A Good Man for Katie (8 page)

Emeline wrapped her arms around Kathryne and squeezed tight. “What are sisters for? Truthfully, I had an ulterior motive. Although I only taught for a short time after Miss Stillwell left—and I loved it—I don’t want to teach anymore. Terry and I—”

“Has anyone seen Walter?” Laurel rushed into the cottage, face flushed, her voice shrill with panic.

“Not since he brought in that frog about twenty minutes ago,” Kathryne told her.

“He’s not outside.” Unshed tears gleamed in her eyes and her chin trembled. “At least, he hasn’t answered me.”

“Don’t panic. He couldn’t have gone far.” Emeline rested her hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.”

Skirts lifted, voices raised, they left the cottage running—only to stop short on the top step of the front porch.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Astride his beautiful black steed, Chase held Champion’s reins loosely as he rode up beside the picket fence in front of the cottage. Walter perched in the saddle in front of him, socks and shoes in hand, pant legs rolled up to his knees but soaked none-the-less.

“Walter!” Laurel ran down the stairs. She reached up, grabbed her son beneath the arms and lifted him from the saddle. He stood in front of her, his weight shifting from one leg to the other. “Where have you been? You were supposed to stay close!” She tsked at his appearance. “Look at your clothes. You’re all wet. What am I going to do with you?” Though she scolded her son, tears rolled down her cheeks at the same time.

Kathryne watched mother and son, but only took a moment to ascertain Walter was unharmed. Her gaze drifted to Chase. Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach at the mere sight of her hero, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to see her. She wore the fruits of her labor—dirty face and hands, dust- and dirt-covered pale blue dress. Fine strands of hair stuck to her face with perspiration.

“I found the Admiral leading his armada of leaf-ships down the mighty Mississippi.” He gestured toward the mountain stream behind him, but his gaze never left her face. The heated tingle his direct stare gave her settled in the pit of her stomach. “He was halfway to the river when I found him. Little legs can go pretty far pretty fast.”

“But, Mama!” Walter cried, his little face deep red with a combination of embarrassment and excitement.

“You’re in deep trouble, young man,” Laurel continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I want you to sit on that rock in the sun—” She pointed to a boulder in the middle of the flower garden. “—and don’t move until I tell you.”

Walter marched to the boulder and scrambled to the crest. With a huff, he folded his arms across his chest in righteous little boy anger. His lower lip stuck out and his chin trembled as if he held in his tears. Laurel ignored his pout and turned her attention to the infamous outlaw who returned her son. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter. I am forever in your debt.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” Chase touched the brim of his hat with his fingers. “He’s a good boy. Just curious like all boys his age. Don’t be too hard on him, ma’am.”

Though she knew she shouldn’t be fraternizing with the male sex according to the rules of her employment, especially a notorious outlaw, Kathryne couldn’t help herself. She cleared her throat. “We were just getting ready to eat lunch, Ch— Mr. Hunter. Won’t you join us?”

Emeline gasped, as did Laurel. Kathryne ignored them both and kept her focus on him. Chase blinked, but not before she saw a shadow of uncertainty pass before his eyes. The expression on his face led her to believe no one had asked him such a question in a very long time and once again, compassion for him rippled through her. She knew of his loneliness, had felt its presence when she touched his saddlebags the night before. With one simple act of kindness, perhaps she could alleviate some of his solitude.

His soft gray eyes went from her to Laurel to Emeline then back again to her, the indecision she saw reflected there almost palpable and heartbreaking. “We have plenty.”

“Yes, please join us,” Laurel added to the invitation. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for bringing Walter back to me.”

He removed his hat, his fingers worrying the wide brim as his gaze focused on Emeline. “Ma’am?”

“Of course, Mr. Hunter. Please.”

Chase slid from the saddle and wrapped Champion’s reins around a fence post. “Thank you, ladies.”

The gratitude in his deep, rich voice struck a cord in Kathryne’s heart.

Laurel laid out the picnic lunch on the small table on the porch. Fried chicken, hardboiled eggs, apples and an assortment of sugared pecans, almonds and walnuts in a calico-wrapped jar soon graced the red and white-checked tablecloth. Emeline brought newly washed plates and silverware from the kitchen while Kathryne carried the mismatched glasses on a tray. A pitcher of icy cold water from the pump in the kitchen made the tray heavier.

