A Good Man for Katie Page 5

  He grasped her hand, leaned in through the open window and kissed her once more, his lips brushing against hers with the lightest of touches.

  “Close and lock the window.” He waited until she followed orders then crept along the porch roof. Before he jumped to the street in pursuit, he gave her a salute and a grin.

  ****

  Kathryne closed the window but didn’t move away. She watched him until he disappeared into the darkness behind the town hall. The quarter moon didn’t offer much light but she caught a glimpse of a man running up the mountainside toward the schoolhouse before the night swallowed him.

  Focused on the first man, her nose pressed against the window, she almost missed Chase as he darted between the trees before the night swallowed him as well.

  Excitement rippled through her and collided with anxiety, which made her stomach tighten. If anyone knew Chase Hunter had been in her room, she would be ostracized by the town. Her chances of becoming Crystal Springs’ schoolteacher would disappear. The knowledge only doubled the excitement of his kiss.

  Her lips still tingled and her hands were warm simply because she had rested them on his chest. His pure, masculine essence filled her nose and the warmth of his body seemed slow to leave. She turned away from the window, only to stop short in the middle of the room.

  This is not the way to avoid scandal, Kate. Don’t you ever learn?

  And yet, she couldn’t stop thinking of him, of the way his mouth had touched hers with so much tenderness, so much longing. His soft gray eyes had darkened to almost pewter and in their depths, she’d seen desire. And something else she couldn’t quite define.

  And I just fell into his arms, didn’t I?

  The book she’d been reading, another tawdry escapade about bandits and stagecoach robberies, lay on the floor where she’d dropped it, the cover bent, the pages creased. Kathryne picked up the novel without looking at it and tossed it on the bed. She’d never be able to concentrate on the story now.

  The bed beckoned, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep, either, not with her blood sizzling through her veins. Kathryne glanced around. The tidy, little room seemed so much larger without his presence. And lonelier.

  He’d left his saddlebags where he dropped them. Kathryne studied the leather pouches and fought the compulsion to search them as someone had searched his room.

  “What are you thinking, Kate?” she asked aloud, her voice loud in the stillness. “You can’t rifle through someone else’s possessions.”

  With the intention of removing the temptation from her sight, she picked them up. Old and worn, the soft leather felt like butter beneath her fingers. She touched the clasp…

  The breath whooshed out of her with a startled cry. Her body stiffened. An overwhelming sense of sadness and loneliness rushed through her with such staggering clarity, tears pricked her eyes and her chest hurt. Her knees buckled and she reached for the bureau to steady herself, but the force of those emotions almost crushed her.

  Kathryne hadn’t felt a sensation this intense since Emeline had lost her parents and come to live with them. She remembered holding Emeline’s silver handled mirror, a gift from her mother, Evangeline, and suffering through the same emotions Emeline experienced. Pain. Loss. Confusion. Fear.

  At six years old, Kathryne hadn’t understood. She remembered being afraid—afraid to tell anyone what happened, afraid to touch the mirror again and feel such overpowering grief. Over the years, she was able to catch slight impressions of a person’s emotions but none as fierce as when she’d touched Emeline’s mirror until her beloved Grandpa Peabody passed away. Kathryne adored her grandfather. She’d held the rosary he always carried and felt only happiness. His contentment washed over her and eased her grief.

  From that moment, Kathryne no longer questioned her ability and accepted the gift for what it was though she never told a soul. Not even Emeline knew, and Emeline knew everything.

  What was it about Chase Hunter, what connection did she have with him to make her feel his emotions with such intensity?

  He’s lost someone and the pain is eating him alive. He needs understanding and kindness, not the harsh treatment he gets from everyone in this town.

  Her entire body trembled. The room, despite the lanterns, seemed to darken and yet, she couldn’t release her hold on the saddlebags. Without a second thought, with only the need to feel something besides the sorrow devastating her giving her reason, Kathryne opened the saddlebags. Her fingers found and withdrew a ring from the bottom of the bag. Black onyx with the initial H in gold, Kathryne clutched the ring in her hand and closed her eyes. After a moment, she felt…happiness. Confidence. The gentle waves of unconditional love. Pride.

