Harlot at the Homestead (8 page)

As soon as she opened the door, Rosie flew at her and hugged her close.

“Catherine! Did you have fun? Where’s Kenan? What took you so long?”

The young woman pulled Catherine into the center of the room then took her face in her hands. She was as wholesome and kind-hearted as anyone could be. It was yet another reason why Catherine could not bring shame upon this family.

“Kenan is in the barn. What is it, Rosie? You look…” She searched for the right words as she stared into Rosie’s warm amber eyes. They were illuminated as if someone had lit a fire in her belly and it glowed now, its flames flickering in her gaze.

“We’ve been invited to a wedding tomorrow!” Rosie giggled, now more like a sixteen year old than a woman just past thirty.

Catherine gasped as Rosie grabbed her hands and spun her around in a circle, jumping up and down as she did so.

“Rosie! Stop!”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, Catherine! I’m just so…so…” A crimson hue filled Rosie’s cheeks.

“You’re excited?” Catherine queried.

“Well, yes,” She bit her lip. “I guess I am. It’ll be such a grand fandango!”

“Who’s getting married? And where?” Catherine squeezed Rosie’s hands to convey her approval, allowing her own concerns to drift to the back of her mind.

“Billy Hampton’s marrying Rita-Mae Hudson!” Rosie jumped up and down again.

“How do you know?” Catherine felt her heart lift at Rosie’s infectious happiness.

Rosie lowered her eyes, suddenly coy. Her blush deepened and Catherine realized that the real reason for her friend’s joy lay in the attentions of a man.

“Rosie?”

“It was Joshua Hampton. He rode out here this morning, not long after you’d gone.”

“Joshua Hampton?”

“Yeah.” Rosie released Catherine’s hands and made a show of tidying her hair and tightening the pins that held it back from her face. “He rides with Kenan on the cattle trail. I…uh…we met last summer when he stopped by.”

“And you…” Catherine laughed as she pointed at Rosie. “You like him!”

Rosie’s eyes gleamed as she grinned back at Catherine. “I do! I really do! But it’s foolish. I’m past being a wife…too old to be a mother!”

“Nonsense!” Catherine clicked her tongue. “You have plenty of time! Now, while your brother sorts the horses, come tell me all about this Joshua Hampton!”

Rosie followed her toward the kitchen table where Catherine listened with pleasure as her dear friend told her all about the man who had captured her own heart.

Chapter Seven

The wagon rattled along the rough path and Catherine swayed on the wooden boards that served as a seat, bumping against Rosie’s side. She could feel the excitement bubbling in Kenan’s sister at the prospect of seeing Joshua Hampton again. He had clearly made quite an impression upon Rosie and Catherine could see that she harbored hopes of a proposal of her own in the not too distant future. The aura around Rosie was so positive and so full of energy that Catherine allowed herself to bask in it so that it cheered her own soul and lifted her own sagging spirits. Though she had all but made up her mind that she could not—and should not—expect that Kenan would now take her to wife, she would savor the short time they had left together. She could take that at least to sustain her through the long hard winter of a lifetime that lay ahead.

“What is it, Catherine?” Rosie laid a cool hand upon her arm.

“Oh, nothing, really,” she mumbled, realizing that she had been wringing her handkerchief in her lap. “I was just…”

“It’s okay, sweeting.” Rosie patted her hand. “That’s all behind you now. You’re back where you belong.”

Catherine started at Rosie’s words. Did she know what had happened to her? Though Catherine had told her friend a version of events, she had spared her the gritty details, fearing that the gentle woman’s sensibilities would be shocked at the painful truth. Rosie was a good woman and she did not need to know about the horrors that existed out there in the wider world. Though Rosie had grown up in this wild young country of theirs, she had led a relatively protected life as the sweet, innocent daughter of her father and the sheltered sister to three strong, feisty brothers. The details of Catherine’s time in New York would do nothing other than hurt and wound her friend.

“You do look fine this evening, Rosie!” Catherine sought to change the subject.

