A Good Man for Katie Page 2

  “What happened?”

  “You fainted.” He removed the damp cloth from her forehead and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “I never faint.” She shook her head as she sat up on the blue velvet divan and glanced around the small, comfortable parlor. Sunlight filtered in through the sheer drapes at the windows.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “If you insist, ma’am, but I’ve seen women faint before and you fainted.”

  The clank and rattle of a silver coffee service interrupted their conversation. Emeline stood in the doorway to the parlor, her mouth pulled into a frown. Worry lines furrowed her forehead. “Perhaps it would be best if you left now, Mr. Hunter.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Leslie.” He lifted his hat from the small ornate table beside him and jammed it on his head, his movements stiff. “Stay out of stage coaches for a while, Miss Katie.”

  In three long strides, he moved across the parlor and nodded to Emeline without a word. The front door slammed behind him as he left.

  Kathryne wondered why Emeline had been so impolite while the look in her eyes conveyed sympathy. The contradiction puzzled her. “I’ve never known you to be rude, Emy,” she said, reverting to the childhood nickname. “Why? You gave him the same look everyone else did as we rode through town. Who is he?”

  “Mr. Hunter?” Emeline shrugged her slim shoulders as she placed the tray on the table where Chase’s hat had rested just a moment ago. “Stay away from him, Kate, for your own good.”

  “Why? He seemed so nice.”

  “He’s not a nice man, Kate.” Emeline didn’t look at her as she said the words. “He’s an outlaw, a killer of the worse kind.”

  Kathryne shook her head, taken aback by the venom in Emeline’s voice and the fact Chase Hunter had been labeled a gunfighter. True, he wore a holster around his slim hips but she’d seen other men wearing the same. Theirs weren’t tied around their thighs as his were, though. “I don’t believe it. He was nothing but kind to me.”

  “What you believe isn’t the point, Kate. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him. He’s not welcome in this town given what he is.” Emeline said nothing more as she took her seat and poured coffee into thin china cups, her unblinking gaze remaining on her.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”

  “You’re in trouble,” Emeline stated without hesitation then rose and went to the glass and mahogany cabinet in the corner to pull out a bottle of sipping whiskey. “Why else would you show up at my door looking like you do? Mr. Hunter told me about the stagecoach and your wild ride across the mountain pass. You were lucky you weren’t killed.” She poured a healthy dollop of the liquor into both their cups. “So tell me what was so bad in Washington you risked life and limb to come here. The last time we saw each other, you were planning your wedding to Richard. What happened?”

  Kathryne swallowed the lump in her throat and picked at a loose thread on her gown. “Richard was—is—already married. With six children.” She couldn’t look at Emeline, see the sympathy on her face and not burst into tears. As it was, her throat closed even tighter as she remembered the humiliation Richard caused. She took a healthy swallow of the whiskey-laced coffee and fought for composure. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t.”

  “Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry. I knew I didn’t like Richard the first time we met.” Emeline shook her head and reached out to force the cup up to her mouth once more. “Take another swallow. That’s it.” Her mouth formed a tremulous smile. “Tell me the rest of it.”

  “Father was furious when he found out, but he managed to keep it quiet and no one knew of my disgrace.” The whiskey in the coffee began to relax her. The knot in her stomach loosened a bit, the trembling ceased and the mere presence of Emeline brought comfort. The words came a little easier. “It was the first time Father threatened me with the convent.” She blinked as she finished the rest of the drink. Her heart hammered in her chest as she recalled the hurtful words the General had thrown at her. “Worse, he wanted me to live with Aunt Euphemia.” She held out her cup for more.

  Emeline obliged but said nothing as she poured more coffee and added another splash of whiskey.

  “Then I met Andrew. Oh, Emy, he was wonderful. So charming, so romantic, so—I don’t know—manly. He swept me off my feet. We went everywhere together. Parties. Balls. I introduced him to the best families of Washington.” She choked on the words and stared at the coffee in her cup.

  “Then what happened?”