  The ache in her chest subsided and she drew in a deep shaky breath then wiped away the perspiration dotting her forehead. The beat of her heart returned to normal.

  Her footsteps filled with purpose, Kathryne strode across the room, flung open the door and stepped into the hall. She hesitated in front of his door then twisted the knob and let herself in.

  The mess the intruder left made her stomach lurch. Broken glass from the lantern glittered in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. His clothes were strewn about the room, the armoire doors wide open. Drawers had been pulled from the bureau and lay on the rag-rug covering the floor. Feathers from his slashed pillow dusted every available surface. Even his mattress, which rested beside the bed frame, hadn’t been spared—deep gashes exposed the padding and wads of stuffing looked like miniature clouds on the floor.

  Despite the lateness of the hour and the fact she shouldn’t be in his room at all, Kathryne made a decision. Right or wrong, she couldn’t let him come back to his room and see the devastation someone had purposely left. No one should have to suffer such a hurtful act.

  She righted the rocking chair left on its side by the intruder and dropped his saddlebags onto the padded cushion. There was nothing she could do about his mattress and pillow—Mrs. Rawlins would have to replace those—but she could put the rest of his room in order. She grabbed a lantern from her own room, placed it on the bureau in his, and began to clean.

  Later, exhausted from her efforts, but beyond curious, Kathryne rested in the chair and waited for Chase to return.

  ****

  For the second time this night, Chase let himself into Mrs. Rawlins’s Boarding House through the back door, but this time, no footsteps were heard above, no sound alerted him to another’s presence in his room. He trudged up the stairs. Even more so than before, exhaustion, frustration and utter sadness gnawed at him.

  He’d lost his quarry near the schoolhouse, but he knew who had searched his room. The man he’d been following had been tall and lanky and ran with a peculiar gait. Chase had been in town long enough to recognize Sheriff Townsend’s slight limp, even in the darkness.

  He didn’t need to ask why. He already knew.

  He stopped at Kathryne’s door. A splash of light glowed from beneath the portal. He pressed his ear to the panel and listened but heard nothing. He moved on to his own room like a man older than his thirty years, opened his door and stopped. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  Kathryne slept in the rocking chair, her hands folded in her lap over his saddlebags, head bent forward. A feather, small and white—he assumed from his shredded pillow—adorned her silky auburn hair. Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, the lace edges of her nightgown moving as well, exposing her soft flesh to his hungry eyes.

  Though he hadn’t seen his room before chasing Townsend, he assumed she tried to regain some semblance of order. The matting from his mattress and the feathers from his pillow, both of which were beyond repair, along with glass from his broken lantern, had been swept into a neat pile in the middle of the room.

  Her small act of kindness became his undoing. Unshed tears smarted his eyes and his breath hitched in his chest. Since coming to Crystal Springs, no one had shown him an inkling of compassion or gentleness and yet
, in one stroke, she had done both.

  “Katie,” he whispered as he moved toward her. She didn’t move, although she mumbled something in her sleep. “Katie.” He thought better of waking her.

  Removing the saddlebag from her lap, he lifted her in his arms. Held so close, her unique fragrance filled his nose. He couldn’t help himself. He dropped a light kiss on her lips and carried her to her own room. She didn’t awaken as he laid her on the bed and covered her with a light blanket.

  Chapter Five

  Kathryne finished braiding her hair and inspected her reflection. The eyes in the mirror sparkled and her cheeks held a rosy glow. Perhaps she imagined it, but her mouth—indeed, her entire body—still tingled from Chase’s kiss.

  For heaven’s sake! One kiss. Well…two, actually. Oh, but what kisses!

  She had so wanted to see him again last night and ask him who’d been in his room, but she’d fallen asleep in the rocking chair, waiting for him to return. Kathryne vaguely remembered being held in his arms, his muscular chest pressed against her cheek, the smell of leather and spice in her nose—or perhaps she had dreamt it all for she had dreamt of him—vivid, colorful dreams that lingered in her mind. Even now, a shiver ran down her spine as she imagined them tangled among the sheets…

  So much for swearing off men. With a groan born of disgust, Kathryne grabbed her reticule from the bureau and pushed the vision from her mind. She had plans today, if for no other reason than to keep busy while she waited for word from the Ladies’ Society. A whole week passed since the interview, a full seven days of waiting, worrying and counting her meager supply of coins. If she didn’t get this job, she would be forced to telegraph her father for money and go home—or worse, go to Aunt Euphemia’s.

