened up from the mirror and turned around to her, coming as close as when they'd kissed at the altar. Other than the white towel hanging around his neck, his sun-browned chest was bare, carved hard like his back, dark swirls of hair here and there tickling nipples as round and copper as coins. Minda knew her face flushed purple. She'd thought of that bare chest touching her own even at the altar, and that dream had come true last night, in those few breathless moments on his bedroll. His heat would stick in her memory for a lifetime.
    For surely it wouldn't happen again. He was leaving. But in time, she reminded herself, so was she.
    “Just taking care of business, Miz Haynes. All the kids seem right as rain. No infection.” His eyes, too, gleamed with triumph.
    “You can't know that,” she said, unwilling to discard her initial suspicions, but thankful Priscilla was well, and the others hale and healthy. In fact, she owed him thanks as well. “I must thank you for last night.” Shyly she turned from that magnificent chest. Good heavens, what if he assumed she meant their bedroll kiss? “Your help with Priscilla, I mean.”
    By the time she dared look at him, he'd buttoned up a shirt, not appearing ruffled at all. She felt a foolish dash of disappointment, but quickly knocked the thought from her head. He wasn't a real husband, and he was leaving anyway. Why shouldn't he have helped in the health concerns of his own niece? Why was it Minda's responsibility? Just because Norman Dale had paid for a travel ticket?
    The reminder of the reasons for her predicament started hackles of anger. “You've no right to leave me alone with a sick child. The fever's down but that's no guarantee.”
    “I admit that, Miz Haynes. But I think you'll be fine on your own for a few hours.”
    Just a few hours? Relief tickled her skin. “Why, what do you mean?”
    “Fever's down, but I'm still going after that willow bark and yarrow. You need some on hand. And I'll get into town for aconite, and some ice.”
    “I thought you said that was a bad idea,” Minda said, feeling her own sense of triumph. “'Brings on conniptions.'”
    His familiar glare was back. “I'm checking at the ice house. Your ice box's near out. I milked the cow. Don't want it to go bad.”
    A flush warmed her cheeks. Milking the cow was likely a chore she'd need to learn. A glance at the wheat field showed her the hands he'd hired already at work. No doubt she was responsible for some kind of noon meal for them. And her husband had clearly implied just now that the ice box was hers, not theirs. So he wouldn't be staying or helping to work the land.
    The thought shouldn't bother her as much as it did. He was annoying and rude and had played a mighty trick on her.
    “And since you asked,” Brixton said, “yep, they harvest ice from the Loup. But if it don't last through July, Paradise hauls it from the Missouri. I'll go and get you a block.”
    He picked up the washtub as easily as a drinking cup and dumped the water in the rose garden Norman Dale had planted for her.
    “Silly's pukey clothes are all boiled clean, over there on the line,” he said, as he reached for his hat and gave her a long look from top to toe. “And don't you worry, Miz Haynes. When it's time for me