A Good Man for Katie Page 6

  Emeline followed her into the room, carrying the old, faded drapes and waved the fine mist of dust from in front of her face. Kathryne turned toward her, expecting compassion. She didn’t expect Emeline to burst into laughter.

  “Oh, Kate! You should see your face!” She laughed harder then sobered when Kathryne didn’t join in. “I know. I had the same expression the first time Terry expected me to prepare dinner. Mama Ginny never allowed us in the kitchen, let alone taught us to cook, but don’t worry. It doesn’t bite. And you can take lessons with me. I’m certain Noelle won’t mind.”

  Kathryne pointed at the stove and couldn’t help the involuntary shiver that raced up her spine. “That cast iron monstrosity and I are mortal enemies. Don’t you remember what happened at Grandma Peabody’s that summer?”

  “Indeed, I do.” Emeline’s mouth spread into a gentle smile. “I remember very well. And we learned a good lesson, you and I. Grandma Peabody warned us both to stay away from the stove, but you wouldn’t listen. Stubborn as you are, you had to make hot cakes.” Her eyes danced merrily in her face.

  “You were the funniest looking thing with your eyebrows and some of your hair singed off but it was a very long time ago, Kate. You’re not eight anymore.” She reached out to grab the long braid hanging down Kathryne’s back and brought the heavy rope of hair over her shoulder. “Just look how thick and beautiful your hair is now. Don’t let the stove scare you.”

  “But it does.”

  Emeline shrugged. “You’ll have to get over your fear. That’s all there is to it.” She dropped the braid, moved across the room and opened the back door. A cross-breeze now wafted through the cottage and the clean pine smell of the evergreen trees behind the house scented the air.

  Kathryne sighed. “I really don’t have much choice, do I?”

  She left Emeline in the kitchen to remove the curtains from the window and entered the bedroom, the only room she hadn’t seen yet. Larger than the other rooms, the bedroom was the dream of every young woman. White lace draperies, dingy with the dust that seemed to permeate everything, accented the soft lilac wallpaper, as did the hand-painted kerosene lamp on the small bedside table. Brass sconces, tarnished by neglect, hung on the wall on either side of the brass bed. They only needed a good rubbing to bring out their burnished luster. A rocking chair, small vanity with a cushioned stool and bureau added to the feminine charm. Beneath the furniture, a handmade rag rug covered the hardwood floor and in the corner, at an angle, sat a tall white armoire, the door pulls made of brass to match the bed and sconces.

  Kathryne crossed the room and opened the armoire. Day gowns in a variety of dull browns, grays, blacks and navy hung from metal hooks. “I thought the last teacher left to get married. It doesn’t look like she took any of her clothing.”

  “She eloped.” Laurel joined her in the bedroom and pulled out one of the bureau drawers. “At least, that’s what her note said.”

  Moving away from the armoire, Kathryne stopped at the vanity. “She didn’t take her brush and comb, either. Don’t you find that a bit odd?” She ran her finger over the tarnished patterned silver on the back of the brush and waited for the burst of feeling to come through the object. Nothing happened and she wondered if there was something about certain people that allowed her to know their emotions, like Emeline, Grandpa Peabody…and Chase.

  Laurel shrugged as she removed a crumpled petticoat from the drawer, shook it several times to release the wrinkles then folded the item with care and placed it on the bed. “Amanda Stillwell was a strange woman, wasn’t she, Em?”

  Emeline poked her head in the doorway. Dust from the drapes and curtains in her arms covered her fine features. “She was nice enough, I suppose. A little standoffish, if you know what I mean. Never had an unkind word for anyone. The children liked her.”

  “She never seemed very happy, though. Well, at least, not until she met that man.”

  “Who was he?” Kathryne moved back to the armoire and removed the dresses hanging there one at a time. She laid them across the bed to be folded.

  “No one knows.” Laurel emptied another drawer full of pantalettes, chemises, and nightgowns. “She never introduced him.” She folded one of the nightgowns and placed it on the growing pile.

