"Many people start out late like we did and then spend winter near a fort, hunkered down in their wagons."
Kate sympathized with those in the unfortunate situation of enduring months of frigid weather and deep snow while cooped up in the back of a wagon. "I'm always amazed at what people are willing to tolerate for the opportunities and land out here."
"Speaking of land," Jake said, taking her hand to help her off the boardwalk steps and onto the street between the blacksmith and apothecary, "I'll be out of the hotel from sunup to sundown for the next few days. I need to start scouting for a claim."
"I'll miss you," Kate murmured.
"I'll miss you too." Jake put his hand on her arm, pulling her to a stop. "The other day when I left your hotel room, I should have been much clearer about my intentions toward you, and your future. Our future." He paused to gather both her hands in his and tuck them against his chest. "I'm a good listener, so when you said you wanted to be romanced and swept off your feet I vowed to give it my best attempt."
"When did I ever say such a thing?" Kate asked, her tone teasing, yet happy.
Jake's smile faded. "When you turned down my proposal."
"Is that why you got me this dress?"
"It's impolite to ask questions about a gift," he chided, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "Did it work?"
Kate grinned impishly. "I'd say it's a good start."
"Hey!" An unfamiliar shout broke the moment. "That you, Jake?"
Kate turned and saw a tall, broad-shouldered man dressed head to toe in fur approaching them. "Who's he?" she asked.
"A trapper who comes down out of the woods about three times a year," Jake replied. "He's a good, honest man. Little rough."
"Well, if it isn't Jake Fitzpatrick." The man smiled and clapped Jake heartily on the shoulder. "I thought that was you. When did you get back?"
"About a week ago," Jake replied.
While Kate awaited an introduction, she couldn't help but stare at the stranger's hat—a gigantic circle of fur with the face of a dead fox protruding from the front, a bushy tail hanging from the back, and four paws dangling down the man's chest.
"Trail give you any trouble this time over?"
"Some," Jake said, then motioned toward where Kate stood, still waiting. "Rob, I'd like to introduce you to Katherine."
Uncertain whether customs in the west dictated she should step forward and curtsy, present her hand for a quick touch, or something else entirely, Kate opted for a simple nod and to stay silent by Jake's side.
"Glad to see you finally got yourself hitched, Jake." Rob's grin widened, revealing a twisted line of chipped, tobacco-stained teeth. "I always said it would take a special kind of woman to get a wanderer like you to settle down."
"We're not married," Jake muttered.
Rob yanked the fox face hat from his head and shifted his full attention to her. "Ma'am, if Jake don't mind, I'd like to take you to dinner. Tonight."
Kate's cheeks warmed as she struggled for the words to gently refuse the sudden invitation. He apparently mistook her hesitation for a scheduling conflict and tried again.
"Tomorrow night?" he asked, his expression a mix of desperation and hope.
"You're kind to ask, but no." She reached to pat the man on the shoulder, then thought better of the gesture and settled for a sympathetic shake of her head.
Rob shrugged his shoulders and tugged his hat into place. "Worth a shot."
"We're going now,” Jake said, settling his hand on the back of her waist. “I expect we'll be seeing you around again soon."
Taking her cue from Jake's slight push against her back, Kate took a step forward and allowed him to maneuver her past Rob and up the three steps leading to the boardwalk. Jake took his place at her side and their walk began anew.
Within seconds, their progress was again halted by an unfamiliar gruff voice. "Fitzpatrick!"
To Kate's surprise, Jake laughed and waved at a short, barrel-chested man standing in the middle of the street, watching them. Judging by his beefy hands and the thick leather apron covering him chest to toe, Kate guessed him to be the town's blacksmith.
Jake cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "You still slinging shoes out here?"
The man grinned, then ambled over. After shaking the hand Jake offered, he turned to her. "Hello there, ma'am!" His booming voice echoed down the boardwalk, leaving Kate to wonder if his hearing was intact. "I'm Travers. You got a name?"
