Kate frowned. This was beyond generous; something else had to be afoot. "You've been saving all this for a reason. What is it?"
Clara's expression turned pensive as she pulled out the stool across from Kate, then sat with her hands primly folded against the edge of the table. "You've seen the curtains hanging in the parlor doorway?"
"Yes," Kate replied.
"Those were the first of many things I traded to Theodore for room and board after I arrived in Oregon City. I brought several trunks of household goods across the trail, and ended up giving him nearly everything before he figured out my plight and offered me a permanent job." Clara reached across the table and gripped Kate's hand with astounding strength. "Every time I see something of mine in this hotel, it reminds me all over again of the future I lost the instant my husband died." Tears slipped unheeded down her cheeks. "When I arrived I had no way of getting land, and I'm too old to try now. Please, take everything in that bag and put it to good use."
Kate couldn't say anything over the lump in her throat, so she simply nodded while blinking back unshed tears.
Clara walked around the table and wrapped her arms around Kate. "You be careful," she whispered. "Make sure to come visit anytime you need a good meal, a hot bath, or advice."
Chapter Forty-Three
Reflections
Friday, November 24, 1843
The scythe was dull, but effective.
Within an hour of the first swing, Kate cut almost enough grass to fill the straw tick, and had simultaneously cleared a walking path from her porch to the barn. One time around the house garnered the remainder needed to finish the job.
Then, she discovered a problem. While one blade of grass was lighter than a feather, her petite frame was no match for an unwieldy bag over two feet taller and two times wider than herself. Next time she'd fill it inside the house, but she had no intention of redoing work she'd already completed. Or cleaning up the mess.
With her fervent desire to sleep on a comfortable bed instead of her hated bedroll utmost in her mind, Kate spent the next hour shoving and yanking the mattress onto the porch, through the doorway, across the floor, and onto the bedstead. By the time she finished making up the bed with Clara's sheets, quilt, and pillow, she was slick with sweat, exhausted, and eagerly looking forward to what would come next.
Unpacking!
Every flat surface of her house was covered with supplies from the mercantile that needed to be organized and stored in a logical manner, and her saddlebags and packsaddles were filled with the few treasures from home that had survived the trail. The burlap sack from Clara awaited exploration as well.
After building up the fire and slipping out of her trail clothes, she spent time with a washcloth and soap until she was clean, then put on the pink dress.
She tackled the kitchen first. The parallel corner shelves on the wall were sturdy and wide, and easily held her single metal dinner plate, two mugs, and one serving spoon. She set the spider pan and iron kettle on the hearth. Everything else from the cooking supply box had been lost in the Columbia River.
She stowed the bags of flour, sugar, cornmeal, and coffee against the wall between the kitchen and table, leaned her father's rifle in the corner by the window, then emptied Clara's burlap sack onto her bed and found a place for each item.
Eight nails hammered into the wall by the end of the bed created an improvised closet for hanging up her worn calico, her two dresses that she hadn't yet figured out how to wash properly, the maroon dress from Jake, her silk camisole, and her trail clothes. She added another nail for her pink dress, then pounded two more into the wall to the left of the door for her father's hat and her coat.
Her nightgown found a home beneath her pillow, and she folded her mother's lace coverlet and laid it carefully across the foot of the bed. Her bible and china teapot fit perfectly on the small shelf above the kitchen table, while the supply box found a new purpose as both storage for the rolled oil painting of her mother and her father's pistol, and a low display table for her mother's silver brush, comb, and mirror set.
Kate dug deep into her remaining saddlebag and removed the final item—her mother's silver jewelry box. She lifted the lid and lovingly brushed her fingertips against the four treasures laying atop the red velvet lining: her mother's gold wedding ring, her father's pocket watch, the pearl ring her closest friend, Marie Ann, had given her as a going away present, and a small metal box containing two pinches of dirt—one from her father's grave, the other from her brother's.
Closing her eyes did nothing to staunch her sudden tears, nor her thoughts of how different these past two weeks would have been if they'd made it across the trail. Ben would have loved frolicking in the creek and climbing the tree at the edge of the claim. Her father would have made fast friends of nearly every influential man in town, and by now would have a line of sellers eagerly describing their horses available for purchase.
And perhaps she and Jake wouldn't be at odds.
Angry with herself for allowing emotions to overshadow her achievements, Kate scrubbed the tears from her cheeks, set the jewelry box beside the silver mirror, then rose to her feet.
Crying and wallowing over what could have been accomplished nothing. Success in life was how she'd honor her family's memory, and right then she had everything she needed, and plenty of extra comforts she hadn't had while on the trail—a roof over her head, easy access to water and wood, and a soft place to fall at the end of a hard day.
Her horses were provided for as well, due to Tom Baker's diligence and her decision to fill her mattress with grass instead of hay. Thankfully the barn's roof had fared better over the years than the house's, which meant every stalk of hay stuffed in the loft was dry and usable.
She had nothing to complain about, and a lot of work to accomplish before bedtime.