  “And we never saw him.” Emeline moved into the room and shrugged her slim shoulders. “In fact, she never mentioned his name. For the longest time, no one suspected she was seeing anyone, but then, I suppose she kept her romance a secret because of the rules she agreed to when she was hired.”

  “The last rule especially.” Laurel grinned and stopped emptying the bureau. She pushed an errant lock of pale blond hair out of her face with her forearm. “The one that says ‘No keeping company with the opposite sex.’ I think it should be struck from the contract.” She tilted her head to the side. “Maybe her mystery man was married.”

  Again, Emeline shrugged. “We’ll never know, but I hope she’s happy, wherever she is.”

  Kathryne took the last gown out of the armoire and laid it over the other clothes already on the bed. “What should we do with all her things?”

  “Donate them to the church. I’m certain Pastor Richards knows someone who could use them.” Emeline disappeared from the doorway. When she came back, her arms were empty. She rolled up the sleeves of her gown then pulled a silken scarf from her pocket and tied the multi-colored fabric around her head to keep her hair out of her face. “You two might as well finish in here. I’ll start on the kitchen.”

  The three of them worked in companionable silence, punctuated by staccato bursts of conversation, laughter, and Walter running into the house to show them his new found treasures. They moved all the furniture outside then rolled up the rugs and hung them over ropes tied to the trees in the front yard to air out.

  Before long, the hardwood floors were swept and rubbed with lemon oil to preserve the shine, windows were washed, clean linens were placed on the bed and the whole cottage smelled of lemon wax and vinegar. Dishes were washed, dried and put away in the hutch. To Kathryne’s relief, the tins marked coffee and such were empty as was the icebox.

  The fireplace had been cleaned and several new logs graced the grate behind the screen. Long drapes of royal blue trimmed with white fringe, donated by Mrs. Cabot, hung around the windows and swayed with the gentle wind blowing through the house. Kathryne stood back and inspected the results of their efforts. A sigh of deep pleasure escaped her. She may not know how to cook, but being raised in a military family, she certainly knew how to clean.

  “I think we deserve a break.” Laurel came up beside her, picnic basket slung over her arm. She wiped at the perspiration dotting her forehead with the back of her wrist. “Let’s sit outside and enjoy the fresh air.” She went through the front door and called her son.

  “Whew! We’re almost done.” Emeline patted her face with a handkerchief then stuffed it in the pocket of her apron. “By this time tomorrow, you’ll be all moved in and next week, you’ll teach your first class.”

  Overwhelmed with gratitude for Emeline’s generosity, Kathryne’s eyes misted over and her vision blurred despite the glasses on her face. “I can’t thank you enough, Emy, for everything you’ve done. Helping me get the job, helping me clean, helping me…get my life in order.”

  Emeline wrapped her arms around Kathryne and squeezed tight. “What are sisters for? Truthfully, I had an ulterior motive. Although I only taught for a short time after Miss Stillwell left—and I loved it—I don’t want to teach anymore. Terry and I—”

  “Has anyone seen Walter?” Laurel rushed into the cottage, face flushed, her voice shrill with panic.

  “Not since he brought in that frog about twenty minutes ago,” Kathryne told her.

  “He’s not outside.” Unshed tears gleamed in her eyes and her chin trembled. “At least, he hasn’t answered me.”

  “Don’t panic. He couldn’t have gone far.” Emeline rested her hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “We’ll find him.”r />
  Skirts lifted, voices raised, they left the cottage running—only to stop short on the top step of the front porch.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.”

  Astride his beautiful black steed, Chase held Champion’s reins loosely as he rode up beside the picket fence in front of the cottage. Walter perched in the saddle in front of him, socks and shoes in hand, pant legs rolled up to his knees but soaked none-the-less.

  “Walter!” Laurel ran down the stairs. She reached up, grabbed her son beneath the arms and lifted him from the saddle. He stood in front of her, his weight shifting from one leg to the other. “Where have you been? You were supposed to stay close!” She tsked at his appearance. “Look at your clothes. You’re all wet. What am I going to do with you?” Though she scolded her son, tears rolled down her cheeks at the same time.