"Go easy on her," Jake said, his grin indicating to Kate he was friendly with this boisterous man. "It's her first week here."
"I'm Katherine. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Nice to meet you." Travers dipped his hat in her direction. "Good for you on finally getting this wild one—" he motioned to Jake, "—to settle down. Never thought I'd see the day."
"You still haven't," Kate said. "We're not married."
Travers looked to Jake in surprise. "She's not belonging to you?"
Jake hesitated, then shook his head.
"Well, that's good news for me!" Travers clasped his hands together. "Katherine, would you consider an afternoon stroll with me tomorrow? Or, if you enjoy fishing, I know of a perfect spot down by the river."
To her frustration, Jake again kept quiet. Why wasn't he telling these men of their burgeoning relationship? Granted they weren't married, but he could at least declare his interest or intentions.
"I appreciate the invitation, but I decline," she answered softly, all while hoping Travers wouldn't pursue the idea further.
"I'll be around if you change your mind," he replied, then turned to Jake. "You staying put this time, or you heading back east again come spring?"
"Staking a claim and putting down roots," Jake said.
"Good." Travers glanced across the street and frowned. "My forge awaits, so I better get back to the shop. Stop in anytime."
After exchanging farewells, their walk continued. Jake was a knowledgeable guide and Kate an eager student; she made detailed mental notes of the town's layout and the businesses she intended to visit.
They also met several more men from Jake's past. All were happy to see him back in town, and many approached to either shake his hand or slap him on the back. Most then eyed Kate and congratulated him on catching such a fine lady. She deftly corrected each man, ultimately earning three additional dinner invitations and one hasty marriage proposal.
She declined every offer.
An hour later her legs were tired, her hair was frizzing, and her mood had soured from having the same conversation with nearly every man she'd met. Yes, she was unmarried. Yes, she could cook. Yes, she planned on staying in or near town. It was as if she was the only available female within five hundred miles!
As for Jake, he'd kept quiet while she'd handled every inquiry, intervening only when one of the men had neglected his manners and gotten too nosy while prying for details. His standoffish behavior puzzled Kate. Why, when they were alone, was he so willing to say the romantic words she longed to hear, yet when in the company of his acquaintances he wasn't so eager to proclaim himself her suitor?
After Jake exchanged a round of goodbyes with yet another man who'd intruded on their time, Kate rubbed her hands over her arms. She needed a proper coat, or at least a shawl, to shield her skin against the damp air.
Jake noticed her gesture and frowned. "You're cold. I’d offer you my coat, but I didn’t bring it along. How about we visit the mercantile next? Albert keeps it warm."
She pointed to a brown building about twenty feet down the street. "Is it that one over there?"
"Yes. Since I figured you might want to buy some necessities, I arranged our journey so it's the last business we'll visit. We can fill our arms with whatever you need, and since the hotel is only one street over, it won't be too hard to carry everything back."
They began walking again.
"Kate, you handled yourself well today, meeting all those men. They might be a bit rough and their
manners could use improvement, but if you decide to open a mercantile they're your future customers. I don't know much about being a businessman, but I do know one thing—building relationships is important. They'll remember you as being kind, yet willing to speak your mind. And a little headstrong."
To her surprise, Jake let out a groan of frustration. "I admit, while I'm thrilled to see you're fully capable of standing up for yourself when men are seeking your affection, it's hard to watch. But I knew if I interfered, it would portray you as just another weak woman who needs a man to fight her battles."
Guilt flooded through Kate. He had been silently hanging back not from indifference, but to let her shine.
Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Jake smiled and held out his right arm. "I'd better help you. The boardwalk steps near the river tend to be slippery this time of year."
She twined her left arm around the crook of his elbow and gathered a few folds of her skirt in her right hand. Lifting the mass of fabric, she followed Jake down the steps and onto the street.
