Chapter Thirty-Seven
Another Option
Jake held back a grin as he silently watched Kate replace the window and trim with shaking fingers.
She certainly was a resourceful woman.
When she'd finished, he didn't say a word, just walked alongside her as she made her way down the alley and through the streets. When they arrived at the boardwalk steps in front of the hotel, she went up first, then stopped at the top and turned to face him.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"You're a rotten criminal, Kate." He smirked. "I heard you walk past my hotel room at three o'clock in the morning. I looked out my door and figured you were heading for trouble. So I followed you."
"The only thing I took was knowledge," she declared.
Her words were spoken with confidence, yet Jake knew different by how she fidgeted with Elijah's hat. Whenever she was nervous, she held the brim between her thumbs and index fingers, then inch by inch she would make her way along the circumference of the brim.
"Find what you were looking for?"
Her expression turned guarded. "Yes."
"That was a foolish thing to do, Kate. Did you even consider what might happen if you'd been caught?" He paused to wipe sudden sweat from his forehead, then added sternly, "By someone other than me?"
"I had no other option," she said, her fingers beginning their third circuit around the hat brim.
His voice softened. "You had one option left."
"What?"
"Me." He tapped his finger against his chest to further his point that while their relationship might be over, she could still count on him. "Though you declared me free from the promise I gave your father that I'd watch over you, I have no intention of breaking my word to him. If you're ever in trouble or need advice, you can come to me. Always."
Her lips parted and she let out a long sigh, though he couldn't tell whether it was from relief or reluctant acceptance.
Jake followed her through the hotel's front door and up the stairs. When he reached his door he waited, telling himself it was to make certain she got into her room safely rather than wanting to appreciate the view of watching her walk away.
"Kate?" he called when she was halfway down the hallway.
She turned. "Yes?" she asked quietly, likely expecting another lecture.
"You're the most extraordinary woman I've ever met."
To his surprise, she winked at him before heading on to her room.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Her Claim
Kate tossed and turned in her bed, unable to do more than doze fitfully now that she knew where to find her land. Checking her father's pocket watch revealed only seven minutes had passed since the last time she'd last held it in her shaking fingers.
"Six o'clock," she murmured.
Sunrise was still over an hour away, giving her ample chances of catching at least a few minutes of sleep. She closed her eyes and forced herself to take ten deep breaths in the hopes of calming her nerves.
No such luck.
Fed up with fighting the urge to finally see what she'd worked so hard to achieve, Kate tossed aside the quilt and sprang from the bed, giggling with glee. She dressed in the trail clothes she'd draped over the end of her bed frame less than two hours before, secured her sheathed knife at her side, pulled on her boots, and walked out the door. She stopped into the kitchen and grabbed two apples from the bowl on the center island, then jotted a note to Clara stating she'd be gone for breakfast and lunch.
At the livery, Nina eagerly accepted one of the apples, crunching happily while Kate saddled her and slipped on her bridle. Minutes later, she'd tucked the second apple into her coat pocket, rode through the livery doorway, and headed north out of town.
With frequent checks to make certain the river still was on her right side, she guided Nina through the dense woods covering several steep hills. The morning air was crisp, invigorating, and reignited her worry of what she would find.
What if she couldn't chop enough wood to keep a fire going day and night to provide warmth? What if the walls were rotted and threatening to crumble? What if the chimney had collapsed, caving in the entire roof?
What if there wasn't a house at all?
At the crest of the third hill Kate stopped to button her coat and slip on her leather gloves, then looked down upon the wide valley spread out below.
A trail!
She stayed still, allowing only her gaze to explore the land before her. Few things invited trouble like trespassing. So far she'd been fortunate not to encounter other riders or landowners. Jake's name written on the rectangle nearest her claim was also something to consider, but not today. Today was about her finding her land. Nothing more.
The trail began at the base of the hill, curved to the left, and continued on for about half a mile where it made an abrupt turn to the right and then disappeared.
"What do you think, Nina?" Kate leaned forward and scratched just below her mane. "You up for taking a look?"
Nina's ears pricked up and she swung her head to nudge Kate's leg.
Kate laughed. "I agree. Let's go."
Keeping a vigilant watch on her surroundings, she urged Nina down the hill and onto the well-worn path through the overgrown grass. She followed the trail to where it turned sharply to the right, then sighted something that left her wavering a fine line between cheering and sobbing—both from relief.
A white rock.
According to the map in the land office, it was the landmark that designated the southwestern corner of her land.
Though the urge to leap from the saddle and kiss a rock the size of three loaves of bread was strong, Kate instead set Nina to a rapid pace along the trail, which she surmised ran along the western edge of her claim. About half a mile farther, the trail intersected with a creek wide enough that Nina needed a running start to jump over it, then disappeared around the left side of a hill dotted with low brush.
Kate pulled her horse to a stop, worried at what she hadn't yet seen—a house. Perhaps the row of pine trees growing on the right side of the trail were the previous owner's attempt at creating a wind break? If so, her house might be close.
