Jake eyed the glass knob and keyhole. "Town's got a blacksmith so there's no good reason why Theo won't be getting this fixed tomorrow. Until then, you've got no need to worry. I can see your door from where I'll be, and I have no intention of making the same mistake I did the night that degenerate cut the barge ropes."
Bile rose in Kate's throat and she swallowed hard, recalling Henrick's breath, rank and warm against her cheek, and his brutal strength that yielded only to Jake's gun.
In truth, the mistake had been hers. One she'd almost paid dearly for.
She raised her eyes to meet Jake's, striving for bravery but at the same time thinking of the town's men stumbling toward her, brazen with curiosity and drink.
"I'll protect you, Kate." Jake gently captured her hands in his and pulled her close. "Tonight, and for always."
"I know," she whispered.
Silence reigned between them until Jake shifted his weight and focused over her shoulder at the room. "I better let you unpack and get settled in for the night. I'll be by in the morning to escort you to breakfast."
She frowned, then looked from one end of the hallway to other. "Where are you sleeping?"
"Don't worry about me," Jake said, brushing off her question with a smile and a shake of his head. "Do you have everything you need?"
Kate wasn't fooled by his attempted distraction and leaned to peer around him. Shock grew to anger as she spotted Jake's saddlebags in an alcove across the hall, dumped in a dusty heap beside a rickety chair.
"Is that the 'space' Theodore provided for you?" she demanded.
Jake stayed silent, but his flaring nostrils and ruddy cheeks hinted at his resentment.
She shook her head, stunned at Theodore's gall to be so blatantly rude and disrespectful. And at Jake's willingness to tolerate it.
"You certainly can't sleep on that," she said, pointing to the chair in disgust. "Grab your things. You'll share my room."
"I can't," he said.
"You deserve a good night's sleep just the same as I."
"Your reputation is far more important than my comfort."
"My reputation?" she scoffed. "Here, where saloon women holler their bedroom talents to men on the street?"
"Kate, there are good people in this town," Jake replied, his tone betraying his exasperation and exhaustion. "You need to consider them, and the impression my staying in your room would give."
"We've been together every night for the past six months," she said, frustration warming her cheeks. "Why is tonight any different?"
"Because what happened on the trail left us alone, with no choice. This is different and we both know it."
The harsh reminder hit hard. She still hadn't escaped the confining customs of Virginia; they persevered here in Oregon Territory. Perhaps not as diligently followed, but those who dared to demand respite were apparently still shunned.
The realization infuriated, and then empowered.
"Jake, I'm a grown woman, fully capable of making my own decisions on what constitutes a lifelong mistake, and inviting you into my room certainly isn't one. You've proven yourself to be a man of honor on countless occasions and you don't need a hotel door between us to continue."
She crossed her arms and raised her brows.
"I didn't travel thousands of miles only to again allow the opinions of others to dictate my life, so let's be practical. You can't sleep on a chair, and given the amount of shouting—and possibly gunshots—I've heard since stepping foot in this room, neither one of us will get much sleep. We can spend this time unpacking and sorting through our supplies."
Without another word, Jake walked across the hall, shouldered his saddlebags and rifle, and then stepped back into her room.
Chapter Seven
Tethers Deferred
Jake closed the door behind him, wedged the chair beneath the knob, and settled his saddlebags and rifle against the nearest corner. Kate stood at the end of the bed, her hands fisted so tight at her sides her knuckles gleamed white, her expression both one of triumph and trepidation. Perhaps wavering in her choice of invitation?
If so, she wasn't the only one.
Yes, he could twist words and intentions. Pretend his presence was the only way to relieve the terror he'd seen in her eyes when she'd first opened the door, knife clutched in hand. Convince himself that tonight was no different than those last few months on the trail.
However, one simple fact remained. He'd promised Elijah he'd watch over his daughter, and at the first opportunity he'd made a choice that risked Kate ridicule—or worse—should Theo or anyone else learn of their sleeping arrangements.
"I'll bed down on the floor tonight, and leave before Clara brings you more water at dawn," Jake said.
In the morning he'd make certain the door lock would be fixed and then sleep elsewhere—hopefully in the house her father had purchased before they'd left Virginia. She could remain at the hotel while he concentrated on any repairs the house might need. The situation wasn't ideal, but until they were married, they had no other viable option.
Theo was the only thing stopping him from bending a knee right then. No way did Jake want to associate the moment he declared his lifelong intentions to Kate with having taken place under that man's roof.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd propose.
They began unpacking and sorting the contents of their saddlebags, an arduous and at times sobering task given all the memories uncovered. Though most of the keepsakes she'd brought along had survived intact, she was especially disheartened to discover the two dresses she'd wrapped tight and placed in the bottom of one bag were spotted with mold and smelled of wet leather.
"I believe a visit to the town's dressmaker will be in order, sooner rather than later I'm afraid," Kate said, inspecting the calico dress she'd worn during their time with the wagon train. With a sigh, she crumpled the shredded, stained fabric and tossed it into the corner without ceremony. "It doesn't look much like a hotel room now, does it?"
