Rainy Day Dreams: 2 (18 page)

Her friend watched her face, clearly expecting a reaction of some kind.

“It’s bigger than I thought. How many people live here?”

“I’m not sure.” Louisa cocked her head as she considered. “Around three hundred white settlers, I’d say, but we have a number of Duwamish friends who live in town as well.”

“Apparently you expect the number to increase, judging by the amount of cleared land over there.” Kathryn gestured toward the wide-open space to the right of the wharf.

“More men arrive with every ship that docks here. It’s been rather astounding to watch Seattle expand. Four years ago there were only a handful of us.” A look of sorrow passed over Louisa’s face. “I mourn the loss of the forest. But I suppose that is the price of progress.” She turned her head and looked to their right. “But we still have plenty left. I hope you can get out into the woods before you leave. You have no idea how beautiful it is when you’re surrounded on all sides by trees taller than the tallest building, the leaves so thick you can barely see the sky between them. It’s”—she inhaled a deep breath—“freeing, somehow.”

Freeing? Given recent developments, wandering in the forest would soon find her free of her scalp. No, thank you. She intended to remain within the safety of the town for the remainder of her stay, however long that may be. But she smiled and replied with a noncommittal murmur.

“There’s where we’re going.” Louisa pointed ahead.

The work area stood at the top of a knoll not far ahead of them. Looking at it, Kathryn immediately saw the wisdom in building the fort there. Its central location would allow access by most of the town, and the land around it had been cleared far enough that an approaching enemy would be spotted immediately. But the forest’s edge did lie fairly close on two sides. Within gunshot range? A shiver rippled down her spine.

How far was the Faulkner House from here? She turned to look behind her. They had taken one turn and the hotel lay hidden behind a rise in the land, but they had not traveled very far. Perhaps
half a mile. Certainly near enough to reach safety within a reasonable amount of time. Provided, of course, the streets weren’t swarming with savage enemies.

“They see us.” Louisa lifted an arm above her head and waved.

At the building site, one of the men waved back. David Denny, Kathryn identified. Beside him another man straightened from his work, and her pulse skipped when she identified his broad shoulders and dark, curling hair. Jason. Somehow she must find the proper way to approach him about continuing his painting.

“They’ve seen us.” Louisa flipped the reins and the wagon began to roll forward.

The work stopped at their approach, and in no time the wagon was surrounded by eager, smiling men. And not only eager for sandwiches, either. Kathryn found herself inundated with offers of assistance to climb down. Jason, of course, was not among those who crowded her side of the wagon. She took one of the dozens of hands lifted toward her and stepped from the sideboard to the ground.

Smiling her thanks, she made her way around the wagon to the back. The children waited at the edge of the bed beside the crates containing the results of their afternoon’s labor. A quick count of heads showed her that they had made plenty of sandwiches for the work crew to eat three or four each. Evie had been afraid they would run out.

Noah stepped up beside her and took charge. “Let’s get going so we can get as much done as possible before the light fails completely. Form a line here.”

He gestured with both hands and the men moved to obey. Louisa and Kathryn stood at the back of the wagon, distributing sandwiches and sweet cakes. To a man, the millworkers voiced polite thanks as they received the meal from her hands, and Kathryn made certain to smile into each face.

“I want down,” demanded a small voice behind her.

Kathryn looked up to find John William standing over her. He
extended his chubby arms toward her, and she reached for the child. Before she could grasp him, someone pushed by her, jostling her away.

“Come here, boy,” said a rough voice.

Surprised, she turned to see who had spoken so harshly and found herself looking into the stern countenance of the boy’s grandfather. The glare the narrowed eyes fixed on her was so full of menace she took an involuntary step backward.

He lifted John William to the ground and immediately snatched up his hand. “We’re going home now.”

“But I don’t want to go home,” the child whined. “I want to see the fort.”

“There’s nothing to see yet.” The words were clipped and full of impatience. “We have things to do at home.”

Before she could even bid the child goodbye, he was pulled away from her and disappeared behind the line of men waiting for their supper. Why, if she didn’t know better, she would think the man was trying to get the child away from her. She turned to Louisa, astonished by such a rude display from a grown man. Her friend was staring after the pair with a surprised expression.

“Have I done something to offend him?” Kathryn asked.

Louisa shook her head. “It certainly looks that way.”

“But how? I’ve never spoken a word to him.”

“He
is
very protective of his grandson,” Louisa said slowly. “Perhaps he’s cautious of strangers.”

