Kate's cheeks flamed. Propriety had been ingrained in her since birth, but she'd only been wearing a man's hat since July—her father's hat, willed to her on his deathbed. While she had no intention of replacing it with a bonnet any time soon, she did intend to do her best to act according to society's conventions. She quickly pulled off the hat and ran her free hand from her forehead to her collar several times in a futile attempt to tame her wild curls.
Sighting Theodore's slack-jawed astonishment, Kate bit her tongue to stifle a laugh. He likely regretted his pointed words; she didn't need to further add to his embarrassment.
"Seems your companion has better manners than you." Theodore nodded toward Jake, who, to Kate's surprise, still hadn't removed his hat.
"Seems so," Jake replied, slowly pushing up the brim with one finger.
Kate kept quiet, but wondered what would possess Jake to purposely be so rude to someone he'd just met. Especially a prominent business owner, one that could potentially serve as an ally if she ran into trouble with her future plans.
"William," Theodore said, smoothly turning to address his nephew again, "who is this beautiful creature hiding beneath those ill-fitting clothes?"
William glanced at Jake and gave a nearly imperceptible shrug of apology, then focused again on his uncle. "I'm pleased to introduce Katherine Davis—"
"And the infamous trail guide, Jake Fitzpatrick," Theodore finished.
"You know each other?" William asked, his tone mirroring Kate's own surprise.
Jake gave a curt nod. "We've met."
"And then some." Theodore's laugh seemed more smug than jovial. "We came across the trail together a few years ago."
Margaret clapped her hands together in delight. "Isn't that something? Two friends meet again after all this time."
"Friend isn't a word I'd use to describe him," Jake said, removing his hat and stepping beside Kate in one fluid move.
Kate wasn't fooled by Jake's bland expression. His white-knuckled hold on his hat brim and the vein throbbing in his ruddy neck told of his anger. Theodore's bright smile didn't fool her either. She'd seen the same one at dinner parties back home in Virginia. The smile one wore just before insulting an enemy—in a refined, witty manner, and usually in public. Granted the two men weren't suited for friendship, with Jake being a man of the land and Theodore a man of more refined tastes, but what had led to such an intense hatred of the other?
Theodore stepped before Kate and waited for her to present her hand. She complied, more from habit than desire.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Katherine Davis." He lifted her hand and pressed the back to his lips. His warm breath against her bare skin startled her and she fought the impulse to yank her hand away.
But why? Countless men had kissed her hand at dinner parties and costume balls over the years, and this was no different. His actions were flawlessly executed and appropriate—he didn't linger, nor tickle her palm with a wandering finger.
The reality was she wanted no one to touch her but Jake.
Theodore lowered her hand, but instead of releasing the hold, he covered it with his other hand. "My dear, you are simply breathtaking. What a treasure it will be to have a woman like you-"
"You'll never have her." Jake punctuated the muttered warning by shifting his weight, allowing the full length of his body to press against Kate's side.
Predictably, like the gentleman he'd been bred and trained to be, Theodore continued as if nothing were amiss. "—in my town."
Chapter Three
Whispered Warnings
Long ago, Jake's father taught him many things:
Words have power so use them wisely—especially when angry.
A man's reputation is all he's got in this world.
Avoid trouble, and those who seek it.
And when the last one proved impossible, he'd also taught Jake how to bust both the nose and cheekbone of an opponent with one smash of the fist.
"We need to see about the horses," he said, eyeing a mole on Theo's face, just above his left nostril.
"How many?" Theo asked William, who to Jake's surprise had done his best to blend into the wall during the past few minutes. Jake wouldn't have pegged him as timid, especially given the man's bravery on the trail. Time would tell which impression was correct.
"Six," William replied. "Four mounts and two packhorses."