Two men slithered out from the alley and blocked their path.
Kate sensed these men were different from the others she'd met so far. There would be no friendly conversations with either, especially given how they were already glaring at Jake.
"Looky looky who's back in town, Cyrus," said the man with a bald head and a dark beard that ended in a point just below his chest. He was big—well over six feet tall—with enough belly to show he liked his food and drink, but enough muscle to make any reasonable man think twice about taking him on.
Kate felt Jake's arm muscles tighten beneath her hand.
"When did you get in?" Cyrus asked. He was tall too, but wiry. His crooked nose and sunken cheekbones gave him the look of a man who had started, and finished, many fights.
"Last week," Jake replied coldly.
"That's a pretty woman you got there." The bald man's words were obviously for Jake, but his beady eyes focused solely on Kate, looking her over from head to toe.
"You're in our way," Jake said.
Both men hesitated briefly, then shuffled a few steps toward the alley they'd come from. Without taking his eyes off the men, Jake propelled her across the street and urged her up the boardwalk steps. When he hurried her away from the mercantile, she finally spoke up.
"We're going the wrong way," she said, struggling to keep up with him.
"They're watching. Keep walking." Without breaking stride he lowered his lips to her ear. "We'll cut through the upcoming alley and head back to the mercantile using the next alley over."
She nodded. "Who are those men?"
"The big one is Murray James. If his size doesn't give him away, you can still tell it's him because of his gait. A man as big as him goes through boot heels quick, but because he'd rather spend his money on a bottle than a cobbler, Murray's usually limping."
Jake glanced over his shoulder then slowed their pace.
"His buddy, the one with the hump on his back, is Cyrus Montgomery. He's so thin most men dismiss his ability to hold his own, but I've watched him take down a man double his size with three punches."
"Do they live in town?" she asked.
Jake shrugged. "I'm not certain, though I would assume they've holed up somewhere close since they're known to frequent the saloon in the afternoon and linger through the evening. At least that's what they spent their time doing the last time I was here. I do know that when you see one of them, watch out, because the other is probably somewhere close by. They're mean. Avoid them."
They emerged from the alley and Jake smiled while motioning to the mercantile with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. "Are you ready to meet your competition?"
"Competition?" Kate asked.
"Yes, for your store." He shifted to stand before her, and then gave her a long, curious look. "Kate, you've only ever spoken of what your father wanted. What do you want?"
She let out a sigh of disappointment. By now, after all they'd been through together, how could he not know? She wanted his assurance she wasn't facing an uncertain future alone.
"Jake, I want…"
Kate trailed off when she saw his face go pale and his focus shift to something just beyond her shoulder.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emily
Kate turned to see a group of women standing on the boardwalk in front of the saloon, shrieking and carrying on like gold coins were falling from the sky. Some held cigars; some clutched heavy glass tumblers filled with amber liquid. Every dress boasted a pinched waist and plunging neckline, and many were hemmed above the knee. Men she now recognized were milling among them, laughing loudly while taking liberties with wandering hands.
Ignoring the scandalous sight in favor of finishing the conversation with Jake, Kate started to turn back to him until a movement caught her eye. One of the women had broken free from the crowd and was hurrying toward where they stood. She was shouting something, but a brisk wind and the steady clang of the blacksmith's hammer against his anvil made her words impossible to understand.
Eyes wide, Jake took hold of Kate's arm and began backing away, muttering about how he'd forgotten to show her one final business.
The raven-haired woman grew nearer, and her repetitive words clearer. "Jake, I need to talk to you! Please, Jake!"
Kate twisted her arm from Jake's fingers, dug her heels into the dirt, and stayed put.
Once the woman saw he wasn't going anywhere, she slowed her pace to a suggestive saunter. By the time she stood before Jake, she'd placed a gloved hand on each hip—a gesture Kate knew full well was designed to accentuate the curves of her hips.
