Courting Kate (9 page)

She paused in the vestibule to remove her cloak. Someone opened the door and entered behind her.
 

“Miss Deveraux?”

“Yes.” She turned and saw four boys standing in the boardinghouse entry. Their clothing, while shabby, was clean, their faces fresh-scrubbed.
 

“We’re Tanner Blaine’s brothers. We came to apologize. Could we talk with you for a minute?”
 

She knew before they spoke who they were. It wasn’t because of family resemblance, because they looked nothing like their older brother. Tanner had black hair and eyes so dark a grey they, too, appeared black.

The boys’ hair ranged from blond to dark reddish brown; their eyes were either blue or hazel. It was their manner, she decided. They held themselves erect, their bearing proud. The gaze they gave her was direct, appraising, and wary.

Well, she didn’t intend to make it easy for them. They might think twice before pulling such a stunt again. She gave them a stern look. “Yes, I think we have a good deal to talk about. Won’t you come into the parlor?”

They followed her through the doorway, each looking like he would like to bolt back the way he came.

She closed the door, then leaned back against it. “Now we won’t be disturbed. Perhaps you’d better sit down.” She motioned toward a rose velvet settee and a group of three chairs.

The three older boys each grabbed a chair, perching awkwardly on the edge of the seat. The youngest, a blond with big blue eyes, stood next to his eldest brother.
 

She gazed at them, and her earlier intention to chastise them vanished. They reminded her of puppies who had been into the larder and knew they were in big trouble. Judging by the look of them, Tanner had done everything but pin their ears to the wall. “Maybe you might begin by telling me your names.”

“I’m Matthew.” The oldest, a tall bashful lad, ducked his head and blushed furiously.

The next shot her a somewhat abashed smile, then leaned forward and stuck out his hand. “I’m Mark.”
 

Holding out her own hand, Kathleen smiled at the dark-haired lad.
Nothing shy about this one.
“Hello, Mark.”

“I’m Luke. And we’ve come to tell you how sorry we are for the mess we got you in. Dang it,” the skinny, sandy-haired boy said in dismay when his voice rose from bass to soprano.
 

Her gaze shifted to the last of the group, a small youngster who looked so fearful she thought he might be about to cry. Unable to resist, she reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes. “And who are you?”

“J-J—J...” Shaking his head, he bit his lip.

“He’s John. He’s embarrassed ‘cause he stutters,” Mark volunteered.

“I used to stutter,” Kathleen confided. John looked so wistful, so little, she wanted to gather him into her arms. She didn’t. She didn’t know him well enough for that. But one look into his eyes and he had stolen her heart.
 

“You d-don’t now, M-Miss D-Deveraux.”

“Why don’t you call me Kate. After all, we were almost related.” She held out her hand and he slipped his into it. “You want to know how I stopped stuttering?”
 

John nodded.
 

“I learned to sing the words. Come over here and sit by me, and I’ll tell you about it.”
 

Several hours later, Matt and his brothers told Kate goodbye, and set out on foot through the woods for home.

“Man, she is pretty.” Mark said, letting out a sigh. “I’d marry her if I had the chance.”

“I’m the oldest,” Matt said, staking his claim. “If she was to marry any of us, it would be me.”

“And how would you support a wife? You ain’t dry behind the ears yet, yourself,” Luke crowed, kicking a rock ahead of him down the trail.

“I’m almost seventeen,” Matt answered. “Lots of fellers get married that young.”

“Tanner wouldn’t let you,” John sang with nary a stutter.

“You can bet on that,” Mark added. “But I do wish we could help her. Kate was nice, even after we told her everything we’d done. Makes me feel real bad. Kind of responsible.”
 

“It does seem a shame, her coming all this way to get married and all.” Matt wished he had some way to add ten years to his age.

“Maybe we can help her do that,” Luke said.

“How?” Matt asked.
 

“Tanner won’t marry her,” Mark said. “He’s dead set against it.”

Luke grinned at them. “Who’s talking about Tanner? Lots of single men around. She’s awful pretty. I bet we’d have no trouble finding her a husband.”

“No trouble?” Mark let out a whoop. “We’re in enough trouble now, without buying more.”
 

Matt strolled to one side of the leaf-strewn path and sat down on a fallen log. He studied on the idea for a minute. “It might work. Of course we’d have to interview the fellers. Wouldn’t want her getting no pig in a poke.”

“Don’t want pigs at all. It would have to be a man, somebody nice,” John sang.

Mark laughed. “No pigs. And he’d have to have money, at least enough to support her.”

“Everybody we know is darn near as poor as us,” Matt said with disgust. “Except Beekman, and he’s too tightfisted.”

“We could take turns watching the bank. See who puts money in. Then we could write down his name and find out if he’s single,” Luke suggested.

“Good idea. It could work, especially if Tanner is in the woods all day.” Matt picked up a stick and drew circles in the dirt. “Mark, you take the first shift, starting tomorrow.”

“All right, but you’ll have to do my chores.”

“You can do part of them before you leave, and I’ll finish up.” Matt got to his feet. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get on home. I’ve still got supper to fix, and you boys have got to chop wood and milk the cow.”

“Remember, not a word to Tanner,” Mark warned. “We’d better swear on it.”

The boys stood in a circle, each of them clasping the right shoulder of the next. “I swear nothing we said will go beyond this circle,” they said together.

“If I tell, I hope a chicken buzzard eats my rotten heart,” Luke added, staring pointedly at John.

They waited until each of them had repeated the pledge.