  Neither choice appealed to her. She didn’t want to go home, live under her father’s thumb and bear the brunt of society gossip. She didn’t want to go to Aunt Euphemia either, the overly pious, unforgiving woman who frightened her for as long as she could remember.

  Now that she’d gotten a little taste of freedom, Kathryne didn’t want to give it up. And she wanted to see Chase again, regardless of what the townspeople thought of him.

  “Well, if the Ladies’ Society doesn’t want me just because I rode into town with Chase Hunter, maybe Edna does,” she said the words aloud as she strutted across the room and flung the door open in time to almost crash into Emeline and Laurel.

  “Kate!” Emeline squealed as she moved aside to avoid the impact. “We were just coming to get you. The Ladies have decided in a six to one vote. You’re hired!”

  Profound relief rushed through her with such force Kathryne leaned against the doorjamb and sucked in her breath. She didn’t have to ask who hadn’t voted for her, although she suspected Mrs. Maitland had been the one. It didn’t matter though. She could stay. She could see Chase again.

  Filled with the promise of her future, Kathryne let out a war-whoop of triumph and danced a jig in the doorway.

  “We’re here to help you clean the teacherage. You can move in tomorrow.” Laurel’s eyes sparkled and her smile beamed. “Oh, Kate, I know you and I are going to be great friends.” She grabbed Kathryne’s hand then reached out for Emeline’s and brought them all together. “Like the Three Musketeers.”

  “We’ve got everything you need to set up housekeeping.” Emeline hooked her arm through Kathryne’s and led the way downstairs to the front door of Mrs. Rawlins’ Boarding House. “Curtains and drapes, courtesy of Mrs. Cabot, and fresh linens for the bed from yours truly. Laurel thought of a few other things you might need.”

  The back of the buckboard parked in the street harbored all the implements they would need to clean―brooms, mops, buckets and dust cloths. An array of oils and soaps were stuffed into the pails to avoid being spilled. A long, rectangular trunk, its buckles dulled with age, had been pushed up beneath the bench seat along side a large wicker picnic basket covered in a red and white-checked tablecloth.

  A red-haired, freckle-faced boy carried on a long, one-sided conversation with the horse hitched to the front of the wagon.

  “This is my son, Walter.” Laurel took the boy by the hand. “Say hello to Miss O’Rourke, your new teacher.”

  The boy mumbled a shy hello but his hazel gaze rested on her. Kathryne caught the bright gleam of intelligence in his inquisitive stare and heaved a sigh. If all the children she was supposed to teach were like him, her inexperience might come shining through.

  Don’t start doubting yourself now, Kate. Classes haven’t even begun yet. She pushed the anxiety from her mind and greeted the boy in front of her. “Hello, Walter. It’s lovely to meet you.”

  The boy was so adorable, she wanted to ruffle his flaming red hair and count the fairy dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Instead, she shook his hand then waited while he clambered in to the back of the wagon before she took her seat beside Laurel.

  “Ready?” Emeline asked before she flicked the reins and maneuvered the buckboard across town. The wagon dipped and swayed as it traversed the deeply rutted road up the mountainside to the cottage and schoolhouse. Kathryne clutched the wooden bench so she wouldn’t be thrown from her seat while anticipation sent butterflies into her stomach. Cleaning tools rattled and mixed with the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves to create a racket that echoed between the tall, craggy bluffs, which surrounded this perfect valley.

  The only one who seemed to enjoy the bone-jarring ride was Walter. He giggled every time he was tossed against the side of the buckboard and shouted out “Do it again” until Emeline brought the wagon to a halt beside the schoolhouse.

  Walter jumped from the back of the buckboard and commandeered a swing hanging from the branches of a shade tree, his mother’s reminder to not wander off ringing through the stillness of the day.