  Kathryne watched mother and son, but only took a moment to ascertain Walter was unharmed. Her gaze drifted to Chase. Butterflies did somersaults in her stomach at the mere sight of her hero, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to see her. She wore the fruits of her labor—dirty face and hands, dust- and dirt-covered pale blue dress. Fine strands of hair stuck to her face with perspiration.

  “I found the Admiral leading his armada of leaf-ships down the mighty Mississippi.” He gestured toward the mountain stream behind him, but his gaze never left her face. The heated tingle his direct stare gave her settled in the pit of her stomach. “He was halfway to the river when I found him. Little legs can go pretty far pretty fast.”

  “But, Mama!” Walter cried, his little face deep red with a combination of embarrassment and excitement.

  “You’re in deep trouble, young man,” Laurel continued, as if she hadn’t heard him. “I want you to sit on that rock in the sun—” She pointed to a boulder in the middle of the flower garden. “—and don’t move until I tell you.”

  Walter marched to the boulder and scrambled to the crest. With a huff, he folded his arms across his chest in righteous little boy anger. His lower lip stuck out and his chin trembled as if he held in his tears. Laurel ignored his pout and turned her attention to the infamous outlaw who returned her son. “Thank you, Mr. Hunter. I am forever in your debt.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am.” Chase touched the brim of his hat with his fingers. “He’s a good boy. Just curious like all boys his age. Don’t be too hard on him, ma’am.”

  Though she knew she shouldn’t be fraternizing with the male sex according to the rules of her employment, especially a notorious outlaw, Kathryne couldn’t help herself. She cleared her throat. “We were just getting ready to eat lunch, Ch— Mr. Hunter. Won’t you join us?”

  Emeline gasped, as did Laurel. Kathryne ignored them both and kept her focus on him. Chase blinked, but not before she saw a shadow of uncertainty pass before his eyes. The expression on his face led her to believe no one had asked him such a question in a very long time and once again, compassion for him rippled through her. She knew of his loneliness, had felt its presence when she touched his saddlebags the night before. With one simple act of kindness, perhaps she could alleviate some of his solitude.

  His soft gray eyes went from her to Laurel to Emeline then back again to her, the indecision she saw reflected there almost palpable and heartbreaking. “We have plenty.”

  “Yes, please join us,” Laurel added to the invitation. “It’s the least I can do to repay you for bringing Walter back to me.”

  He removed his hat, his fingers worrying the wide brim as his gaze focused on Emeline. “Ma’am?”

  “Of course, Mr. Hunter. Please.”

  Chase slid from the saddle and wrapped Champion’s reins around a fence post. “Thank you, ladies.”

  The gratitude in his deep, rich voice struck a cord in Kathryne’s heart.

  Laurel laid out the picnic lunch on the small table on the porch. Fried chicken, hardboiled eggs, apples and an assortment of sugared pecans, almonds and walnuts in a calico-wrapped jar soon graced the red and white-checked tablecloth. Emeline brought newly washed plates and silverware from the kitchen while Kathryne carried the mismatched glasses on a tray. A pitcher of icy cold water from the pump in the kitchen made the tray heavier.

  “Walter, you can come off the rock now. It’s time to eat.”

  The boy jumped from his perch, ran up the porch steps as fast as his little legs could carry him and sat…on Chase’s knee. The gunman didn’t seem to mind as he prepared plates for both of them.

  Kathryne’s opinion of him raised another notch. She glanced around the table, her gaze stopping on Emeline, who returned her stare with one of her own. Not a word was spoken, but she sensed the warning in her sister’s eyes.

  “So, you’re the new teacher,” Chase said after he finished the last hard-boiled egg on his plate and picked up an apple. He fished a small knife from his trouser pocket and began to peel.

  Mesmerized by how his hands moved over the apple to create one long, winding ribbon of reddish skin, Kathryne couldn’t answer right away. Her eyes remained on him as he quartered the fruit, cut out the seeds, and placed it on Walter’s plate. She glanced at his face, caught the sweet smile parting his lips and sucked in her breath.

