Dakota Dusk by Lauraine Snelling Page A

before returning to the horse.
    “Just hurry back. I hate to see you out after dark.”
    Rebekka hummed along with the horse’s clip-clop, clip-clop trot back to the livery. Since no one answered her call, she tied the horse to the hitching post in front and swung off back to the widow’s house. As she walked the quiet streets, lights glowed from windows, a dog barked, and another answered. Since it was Sunday night, the saloon was closed and dark.
    But there were plenty of lights at Widow Sampson’s boardinghouse and Rebekka looked across the yard in surprise. She’d have thought Mrs. Knutson would have gone up to her room and Mrs. Sampson would be finishing up in the kitchen. The gate creaked as she opened it; a horse nickered from somewhere out in the pasture.
    Rebekka froze. Who’s horse was out there? Had an animal gotten loose and found its way to their pasture? She locked the gate behind her and strode up the walk. Surely she wouldn’t have to take a strange animal back tonight.
    At the sound of voices, she paused on the back porch. One voice was a man’s. Perhaps someone had come for his horse. She breathed a sigh of relief, opened the back door, and crossed through the pantry to the kitchen.
    “What?” she said as she saw the stranger, sitting perfectly at ease at the table in Mrs. Sampson’s kitchen.
    “Rebekka Stenesrude, I’d like you to meet our new boarder, Jude Weinlander.” Mrs. Sampson shot Rebekka a look of apology.
    “Miss Stenesrude.” Jude rose to his feet and tipped his head in the time-honored greeting of male to female.
    “Mr. Weinlander.” Rebekka knew her manners. What she didn’t understand was how one man’s eyes could look so . . . so . . . sad wasn’t nearly strong enough. Not blank, not dead, just filled with deep-down, soul-searching sorrow. Whatever had happened in his life to bring that darkness to eyes that should have sparkled like the sun, dappling a Minnesota lake in the summer?
    Again the slash of silver in his dark blond hair caught her attention. Did he ever smile? What would it take to make a smile light his eyes and crease his face? Silly, she chided herself. He’s a drifter: He’ll be here and gone before you know it.
    “Mr. Weinlander will be working for Lars,” Mrs. Sampson said as she reached for the coffeepot on the stove. “Would you like a cup before you retire?”
    Rebekka shook her head. “No, thanks. I think I’ll go on up.”
    The usual camaraderie seemed to have fled the kitchen. Would things ever be the same?
    Jude watched her leave the room, her back straight, her head high. He wondered how she could hold her head so straight with that thick braided coil at her neck. It looked heavy enough to tip her all the way over. Tonight she wasn’t smiling. In fact, the temperature had dropped ten degrees in the room when they’d been introduced. But he’d seen her smile at the children today. And all the others helping at the school. She had a wonderful, heart-catching smile when she allowed it out to play. Must have something to do with being a schoolmarm.
    He picked up the cup of coffee set before him and sipped. No matter. He wouldn’t be here long enough to get to know her anyway.
    Mrs. Sampson sat down across from him and, with a sigh, stretched her shoulders and leaned back in the chair. “This has certainly been a busy two days. Glad we don’t have doings like this too often.”
    Jude set his cup down and ran a calloused fingertip around the edge of the mug. He could feel a war going on inside him. Why in the world did he have this desire to tell the woman across from him his life’s story? Surely if she knew, she would send him packing in an instant. He cleared his throat. He could hear footsteps overhead.
    That must be Rebekka’s room. Why in the world was he thinking of her as Rebekka? Miss Stenesrude.
    He took another swallow of coffee. “I need to tell you some things.”
    Mrs. Sampson studied him across the top of her cup.