  A clear mountain brook gurgled beneath a wooden bridge and separated the teacherage from the schoolhouse. Kathryne climbed down from the buckboard, grabbed a bucket and mop and stood in silence to study the quaint cottage.

  I’m home.

  The phrase whispered through her head and brought an overwhelming sense of welcome.

  Sheltered by tall pines swaying in the breeze, the house possessed a large bay window beside a small front veranda. A rocking chair and three-legged table rested between the porch’s white cast iron railing and the bedroom window and offered the perfect place to sit on a warm evening.

  Late summer flowers bloomed in the garden on each side of the walkway, around the porch and under the bay window. Though weeds were overgrown and threatened to choke the flowers, the colors of the hardy plants were still brilliant against the pale yellow of the cottage.

  Emeline stepped up behind her and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Well? What do you think?”

  “I think I’ll be happy here.” Excitement bubbled within her as she lightly skipped over the bridge and the mountain stream beneath it. Laughter escaped her. She couldn’t help herself nor could she contain her excitement. “Come on!”

  Kathryne’s first glimpse of the teacherage through the window over a week ago didn’t quite prepare her when she opened the door. She’d known the little cottage needed a thorough cleaning, but she hadn’t expected to be assaulted by a putrid smell when she stepped into her new home.

  She wrinkled her nose against the odor. As she moved further into the room and her skirts kicked up the dust on the floor, she sneezed three times in quick succession.

  “Bless you!” Emeline murmured as she propped a broom against the wall.

  Equal amounts of giddiness and apprehension rippled through her. Kathryne wanted to run through the house to inspect everything at once, but resisted the urge. She couldn’t hold back the wide grin that made her jaw ache or the squeal of delight as she surveyed the cozy parlor. Two burgundy and cream-striped wingback chairs and a small table, all coated with a fine layer of dust, were in the alcove by the big bay window.

  Thick drapes hung from rods over the window. O
nce a dark red, they were now faded with dust. Cobwebs floated from the corners of the room. A desk and chair nestled beside a bookcase filled with books and joined a camel-backed divan upholstered in a flowered pattern to complete the furnishings.

  The wall separating the parlor from the bedroom hosted a stone fireplace. Kathryne bent to run her finger against the grime accumulated there and noticed the fireplace opened on the other side as well to heat both rooms. She straightened and wrinkled her nose again. “What is that smell?”

  Laurel entered the cottage behind her. “Maybe a squirrel died up in the attic. Happens all the time.”

  “Let’s get the windows open. Maybe that’ll help.” Emeline moved to the window and flung aside the draperies. A cloud of dust swirled around her and she coughed and sputtered before she raised the sash to breathe in fresh air. The cool breeze didn’t alleviate the smell completely, but it did help.

  “I’ll ask Mr. Jacobs to take a look in the attic.” Laurel blushed to the roots of her hair when she mentioned Ephraim Jacobs.

  “I think someone’s sweet on Mr. Jacobs,” Emeline teased her.

  “He’s a nice man and he’s very fond of Walter, but no, I’m not sweet on him.” Laurel defended herself. “It’s not easy being alone since James passed away.”

  Emeline nodded in agreement and offered Laurel a few words of sympathy.

  Kathryne listened to the exchange with half an ear as the exhilaration she tried to hold at bay threatened to break loose. Beyond the parlor, an arched doorway led to a well-provisioned kitchen where a small table and two chairs, an icebox and a wood and glass cabinet came into view. The shelves of the cabinet were stocked with plates, cups, saucers and tins clearly marked for coffee, tea, sugar and flour. She prayed the tins were empty, as she knew no one had lived here since the former schoolteacher eloped several months ago.

  While Laurel peeked out the door to check on Walter and Emeline pulled the rest of the draperies from the rods, Kathryne wandered into the kitchen. Her first sight of the cast iron stove struck terror in her heart. She didn’t know how to boil water, let alone cook. Frankly, if she didn’t need to go near the stove—any stove—it would be fine. She could subside on bread and smoked summer sausage and simple things she didn’t have to cook or she could use the coupons from the Wagon Wheel for her meals.