“Walter, you can come off the rock now. It’s time to eat.”

The boy jumped from his perch, ran up the porch steps as fast as his little legs could carry him and sat…on Chase’s knee. The gunman didn’t seem to mind as he prepared plates for both of them.

Kathryne’s opinion of him raised another notch. She glanced around the table, her gaze stopping on Emeline, who returned her stare with one of her own. Not a word was spoken, but she sensed the warning in her sister’s eyes.

“So, you’re the new teacher,” Chase said after he finished the last hard-boiled egg on his plate and picked up an apple. He fished a small knife from his trouser pocket and began to peel.

Mesmerized by how his hands moved over the apple to create one long, winding ribbon of reddish skin, Kathryne couldn’t answer right away. Her eyes remained on him as he quartered the fruit, cut out the seeds, and placed it on Walter’s plate. She glanced at his face, caught the sweet smile parting his lips and sucked in her breath.

It wasn’t until he looked at her that she found her voice. “We’ve been cleaning the cottage so I can move in tomorrow.” She gestured to all the furniture among the flowers and the dust covering her gown, self-conscious he’d caught her watching him. “There is one little problem with our plans.”

“What’s that?”

“Even with all the cleaning we’ve done, even with all lemon polish and vinegar we used, you can still smell an underlying odor.”

“There may be a squirrel or something in the attic,” Laurel said as she started to clean up their lunch. “I was going to ask Mr. Jacobs to take a look, but since you’re already here…” Her voice drifted off. “Would you mind?”

“Of course not. I’d be glad to help.”

Kathryne escorted Chase into the cottage and showed him the trap door in the ceiling. He brought one of the chairs from outside into the parlor, climbed up on it and disappeared through the hole.

“I think your problem is solved, Miss Katie.” Chase’s voice sounded muffled as it came from the ceiling above her head. “Do you have a burlap sack?”

She found one on the floor in the corner, climbed up on the chair and stuffed a cloth bag through the opening. “Will this do?”

A few moments later, Chase climbed down from the attic, the sack in his hand. “It was a squirrel. I found a small hole in the roof where he came in. I can come by tomorrow and fix that for you if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful.” Kathryne followed him outside and watched his every move. “Thank you.”

With a shovel he found leaning against the side of the house, Chase grinned then disappeared into the thick copse of evergreen trees, the bag swinging by his side only to return shortly with just the shovel.

“That should take care of the smell.” He put the shovel back where he’d found it. “I saw a trunk up there. Want me to pull it down?”

“A trunk? Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

While Chase climbed up on the chair and crawled through the opening in the ceiling once more, Kathryne took the opportunity to admire his broad shoulders, lean waist, perfect backside and long legs as they disappeared into the attic. Until she received a sharp pinch from Emeline. “Ow!” She screeched as she rubbed her arm.

“Stop it! Remember Andrew and all the embarrassment he caused you? Remember Richard? Remember the conditions of your employment and your vow to give up men?” Emeline whispered fiercely in her ear. “Don’t ask for trouble. I’m telling you, Kate, he’s no good. He’s a gunfighter, for crying out loud.”

Kathryne studied Emeline’s expression and realized the words coming from her mouth didn’t match the look in her eyes—as if the woman she’d known all her life knew more than she told. “What? I’m just—”

“I know what you’re doing and I know what you’re thinking.” She sighed and threw her hands up in the air. “You’re hopeless, Kate. An attractive man and you forget everything. Just remember, my reputation is—”

“Ladies, I could use a little help.” Chase interrupted the heated words and part of the trunk came into view through the opening in the ceiling.

Both Kathryne and Emeline caught the end of the trunk as Chase lowered it from the attic. They brought it all the way to floor and pushed it out of the way against the wall.

“Thank you so much for your time and your help, Mr. Hunter.” Her voice rather stiff and formal, Emeline waited for Chase to jump to the floor, but barely. “I think we can handle anything else that needs to be done.”

Chase stiffened, the smile on his lips disappeared. His gray eyes glittered dangerously as he gave a mock salute, brushed past them and strode out the door without a word.

“Emy!” Kathryne exclaimed. “That wasn’t—”

“It’s for your own good, Kate. You’ll thank me later.”

Emeline pinned her with blue eyes that glittered just as dangerously as Chase’s had.

