Dakota Born

  As bad luck would have it, Lindsay and his mother stepped out of the house at the precise moment he’d decided to head for the barn.

  “Gage.” His mother raised her hand and called to him.

  Briefly he considered pretending he hadn’t heard her, but knew it would do no good, especially when one of the dogs came running after him, barking like crazy. He removed his hat and drew his forearm across his brow, then bent down to scratch Tramp’s ears, cursing under his breath. With the border collie leaping beside him, he walked slowly toward the women.

  “You remember Lindsay, don’t you?” his mother asked as he approached.

  “Yeah.” He nodded once, aware that he could have been more polite.

  “Hello, Gage.”

  “Lindsay’s visiting every family that has a high-school student,” his mother explained.

  “I’m new to teaching,” she said, apparently for his benefit, “and I’m going to need help from the community. Leta and Hassie have been wonderful already.” She smiled fondly at his mother.

  “What kind of help are you looking for?” Gage asked, his voice gruff and unfriendly.

  She ignored his lack of welcome. “I was hoping you could tell me something about yourself, something you could share with my students.”

  “That’s why she’s here, Gage,” his mother said, frowning at him. “Lindsay wants to get to know everyone, and I was telling her about your bees.”

  “I’ve been meaning to thank you for the jar of honey,” Lindsay added. “It’s delicious.”

  “It didn’t come from me. My mother’s the one who sent it.”

  “Gage!” Leta chastised. The phone rang inside the house and she glanced over her shoulder. “I’d better answer that,” she said reluctantly. She took a couple of steps toward the door, then hesitated, looking from Lindsay to Gage. She seemed almost afraid to leave the two of them alone.

  “You go on. I’ll walk Miss Snyder to her car,” Gage told her.

  His mother hurried to the house, leaving the two of them standing in the yard with the wind whirling dust devils about them.

  “Would you be willing to talk to the class about your beehives?” Lindsay asked. She gazed up at him, eyebrows drawn together.

  He was framing his refusal, but she didn’t give him the opportunity. “Joshua McKenna said he’d come and talk about the history of North Dakota,” she went on in a rush. “He’s apparently quite knowledgeable in that area, plus he’s read quite a bit about the Lewis and Clark expedition. I’m hoping to convince Jeb McKenna to talk about buffalo—I mean bison.”

  “Jeb said he would?” That surprised Gage. His neighbor to the south had lost a leg a few years back and become something of a recluse. He’d quit farming and taken up raising bison, surprising everyone with his success. But since the accident, he rarely ventured into town. Gage knew Joshua worried about his son, and Sarah had bent over backward to help her brother, but to no avail.

  “Joshua’s talking to him for me.”

  That explained it. And it also gave him a diplomatic way of avoiding this. He already knew that her students couldn’t care less about his bees. Kevin had been around them all his life and showed zero interest.

  “If Jeb agrees, then so will I.”

  Lindsay frowned, clearly puzzled. “Have I done something to offend you?”

  So she liked the direct approach. Fine, so did he. “As a matter of fact you have. You came back.”

  She scowled fiercely at him. “Do you mean to tell me you’d rather the high school just closed?”

  “No. It’s nothing personal, Miss Snyder, but I don’t want you here.” His words were carried off by the wind, but anger flared in her eyes, and Gage knew she’d heard him.

  “Why should you care one way or the other? You don’t know me.”

  “I don’t want to know you.”

  She blinked as if he’d so utterly baffled her, she no longer knew what to say. The storm broke just then, and she turned around and ran straight for her car. Thunder crashed overhead, and the rain fell in fat, thick drops that beaded on the dry, dusty soil.

  Her car door slammed. She was dry and safe, but Gage stood in the downpour and watched as she drove out of his yard. By the time he dashed into the house, he was drenched to the skin.

  He hadn’t even removed his hat before his mother laid into him. “I want to know what you said to Lindsay.”

  Unaccustomed to that tone of voice from his soft-spoken mother, Gage just stared at her.

  The rain pounded against the roof, and Leta raised her voice. “Answer me, young man.”

  “I’m thirty-five, Mother, and could hardly be considered a young man.”

  “Then quit acting like a nineteen-year-old.”

  Gage hadn’t fought with his mother in years, and would prefer to keep the peace now. As far as he was concerned, what he had or hadn’t said to Lindsay Snyder was none of her business. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, you did. I saw the way Lindsay raced to her car. You insulted her, didn’t you?”

  “If she took exception to—”

  “I won’t have it! You were rude to her, and I won’t have it. Do you hear me?”

  Gage had hardly ever seen his mother this angry. Her face was red, her eyes blazing and she held herself ramrod straight.

  “Mom—”

  “You’ll apologize.”

  “The hell I will.” Gage wasn’t going to let his mother dictate his actions.

  Before their disagreement could turn into a full-fledged argument, he left the house. He’d rather stand in the pouring rain than fight with his mother over a woman like Lindsay Snyder.

  By dinnertime her mood hadn’t improved. She didn’t speak to him while she placed their meal on the table, then pointedly stalked out of the room when Gage and Kevin sat down to eat.