With her father's hat on her head and her threadbare coat buttoned to her neck, Kate headed back up the hill to the fallen tree and spent two hours chopping up another day's worth of wood and stacking it on her porch. After a hearty dinner of salt pork and biscuits, she washed and dried the dishes, then got the idea to step outside and enjoy the sunset.
What she saw when she opened her door both startled and amused her.
Jake's black-and-white paint horse, Plug, was grazing less than fifty feet from her barn, ripping and chewing mouthfuls of grass as if he didn't have a care in the world. Which he likely didn't. Plug was known to wander, and since he always returned when beckoned, Jake typically made no attempt to curb the horse's adventurous spirit.
But what if Jake's hurt?
It had happened before, when he'd suffered his broken leg. Plug had taken advantage and run off then, so maybe Jake was again lying on the ground, incapacitated. Or worse.
Kate edged toward Plug, taking care to make no sudden movements or sounds lest he spook and run off before she could catch him. When only ten feet separated them, his ears twitched and he raised his head.
Their eyes locked.
As she dared one more step forward, a piercing sound filled the air. A sound Kate was well familiar with—Jake's whistle. She watched Plug lope along the edge of the creek and past the oak tree, where he quickly disappeared from sight.
The map in the land claims office had been right. She and Jake were neighbors.
Chapter Forty-Four
An Offer Declined
Monday, November 27, 1843
Kate ate a hurried breakfast of leftover biscuits while wearing her trail clothes, coat, hat, and leather gloves. Her house was chilly since she hadn't built up the fire when she'd gotten up that morning. No need to waste precious wood when she planned to spend the coming hours riding the borders of her claim, trying to figure out where best to put her paddocks. And hopefully catch at least a peek of Jake working his claim.
A soft knock at the door changed everything.
With one hand on the knife sheath strapped to her waist, Kate pulled her door open an inch and peered at th
e man standing on her porch, a picnic basket slung over his forearm.
"Kate? It's me, Theodore." He frowned when the door didn't budge farther. "Are you all right in there?"
Holding back a sigh of disappointment that it wasn't Jake waiting outside, Kate dragged the door open another two inches. "I'm fine, just startled to see you here."
The last time she'd seen Theodore he'd proposed marriage, yet she'd managed to slip away without answering. He wasn't the type to take rejection lightly. Or easily. Dissuading his affections and convincing him of the futility of future visits was guaranteed to disrupt her well-laid plans for the morning.
"I returned from my trip to Champoeg yesterday." His expression turned hard, resentful. "Imagine my surprise to find you'd left my hotel, especially after you'd agreed to go on a ride with me this morning."
Kate's grip tightened on the door handle. "While I appreciate your assistance and the information you shared, I saw an opportunity to take possession of my land, so I did."
He eyed her trousers, coat, and boots. "I see you're dressed for riding, so perhaps you anticipated I'd find you?"
"Yes. I mean no." She stammered through a flustered correction. "Yes, I'm planning on a ride, and no, I wasn't expecting you to find me."
"Nevertheless, I did, which means we'll be able to proceed with our plans." He flashed a bright smile while brandishing the basket closer to the door. "Clara packed us a picnic."
She managed a weak smile in return. "I'll be gone most the day, and I'm sure you have things to do back at the hotel."
He dismissed her concern with a wave of his hand. "I'll always have time for you, Kate."
When she made no attempt to open the door further, Theodore's smile faded to a scowl. "It seems Jake's lack of manners has influenced you during my absence." He let out a harsh laugh. "Pardon my blunt words, but you are failing to realize I'm a busy man making time to help you. There's no malfeasance behind my visit here today. I simply want to take you on the ride you'd already agreed to, and let you know I've spoken with Claude at the land office about your situation."
He eased the basket off his arm and began swinging it at his side. "However, if you're too busy to hear the outcome of my meeting with Claude, I can leave. Or, if you'd like to discuss what happened like the civilized people we were both bred to be, you can let me in."
"I suppose," she said, uncomfortable with his insistence on the matter, but not wanting to offend him in light of how he'd gone out of his way to be helpful with the land office. She pulled the door open to allow him inside, then shoved it closed again.
"Would you like some coffee?" she asked, all the while hoping he'd decline.
Theodore wrinkled his nose in disdain. "Never touch the stuff, but I'd love some tea."
"Sorry. Fresh out."
"I'll bring you some on my next visit," he replied. He strode over to the table and set down the basket. "You seem overwhelmed. Agitated too."
"A bit," she replied, fighting the urge to demand he get to the point. With men like Theodore, it was always better to gently steer the conversation back to the subject of interest. "You mentioned a chat with Claude?"
"Yes. He's heard you've taken possession of your claim, and is curious as to how you found it in the first place?"
Kate stared at him warily, wondering how to answer the question without revealing she'd broken into the claims office. While she'd stolen nothing and had replaced everything, she'd still broken the law. Or at least what served as the law in Oregon Territory.
"Forgive me," he said, apparently taking her hesitation for distress. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just worried for your safety, especially since there's a few men riled up about how you've taken over this claim. They're simple-minded, so they refuse to listen to reason when it comes to the complexities of the land claims law. As for myself, I can't understand why you left my hotel for this unsuitable hovel." He dragged his fingertips along the seat of the nearest chair, stared at them briefly, then shuddered. "It's little better than a pig trough."