Kathryn stiffened. Did he think she would harm a child? The very idea was offensive.

“I’ll ask him tomorrow morning when he brings John William for the day.” Louisa dismissed the incident with a quick smile, though she did glance once more in the direction in which the rude man had disappeared.

Will Townsend stomped away from the building site, dragging his grandson beside him. Fury still buzzed in his brain. Fury—and fear. The sight of John William’s arms outstretched to that woman had sent a spear of alarm straight through his heart.

Who did she think she was to show up here and casually insert herself into the daily lives of his friends and grandson? And on a flimsy claim of kinship with Madame Garritson, no less. He wouldn’t believe it for a minute except Madame herself had verified the distant relationship when he stopped by the Faulkner House to inquire the other night.

“Ow, Grandpa. Let go my hand.”

The child’s plaintive whimper drew his attention from his brooding, and he realized he was practically dragging the boy down the street by the arm. Immediately contrite, he relaxed his grip.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you so tightly.”

John William rubbed his wrist with the fingers of his other hand and turned a reproachful look up at him. “I wanted to pass out sandwiches. I made them, but I didn’t get to pass them out.”

Those green eyes never failed to move Will. A hundred memories blew through his mind like a warm breeze.
Oh, John. If only you could see how much like you your son is. More every day.
His throat tightened, and for a moment he could not speak. When he did, he forced a light, conversational tone.

“You made sandwiches today?”

The child gave an eager nod, reproach forgotten. “Me and Inez did.” His little chest puffed importantly. “I put the meat on after Miss Kathryn cut it.”

A chill invaded his blood. With an effort, he kept his boots moving up the street. “Miss Kathryn was at the restaurant, you say?”

“Uh huh. With Miss Weesa and Miss Inez. She played dolls with Inez and blocks with me. She’s a good builder.”

“Is she, now?”

The idea of that woman sitting beside John William, touching
his toys, touching
him
…Will set his teeth. What game was she playing, really? Whatever it was, he would not let his grandson be caught in the cross fire. If Louisa insisted on spending time in Kathryn’s presence he would make other arrangements for John William’s daily care, and he would do it immediately.

With an abrupt move, he turned on his heel. “Let’s go this way.”

The child complied. “Are we going back to the blockhouse so I can eat a sandwich?”

“No. I’ve just remembered an errand I need to run down by the wharf.” He swept the child up and settled him on one arm.

“I can walk,” John William complained. “I’m not a baby.”

“I know, but I can walk faster because my legs are longer.”

“Can we go see Captain Baker’s ship?”

The child’s love for all things nautical normally brought a smile to his grandfather’s face, but not tonight. “Another time. I want to be safely home before it gets too late.”

John William studied him with a serious expression. “Are you afraid of the mean Indians, Grandpa?”

Will returned his gaze calmly. No sense in upsetting the child. “No, I’m not afraid.”

Not, at least, of the Indians.

When the sandwiches had been distributed and the men had taken seats on piles of logs or in dirt to eat them, Kathryn was able to inspect the building. A trench had been dug, and the beginnings of the walls lay deep inside. She walked to the edge and peered down, judging the thickness of the wall with satisfaction. The blockhouse would be sturdy with its foundation buried in earth this way. Louisa and David came up beside her.

“Goodness, I can’t believe how much progress you’ve made,”
Louisa exclaimed, one hand resting on her husband’s arm and the other pressing into the small of her back.

“The work is going quickly.” He gave a satisfied nod. “I think we’ll be finished within a couple of weeks.”

“The sooner the better.” They wandered away, David pointing out something in the length of timber down in the trench.

Kathryn glanced around the area. Everywhere she looked men tried to catch her eye with broad smiles and nods. She answered absently in kind. Then she caught sight of the object of her search. There. Jason had selected a stump a little apart from the others and sat with his back to them, staring across the bay. Gathering her courage, she made her way around the building site in that direction.

He turned at her approach, and she ignored the way his body stiffened when he caught sight of her.

“How is the sandwich?” Surely he could not take offense at a benign question like that one.

His answer was given without taking his eyes from the vista in front of him. “Fine. Good. Thank you for bringing it.”

Encouraged by his polite tone, she ventured an observation. “The view is beautiful from here, don’t you think?”

For a moment he did not answer. When he did, his voice was guarded. “Not particularly.”

“You don’t find it beautiful? The way the wind whips the water into froth and the heavy clouds turning it dark and almost forbidding?”

“I wasn’t looking there. I was looking at the mill.”