  It wasn’t until he looked at her that she found her voice. “We’ve been cleaning the cottage so I can move in tomorrow.” She gestured to all the furniture among the flowers and the dust covering her gown, self-conscious he’d caught her watching him. “There is one little problem with our plans.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Even with all the cleaning we’ve done, even with all lemon polish and vinegar we used, you can still smell an underlying odor.”

  “There may be a squirrel or something in the attic,” Laurel said as she started to clean up their lunch. “I was going to ask Mr. Jacobs to take a look, but since you’re already here…” Her voice drifted off. “Would you mind?”

  “Of course not. I’d be glad to help.”

  Kathryne escorted Chase into the cottage and showed him the trap door in the ceiling. He brought one of the chairs from outside into the parlor, climbed up on it and disappeared through the hole.

  “I think your problem is solved, Miss Katie.” Chase’s voice sounded muffled as it came from the ceiling above her head. “Do you have a burlap sack?”

  She found one on the floor in the corner, climbed up on the chair and stuffed a cloth bag through the opening. “Will this do?”

  A few moments later, Chase climbed down from the attic, the sack in his hand. “It was a squirrel. I found a small hole in the roof where he came in. I can come by tomorrow and fix that for you if you’d like.”

  “That would be wonderful.” Kathryne followed him outside and watched his every move. “Thank you.”

  With a shovel he found leaning against the side of the house, Chase grinned then disappeared into the thick copse of evergreen trees, the bag swinging by his side only to return shortly with just the shovel.

  “That should take care of the smell.” He put the shovel back where he’d found it. “I saw a trunk up there. Want me to pull it down?”

  “A trunk? Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  While Chase climbed up on the chair and crawled through the opening in the ceiling once more, Kathryne took the opportunity to admire his broad shoulders, lean waist, perfect backside and long legs as they disappeared into the attic. Until she received a sharp pinch from Emeline. “Ow!” She screeched as she rubbed her arm.

  “Stop it! Remember Andrew and all the embarrassment he caused you? Remember Richard? Remember the conditions of your employment and your vow to give up men?” Emeline whispered fiercely in her ear. “Don’t ask for trouble. I’m telling you, Kate, he’s no good. He’s a gunfighter, for crying out loud.”

  Kathryne studied Emeline’s expression and realized the words coming from her mouth didn’t match the look in her eyes—as if the woman she’d known all her life knew more than she told. “What? I’m just—”

  “I know what you’re doing
and I know what you’re thinking.” She sighed and threw her hands up in the air. “You’re hopeless, Kate. An attractive man and you forget everything. Just remember, my reputation is—”

  “Ladies, I could use a little help.” Chase interrupted the heated words and part of the trunk came into view through the opening in the ceiling.

  Both Kathryne and Emeline caught the end of the trunk as Chase lowered it from the attic. They brought it all the way to floor and pushed it out of the way against the wall.

  “Thank you so much for your time and your help, Mr. Hunter.” Her voice rather stiff and formal, Emeline waited for Chase to jump to the floor, but barely. “I think we can handle anything else that needs to be done.”

  Chase stiffened, the smile on his lips disappeared. His gray eyes glittered dangerously as he gave a mock salute, brushed past them and strode out the door without a word.

  “Emy!” Kathryne exclaimed. “That wasn’t—”

  “It’s for your own good, Kate. You’ll thank me later.”

  Emeline pinned her with blue eyes that glittered just as dangerously as Chase’s had.

  A lump rose to Kathryne’s throat. “You’ve changed since you moved away from Washington, Emy.” She hitched up her skirts and ran outside, prepared to apologize to him for Emeline’s uncharacteristic malice, but too late. Only Walter remained in the yard, his small hand raised in farewell.

  Chapter Six

  Dear Mother and Father.

  The salutation, the only words written on the paper in front of her, remained as far as she’d gotten after attempting to write the letter several times. There were so many things to tell them and yet, Kathryne couldn’t make the words flow.

  She knew she owed it to her parents to let them know her plans had changed and why she’d chosen a new life in Crystal Springs rather than Sacramento. Her mother would understand. Her father would not.