"I don't expect you would understand," she replied, unwilling to idly accept his insults. The chairs were clean, as were her floors and every other part of her house. She was proud of what she'd accomplished in the past few days, and all he'd done was to tear her down. Pig trough indeed!
"Kate, you're working yourself to exhaustion by slaving from dawn to dusk, trusting in dirt and animals to make a living, and abandoning the cultured and refined existence I know deep in my heart you enjoy. This is not the life a woman like you should be living."
Her cheeks flamed as she recalled her childhood sweetheart's similar words to her moments before he shattered her trust.
You're not the marrying type, Kate. You're too busy doing the work of a man instead of behaving like you want to marry one.
Oblivious to her irritation, Theodore left the basket on the table and crossed the room to stand before her. "You do recall my proposal? Say yes, and I'll give you the life you're accustomed to. What you deserve."
"I deserve the life I create for myself," she retorted, taking two steps back to put space between them. "Not one given to me by another."
Theodore matched her retreating steps with advancing ones of his own until Kate felt the unyielding door against her back.
"All I ask is that you consider what I can offer." He brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "Consider me."
Kate thwarted further advances by dodging his outstretched hand and then ducking beneath his arm.
"I don't need you to offer me anything, I'm doing fine," she insisted, uneasily shifting her hand beneath her coat to rest on her hip, within reach of her knife. "And if I run into trouble, Jake's claim is close by."
"How convenient," Theodore said, his scorn apparent from his tone and sneer.
Keeping her right hand on her hip, Kate marched to the table, snatched up the basket, and pushed it against Theodore's chest as she passed him on her way to the door. Three sharp yanks on the handle opened it halfway, and two pushes on the outside edge finished the job.
"Please give Clara my best," she said, motioning toward his waiting horse.
With the basket slung again over his forearm, Theodore pulled himself into his saddle, spent far too long adjusting the reins in his hands, and then, to Kate's great relief, rode away.
Chapter Forty-Five
Deception
Jake lay awake in his bedroll, his fingers linked behind his head while he stared at the dugout ceiling. Though the dirt floor was a poor substitute for an actual bed, his first night on his claim had been warm due to a plentiful woodpile, and relaxing due to the knowledge he was done living under Theo's roof. But while he was pleased to learn the dugout was sturdier than he'd first thought, he faced an even bigger problem.
While he had a roof over his head, his horses needed a stable. Immediately. Paying livery fees to house them while he first built his cabin was out of the question. The weeks he'd spent on a hotel room had already diminished the thickness of his pocketbook enough that he worried of his ability to buy a plow next spring. Instead of further padding Theo's palm with his coins, he'd simply changed his plans. By using the trees he'd already felled and stripped, working from dawn to long past dusk, he should be able to build them a suitable stable within the next two weeks.
Urgency should help avoid further distraction by the woman who'd taken up residence less than a mile away. Three days before, he'd figured out where Kate's claim was located. He'd ridden his borders, stopping on the southwest corner by the oak tree when he sighted a wisp of smoke rising from the stone chimney of the long-abandoned house. Since none of the other nearby claims had houses, it had to be hers.
He'd confirmed the assumption with the aid of a scope, sighting her stuffing handfuls of grass into a straw tick. He'd allowed himself the privilege of watching her for only a minute, then ridden back to his own claim. Since then he'd deliberately stayed away—partially from pride, and partially from uncertainty on how she would
receive him.
Jake threw off the blankets tangled around his legs, got to his feet, and stretched the kinks from his back. As he brought his arms over his head, taking care not to push a hole through his ceiling, he decided it was high time he paid Kate a neighborly visit.
* * * *
Jake followed the creek across his land until he reached the oak tree, and continued onto Kate's land. He rode in slow, then pulled Nickel to a stop at the corner of her barn, wanting to conceal his presence while he studied the markings on the horse waiting in front of her house. When his usual remedies—squinting and rubbing his eyes—hadn't proven effective, he reluctantly brought out his scope. With one look, disbelief and dread settled in Jake's chest.
The horse was Theo's and the saddle was empty.
Before Jake could begin rationalizing his next move, Theo came into sight. Jake backed his horse a few steps to further conceal himself, then watched the man go to his horse and mount up. After fiddling with his reins and then a basket hanging from his arm, he rode off.
Jake slid the scope back into his saddlebag. Judging by the way Theo had stomped over to his horse, he wasn't happy with whatever had transpired during his visit.
Telling himself he'd much rather face Theo than the wrath of Kate after she'd figured out he'd been spying on her, Jake rounded the barn and rode a wide arc behind her house. He at least owed it to Elijah to investigate Theo's appearance on Kate's claim.
When he reached the trail to town that ran along Kate's western border, Jake stood in his stirrups and urged Nickel into a full run. Minutes later, he rode up alongside Theo, who seemed genuinely startled to see him.
"Stop!" Jake demanded.
Theo gave him an incredulous look. "No!" he shouted, kicking his horse in the ribs and sending him thundering down the path.
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