  “What’d you do to make Mom so mad?” Kevin asked as he pulled out a kitchen chair.

  “Nothing,” he barked at his younger brother.

  Kevin raised both hands as if to protect himself. “Sorry I asked.”

  Gage reached for a biscuit, then froze as his mother marched back into the kitchen with a bouquet of purple prairie wildflowers she’d cut that morning. “Take these with you.”

  Gage’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She left the room again and, relieved, Gage returned to his meal. He hadn’t taken more than two bites when his mother was back, carrying her purse and the flowers.

  “Kevin,” she said, “would you kindly drive me into town so I can apologize for my son’s rudeness?”

  “Ah…” Kevin looked helplessly from his mother to Gage. “I was hoping to drive over to—” He stopped in midsentence when Leta glared at him. “All right,” he agreed, grabbing a last bite of biscuit and standing up.

  Gage could only imagine what his mother would say to Lindsay. Furious, he bolted to his feet and threw his napkin onto his plate. “Dammit all to hell.” Leta was going to make his life miserable until he gave in and did what she asked.

  He stomped out of the house, pausing only long enough to grab the truck keys from the peg by the door. At least the rain had stopped.

  His mother hurried after him, slogging through the mud. “Take the flowers with you.”

  He didn’t look back as he marched across the yard. “The hell with the flowers.”

  His anger sustained him all the way into town. Even when he’d parked outside the teacher’s house, he had to draw several deep breaths in an effort to cool his temper.

  What annoyed him the most was knowing that his mother was right. He owed Lindsay an apology, and given the opportunity he would’ve offered her one. He resented being pressured into it.

  Climbing out of the truck, he walked up her porch steps and leaned on the doorbell. The dogs barked wildly—sounded like useless little critters. He moved his hat and stabbed his fingers through the tangled mass of hair, determined to make the best of this. He’d say his piece, then le
ave.

  The door opened and Lindsay stood on the other side wearing shorts and work boots, with her ash-blond hair tied up in a kerchief, and a hammer and chisel in her hand. She seemed as shocked to see him as he was to find her looking like…like a construction worker.

  “Gage?”

  He stiffened. “I’m here to apologize.”

  Her face relaxed, and she opened the screen door for him. “Come in.”

  He stepped inside and the dogs greeted him as though he were a long-lost relative. He decided they might be useless—sure weren’t much protection—but they were kind of cute. Petting them gave him the opportunity to look the house over. He was impressed; what had, a few weeks earlier, been a decrepit old house was now a home. Her curtains and furniture, a dark-green rug, some lamps, photographs and prints on the clean white walls—it all made an incredible difference.

  Frowning, he noticed the fireplace. Apparently she’d been hammering away at it. “Something wrong with your fireplace?”

  “No.”

  “Then why—”

  “No reason.”

  “If you’re dismantling the fireplace, there’s got to be a reason.”

  She set the hammer and chisel aside. “Are you here to apologize or to question my remodeling efforts?”

  Remodeling? Gage sincerely doubted that, but she had made one good point. He wasn’t there to chitchat. “As I explained, I came to…apologize.” The words didn’t come easy, nor did he mention that it had been at his mother’s insistence. “I was rude to you earlier this afternoon.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  She certainly wasn’t cutting him any slack.

  “Why?” she asked. “What have I ever done to you?”

  He didn’t know how to answer. He couldn’t find a way to tell her that every time he saw her or thought about her, he got angry. So, instead, he told her what he suspected. “You aren’t going to last. All you’re doing is raising everyone’s hopes. Once reality hits, you’ll move on. You’ll abandon the community.”

  “I signed a contract for one year and I intend to honor that.”

  “Like hell you will.” He was angry again, so angry he couldn’t keep from raising his voice. “You won’t make it past the first snowfall.”

  “Like hell I won’t.” She was yelling now, too. “I’m a woman of my word.”

  “Why’d you come in the first place? What’s Buffalo Valley got that you can’t find in Savannah?”

  “None of your business.” She stood only a few inches away from him, her eyes spitting fire, her lips moist and shining. The top two buttons of her sleeveless blouse were unfastened, leading his gaze to the promise of her breasts. Her legs were long and slender and—Then he knew. It was obvious.

  “You’re running away, aren’t you?” She’d accepted the piddling teacher’s salary the town had offered because she wanted out of an unhappy situation. She was escaping a love affair gone bad.

  It was the only thing he could think of to explain why she’d move to a town as desperate as Buffalo Valley. At the thought of her in the arms of another man, his gut tightened with a wave of jealousy.

  “What’s the matter?” he taunted. “Did you find out he was married?”

  “I think you should leave.” She clomped over to the door in her heavy boots and held it open. Her dogs trotted behind her, sat on their haunches and stared at him.

  He hesitated at the door, where she stood with her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed. With a nonchalant shrug, Gage did as she requested, recognizing that once again, he’d screwed up. God help him if his mother heard about this.

  In no mood to return to the ranch and answer her questions, Gage headed for Buffalo Bob’s, badly in need of a beer.

