Freyda woke in the dark to the sound of rain falling on the roof. Normally, she loved the sound of rain as long as it wasn’t driven by a thunderstorm. She hated thunder and even more so, lightning, having once seen a tree split down the center and incinerated. Rain was necessary for the crops and grass, but it meant there would be no farming tomorrow. She should be glad of the opportunity to stay home and tend to a few chores. Perhaps she’d bake cookies and share them with Ward and the boys. She pulled little Smokey to her chest and listened to his rumbling purr. Comforted by the kitten’s presence, she fell back asleep.

The next morning, she looked out the window and saw puddles on the path to the barn. Every blade of grass in the yard held glistening drops of rain. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Smokey purred and wrapped around her ankles.

She scooped him up. “At least I have you for company.” She went to the side window to look toward the Rollins’s place. Already, she missed them.

The best antidote to loneliness was busyness. She made herself a quick breakfast then set out a mixing bowl. It didn’t take long to mix up some snickerdoodle cookies, though she would far sooner share the task with two little boys even if it took more time.

While the cookies baked, she dusted the furniture and gave the little house a good sweeping, ignoring the way her thoughts echoed in the silence. Smokey chased her broom, and laughing, she picked him up and gathered him to her chest.

She finished the cookies. She washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen. She gathered the eggs and fed the chickens. By then the cookies were cool and she put them in a crock and covered it tightly so they’d stay fresh. Now what? How was she to keep busy?

A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. Her heart leapt with eagerness. He’d come to see her.

She rushed over and threw open the door. “Milo. Kit.” A quick glance informed her Ward was not with them and she told herself she wasn’t disappointed. “What are you doing here? Did your papa send you?” Did he need her help? Want her company?

Kit looked at her with big brown eyes. “We want to see you.”

Milo looked through her rather than at her. Suspicion surfaced. “Does your papa know you are here?”

No answer from Milo. Freyda caught Kit’s chin. “Does he?”

“He was in the barn. We was s’posed to stay in the house and not get muddy.”

Freyda looked at their shoes. Muddy. “You should listen to your papa. Very well. Leave your shoes on the step and come inside. I’ll get ready and take you home.”

Milo grinned at Kit as they obeyed her.

Freyda wrapped cookies in a cloth. “Smokey will have to stay in the barn until I get back. Milo, you carry his milk for me. Kit, you carry his breakfast.” She carried Smokey and the three of them settled the kitten on a blanket on a mound of hay with his food nearby. “Stay here,” she said to the animal.

He meowed, sniffed about, and settled down to lick his paws. She hoped he wouldn’t run off while she was gone.

She led the way down the path with the boys following.

“Papa will be angry,” Kit said to Milo.

“I don’t care,” Milo said.

“I do. I’s scared.” Kit’s voice trembled.

Freyda didn’t offer any sympathy. These two needed to learn to obey or they were going to get themselves into a spot far more threatening than their father’s anger.

They were close enough to see Ward go into the house. In seconds he came out again. “Milo. Kit. Where are you?”

“Ward,” she called.

He turned to the sound of his name and saw her with the boys. He jogged toward them.

“He’s angry,” Kit said. “What if he whips us like that lady did?”

“He won’t,” Milo said, with little conviction as he caught hold of Freyda’s free hand and held on.

Ward reached them. “Boys, you cannot run off like that.”

“Yes, Papa,” Kit said.“But we wanted to see Mrs. Haevre.”

Ward closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he spoke to Freyda. “Thank you for bringing them home. I’m sorry they interrupted your morning.”

Was he dismissing her? Freyda had no desire to return to her silent house. “I’m glad they did. I’ve grown used to their company.”

“Do you—?” He paused and looked toward his house. “Would you like to—?”

She chuckled. “Yes, I’d like to join you.”

He grinned. “Good. I wouldn’t want the boys pining all day.” But at the way his eyes sought hers, searching past the surface, she knew he didn’t speak solely for the boys, and she smiled at him, letting him see how glad she was to be with him—them.

They reached his house and he stopped. “Boys, take your muddy shoes off and go inside. I’ll be there in a minute.” He waited until the door closed behind them then turned to Freyda. “I don’t know what to do with them. I know they must be punished for disobeying and running off, but the only form of punishment I ever had was a strapping and I won’t do that to my boys. I’ve tried warning them but that has little effect.” He scrubbed at his neck and looked miserable. “What would you do?”

She pressed her hand to his forearm. “I’m glad you aren’t planning to whip them, but there are other ways to teach them this is unacceptable. You could send them to their room, take away a privilege, or give them a chore.”

“That easy?”

“You want them to realize there are consequences for their choices, don’t you?”

“Yes. So I could make them clean their shoes? Or make them stay in their room for a spell?”

“My mor always made us tell her what we meant to do differently after our punishment.”