Theo nodded. "I own the livery next door. You can leave them there as long as you need. There's a pump out back, plenty of fresh hay in the loft, and brushes and blankets in each stall. While I'm low on feed right now due to a late shipment, there should be enough for them to get their fill." Theo smiled and clapped his nephew on the back. "William, I'm pleased to see you're doing so well for yourself. Six horses are a fine asset, and that kind of money makes for a good start to a new marriage."
William shook his head. "We were on foot until we met Jake and Kate. The horses are theirs."
"Well then," —Theo's jovial smile faded as he faced Jake— "that's a different matter entirely. From what I recall of your financial standing I assume you'll need credit, which I don't extend. Really is too bad, especially since I own the sole livery in town."
Jake slipped his hand inside his coat pocket and fingered his wages earned from acting as Kate's trail guide—a thick stack of bills and a leather bag heavy with coins. "Any payment owed will be made on time, and in full."
"Of course," Theo said, smoothly abandoning his challenge. "Since the sun is about to take leave of the sky, I recommend you and William allow these young ladies to stay here with me while you tend to the animals. Can't be too careful, especially with all the ruffians roaming about town."
"Oh, I agree!" Margaret waved her hands in the air and began an animated retelling of the leering men they'd already encountered on the way in.
Two subtle, yet sharp pokes to his ribcage were quickly followed by Kate's whispered refusal of Theo's plan. And while the jealous side of him was overjoyed at her preference of tending to the horses with him over making small talk with Theo, Jake knew he couldn't allow it. She'd be safer indoors. Even with a snake in the grass like Theo.
With a polite smile and a demure shake of her head, Kate declined Margaret's invitation to assist with her story. Unfazed, Margaret blathered on again.
"Jake," Kate whispered, louder this time. "I know you heard me. I'm going with you."
"No," he whispered in return. "It's not a good idea."
Kate pinched his arm. Hard.
He bit back a grin. What she lacked in patience, she certainly made up for in passion. Just thinking of the kiss they'd shared less than an hour before on the hilltop overlooking Oregon City had him shifting his stance to avoid embarrassment.
As Margaret continued her tale of woe, her descriptions and details growing more elaborate by the minute, Jake found a tempting distraction. One look at the woman he loved and for a few brief, glorious moments Jake forgot all his troubles and allowed his eyes to linger. To admire. To imagine.
"Jake, you haven't changed," Theo said, then pursed his lips in disgust. "Still willing to focus on a woman than the task at hand."
Kate stiffened, but remained silent.
"Perhaps you need a reminder of what can go wrong when your attention is waylaid by a pretty face?" Theo walked to his desk, lifted an oil lamp covering the front right corner, and traced a three-inch groove in the marble with his fingertip. "The damage done that day was permanent."
Jake knew the groove well. The moment it had happened was etched forever in his memory as the moment Theo had proven himself to be the type of man who valued property above all else, no matter the burden to his oxen or the danger to a fellow traveler.
One traveler in particular.
"I'm not here to relive the past," Jake said. "Though you'll do well to remember that the damage done that day to Collette's leg was permanent, too." He placed his hat on his head, tugged the brim into place, and lowered his lips to Kate's ear. "This time of night
you're safer in this hotel than outdoors, but watch out. He's got the tongue of the devil and bite of a rattler."
Buttoning his coat tight against the raindrops he heard pelting against the window, Jake turned to William. "Coming?" he asked, not particularly caring about the answer.
William nodded.
"Take your time with the horses and don't worry about us three back here," Theo said, offering his elbows to Kate and Margaret, then grinning as they obligingly twined their hands around his forearms. "We'll be on the other side of those curtains," —he nodded toward a doorway covered by brown curtains— "in the parlor, getting to know each other."
As Jake watched the woman he loved walk away on the arm of the man he hated most in the world, he couldn't help but wonder if just once he should ignore his father's advice.
After all, there were few things Jake longed to hear more than the satisfying crunch of Theo's bone and cartilage giving way under his fist.
Chapter Four
Parlor Tricks
Kate closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. The long-ago familiar smells of wood polish and cigars enveloped her in memories.