She squeezed her legs against Nina to get her moving again, then guided her to head east. Five minutes later she rode up to an obviously abandoned, but still standing house. Hopping from her saddle, she left Nina's reins dragging on the ground and walked a wide circle around the building, happily noting all four walls and the stone chimney were intact.
The second time around, she went slower and noticed more.
It was shaped like a rectangle, and Kate's counted-off footsteps gauged it to be about fifteen feet long and twelve feet wide. An overflowing rain barrel sat at the back right corner. The roof extended about four feet over what could be only loosely described as a front porch, since there were more floorboards missing than present and the thin logs serving as a railing were tilted at a precarious angle. To the left of the front door was a square hole. At one time the window had been covered by sheep hide, but time and the elements had left the covering in tatters.
Kate was surprised to see the house was built from boards rather than logs. They were too evenly matched to have been shaped by hand tools, so whoever built it had gone to a lot of work and expense hauling boards from the lumber mill back in Oregon City. Given how a few had shrunk from exposure to the weather and how all were withered to a dull gray, she would have preferred a cozy log cabin.
On the third time around, Kate paid extra attention to the surrounding area and found a fenced section that looked to have at one time been a kitchen garden, and two oak trees on each side of the house. They would serve as wind breaks in the winter and provide shade in the summer. After checking on Nina to make certain she was still munching away at the grass, Kate headed for the other building set about twenty yards away.
The barn was built like the house, but larger and with a loft. Fitting four full-grown horses inside would be ea
sily manageable. The water trough out front was sturdy, but would need a thorough cleaning to remove the plethora of bright green moss clinging to the outside.
On the way back to explore the inside of her house, the side of her boot brushed against something hard. Looking down, she noticed a handle sitting atop a small wooden door. She tugged to no avail.
Curiosity and determination drove her to spend the next ten minutes on her knees, clearing away overgrown grass and clumps of stubborn weeds. Once the edges of the door were finally unobstructed, she lifted the handle, peered inside, and immediately let out a shriek of joy when she saw her own reflection.
A well!
Kate replaced the door, leaped to her feet, and skipped back to her house. She'd seen the outside; now it was time to go in.
Reaching the front door took longer than expected due to the need to gingerly test which of the porch boards would hold her weight, but finally she was able to grip the latchstring and give it a cautious pull.
Nothing.
She tried again, this time pulling the string harder, but the door still didn't budge. Upon closer inspection she found the problem stemmed from the dry, cracked leather hinges.
She’d have to push it open.
When tentative pushes and grunts of frustration yielded only a hair's width of movement, Kate pressed her shoulder against the door and shoved it aside inch by painstaking inch until she could finally slip inside.
The room was spacious, with a floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace centered at the back wall. A glance up the inside of the chimney found it solid and thankfully clear of any bird nests. A bedstead was built into the back left corner, and the kitchen was in the back right corner. Two l-shaped shelves hung parallel above a sturdy cupboard with a butcher-block top.
A pine table sat against the right wall, and Kate noted two matching pine chairs nestled beneath. On the wall above the table was a unique shelf; a two-foot long log had been split in half and both sections lay side by side upon a board that was set deep into the wall. It was rough, but sturdy. The house didn't have a stove, but she wasn't worried since she'd spent the previous six months cooking meals over an open flame.
The straw tick mattress smelled of mildew, cobwebs covered every corner, and everything was covered with a layer of heavy grime, but a few days of deep cleaning would make it habitable. Kate was grateful the floor was made of wood planks instead of dirt, though she noticed several of the boards below the window were discolored and spongy. Hopefully nailing up a new sheep hide or even an oilskin would keep the rain out and allow the floorboards to thoroughly dry.
She spent the rest of the morning and all afternoon exploring her claim. Whoever had sold the land to her father had cared a great deal for the property at one point. It seemed surprises awaited her at each turn—a birdhouse nailed to the back of the barn, rose bushes growing along the outer edge of the porch, flat stones protruding in random spots from the fireplace to use as shelves, and a stone box to the right of the hearth that would hold several days' worth of wood.
One of the best moments of her day took place at the base of the massive, solitary oak tree marking the northeastern edge of her claim.
There, she'd eaten her first meal on her new land—the other apple.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Preparations
Tuesday, November 21, 1843
"Good morning, Kate. You're up bright and early," Albert said, unlocking the door to the mercantile and motioning her inside. "What can I help you with? More fabric?"
"I'm here to pay my debt owed from the other day, and purchase a few additional supplies."
Albert eyed the list Kate handed him, then read it aloud. "Hammer. Saw. Ax and splitting wedge. A hundred nails. Two wooden buckets. Scrub brush. Soap. Washboard. Mineral oil. Thirty candles. Salt pork, bacon, fifty pound bag of flour, ten pound bags of sugar and cornmeal, five pounds of coffee, a sack of soda, and fifty feet of rope."
"That should cover what I need. For today," she amended. "Do you have any window glass?"
