Courting Kate (8 page)

“She’s here?” Matt whispered.

“Who’s here?” Tanner asked.

“Tanner, I think you already know, but you’d better sit down anyway,” Mark said.

Tanner pointed toward the table. “You sit.”

The boys slid into their seats, each of them pale as death. “All right, who wants to start?”

Matt snuck a look at him, then ducked his head and concentrated on the floor. “We sent for a wife for you.”

“How could you do that?”
 

“We placed an advertisement for her in the paper, then when she answered, we sent her the money to come.”

“I know that.” Tanner flopped down in his own chair. “What I want to know is how could you do such a thing?”

“We were tired of doing all that female stuff.” Matt shrugged. “So we just did it.”

“Where did you get the money? She came all the way from Georgia.”

“I sold my saddle,” Mark confessed.
 

“I sold the gold watch Grandpa left me,” Luke added.
 

Tanner frowned and looked at Matthew and John. “How about you two?”

“Remember those new pants you ordered that never came?” Matt asked.

Tanner sighed. “You sold my britches?”

“Not exactly. I took them back and got the money instead.”

“John?”

“I only h-had that two d-dollars I got for C-Christmas.”

Tanner ran a hand through his hair. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You sold everything you owned—including Grandpa’s watch and my pants—and sent all the way to Atlanta, Georgia to get me a mail-order bride?”

“Yessir.”

“Were you planning to let me in on it, or were you figuring to marry me off in my sleep?”

“We hoped she wouldn’t show up.”

“After you sent for her?”

“Well, when we’d had time to think about it, we got scared and wrote her not to come,” Matt confessed.“We told her you had died.”

“Of a heart c-cond-dition,” John said.

“Because you were so overjoyed,” Luke finished.

Tanner stared at them, not knowing whether to laugh, cuss, or murder all four of them where they sat. Never in his wildest imaginings could he have concocted such a scheme. What was worse, he had no idea how to unravel the mess.

Like it or not, Kathleen Deveraux had arrived. He couldn’t send her back; he had no money. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t leave; she had no money either. Now she was in Jacksonville, waiting for him to decide what to do with her. And he didn’t know what to do with her, especially since the woman had traveled better than three thousand miles, expecting to be his wife.

He didn’t want a wife. Couldn’t support one if he had one. But since it looked like he was going to have to support her anyway, it might probably be cheaper to marry her. Even the idea gave him a headache. He raised a hand to his throbbing temples.
 

A whiff of black smoke drifted past his nostrils. “Something’s burning,” he said absently.

“My biscuits,” Matt cried, sprinting toward the stove. “Oh heck, the steak’s burnt, too.”

“Looks like beans again tonight,” Mark said with a groan, glancing at Luke.

“I can’t help it,” Luke said.
 

“Then don’t eat them,” Mark yelled.

“There’s nothing else to eat,” Luke yelled back.

“Enough!” Tanner roared.
 

“Dinner’s on the table,” Matt announced.
 

“I’ve lost my appetite,” Tanner muttered, as if anybody cared. The boys were already at it again. A body would have to be crazy to marry into this family.

Marry?

The very word gave him the shivers. But thanks to them, what other choice did he have?

“I won’t do it. I’m not getting married.”

Nobody paid any attention.

“I’m not getting married!” he yelled. Shooting a fierce scowl toward his brothers, Tanner put on his coat and went out to check on his mules.
 

Chapter 6

The next morning things still hadn’t changed.
 

“We’re sorry, Tanner,” Luke said, his face solemn.

“You said she’s kinda pretty. Why, after you get to know her better, you might decide to keep her,” Matt suggested hopefully.

“And if I had the money I might decide to send her back—like you did my britches!” Too furious to say any more, and unable to trust himself anywhere near his brothers for fear he’d end up murdering them, Tanner slammed his hat on his head and strode out the door.
 

A mail-order bride. He still couldn’t believe it. Well, today Miss Deveraux was their problem. Not that making his brothers apologize to her would do any good. Maybe she might do them in, solve all their problems. She looked mad enough to do him harm yesterday despite their difference in size. Those purple eyes of hers shot sparks hot enough to singe a man’s hide. She was as foolish as they were. The very idea, a woman like her coming all the way from Georgia expecting to marry him.

No, not him, he amended. Some make-believe paragon the boys had dreamed up. He’d been quick to set her straight on that score.

She was a pretty little thing, but she looked puny. She didn’t belong here. It’d be like putting a butterfly in the middle of a hailstorm. She needed to be someplace refined, where she could have tea parties and such.

If he was in the market for a wife, which he wasn’t, he’d want one who was strong, sturdy, one who could chop wood, milk cows and birth a half dozen children.
 

That’s the kind of woman he’d need.
 

And she wouldn’t have eyes like woodland violets.
 

He saddled his mule and headed for tall timber.

* * *

A knock on her door at the boardinghouse woke Kathleen from a troubled sleep. She ran a hand over her eyes, then threw on her robe and went to answer the door. Madame Jeanne, resplendent in a morning dress of rust-colored taffeta, stood on the other side.

“
Bonjour, ma petite
. I bring you the pitcher of warm water. Breakfast ees served ee few minutes.” Her plump face crinkled in a good-natured smile, the Frenchwoman held out a steaming China water pitcher.
 

“Thank you,” Kathleen said, grateful for the kindness. “Won’t you come in?”

“Only for a meenute.” Madame Jeanne placed the pitcher on the washstand. “I hear about your leetle problem,” she said hesitantly.
 

“By now the whole town probably knows about it.”
 