Jake nodded his agreement. Supplies and airing bedrolls littered every surface, be it tabletop or floor, and their clothes were draped over a line he'd strung between the bedposts along the length of the bed.
He walked to the window and peered outside. "It's late. Are you tired?"
"Yes," she answered, then reached for the stack of neatly folded linens on the end of the mattress and began making up the bed. As she smoothed a sheet over the mattress, Jake grabbed the other sheet and watched in dismay as the two pillows and quilt tumbled to the floor.
"Seems I'm better suited to a bedroll beside a fire," he said, then chuckled at his clumsiness.
Together they finished making up the bed, then discovered yet another challenge—changing into their nightclothes. On the trail they'd been able to walk away from the fire to dress under the cover of darkness, but here there was only a rickety screen.
They looked at each other and laughed.
"We could put the lamp out and change in the dark," Kate ventured. "Or you can wait in the hallway while I freshen up, and I'll do the same for you."
"I'll give you the room, but when it's my turn I'd prefer you stay while I use the screen. No sense in you standing alone in the hallway."
She quickly agreed and Jake stepped into the hall.
Minutes later she called for his return, and then sat on the bed with her back to the dressing screen. He entered, washed and redressed quickly, then leaned over and blew out the lamp. They fumbled their way into their respective beds—his being blankets on the floor—and prepared for sleep.
* * * *
Kate lay in the bed, listening. All the noise in town was quite a change from what she had become accustomed to over the past six months. Piano music complimented with boisterous, out-of-tune singing and the occasional outburst of harsh words made sleep impossible. Things were obviously different here, including the idea of being quiet at night. She dozed fitfully for a few hours, then gave up entirely after a fierce argument took place on the street below their wi
ndow.
"Can't sleep?" Jake's whisper carried easily through the wall of airing clothes hanging between her bed and his space on the floor.
"How did you know?"
"I've listened to you toss and turn since I blew out the lamp." Jake chuckled. "I can't sleep either. I keep thinking I need to feed the fire and check on the horses."
"It's impossible with all that noise. The howling of wolves isn't nearly as scary as what I'm hearing on the street."
"I forgot how rowdy it gets come nightfall," Jake said.
"What time is it?"
Jake rose from his blankets, picked up her father's pocket watch from the washstand, and headed to the window above her bed. Pulling the curtain aside, he tipped the watch face into the moonlight.
"A few minutes after two. Those men should calm down in the next hour or so. It takes hard work to get through even one day here, and the tension and worry can bring out the worst in some men."
He dropped the window curtain into place and Kate heard the soft clink of him returning the pocket watch to the washstand, then the rustling of him sliding beneath his blankets.
"Kate, you'll find that most of the time arguments are all bluster and no bite."
She seized the opportunity to finally ask the question that had plagued her since they'd stepped foot in the hotel's lobby. "What about you and Theodore?"
"What are you implying?"
"You two obviously don't get along, and I get the feeling it goes deeper than simple blustering between two men. What happened?"
"A story for another day," Jake replied, his easy words at odds with his cold, unyielding tone.
She didn't pursue it, choosing instead to move to something else on her mind. "Jake, earlier today when we were standing on the hillside overlooking the city, I didn't have a chance to finish telling you what I wanted to say."
She hadn't finished because she'd been interrupted—by his kiss.
Her first true kiss, if she didn't count the one Crandall had stolen after a church social when she'd been twenty-one. And she certainly would never compare a quick peck on her cheek with the kiss she and Jake had shared only hours ago.
"What's on your mind?" he asked quietly.
She sat up in the bed and opened the window curtain, allowing moonlight to spill into the room. But seeing the room wasn't enough. She wanted to see his face, so she slipped her hands between two shirts hanging on the line between them and eased them aside.
Jake lay facing her, his head propped against his hand.
"These past few months haven't been easy," she said. "It turned out to be quite a different trip than you signed up for."
"That it has," he said simply.
"We've both changed since those first days on the trail."
"I agree."
"You were mean when I first met you."
He chuckled softly. "I suppose, but what about now?"
"Now you're…not." This wasn't going at all like she'd planned.
"What do you really want to tell me, Kate?"
So many things. She wanted to tell him how she was trying to envision a future without her family—a future her father had planned to the smallest detail, but had died before sharing any of his arrangements with her. She wanted to tell him her unease of how the success, or failure, of her father's plan lay squarely on her inept shoulders.
Most of all, she wanted to tell him how she'd been waiting for something since their kiss. Actually, if she were being honest with herself, she'd waited for it since the Columbia River as they'd lain together on the raft, soaking wet and trembling with fear for the life that had almost been lost that day.
How could she tell him she was waiting for his proposal of marriage? After all, that was the next logical step, wasn't it? She thought so, especially given his words to her just before he'd pressed his lips to hers.
I'd love nothing more than to be by your side and share a life together with you.
Silence reigned between them, and eventually her nervousness subsided into an overwhelming urge to slide her hands around Jake's waist and kiss him again. As she leaned closer to where he lay, her eyes locked with his and then fluttered closed.
To her chagrin, aside from an awkward clearing of his throat, Jake remained still.
She opened her eyes.
