ONE
JUNE 25, 1867
SETTLER’S FORT, MONTANA TERRITORY
The woman stood in the wind, skirts billowing, hair flying, as though the gusts swept away all her inhibitions. All her sorrows. The heavy weight of her losses. With the warm gale buffeting her, she seemed to revel in the freedom.
Isaac Bowen couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Each time he visited Settler’s Fort, he made a point to check on Joanna Watson. This time he’d been lucky enough to spot her on his way into town, in the grassy area beside the swimming hole. The little-boy laughter and splashes filling the air had to belong to her high-spirited son, Samuel.
Since she and her lad were in the party he helped rescue from the mountain wilderness several months before, he couldn’t help but feel the need to make sure they fared well. Joanna had rented a house near the edge of town and taken on work as a washerwoman. She and her son seemed to have what they needed, but worry for her still ate at him. A woman without family in this rough territory faced a difficult existence, but every time he asked, she showed a capable front.
And now, seeing her unencumbered from worries, with the wind brushing her face . . . how could he have not realized the exhaustion she’d carried on their journey? In this moment, her face shone with a radiance that accentuated her beauty. Her pretty features had never been lost on him, but apparently he’d been too dense to see how much life weighed her down. Was it life in the little town of Settler’s Fort that caused her weariness? Or simply the challenges of trying to feed and clothe herself and her boy since her husband had succumbed to an ax wound seven months before?
“Ma, come see what I can do,” the little boy’s voice called from the water.
Mrs. Watson turned toward the stream but stilled when her gaze passed over Isaac. His heart stilled, as well, but he nodded in greeting and nudged his gelding forward. The two packhorses trailed them dutifully, worn out from the week spent traveling the mountains while Isaac hunted and trapped. Once he spent a few minutes with Mrs. Watson, trying to ascertain the truth of how she fared, he’d take his furs and part of the elk meat to trade for supplies at the mercantile. Maybe he’d ride the hour home tonight. Or maybe he’d stop in at the café for a home-cooked meal. The thought raised a growl from his middle.
Mrs. Watson shielded her eyes with a hand as he approached, and Isaac offered a friendly smile.
“Afternoon, ma’am.” He dismounted to greet her eye-to-eye.
“Mr. Bowen. This is a surprise.” She lowered the hand shadowing her face, revealing a soft smile that lit her pretty brown eyes. “Samuel and I are enjoying the pleasant Sunday afternoon.”
He sent a gaze toward the stream just as a red tousle of hair rose up from the water, droplets streaming down the boy’s tan back. He shook the water away like a puppy would. “Mr. Bowen. When did you get here?”
Isaac couldn’t help but match the boy’s grin. “Hello, Samuel. I stopped to say howdy on my way into town.”
“I’m glad. Watch what I can do. Mama, did you see me?” Samuel leaned sideways and popped one ear with his palm to dislodge liquid from the other ear.
Isaac glanced back at the boy’s mother, who met his look with a sheepish smile. She raised her voice to answer her son. “I didn’t see. Can you do it again?”
“Watch.” Samuel didn’t stop to ensure she watched, just dropped back under the water.
Isaac stepped closer to the bank’s edge to see what feat the lad had learned, and he could feel the weight of Mrs. Watson’s presence beside him.
Under the water’s surface, Samuel twisted and darted like a tadpole, then rose up with a splash. He shook again, then grinned up at them both. “Did you see me? I can do a flip.”
His smile was so infectious that it was impossible not to match it. “Good job. You’re swimming better than I could when I was your age.”
Samuel beamed, then turned and splashed back under the water, his five-year-old legs kicking for all he was worth.
Isaac chuckled as he turned back to the boy’s mother. Being around Samuel made him want to settle in and enjoy life as much as the lad did. But he’d better get moving if he was going to reach the mercantile before they closed. “I’m back from a hunting trip and have extra meat I’d like to give you. Do you want me to leave it at your house?”
A shadow passed over her face, bringing with it the weariness that had been there in days past. “I can’t take your food. Surely you need it yourself.”
He forced as casual an air as he could manage and shook his head. “I bagged two big elk and a bunch of smaller game. It will go to waste if I keep it all.” Which was true, although he’d be trading all the extra he and Pa couldn’t take on. But first he’d give as much to Mrs. Watson and her boy as he could get her to take.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to Samuel, who’d splashed up to the water’s surface again. “You’re swimming like a fish.” He raised a hand in farewell. “I’m headed on now, Samuel. Take care of your mama. See you soon.”
“Bye, Mr. Bowen.”
Isaac turned back toward his horses, and Mrs. Watson strolled beside him. “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m in town, ma’am?”
“Thank you for offering, but we’re managing just fine.” Her soft voice rolled out in a cadence so convincing, it had lulled him into belief the other times she’d responded such. Yet she must have repairs that needed doing or heavy lifting she couldn’t handle.
Unless other men in town saw to her needs. The thought sank in his gut like a stone.
Since he and Pa lived outside Settler’s Fort, he didn’t make it into town to check on her as often as he’d like. Of course the other men in town wouldn’t let her rest, as starved for female attention as many of them were. Did they badger her? Maybe that was why she’d developed such a convincing rebuttal.
He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he neared his horses. “I’ll be in town overnight if there’s anything you think of.” He wouldn’t be pushy, but he couldn’t help the need to offer once more.
“Thank you, Mr. Bowen. It was good to see you again.”
The only response he could think of was a nod, and then he took up the reins and mounted.
As he rode away, he couldn’t help a quick glance back. Mrs. Watson stood in the same place, face tilted toward the sun. Her willowy figure looked so slight with the breeze whipping her skirts, brushing her feathery brown hair around her face.
If only there was more he could do to help her.
Joanna Watson’s shoulders sagged under the Monday evening strain. The weight of her worries seemed to wrench every muscle, every weary limb. And as she walked along the quiet main street of Settler’s Fort, she let herself succumb to the ache. Just for a moment.
Life was simply too hard sometimes. Just yesterday she’d been watching Samuel dart through the water as they’d enjoyed their Sunday, her one day of rest.
But today’s work had exhausted every renewed part of her. If only she hadn’t chosen laundry as her line of work in Settler’s Fort. But there weren’t any other suitable ways to bring in enough wages for food and shelter.
This new life she was trying to create for herself and her son hadn’t turned out the way she’d hoped for them. And she wasn’t quite sure what to do about it.