Albert shook his head. "Hoping for a shipment with next spring's wagons, but I can't guarantee they won't break on the way."
"Put me down for one, and in the meantime I'll take a sheet of oilskin."
He raised his eyebrows. "Are you shopping for Clara at the hotel?"
"No. For myself."
He gave a curt nod. "Good for you. Will you need delivery, or do you have access to a wagon?"
"Delivery, please." She paused, reconsidering. "Except for a candle, the scrub brush, soap, rope, and both buckets. I'll take those now."
"I'll have everything loaded up by this afternoon and either George or I can run it out to you before sundown. Where's it all going?"
Kate gave directions to her claim and explained that Squire Creek ran across the property, so she'd meet the driver on the south side, then portage everything to her cabin.
Albert grinned. "You mean Tom Baker's old place." He looked at her strangely. "How did you get that?"
"I've got the deed right here," Kate said, patting her pocket and hoping he wouldn't notice she'd avoided answering his question. All she wanted was to spend the next few days cleaning her house. She planned to be moved in long before Theodore returned from Champoeg the following Sunday and inquired about their upcoming date for a horse ride.
"Baker came out here a few years before I did," Albert said. "By the time I arrived in 1842, he'd already built on the land and decided he wanted to go back east."
Kate gave a noncommittal shrug, then changed the subject. "How much do I owe?" she asked, digging into her pocket.
Albert explained he wasn't certain everything she'd requested was available and said he'd send word of the amended list and total cost with the wagon. Kate settled up for her previous purchase, then left with the cleaning supplies in hand.
She rode Old Dan out to her claim, rolled up her sleeves, and got to work.
First she pulled every loose board from the porch, figuring it was better to straddle the few intact boards rather than risk busting through a weak one and breaking her ankle. Then she cut off a section of rope, tied it to the handle of one of the buckets, and headed to the well. After returning to the house with a bucket of clean, fresh water, she shoved the door aside and spent the remainder of the morning and the entire afternoon scrubbing every flat surface inside the house.
Early in the evening, while she was standing over the well pulling up her eighteenth bucket, she sighted a wagon traveling along the trail.
She swung onto Old Dan and rode out to greet Albert at the edge of the creek. To her delight, the wagon was filled with nearly everything she'd requested, though she discovered she'd have to wait until the final shipment of the year arrived to get the ax and splitting wedge, since they'd just sold their last ones earlier in the week.
Albert offered to help transport everything across the creek and to her house, and she gladly accepted. An hour later they exchanged a round of goodbyes and he headed back to town.
After carefully tacking the sheet of oilskin over the window, Kate pulled herself back into the saddle and returned to the hotel, happy with her productive yet tiring second day as a landowner.
Chapter Forty
Adapt and Overcome
Wednesday, November 22, 1843
Kate woke early and had Nina saddled and ready to leave town before sunrise. On the ride out to her claim, hints of blue broke through the clouds, solidifying her decision on the first task of the day—to wash her mattress.
While she was grateful Tom Baker had left the straw tick behind, the fabric shell needed a thorough washing and the straw was musty and crushed flat.
"We're almost there, girl," Kate murmured to Nina as they rounded the now familiar white rock and headed toward her creek. "We'll stop to get you a drink and then you can spend the day grazing while I work on my claim."
"My claim," she repeated, looking across the surrounding land with a newfound sense of pride. It was perfect, a
nd it was hers.
At the house, Kate broke her first sweat of the day battling the sagging door hinges until she had enough space to squeeze her mattress through. Then the real work began. Once she managed to slide the straw tick off the bedstead, she dragged it out the doorway. After positioning the open end over the edge of what remained of the porch, she scooped out the flattened straw. Tucking the tick under one arm, she grabbed the soap and scrub brush, mounted Nina, and headed for the creek.
Wrangling a giant fabric sack through three rounds of soaping and rinsing took nearly two hours, revealed four holes, and rendered Kate's hands and arms trembling with frigid exhaustion.
Figuring her clothes couldn't get any wetter than they already were, Kate rode back to her house with the soap and scrub brush resting between her legs and the clean straw tick slung over her shoulder.
Drying clothes on the trail had been simple; during their months on the prairie she'd spread them on the grass to dry in the hot sun, and in the later months when they'd traveled through dense forests she'd hung them over a rope stretched between two trees.
Since she didn't yet have a clothesline and didn't like the look of the darkening clouds, Kate opted to drape the fabric over her porch railing, taking care to spread the weight evenly.
A rumbling crash far off in the distance commanded her attention and sent her on a slow circle around the house, eyes and ears alert to anything amiss. Once she assured herself nothing was wrong, warming up took priority over identifying the source of the distraction. She went inside, shoved the door closed, and promptly discovered she had no wood to start a fire.
Two tugs into the long process of opening the door, the porch railing collapsed.
Minutes later, as Kate stalked back to the creek to wash fresh mud off her freshly washed straw tick, she heard the same rumbling crash. It wasn't thunder, though a glance at the pregnant clouds hovering overhead confirmed a storm was indeed brewing.
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