"Hello again, Jake." The woman's voice was husky, her tone seductive.
"H—hello," Jake stammered in return.
Undaunted by his subdued greeting, the woman cunningly raised her chin and brought her elbows back, which showcased her ample chest in an outrageous display and tested the seams of her purple satin dress.
Kate's stomach roiled as she rose to her toes before Jake, her lips puckered as if she expected a greeting kiss.
He quickly sidestepped her advance.
Undeterred by the obvious slight, the woman looked down at Kate as if she were a lump of manure needing to be scraped off her shoe. "Who's your friend, Jake?"
Kate squared her shoulders and returned the stare with an unwavering one of her own.
Jake's cheeks flushed crimson and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Emily, I'd like you to meet Katherine."
"Emily?" Kate asked, certain she'd heard wrong. "Your name is Emily?"
The woman's lips stretched into a grin and she slowly nodded. "Yes. Perhaps you've heard Theodore Martin mention my name to Jake? I've stopped in the hotel several times trying to find him, but had no luck. Until today."
Kate bit the inside of her cheek as anger flickered to life within.
Emily was real, Jake was a liar, and he'd played her for a fool.
"I'll leave you two alone to get reacquainted," she said, struggling to take even breaths so she wouldn't faint in the middle of the street. She wanted nothing more than to get back to her hotel room, bury her face in a pillow, and sob until Saturday.
"No!" Jake blurted. "Don't go."
"My plans for the rest of the day have changed," Kate sputtered, barely containing her fury. She looked around for the closest building to escape into and saw the mercantile across the street. "In fact, I'm heading off now to see my competition."
"Honey, don't you know yet?" Emily laughed and tapped her gloved hand against the ample curves of her chest. "I'm your competition."
Ignoring Kate, Emily brought her fingertips to her mouth and kissed them. She then lowered her palm to her chin and blew into the air toward Jake. "I'm sure we'll see each other again real soon. You know where to find me."
Emily strolled toward the saloon, leaving Kate aghast and Jake with his head hanging low.
"I always wondered how you knew so much about soiled doves. Now I know w
hy you made certain to mention them in that horrible speech you gave me the second day on the trail."
"Kate, they were just a few momentary lapses of judgment that meant nothing."
Kate drew in several ragged breaths, then continued. "I'm almost embarrassed to say this now, but if you would have told me the truth, I would have understood."
Jake frowned in confusion, but stayed silent.
"You're nine years older than me, so I'd already accepted that you've likely had relationships before you met me. I didn't expect you to have a flawless past, but what I do expect is for you to never lie to me."
"Kate, I—"
"Stop talking." Kate glared until he closed his mouth again. "This morning I stood in your doorway and begged for your forgiveness, pleaded for your understanding. You had the perfect opportunity to tell the truth about Emily, and instead you stood there and said nothing as I put all the blame upon Theodore."
"Kate, I didn't tell you because I was ashamed."
"You should be even more ashamed that you're a liar."
Ignoring his pleas for her not to go, that it wasn't safe for her to be alone, Kate lifted the front of her skirt and ran across the street toward the mercantile.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sing a Simple Song Well
Kate stepped into the mercantile and closed the door behind her, taking comfort in the familiar clang of a heavy gold bell hitting the door's edge. The interior of the building was spacious, sparsely stocked, and laid out with an obvious eye toward growth. She breathed deeply, enjoying the mingled scents of fresh-ground coffee, leather, and tobacco.
Jake was right; the storekeeper did keep it warm. Stacks of wood beside a roaring fire in a stone fireplace showed the owner had no qualms about catering to the needs of his customers. Her father had done the same with his own store, insisting a comfortable customer would linger and buy more.
Her mouth watered at the sight of a small glass jar filled with peppermint sticks sitting on the counter. As a child, she'd loved the days when her father would point toward the same kind of jar on his store counter, then smile as she filched a stick for herself and her younger brother, Ben.
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