“I agree.” Kenan grinned at her. He rode his mare alongside the wagon and Catherine’s breath caught in her throat at how handsome he looked. He had on his Sunday best and had shaved his cheeks clean so that his dark mustache and the small triangle of beard that graced his chin stood out, making his eyes seem deeper and darker than usual.

He sat confidently in the saddle and he rested one hand upon his knee while he held the reins loosely in the other. He was in every way a strong, handsome, self-assured cowboy. The power of her emotions swept through her like a river that had burst its dam after heavy rainfall and her stomach flipped at the knowledge that she would soon be parted from him once more surged through her. Where would she find the strength to do it?

“Don’t you think the honey satin suits my sister, Catherine?” Kenan smiled at Rosie, who bridled a little at his teasing.

“It really does,” she replied and Rosie straightened in her seat, smoothing the full skirts of her gown out over her knees. “The color brings out the amber of her eyes.”

The beautiful dress had actually belonged to Rosie’s mother, packed away for years in a chest of precious things that the Duggan children had treasured. Kenan had been the one to suggest that his sister make use of their mother’s clothing when she’d been in a panic about what to wear. It had not been easy for Rosie to don the gown, clearly she had wanted to protect her deceased mother’s memories, but her brothers had insisted that they would like to see their mother’s best clothes put to good use again. And who better to wear them than their darling Rosie?

So between them, Rosie and Catherine had adjusted the gown to fit Rosie’s slender frame and she now looked every bit the lady.

“Are you sure?” Rosie asked Catherine for the hundredth time. “It’s not too much? You know, I’m not used to such finery.”

“You look beautiful.” Catherine lifted Rosie’s hand and planted a kiss upon her fingers. “Now stop fretting.” She held her friend’s hand tightly between her own, wondering at the strength beneath the red, work-worn skin.

As for Catherine, Rosie had gifted her a gown that she’d kept for best even though it had long been too short for the lithe young woman. It was made of the palest green cotton calico with a rounded neckline trimmed with a cream lace collar. She had giggled that afternoon with Rosie as they had to let out the bodice to accommodate Catherine’s full bosom which had strained against the cool material. The real issue with the dress though had been the short bell sleeves which had left Catherine’s scarred arms on display. Rosie had kindly removed a set of ruched lace sleeves from another dress then stitched them into the green calico.

Catherine had left her long, red hair down—the way Kenan liked it—in the fashion of a young, unmarried girl. Though she was far from virginal, she believed that her heart was pure and she wanted to allow herself the luxury of creating the outward illusion too.

Kenan winked at her then moved forwards to ride alongside Matthew. She smiled and relaxed against Rosie, watching her friend shake the reins to encourage Emmett’s horse to move faster. The youngest Duggan had remained at the homestead for the evening, having picked the short straw. The animals needed watching as that afternoon, when Kenan had been checking the perimeter fencing, he’d found one of their chickens all torn up and half-eaten. It meant that there was likely a coyote
in the vicinity and it would be back for a second helping.

Catherine gazed at the sun as it sank on the horizon behind the black tipped mountains. It looked as though the mountains themselves were on fire and the flames had scorched the peaks, leaving them the color of charcoal. The endless sky itself glowed crimson, amber and dusky pink. Its beauty was breathtaking. Looking at such splendor whilst resting her head upon the shoulder of a dear friend, Catherine wondered at how cruel life could be. With so much to appreciate in this fleeting human life, it was difficult to comprehend how there could be such pain and suffering.

If she were as innocent as she had been just two years ago, as innocent as Rosie seemed to be, then she would have enjoyed the stunning view without hindrance. But now, physically and emotionally scarred by life and mankind, the beauty was all the more poignant. She could see it, appreciate it and savor it. But a part of her heart lay heavy, for she knew that she would never be totally free to relish the splendor that life and nature had to offer. Her vision of the world had changed.

* * * *

Kenan reined in his mare as the magnificent Lone Wolf Ranch came into sight. Its buildings and fences stretched out for miles across the Montana grasslands, where the pale butter-colored sweet clover danced in the wind that swept the open plains.

The owner of the ranch, Dylan Hampton, had arrived in America with empty pockets and an even emptier belly just twenty years earlier, but he’d been stalwart and determined and he’d built himself a grand business that he had every right to be proud of.