  Kathryne took off her glasses and swiped at the tears pain and anguish brought. Without a word, Emeline handed her an embroidered handkerchief she pulled from her apron pocket. “Andrew repaid me by robbing every home we visited. Father couldn’t save me from the scandal.”

  Emeline gasped. “Oh Kate! I’m so sorry. How did you find out?”

  “I was at the opera when Senator Parsons’ wife recognized the brooch Andrew had given me pinned to my gown. It was the same one stolen from her home a few weeks after Andrew and I attended a soiree there.”

  Her breath hitched in her chest and she struggled to continue. “I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Everyone I knew was there. The police were called. I was questioned for hours, as were Mama and Father. They thought I was Andrew’s accomplice until Father convinced them I couldn’t possibly be.” She dabbed at her eyes and the constant flow of tears.

  “Father was so angry—you know how his voice can raise the rafters, especially after I started trying to find Andrew. I couldn’t stop myself, Emy. I had to know, had to find him and find out why he did this to me, but I never f-found him.” She hiccupped and tried to catch her breath, tried to speak over the lump in her throat. “A week later, Father put me on a train while Mama stood there, dry-eyed and silent, always the good soldier.”

  Emeline shook her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. “He put you on a train alone? No escort?”

  Her voice lowered to a bare whisper. “He didn’t want anyone to know where I was going.”

  “Oh, Kate.” Emeline leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her. They rocked together as they had done when they were younger and sought comfort from each other, especially in the days after Emeline’s parents died and the General adopted her and took her in to live with them.

  The simple action soothed Kathryne’s troubled soul. She knew she’d made the right decision to come here, despite almost losing her life on the way. She pulled away, sniffed then gave a shaky laugh. “I’m all right now.”

  “Glad I could help.” Emeline wiped away her own tears with the corner of her apron. “Look at us. A couple of weepy willies.” She, too, gave a watery laugh then grew serious. “What will you do?”

  “Truthfully, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Get a job, I suppose. I have a little money, but it won’t last long. I’ll wait tables at the Wagon Wheel, the little café you’ve written to me about. Or become a maid at the hotel. I’ll even serve drinks at the saloon I passed, if I must. I don’t care.” She placed her coffee cup on the table and drew a deep breath. “One thing is certain, though, I’m through with men.”

  “Are you serious? About being through with men?”

  Kathryne dabbed at her eyes with the square of pressed linen. “Yes, I’m serious. Every spot of trouble I’ve been in is because of a man. I’ll never have what you and Terry have. I know it and I accept it.”

  “Well, then, dry your tears. It’s settled. You’ll stay with us.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. You and Terry have only been married for a little over two years. I couldn’t impose.”

  “Of course you can. We have plenty of room. It’ll just be for a little while because I have an idea. We need a schoolteacher. You need to earn a living. I’ll submit a request to the Ladies Society. They’ll love you as much as I do. The position comes with a little cottage on the hill.” One thin, shapely brow cocked over a light blue eye. “You still want to be a teacher, don’t you?”

  For the first time since the humili
ation of Andrew’s betrayal and leaving Washington in the wee hours of the morning with her father’s harsh words ringing in her ears, Kathryne felt a spark of hope lighten the burden she’d carried across the miles. “Of course. I worked hard just to get Father to agree to let us attend the Teacher’s College.” She smiled. “Is there a boarding house in town?”

  “You’ll never change, Kate. You’re still determined to do things your own way.” Emeline shook her head but returned the grin. “But I happen to know Mrs. Rawlins has an empty room that’ll be perfect for you.” She laughed then, clear blue eyes twinkling. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you more than you know.”

  Once again, Kathryne was pulled into a warm embrace and she reveled in the love and acceptance that flowed through her. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes.

  Chapter Two

  The whispers started as soon as Chase left Doctor Leslie’s home, climbed into the saddle and made his way to the Seton Stage office. Back straight, hands fisted on the reins, he ignored them as he always did. He dismounted in front of the stage office, flipped Champion’s reins around the hitching post and entered the building.