Virginia.
Father's study.
Family, and all she'd lost on the trail.
While Theodore fussed over Margaret, Kate stood quietly and allowed her gaze to roam around a room decorated in a simple yet elegant manner, with furnishings rivaling her own parlor back home in Virginia.
A patterned rug, likely imported from overseas, covered half the floor. On the opposite wall from the doorway, a bookshelf with over two-dozen titles stood to the right of a window, and a flat-topped canvas trunk trimmed with iron bands sat to the left. Centered in the room was an oval mahogany table surrounded by three matching chairs. Scrollwork carved into the arms and legs begged for a fingertip to trace the intricate designs, though given the amount of dirt caked beneath Kate's fingernails and deep within the whorls of her fingertips, she didn't dare.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable." Theodore extended an arm in a practiced gesture toward the chairs. "I suspect you're exhausted from your recent weeks in the mountains and rafting down the Columbia."
Spoken like someone who'd made the journey by trail instead of ship. Kate wondered what had brought a cultured man like him across the trail to settle in a land that was neither owned nor governed by the United States of America.
More importantly, why Jake despised him so.
Kate eyed the three chairs Theodore urged them toward, taking special note of the upholstered seats. The cream-and-teal velvet didn't stand a chance against her rough, pungent clothes. Judging by the shrug of indecision Margaret gave Kate, she had similar thoughts.
Theodore noticed their hesitation and motioned to a pine bench against the wall. "Perhaps this would be better suited to your current attire?"
"I agree," Kate said, fighting the urge to tug the ragged ends of her coat sleeves over her hands and fasten the two remaining buttons over her dirt-streaked sweater, bought at Fort Boise over a month prior and worn every day since.
While Margaret took a seat on one end of the bench, Theodore picked up a thick stack of newspapers from the other end.
"Oregon City has a newspaper office?" Kate asked, excited at the thought. Back home in Virginia, she'd loved to curl up in a fireside chair and peruse the papers her father had shipped down from New York every week. Politics were her favorite subject, followed closely by business management and growth.
Theodore shook his head. "No, though Charlie Pickett has talked about doing one longhand until we can get a printing press out here." He set the papers on a nearby table, taking care to align their corners with a series of gentle, repetitive taps. "I brought these out from Boston."
Kate settled herself beside Margaret on the bench. Theodore turned one of the chairs to face them, sat, and then looked to Margaret. "How did you and William meet?"
In a voice breathy with newlywed excitement, Margaret prattled on about the first time she'd laid eyes on William and their subsequent wedding a few weeks later. When she launched into the complexities they'd faced buying supplies in Independence, Kate grew bored with the one-sided conversation and began looking around at her surroundings.
A table matching the one centered in the room sat against the left wall, with a tall china vase and two silver candlestick holders on top. A glance at the opposite wall revealed the source of the soft, rhythmic clicks she'd heard since stepping in the room—a wall clock, its gold pendulum swinging with rhythmic perfection, hung beside the bookshelf. Polished pine frames, hung by silk cords from the picture rails, held paintings of sweeping mountain ranges and stern men.
Getting everything in this parlor—and the lobby's marble-topped desk—across the trail in such pristine condition must have been a nightmare.
What a change in perspective she'd undergone since leaving Virginia! Six months ago such items had meant prosperity and luxury, now they represented the sacrifices undoubtedly made in the form of hunger, labor, and time. She'd learned that lesson the hard way on the bank of the Wabash River.
"And then when we reached Fort Laramie I was so relieved that I cried," Margaret said, showing no sign of concluding her animated chatter about her love for her husband and their plans for the future. To Kate's chagrin, Theodore caught her eye at the precise moment she raised the back of her hand to her lips to stifle a yawn.
Instead of acting affronted at her obvious distraction, he grinned.
"Margaret, my dear," he said, leaning forward to pat her hand, "I must interrupt your fascinating tale for a moment to ask if either of you would care for some tea?"