He owned over ten thousand cattle, including a herd of Texas Longhorns, and he traded his beasts all over the western states. He had a bubbly, buxom wife who’d provided him with ten strong children, ranging from thirty five to just sixteen. Kenan supposed that access to good meat probably helped with the child rearing, as well as all that fresh Montana air. Children born into poverty were often so much weaker, especially those in the cow towns who were exposed to all manners of diseases brought in with the never ending deluge of immigrants. With so many new settlers arriving from as far as China, it was going to take a while for folks to build up immunity to the variety of infectious complaints that so often ailed them.

“So are we all set for a wedding?” Kenan smiled at Catherine.

She returned his smile but it didn’t meet her eyes and he felt his spirits sag. He knew that this evening would not be easy for her but he also knew that hiding away would not help either. It would be like branding cattle, better to get it over and done with quickly than to dally around, allowing the poor cows’ fears to build to a blind terror. Short and sharp was best. Let people see her, know that she was back and that she was here to stay. His own guts churned at the prospect of taking her into company but it was a happy occasion and he hoped that folks would be accepting, if not overly courteous.

He pulled his horse alongside the wagon and looked at Catherine. She leaned against Rosie, her eyes veiled as if deep in contemplation. Her shawl hung loosely around her arms and she looked like a fiery angel with her flame colored tresses tumbling down over her shoulders. Kenan was certain that she could have been plucked straight out of the sunset, so resplendent was her hair. Her dress was the color of fresh spring grass and it brought out the bright green of her eyes. Surely anyone could see that she was an innocent young woman, as pure as the first snowflakes of winter, though he feared that she might be as fragile, apt to melt away when she fell against the rocky ground. She’d been so strong, so brave, but trauma could cause cracks in a person that wouldn’t always show immediately, and Kenan hoped that Catherine wasn’t secretly crumbling inside.

They rode along the sandy path that took them up to the impressive homestead, then Kenan and Matthew tethered the horses to rest and graze.

“Pretty fine, huh?” Matthew mumbled then let out a whistle of awe.

“It is indeed, brother.” Kenan patted his shoulder. “We’ll have all this one day. Just you wait and see!”

Matthew threw his head back and laughed. “Sure we will, Kenan! Sure we will!”

Kenan suppressed the urge to say more. He had been saving hard and knew that if he got another year of cattle driving under his belt, he too would be able to invest in some cattle of his own and to develop their own homestead. He was keeping it quiet for now though, not wanting to raise anyone’s hopes until he felt sure that he could make the dream a reality. Too many folks had hopes and dreams of owning their own land then building their own empires but all too often they were just dreams. The bottle, women or the gambling tables came calling and their hard earned savings were squandered away like dust blown away on the plains. But not Kenan. He had no time for such frivolities and he’d stashed away every penny he could spare.

“Ladies.” Kenan held out his arm for Catherine and helped her down from the wagon.

She tucked her small hand into the crook of his elbow and he covered it with his own, squeezing her fingers to reassure her. Rosie took Matthew’s arm, then the four of them climbed the wide whitewashed steps that led to the expansive front porch, talking and laughing as free and dandy as if nothing had—or ever would—give them a moment’s strife.

The door was opened by a smartly dressed young man, whom Catherine took to be one of the Hampton brothers, and they were invited into a spacious reception room. It was certainly an impressive place and she had to grit her teeth to keep her mouth closed. The wooden lounge area was warm and clean with solid pine furniture, upholstered with a damask satin material. There were four large chairs, two at either side of the enormous fireplace where a fire now blazed, even though it was not yet dark and it was clear that this room was not used for cooking. The seats were equipped with plump matching damask pillows, which Catherine guessed were filled with duck down or horsehair. A chaise longue ran alongside the wide window that opened onto the land behind the house, and several small side tables were dotted about. It reminded her of the parlors of the New York upper class, though it was larger and airier and certainly not as claustrophobic. The stuffy rooms of the city had been full of scornful folks and their derisive snorts, which usually occurred when they found out that she was from the outskirts of Virginia City.

“Thanks for coming,” the handsome young man spoke, his attention focused on Rosie.