A lump rose to Kathryne’s throat. “You’ve changed since you moved away from Washington, Emy.” She hitched up her skirts and ran outside, prepared to apologize to him for Emeline’s uncharacteristic malice, but too late. Only Walter remained in the yard, his small hand raised in farewell.

Chapter Six

Dear Mother and Father.

The salutation, the only words written on the paper in front of her, remained as far as she’d gotten after attempting to write the letter several times. There were so many things to tell them and yet, Kathryne couldn’t make the words flow.

She knew she owed it to her parents to let them know her plans had changed and why she’d chosen a new life in Crystal Springs rather than Sacramento. Her mother would understand. Her father would not.

As the sun’s rays flowed through the window and warmed her, she glanced at the clock and realized there was still another hour before school started for the day. She dipped her pen into the inkwell, took a deep breath, and tried once more.

By now you must realize
, she wrote and let the air escape her lungs in a long sigh. She crossed out the words and started again.
Please don’t be angry with me.

“This isn’t the way to tell them, Kate,” she murmured aloud. “Be strong. Be decisive. Be brave, for heaven’s sake. What’s the worst that could happen?”

But she knew what could happen. General Galen O’Rourke could send the U.S. Cavalry after her. Worse, he could embark on the long trip across country and bring her home himself. Kathryne shuddered at the possibility.

She looked out the bay window above her desk, and gazed at the little town she’d begun to call home. In the short time she’d been here, she’d met almost every one and, for the most part, liked them immensely.

She rose from the desk and wandered to the kitchen, her mind full of jumbled words she needed to put into order.

She unwrapped the paper from a long loaf of bread she’d bought yesterday from Stagmaier’s Bakery and sliced off the heel. The crisp, flaky crust and soft, white center made her mouth water. She smeared butter on it, poured herself a cup of coffee, added some canned milk and sugar then wandered back into the parlor.

She made herself comfortable at the desk, and studied the children beginning to gather in the small yard beside the school. She loved teaching, loved these children. From the youngest, Walter, to the oldest, Joe Rawlins, each and every one of them were precious in her eyes and hungry for knowledge. A smile crossed her lips as she took a bite of bread, a sip of bitter coffee, the only kind she knew how to make, and began the letter to her parents once more. The words flowed easier this time and within thirty minutes, she signed her name with a flourish at the end.

For good or bad, the general would know where to find her. More importantly, she hoped he would realize how happy she’d been over the past few weeks and wouldn’t send the cavalry after her.

Kathryne opened the door, the letter in her hand. A brisk nip in the air made her shiver almost as much as the thought of her father reading the missive. The leaves had yet to change colors, but the coolness of the morning marked the passage of summer to autumn. She grabbed the shawl from a peg near the door and wrapped it around her shoulders against the chill as she left the cottage and strode across the wooden bridge spanning the mountain stream.

Children played in the yard in front of the schoolhouse, pushing each other on the swings or bouncing up and down on the teeter-totter. Several boys were in the middle of a spirited game of tag. Two girls sat off by themselves, their heads close together as they shared secrets. Kathryne grinned. She and Emeline had sat in that exact position many times over the years.

Emy.

The grin disappeared. Three weeks had come and gone since they’d cleaned the teacherage, since the woman she’d known all her life had been so cruel to Chase. Although Emeline had apologized and begged for forgiveness, something had changed, something Kathryne couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her sister’s attitude toward the subject of Chase Hunter seemed cold and uncharacteristic for Emeline’s tender heart. Kathryne couldn’t help but wonder why.

She hadn’t seen Chase since that day and she missed their chance encounters, missed the thrill that coursed through her each time they met. He seemed to have disappeared although Kathryne knew she had him to thank for fixing the hole in the roof.

She stopped in the middle of the bridge, concentrated on putting the whole incident behind her, and enjoyed the sight before her. Kathryne couldn’t help the grin that parted her lips as she spotted some of the older boys hovering around a small table where the children ate their lunch if the weather was nice. She suspected one of them of having a crush on her. Small bouquets of flowers, apples, peppermint sticks or lemon drops were left on her desk each morning, though no one admitted to putting the gifts there. Other things appeared around her home, too, such as fresh cut firewood piled at the end of her front porch, again with no note so she could thank the person.