"Yes, please," Kate replied quickly.
"Very well," Theodore said, slipping his hand into his vest pocket. He removed a silver bell, held it aloft, and shook it three times. "I apologize for not thinking of it sooner."
Moments later a woman appeared through the brown curtains covering the doorway between the lobby and the parlor. Judging by the amount of grey in her hair and thickness at her waist, Kate pegged her age at early fifties, and the deep creases around her eyes and mouth hinted at a life lived with lots of laughter.
"They'd like some tea," Theodore said. "None for me, thank you."
She nodded, then stepped back through the curtain.
"Clara's is a sad story with a happy ending." Theodore slid the bell into his pocket, patted it twice, then leaned back in his chair. "She lost her husband during their journey and arrived here with nothing. I'm a widower myself, so once I heard of her misfortune I offered to provide her room and board in exchange for her taking on all the cooking and cleaning for my hotel."
As Kate wondered if Clara agreed with Theodore's earlier assertion of his goodwill, or if she viewed him as a man who'd taken advantage, a stunning realization hit hard. Without her father's foresight and planning, she would have faced a plight similar to Clara's. He'd seen to every last detail of starting a new life in Oregon City, including the advance purchase of a building on the main street and a house built on two acres outside of town.
Kate's hand drifted to her trouser pocket. Inside was her entire future, in the form of two deeds and a pocketbook with enough money to ensure she'd want for nothing for the next five years. Long enough to get her father's mercantile up and running, allowing her to turn the profits over to his ultimate dream for their lives in Oregon—starting a horse ranch.
He'd died in pursuit of his dream. A dream now up to her to fulfill.
"Ladies, your tea has arrived," Theodore said as Clara entered the parlor, tray in hand. Without a word, she crossed the room, placed the tray on the side table, then left again.
Theodore rose. "How do you take your tea?"
"A dash of cream and two sugars, please," Margaret answered.
"I'll have the same, thank you," Kate said, eager to enjoy tea again after months of surviving on river water or fire-scalded coffee.
Theodore went to the tray, and though his movements were partially hidden by hi
s body, Kate could see he took his tea preparation seriously—precise pours of the cream, centering the sugar cubes over their cups before dropping them into the steaming liquid, and replacing the silver spoon in exactly the same position when he was done stirring. After an inordinate amount of time he finally returned to the bench, handed over two china cups with matching saucers, and then took his seat.
"How is it you two know Jake?" he asked, crossing one leg over the other and draping a hand upon his knee.
"My father hired him as our trail guide out here," Kate replied.
Theodore frowned. "Where is your father now?"
"He died along the way. As did my brother."
"I'm so sorry to hear of your misfortune." Theodore leaned a fraction too close to pat her hand a time too many. "You have my deepest sympathies, for I too know what it's like to be alone."
He was wrong. Kate had the support of a man who'd seen her through the worst times in her life. A man who'd held her as she cried over two graves, and then kept his word and guided her safely into Oregon City, and ultimately captured her heart.
"I'm not alone," she corrected with a tight smile. "I have Jake."
Theodore uncrossed his legs, rested his elbows on his knees, steepled his fingers together, and gave her a long, calculating look.
"Perhaps life in Oregon City will reveal other options besides a skirt-chasing cowhand. If I recall correctly, my last memory of Jake was watching him hightailing it out of town with two saloon girls hot on his tail."
After seeing the cluster of women pointing at Jake as he passed the town's saloon, she didn't doubt Theodore's revelation, but she also recalled Jake's warning about Theodore before leaving for the livery. He's got the tongue of the devil and bite of a rattler.
There'd been a time she hadn't trusted Jake's instincts, and her actions had put both their lives in danger. Ultimately he'd saved her from a horrific fate at the hands of a vile mountain man. Jake had earned her loyalty that day, and while she wouldn't defend him against something that had taken place years before they'd met, she refused to stand idly by while this man smeared his reputation into the dirt.
Tainted Dreams Page 2