  Oren Jessup stood behind the counter, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows to expose arms coated with thick black hair. Suspicion and distrust reflected in his narrowed eyes and repeated in his stiff-bodied stance. “What do you want, Hunter? We don’t like your kind here.” He addressed Chase with a voice that bore not one inkling of friendliness.

  After two weeks of living with the distrust and skepticism from the people in this godforsaken town, Chase liked to think he had become inured to their attitude, but such was not the case. The treatment he received irritated him. No one gave him the benefit of the doubt. He supposed they had reason to look upon him with distrust—a stranger in their midst who wore a tooled leather holster slung low around his hips and tied to his leg in gunfighter fashion.

  How much easier it would have been if he’d ridden into town in uniform, medals glowing, Captain’s stripes emblazoned on his arm.

  “Whether you like my kind or not isn’t the point.” Chase’s hands balled into fists at his sides as he inhaled and exhaled to keep a tight rein on his temper. “I stopped in to report what happened to your stagecoach. Your driver took a nasty blow to the head. He’s dead. The coach he drove is destroyed.”

  All three chins quivering, Oren spat tobacco juice on the floor. He pointed a sausage-like finger at Chase. “We don’t need your help, Hunter.” His voice quavered, at odds with his demeanor.

  “Fine.” Chase backed toward the door then stopped with his hand on the knob. “In case you’re wondering, the passenger will be fine. A little bruised, a little scared, but unharmed. She’s with Doc Leslie’s wife right now.”

  He closed the door behind him and stood facing the street. The fine hairs on the back of his neck bristled. Someone was watching him. Intently. Without moving his head, Chase’s eyes shifted left then right. The raised boardwalk was full of people going about their business, but none seemed to pay him any notice—for a change. He glanced across the street to the town square.

  Not one, but two deputies leaned against a huge tree that provided shade to a cluster of benches. Gabe Montrose and Jesse Long had their eyes pinned on him. Though their stances appeared casual, Chase knew they were primed for action. One suspicious move on his part and they’d have their guns drawn.

  He saw how the tableau would play out, saw himself shot dead where he stood. Chase’s eyes narrowed to slits as he adjusted his hat and stepped into the street. Beneath the unrelenting stares from the deputies, he untied Champion’s reins from the hitching post and climbed into the saddle with exaggerated slowness. Muscles tightened in his back and his jaw clenched when he thought he heard the metallic click of a revolver being cocked, but he didn’t turn to face them. He wouldn’t put it past either one of them to shoot him in the back, but not in front of so many witnesses.

  Eyes straight ahead, he pulled fresh air into his lungs then kneed the horse’s sides and rode out of town, back the way he’d come.

  “Damn!” he muttered. If he could leave this town, he would. Right now. But he couldn’t. Two weeks had come and gone since the morning his brother Evan left Camp Verde with a wagonload of rifles, bound for Fort Whipple. Evan never made it. Neither did his companions. Or the rifles.

  Crystal Springs was the last place Evan and the three men who traveled with him had been seen before they disappeared. Trapped here until he learned what happened to his brother, Chase had to accept the suspicious stares and vicious gossip.

  “I can live with it. I’ll do what I must.” He spoke the words aloud to convince himself, but even so, he had a hard time believing it. His eyes drifted heavenward. “Help me, Evan. Give me a sign. Where the hell did you go after your steak dinner at the Wagon Wheel?”

  No answer came from above.

  He lowered his head. The scent of Kathryne O’Rourke’s perfume lingered on his clothes. The delightful fragrance of vanilla tickled his nose as he kicked Champion into a gallop up the mountainside. Chase admitted being impressed by the beautiful stranger he’d saved from the runaway coach. No screaming hysterics, no pathetic caterwauling. Despite her harrowing experience, she’d kept her composure until the moment Emeline Leslie answered the door.

  He liked that in a woman. He also liked the way she looked at him—dark lashed, wide brandy-colored eyes full of trust. Since coming to Crystal Springs, no one gazed upon him in such a way.

  She’ll have a hard time of it because of me. The thought careened through his mind and filled him with remorse as he remembered the stares they received riding through town.