“Amen,” John said solemnly. He glanced up at the sky as if expecting some giant bird to swoop down and attack him. “I won’t tell. I swear I won’t.”

“You’ve got him half-scared to death,” Matt whispered accusingly.
 

“I’ll bet he won’t be the one to spill the beans,” Mark said, watching his younger brother dash ahead of them.
 

“Well, I sure won’t be the one to tell,” Luke declared.
 

“I’ll bet you will. You can’t keep a secret for nothing.”

“Can so.”

“Can not.”

His mind full of matchmaking possibilities, Matt quickened his step to avoid the argument, and hurried after John.

Chapter 7

Kathleen had made a decision, several of them in fact. From now on she would call herself Kate Deveraux. Everybody else did. Calling herself Kathleen would only make her seem standoffish. And she couldn’t afford that—not if she wanted to succeed in business.

After the boys had left she had discussed her idea of a pie shop with Madame Jeanne—Jeanne, she amended, for the Frenchwoman had insisted that Kate call her that. Jeanne had suggested that Kate set up her pie business in the small storage building that sat behind the boardinghouse—for the same rent as her former room, of course.

The place had been filled with odds and ends stashed there over the years. Some articles Kate had been able to use, but most of it had gone to the local dumping site.

Jeanne had hired a handyman to repair the roof, replace the window glass, and do the heavier cleaning. He also built a few cabinets and shelves and installed a large cook range that had been stored after Jeanne had purchased a new one for her boardinghouse. She’d also had him install a small pot-bellied stove for heat and a bed.
 

After he had finished, Kate took over. Now, five days and several cooking lessons later, she glanced around at the small shanty and was pleased with what she saw.
 

Although small, the building was larger than the bedroom she’d occupied at the boardinghouse, and even though it wasn’t as fancy, Kate liked it even better because she had a part in the transformation. And now, if her business succeeded, she wouldn’t be dependent on Tanner Blaine.

The stained walls now wore a fresh coat of white paint, and several colorful rag rugs dotted the board floors. Another of Jeanne’s discards, an oaken chest of drawers and a mirror, gleamed after a thorough cleaning. Kate had given the rusty iron bedstead a coat of pale blue paint. Jeanne had supplied linens and several colorful quilts to keep Kate warm on the coldest nights, not to mention a small kitchen table and chairs, along with dishes and cooking items she thought Kate might need. The woman was a virtual saint in Kate’s eyes, or at least, she was her fairy godmother.
 

Kate looked around her and nodded in satisfaction. Everything was ready. The cook stove was polished, the damper cleaned. Shelves and a discarded butcher table had been arranged to help display her baked goods. She had posted signs in the various businesses around Jacksonville, and had asked Jeanne and Mr. Beekman and others to pass the word. Starting tomorrow, Kate’s Pie Shop would be open for business.

Only one more thing needed doing before she began her baking. She pulled a chair close to the wall and climbed onto the seat. In one fist she held nails and a clothesline strung through the top edge of a long curtain. Her other hand clutched a hammer. She stretched toward the ceiling, only to find the curtain still dragged on the floor. If only she were a tad taller. She stood on tiptoe.

“What are you trying to do, besides break your neck?”

“Oh-h,” she squealed and twisted to peer behind her. The chair rocked, then tilted, launching her into thin air.

Tanner scooped her up before she hit the floor. “What were you doing?” he asked again.

“I was trying to hang that curtain before you scared me half to death.”

“What for?”
 

“You can put me down now.” She squirmed, pushed at his shoulder.

He sniffed, like he was smelling her, then he sniffed again. She found it most disturbing. “Put me down. Now.”

He held her a moment longer, then set her feet on the floor.

She straightened her clothing, and shoved a midnight black curl behind her ear.

“Well?” Arms crossed, he waited for her answer.
 

“I wanted to string a divider to separate my bedroom
 

from the pie shop,” she explained.
 

“Pie shop? What pie shop?” He frowned. “And what bedroom? You’re supposed to be sleeping at the boardinghouse.”

“Well, I’m not. As of tonight, I will be sleeping right here.” She pointed toward the sleeping area. “And tomorrow, I will open for business.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t stand for it. You’re going right back to Madame Jeanne’s.” He took her arm and marched her toward the door.
 

“You won’t stand for it?” She jerked free. “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.
Nor my husband.
You have no say in the matter. I am a grown woman, and I will do as I please.”

His eyes narrowed. “If I were your father, or your husband, I’d turn you over my knee.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I might do it anyhow for being so sassy.”

She eyed him warily, then backed away. She whirled and retrieved her hammer. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned, brandishing the weapon.

“You’d really hit me?”

“Not unless it became necessary.”

He placed his hands on his hips and stared at her. “Why are you being so blamed stubborn? A woman back here—all alone. Why, anything could happen.”

“The boardinghouse is right there.” She pointed across the alley. “Besides, I can’t go back. My room’s been rented to someone else.”

“What? Jeanne and I had an agreement. I’ve already taken care of everything.”

“I don’t want to be taken care of. I’ve made a different agreement. I refuse to be a burden. I am my own woman. Besides, Jeanne thinks this is a good idea.”

“Well, I don’t. Besides, Jeanne isn’t going to be sleeping here, you are.”

“I’ll be perfectly safe.”

“Oh, yeah? The only way you’d be safe is if I put you under lock and key.” His mouth set, he took a step forward.

She took one look and raised her weapon. It only made him madder.
 

“You think that puny little hammer would stop some man intent on sampling a piece of you? It wouldn’t stop him for a minute. He’d just throw that hammer away—like this.”

The hammer clanged against the opposite wall.