“I like that.” He opened the door and indicated she should precede him.

Kit watched them, his eyes wide.

Milo sat on the floor, holding the kitten. He glowered at his father, but his shoulders were drawn up to his ears, indicating his worry.

Ward sat on a chair and pulled Kit to his side. “Milo, come here.”

The boy obeyed slowly. Ward held them both.

“Boys, you must obey. And you must not run off like that. It’s dangerous. You understand because of what you did, you must now accept your punishment.”

Kit started to rock back and forth, his eyes wide with fear but Milo stiffened, his mouth in a stubborn line. Freyda wanted to comfort them both, but knew Ward must handle the situation and he was doing well.

Ward closed his eyes momentarily and his mouth drew back in a grimace as if regretting having to do this. He opened his eyes. “Boys, I will never hurt you so don’t look so worried.”

Kit let out his breath but Milo remained stiff.

Ward continued. “I am going to send you to your room. You will remain there for half an hour.”

Kit nodded eagerly.

“And,” Ward said, “until each of you can tell me what you did wrong and what you will choose to do next time.”

“Yes, Papa.” Kit went to their room.

Milo followed more slowly. The door closed behind him.

Ward’s breath whooshed out.

Freyda squeezed his shoulder. “You handled that well.”

He covered her hand with his. “I hope so.”

“Would you like coffee and cookies?”

His head came up. “I thought I smelled something good.”

She made coffee and put out cookies. “The rain is good?”

“We can always use rain. I only wish I had gotten the seed in the ground.”

“It will happen.”

He grinned at her. “You are far more optimistic than I.”

“No, I just refuse to accept defeat.”

They chuckled.

When the half hour was up Ward went to the boys’ bedroom. “Have you thought of what you need to say?”

Kit stood before him. “Papa, I shouldn’t go away when you tell me nots to and without asking first.”

Ward hugged Kit. “Good.”

Milo shuffled toward him, holding the kitten in his arms. “Papa, would you have let us go if we asked?”

Freyda felt a little sorry for Ward. This oldest son of his would never let him off easy.

“I guess I don’t know. You also need Mrs. Haevre’s permission.”

Milo shrugged. “Then why ask?”

Freyda joined Ward. “You are always welcome to visit, but only if you have your father’s permission.”

Milo nodded. “Okay. Then I’m sorry for going without asking and next time I’ll ask first.”

Ward hugged the boy. “Good.”

“Who would like cookies?” Freyda pointed to the table and both boys rushed over to help themselves.

“Thank you,” Kit said.

“Yes, thank you,” Milo added.

Ward caught Freyda’s hand sending a jolt through her arm. “Thank you,” he whispered, and stepped away before she could gather her thoughts. She’d only offered him advice from her own childhood.

“What did you name your kitten?” she asked the boys, glad of a safe topic.

Milo held the kitten on his lap. “His name is Storm Cloud because he’s the color of storm clouds.”

“He is, isn’t he?” She squatted at Milo’s side to pet the kitten. “Did he eat breakfast?”

“Papa made eggs for breakfast and I gave him some of mine.” Milo ducked his head but stole a look at his father to see Ward’s reaction.

“Next time,” Ward said, “I’ll remember to cook him an egg.”

Milo relaxed. “Can I feed him some milk?”

“Certainly.” Ward found a saucer in the cupboard, poured in a little milk, and handed the dish to Milo.

Milo took it and turned too suddenly. The milk splashed across the floor. He jerked to a halt, his eyes wide. The saucer slipped from his hands and shattered. “I’m a stupid boy,” he shouted, and kicked the nearest chair. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” He ran to his room and slammed the door.

Ward’s face went slack, his mouth was open as he stared wide-eyed at the door. He let out a sudden sigh, opened his mouth as if to speak. Snapped it shut. Gulped. “Milo?” The word rasped from his throat.

Freyda could not think of a thing to say.

Kit slipped from the chair and went to the stove. From behind it, he pulled out a length of leather about four feet long. “You want this?” He handed it to Ward.

Ward took it. “What is it?”

“Mrs. W’ight used it on Milo when he was stupid.”

As the meaning of Kit’s words came clear, the strap slipped from his father’s fingers.

The blood drained from Freyda’s face, leaving her weak. Then it returned with a surge, bringing with it rage such as she had never known.

Ward strode to the bedroom door and threw it open.

Freyda quickly cleaned up the mess before she followed Ward, wanting to console both of them. Kit reached for her hand and she lifted him into her arms and hugged him tight.

Milo lay facedown on his bed. Ward sat beside him and rubbed his back. “You are not stupid. You simply had an accident. I would never punish you for an accident. Milo, you are my son. I love you and am proud of you.”

Milo didn’t move but Freyda could see that he wasn’t as stiff.