  She had looked like she’d spent the afternoon in the throes of unbridled passion—rich chestnut hair cascaded down her back in wild curls, and framed her face, cheeks rosy with color, clothing torn.

  “What the hell am I thinking?” Champion gave a short whinny in answer. “Yeah, I know, boy. I shouldn’t be thinking about her at all. I have a job to do. I need to find Evan.”

  Champion chuffed and came to a stop at the top of the mountain pass. Chase slid from the saddle beside the wreckage of the coach. He pulled a pale blue gown from beneath the rubble and tossed it over the horse’s saddle. A frilly petticoat followed, as did a beautifully embroidered corset.

  She wears expensive clothes. She must have money. Or her family does. The assumption didn’t bother him at all, but did rouse his curiosity. Who is she? Why is she here?

  A guilty smile twisted his lips as he rubbed the silk of a chemise between his fingers before adding it to the growing pile slung over Champion’s saddle.

  Rays of the setting sun glinted off something in the canyon below as he bent over to retrieve an emerald green gown stuck under a broken wheel. He stood, removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow, all without taking his eyes from the ravine’s floor.

  Chase sidled closer to the edge of the dirt road. Soft sand and small pebbles shifted beneath his weight to cascade downward. Again, something sparkled between the trees, beckoning him. He squinted as he tried to decipher what it could possibly be.

  Wind whistled through the treetops of Dead Man’s Drop, the haunting sound filled with the voices of the ghosts of those who had lost their lives on this lonely road. In the whisper of the wind, he thought he heard his name. Gooseflesh rose on his arms and the fine hairs at the back of his neck bristled.

  Step by careful step, he made his way down the steep mountain. Fallen pine needles and decaying leaves created a thick shifting mat beneath his feet and twice, he fell. The ground beneath the pine needles remained moist from the last rain—mud and dead leaves stuck to his now-damp trousers, but he didn’t care.

  His heart thundered painfully in his chest as he slid the last couple of feet to the canyon floor. His eyes widened and his breath stuck in his throat. “What the hell?”

  Between the trees, in a clearing where all the grass had been scorched black, rested the charred re
mains of a wagon and beside it, the item that glittered in the sunlight. Chase’s heart lodged in his throat.

  Sweat rolled into his eyes as he ran toward the small clearing. The pain in his soul nearly took the breath from him as he skidded to a stop, fell to his knees and picked up the sparkling object from its bed of ashes.

  Chase could only stare at the partially melted, misshapen ring in his shaking hand.

  The stone was the blackest onyx. A small diamond complemented the gold H overlaid on the gem. Evan’s ring. Which meant only one thing—Evan was dead—as his brother hadn’t removed this ring from the moment their father had given it to him on his sixteenth birthday. It matched the one Chase wore on his own finger.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw and he blinked to remove the sudden sheen of tears from his eyes. “Oh, Evan.” He closed his fist around the ring, felt the sharpness of the diamond cut into his palm and welcomed the pain.

  He breathed deeply to regain control and glanced around the clearing, his mind refusing to understand what his eyes saw. What the fire hadn’t taken, the insects and scavengers did. Pieces of burned uniform, a few misshapen buttons, a Saint Christopher medal, and Evan’s ring were all that remained of his brother and his companions. Bile rose in his throat. Without warning, he vomited.

  Still on his knees, he wiped his mouth and looked up toward the top of the ridge. Shallow grooves created a haphazard path through the trees and ended where he knelt. Broken branches littered the ground, their leaves singed black.

  He could only assume what happened. Evan and his small contingent of men must have been ambushed, the rifles they transported stolen, the wagon set ablaze and pushed from the road to settle in this clearing at the bottom of the canyon. He only hoped Evan’s death had been quick and merciful.

  Chase swallowed over the lump in his throat and tasted bile. He took a breath then another, forcing the air in and out of his lungs. The pain in his soul overwhelming, he cried out. The howl sent heavenward flushed birds from the trees and echoed off the canyon wall, but did nothing to stop his heart from breaking.