"I wanted to tell you…" She faltered, and ultimately lost her courage. "I wanted to tell you I have an extra pillow, and you're welcome to it," she said, blinking back her rising frustration, and humiliation.
Jake took the offered pillow, then reached up to the clothesline and slid the shirts together again.
"Goodnight, Katie," he said softly.
Silence again settled over the room.
Kate slumped against her pillow, more confused than ever. After all, it wasn't as if she'd asked him to share her bed. Yet. She'd just wanted another kiss.
Hours ago she'd been certain of Jake's feelings, and now she couldn't stop thinking of the raven-haired beauty calling him by name as they'd passed the saloon.
Chapter Eight
Plans and a Promise
Thursday, November 9, 1843
Kate woke to a long forgotten sound—someone knocking at her door. A peek through the shirts on the clothesline by the bed revealed Jake was gone. His blankets were folded and stacked neatly in the corner.
"Who is it?" she called, scrambling from beneath the quilt and running across the room to the dressing screen.
"Clara."
"I'll be there in just a moment," Kate answered, pulling on her trousers. After slipping into her shirt, she fumbled the important buttons into place and then opened the door.
Clara stood in the hallway with a pitcher of steaming water in one hand and fresh towels and a small bar of soap in the other. "Sorry to wake you, but Theodore insisted you have these before I serve breakfast."
"Please, come in," Kate said, reaching to relieve her of the pitcher. The woman's smile was friendly, but judging by her tired eyes she'd already been working for hours.
Clara stepped into the room and settled her offerings on the washbasin table. Turning, she eyed Jake's saddlebags against the wall and then his folded blankets, but thankfully made no comment.
"I appreciate you bringing these by." Kate plucked the soap from the towels and held it to her nose. The lavender scent brought back memories of her nightly baths back home in Virginia. "I didn't get a chance to do much more than wash my face and hands last night."
Clara scooped up the towels she and Jake had used, then continued. "Of course, sponge baths aren't any kind of substitute for the real thing. Which brings me to what else I came here for—Theodore wanted me to remind you of our bathing room downstairs off the kitchen. There's a tin tub, heated water, and I can help rinse your hair if you'd like. You interested?"
"Yes, of course," Kate said eagerly. "Except…" She sighed as she recalled the state of her wardrobe. "The only thing I have that isn't filthy rags is my nightgown. I hate to waste such a luxury like bathing by dressing again in my trail clothes immediately after."
Clara frowned. "You didn't bring anything?"
"A simple calico dress and two fancy ones, but before they're presentable they'll need to be washed. I learned how on the trail, but I don't know how practical doing so would be given that I'm in a hotel. Is there a woman who takes in laundry in town? Or a dressmaker?"
"Neither." Clara shifted the dirty towels to her other arm. "I'll let you use the kitchen to wash what you need, but you've got to clean up after yourself. I've got enough to do already; can't take on more messes."
"Oh, thank you so much for your kindness!"
"I need to get downstairs. Theodore expects breakfast promptly at seven-thirty, and doesn't take kindly to late arrivals."
Clara picked up Kate's empty water pitcher from the previous night and headed for the doorway, where Jake now lingered. "Young man, the floor in here gets cold in winter. There's more blankets downstairs if you need them."
Jake gri
nned and tipped his hat as she passed. "Ma'am."
"She's a lively one," Kate said, uncertain whether to laugh or cringe at Clara's obvious knowledge of her and Jake's secret.
"I'll say," Jake said, removing his hat altogether and running his hand over his hair in an effort to smooth his stiff, shaggy waves. Kate wondered if Theodore had made him the same offer to use the bathing room.
"I've checked on the horses and they're doing fine," he added. "Ready for breakfast?"
"Yes," she replied, beckoning him inside with a wave of her hand, "but I want to show you something before we go."
* * * *
Jake stepped into the room and shut the door. No sense risking another guest wandering by and hearing their conversation. Or Theo.
"I don't want to keep the deeds, or father's money, in my saddlebags or hidden in this room. I can't chance losing them."
"Smart thinking," he said, still wondering why she'd called him into the room.
"I want to get the store up and running as soon as possible," she said, pulling from her pants pocket the familiar butter-yellow envelope with the red wax seal— the one Jake had taken from her father minutes before his death.
He nodded. "I agree."
"I'm thinking by the end of the week. There won't be anything on the shelves, but I can at least introduce myself to fellow business owners and potential customers."
Leave it to Kate to have a plan in place.
"As for getting supplies to sell, my father didn't tell me much about his plans, but I know contracts are already in place with some of his most trusted suppliers, and next spring he'd arranged for two wagons to deliver supplies. An additional three wagons are expected a few months later."
Jake nodded again, impressed with her control of the situation. Where exactly in these well-laid plans did he fit in?
"Trouble is," she continued, "I don't know where the store is located. Or the house." She reached inside the envelope and brought out two official-looking documents. "I think one is the deed and bill of sale to the store, and the other one is the deed to the house and land. I can't decipher the codes at the top of either, or where the small map on the top corner of the house deed leads to. Can you help me understand?"
Tainted Dreams Page 4