Ward turned him over and lifted him to his lap. “Kit showed me the strap Mrs. Wright used. I wish one of you would have shown me sooner.”

“She said you would thank her for teaching us how to behave.”

Ward glanced at Freyda, a look of helplessness on his face.

She went to Milo’s side and sat down. She pressed her head to Milo’s. “My parents never whipped me and I think I know how to behave, don’t I?”

Milo lifted his head and patted her cheek. “You’re nice.”

Tears leaked from Freyda’s eyes. “So are you. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

The four of them huddled together a few more minutes.

Ward set Milo on his feet, rose, and pulled Freyda up to stand beside him. “I have something to do and I need everyone’s help.”

He led them back to the kitchen where the length of leather lay on the floor. “Today we do away with Mrs. Wright’s strap.” He picked it up and went to the stove where he lifted one of the lids. “Milo, would you like to be the one to throw it on the fire?” He held it out to his son.

Milo hesitated a moment then grabbed the strap, bundled it up, and tossed it into the stove. The flames licked about it, curling the leather. They watched until it was reduced to a blackened shadow of itself then Ward put the lid back on.

“That is the last of that.”

Two little boys sighed.

Freyda’s chest muscles relaxed so much they pushed her breath out in a noisy rush.

Ward grinned at his sons.

“Why don’t I make some dinner?” Freyda said. The morning had flown by…at least, the time since the boys had come to her house.

She got the boys to help prepare vegetables for a hearty soup and in a short time they were gathered around the table. The mood was considerably lighter than it had been earlier.

And she was happy to have had a small part in the change.

* * *

Ward couldn’t stop smiling, both inside and out. He’d handled the situation well, with Freyda’s counsel and encouragement. He’d had the joy of seeing Milo smile freely for the first time since…well, he didn’t know when. The boy had always been serious, cautious, and a little defiant. But, Ward thought with a flash of anger—the boy was not stupid and no one should have ever told him he was.

He did not want the day to end. “I am going to check on the cows. Who would like to come with me?” He had planned to ride horseback to do it but the walk with company would be pleasant too.

Two little boys bounced on their chairs. “I would. I would.”

He shifted his gaze to Freyda. “You?”

“You’re inviting me?”

He suspected his grin was the widest it had ever been as he turned to the boys. “What do you think? Should we ask Mrs. Haevre to come with us?”

“Yes, yes,” they chorused.

He looked at Freyda. “Make that three yeses.”

Her eyes flashed and she smiled. “I’d love that. How long will it take? Could we turn the trip into a picnic?”

He couldn’t think of anything he’d like better than to sit on a hillside with Freyda and the boys and watch his cows grazing contentedly. “Sounds like a fine idea.”

“Good thing I brought lots of cookies.” She went to the cupboard. “I’ll make sandwiches,” she called over her shoulder.

“I’ll get the cart.” It would make it easier to carry the picnic and the boys would enjoy pushing it across the prairie.

He got the push cart from the barn. Put in three woolen blankets. He filled a jar with water and added it to the cart. Freyda brought out the lunch and put it on top.

Milo stared at the cart. “Papa, I remember you giving me a ride in this.” Before Ward could answer, the boys ran ahead toward the pasture.

Ward grabbed the handles and, with Freyda at his side, followed the boys. “I’m surprised Milo remembers. I took him with me a number of times when Dorothy wasn’t feeling well and after Kit was born when she didn’t feel up to caring for a baby and a little boy.” He chuckled. “He would let the bouncing make his voice bounce.”

Freyda laughed. “I remember doing the same thing when Anker pulled me on a sleigh.”

“I took both boys a few times once Kit got a little bigger.”

“It sounds like a special time. Why did you stop?”

Ward had to think. “I can’t say except the girl who came to look after Dorothy when she was ill enjoyed playing with the boys. She stayed on after Dorothy died. I forgot about her when I counted how many had helped with the boys. She wasn’t much of a housekeeper and could barely cook, but she was good with the boys.”

“What happened to her?”

“Her father came and got her. Said I would have to find someone else. I think he feared I would take advantage of her. It never crossed my mind. She was only thirteen years old.”

They walked on without speaking. Ahead of them, the boys chased each other back and forth across the narrow trail.

Milo trotted back to join Ward and Freyda, Kit following him.

“Papa,” Milo said. “Can I push the cart?”

“Me too.” Kit looked from Milo to Ward. The way his forehead wrinkled, Ward wondered if he thought Milo would object and push the younger boy aside.

“Why don’t you take turns or work together? The cart is heavy.” And hard to push.

“I can do it,” Milo said.

Ward stepped aside and let his son push. They went about six feet before Milo turned to Kit. “You can help if you want to.”

The pair grunted as they encountered a lump and then grinned as the cart rolled easily for a few feet.