  The bar had two or three patrons, but Gage didn’t feel like company and made his way to a table in the back, preferring to sit in the shadows.

  Dressed in her Buffalo Gal outfit, Merrily walked over to him. “What can I get you, Gage?”

  “A draft beer.” He watched her return to the bar—and watched as Buffalo Bob’s eyes followed her every move. Another farmer, Steve Baylor, was in town, too, with some gal Gage didn’t recognize. They were whispering to each other. At that moment Gage would have given anything to be enjoying his beer with Lindsay. But instead of acting like a gentleman, instead of apologizing properly, bringing her flowers the way his mother had suggested, instead of inviting her to dinner, talking and getting to know her, he’d sneered at her. Insulted her. He knew the reason, too. She scared the hell out of him.

  Merrily brought his beer in a frosty mug and he paid her, grateful that she didn’t attempt to strike up a conversation. He needed a beer and solitude, in that order. It took another beer to find the courage to do what he knew was right.

  Lindsay was furious. So furious she could barely stand still. When she’d arrived in Buffalo Valley it had all seemed so wonderful. The house had been readied for her, the cupboards filled and the welcome mat placed on her front porch. In the weeks since, she’d confronted reality.

  The one-room school was wholly inadequate. The only computer available was the laptop she’d brought with her. The school district could barely afford textbooks, let alone computers.

  Lindsay wanted to do a good job, give her students a basic education and supply them with everything they needed to face the world after graduation. To do that she was going to need help. Lots of it.

  The first time she’d met Gage that Saturday at Hassie’s, she’d liked him. When she thought about returning to Buffalo Valley, he was someone who’d come to mind, someone she’d instinctively assumed would be a friend. Instead, he’d been rude and arrogant, insisting she wouldn’t last. His attitude, she’d discovered, was unfortunately typical. While everyone was friendly and welcoming, the town seemed divided on the issue of how long she’d stay. Some seemed to feel she’d serve out her contract, others that she’d leave halfway through. Nobody thought she’d stay a day longer than one year. Although she had roots in Buffalo Valley, she wasn’t considered one of them. The prevailing attitude didn’t upset her, and in truth, she’d been expecting it. She knew she had to prove herself, and that was something she was prepared to do. Something she felt she could do.

  But after today’s confrontations with Gage, Lindsay wasn’t sure anymore. His hostility had come as a shock. It discouraged her and made her question her own ability to succeed at this. She sighed heavily and glanced around. More discouragement. She’d practically dismantled the entire fireplace and hadn’t found any hollow brick.

  The doorbell chimed, and barking crazily, Mutt and Jeff raced to the front door. A surreptitious look through the window revealed Gage Sinclair. Again? She hadn’t recovered from his last verbal bout.

  “Open up, Lindsay, I know you’re in there,” he called when she didn’t immediately open the door.

  “Go away!” she shouted back. “Whatever you have to say doesn’t interest me.”

  “The least you can do is hear me out.”

  “If you’ve come to apologize again, save it. I’m still bleeding from the last one.”

  She found it ridiculous and embarrassing to be yelling at someone through the door. Before long they were bound to attract attention.

  Gage pounded on the door again. “All I want is to talk to you.”

  Exasperated, Lindsay threw open the door and folded her arms, leaving the screen door between them. “All right. Say what you have to say and then kindly go!”

  Now that they stood face-to-face, Gage couldn’t seem to get the words out. “Well, I…I was thinking, maybe you…” He paused, squared his shoulders and continued. “Would you like to have a beer with me?”

  “You came back to ask me out for a beer?”

  He hesitated. “Well…yes.”

  If she hadn’t been so astounded, she would have laughed. He’d been rude and insulting, then showed up on her porch and practically broke down her door because he was looking for a drinking companion?

 
“It isn’t a trick question,” he muttered.

  “Thank you, but no.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say.” He turned to leave.

  “Gage, wait.” She stopped him. She’d rather have him as her friend than her enemy. Opening the screen door, she stepped onto the porch and touched his arm. “It was…sweet of you to ask.”

  His reaction to her touch was immediate, and he shocked her by taking hold of her shoulders. He stared down at her with his incredible blue-gray eyes, immobilizing her.

  She recognized what was about to happen. She became aware that he was going to kiss her at the same moment she decided it was what she wanted. He pulled her into his arms with none of the finesse to which she was accustomed. When he kissed her, it felt wild and dangerous. Intense. He kissed her with an urgency that had her clinging to him with both hands.

  Lindsay had done her share of kissing, but had never experienced anything like this. Gage kissed her as if…as if he’d been waiting to kiss her his whole life.

  What astounded her more was the realization that one kiss wasn’t enough. He stopped for a moment to catch his breath, then kissed her again, with the same abandon, until her knees threatened to go out from under her.

  When he released her, Lindsay stumbled backward. She caught herself on the porch railing, clutching it with one hand while heaving in deep breaths. Hardly believing what he’d done, what she’d allowed—no, wanted—she placed the back of her hand against her lips and stared at him.

  “When you change your mind about having that beer,” he said, “let me know.” Then he turned and walked over to his truck, parked in front of her house.