The older woman patted Kathleen’s hand. “Try not to theenk too badly of Tanner. He ees good man, and he maybe make good husband. But, like all men, he, too, ees reluctant when eet comes to the marriage.”

“Especially when he didn’t bargain for a wife in the first place,” Kathleen said, twisting a lock of curly hair around her finger. “It isn’t that I’m all that anxious to marry Tanner Blaine-or any other man for that matter. It’s just that a woman in my position doesn’t have much choice. I can’t even pay for my own bed and board.”

“After breakfast, we have leetle talk. You have more choices than you theenk.” Madame Jeanne winked, then with a bustle of petticoats, she hurried out the door.

Choices. Although Kathleen tried to take encouragement from the Frenchwoman’s words, she knew those choices would have to exclude Tanner Blaine. The tall, rugged lumberman had made it quite clear that, while he felt obligated to pay her way for the time being, he had no intention of taking her on as a permanent responsibility as his betrothed or anything else. While she didn’t disagree with that, for they certainly did not suit, it made her predicament even more tenuous.
 

She knew very little about the man and even less about his family. He was unmarried, and he had four brothers. He was also very friendly with several of the “ladies” down the hall. She blushed remembering the way they had fawned over him. They knew him, apparently quite well, as did the proprietress, Madame Jeanne deRoboam, who, though well past the bloom of youth, became almost girlish in his presence.

Tanner was a strapping figure of a man. She’d thought a good deal of his bulk was due to the heavy coat. She’d been mistaken, for at the boarding house he’d removed the mackinaw. She’d never seen such shoulders. A muscular chest filled out his red-checked work shirt, but his waist was narrow, his hips well formed. The sturdy black trousers that hugged his long legs had been tucked into heavy boots. Even dressed in rags, he could easily turn a girl’s head if she wasn’t wary.
 

She frowned. He could hardly be prosperous, not dressed like that. Four younger brothers to support. And now her. She hurriedly finished her toilette and made her bed, then she paused in front of the window and lifted the edge of the lace curtain to gaze out on the town.

What would she do when the weather worsened? Feeling trapped, she brought a hand to her throat. She couldn’t stay, not under the circumstances. She also couldn’t leave. Apparently Mr. Blaine didn’t have any money either. He had promised that as soon as he was able he would pay her way back home.

She picked up her brush and ran it through her hair, smoothing the curls into a simple French twist. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him that she didn’t have a home, that what family she had were glad to bid her goodbye. Couldn’t tell him that she had no friends, or that he had been her last desperate hope.

Desperate.

He’d seemed desperate too—desperate to get rid of her.

But Madame Jeanne had come all the way from France. She was a woman alone, and she seemed to be doing quite well for herself, if the boardinghouse was any indication.

Kathleen gazed thoughtfully at the floral pattern of the pale blue and cream wall covering, the pristine white iron bedstead, the pastel-hued braided rug on the floor. The rooms were simple but well appointed, much like one would find in any modest home. And scrupulously clean.

And rented for her by Tanner Blaine.
 

She refused to just sit here and accept his charity. There had to be something she could do. Hoping Madame Jeanne would have the answer to her plight, she hurried from the room.
 

With the hubbub of breakfast ended and the dining area cleaned and made ready for the next meal, Kathleen and Jeanne sat alone at a small table in an alcove off the kitchen.
 

“I could be a governess,” Kathleen suggested.

Jeanne looked at the list she had made and shook her head. “Eet has no future. Besides, no one in Jacksonville needs ze governess.” She tapped a pencil she held between two pudgy fingers; then, sighing, she crossed another option off the list. Madame drew her mouth into a moue. “You can not sew. Or cook.” She gave Kathleen a sidelong glance. “But you are pretty. And smart. You can be actress. Join one of traveling shows that sometimes come to town. I help you with ze costumes, and ze girls, they help you with your makeup.”

Horrified, Kathleen shook her head. She peered over at the paper where yet another item was being crossed off. “It seems I haven’t many options after all.” Pretty and smart seemed to be the only things left on the list, and in spite of Madame’s insistence, Kathleen wasn’t at all sure about those.
 

“Do not give up,” the older woman admonished. “Let me think on it a bit.”

“Thank you for trying.” Knowing her landlady had things to do, Kathleen got up from her seat and left the room. This was her problem. It would be up to her to solve it. Maybe she could think better if she took in some fresh air.
 

After fetching her cloak and gloves, she left the boardinghouse and strolled along the weathered boardwalk. She smiled at an aging Chinese man, who shot her a look of alarm and darted into the nearest alley. She’d seen others of his country from the hotel window, always hurrying, always furtive, as if they were afraid to be discovered on the street. Strange, she thought.

Midway down the block she paused to chat with the handsome banker, Cornelius Beekman, who was heading to the Stars and Bars for lunch.

She also stopped at the
Oregon Sentinel
office and checked the help wanted column. Without success. Unless she was a miner or timberman, no work was to be found.

Madame had said Kathleen would do better to start her own business, but that took money. Besides, what kind of business could she do?

“Doggone it, they done sold out of pies again,” a passing miner fumed. “I had my mouth set on apple, too.”

“The bakery mostly makes bread, not pies,” his companion muttered. “The ones they do make sell as soon as they come out of the oven.”

The men passed on by, but their conversation stuck in Kathleen’s mind.
Pies.
She’d made a few, but they’d barely been edible, certainly nothing anybody would be willing to pay for. Still...
 

Deep in thought, she strolled the length of Main Street, then cut through the alley and made her way back to the boardinghouse.