Freyda and Ward let them go ahead.

Ward was in no hurry. As far as he was concerned, the afternoon could last forever. The sun was warm. The ground damp and fragrant after the rain. Wild flowers dotted the landscape and Freyda walked at his side. The back of their hands brushed as their arms swung. It provided the perfect excuse to hold her hand and he did.

She looked at him, a smile on her lips and in her eyes. Then she lowered her eyelids and looked away. “It’s a beautiful day.”

“It is indeed. I’m glad of the opportunity to check on my cows. I’ve been so busy with farm work I haven’t had time.”

The boys struggled to push the car up a rise and Ward reached around them to grab the handles and push.

“Let me help.” Freyda took one handle and he took the other. The boys were between them and the four of them leaned into the task. Ward glanced at Freyda to see if she enjoyed this as much as he did. The warmth in her gaze convinced him she did and he grinned at her.

They reached the top and stopped to look around. The ground sloped away toward the creek. Trees crowded toward the banks. His cows grazed contentedly on the green grass.

“I want to count them.” He jabbed his finger in the air toward each cow and silently counted them. “Forty cows and twenty calves,” he said. “There should be fifty cows. Maybe they are in the trees.”

Freyda was at his side. “Do you want to go down there?”

He considered her question. “Going down will be easy but getting up with be hard. We better just stay here.” He took a blanket from the cart and spread in on the hillside. “Let’s enjoy the view.”

She sat beside him. The boys raced back and forth behind them.

“There’s four cows coming from the trees now.” He studied them. They were mud up to their knees. That seemed odd. The banks of the creek were grassy. The bottom rocky and sandy. They must have found a mud puddle to tramp through.

Four more cows with calves scampering at their sides came from the trees. Also with muddy feet.

“Only two missing now, right?” Freyda asked.

“I expect they’re in the trees still.” Seeing his cows looking fat and content, and seeing the new calves filled him with satisfaction.

Freyda leaned forward on her knees.

He lay back on one elbow to study her. “Did you know I thought of being a cowboy, driving cattle north, working on a farm, riding a horse every day?”

She shifted so she could study him. “What changed your mind?”

“Dorothy. Where would she fit into that sort of life?” He sat up and faced her. “I just realized something. I’m wrong. It wasn’t because of Dorothy I chose farming over riding after cows.” He glanced toward the boys who still ran back and forth over the top of the hill. “I wanted something permanent. I wanted a home and family.”

She touched the back of his hand, bringing his gaze back to her. “And you have it.”

“It’s not quite what I had in mind, but I have my boys. That’s all that matters.” He looked down at the cows. “It’s all that’s ever really mattered.”

He heard Freyda’s intake of breath. Felt her surprise. Brought his attention back to her to see her eyes had grown wide.

“Don’t you mean Dorothy and the boys?”

Slowly, he shook his head as he allowed himself to acknowledge the truth. “Dorothy didn’t want to be a wife. She didn’t want to be a mother. She wanted to be courted and wooed without any responsibility attached to it. Neither of us realized it until too late.” He held Freyda’s gaze, searching for understanding. She did not look away. Did not reveal shock.

She rubbed her lips together. “Ward, that’s sad. For both of you.” She glanced toward the boys. “Did she—?”

“She wasn’t unkind to them.” It was the best he could say.

Freyda looked at the cart. “That’s why you had the boys with you?”

He didn’t answer. “I have the boys. That’s enough for me.”

“And they have you.” Her eyes said so much more than her words. They offered encouragement and approval. For today he would not worry that he might be looking for things he’d wanted all his life. Nor would he think he might be looking for them where they weren’t offered.

Kit tripped and fell. He let out a wail that took Ward back to what he knew mattered. His sons. He jumped to his feet. “Who’d like a ride in the cart?” The boys ran to him and jostled each other as they waited while he removed the lunch things and the other blankets from the cart.

He lifted Kit into the cart while Milo scrambled in on his own. Then he pushed the conveyance to where the ground sloped downward. He ran down the hill, the boys bouncing and screaming enjoyment.

At the bottom, he made them climb out and pushed the little wagon up the hill.

The boys were back in it as soon as he turned it around and they raced downhill again. Over and over they made the ride until Ward sat down. “No more. I’m about wore out.”

“Please, Papa. Again.” The boys tackled him and he lay back with the pair on his chest.

Only then did he allow himself a glance toward Freyda. She smiled but her eyes were serious.

Did she think him foolish to play with his boys so freely? He pushed the pair to the ground beside him and sat up.

Or did she think him critical—or even unfaithful—to his wife’s memory?

Why did he so dearly want for her to see how his heart hurt at his disappointments? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had her own. Losing her husband while he was in America and she in Norway.

How could he show her his sympathy and still guard his heart against the growing attraction he felt toward her?