This wouldn't be Nickel's first time keeping pace with another animal while Jake negotiated with the owner, and his tractable horse didn't disappoint this time either. Seconds later, Theo gave up and pulled his mount to a stop.
When dust and chests had settled, he glared at Jake. "What do you want?"
Jake didn't mince words. "Why were you at Kate's claim?"
Theo's lips slowly twisted into a smug smile. "Envy isn't a trait I'd ever expected to see from you, Jake. I need to savor this moment."
"You've got nothing I want," Jake said.
"You're wrong," Theo replied, raising his chin in a futile effort to look down his nose at Jake. "I'm in control of the one thing you want, because I provide her with the one thing you can’t—information."
"She's not the only one you're feeding information," Jake said. "Earlier this week, I had an interesting talk with Claude at the land office."
Was it Jake's imagination, or had the man paled?
"I don't know what you're talk—"
Jake cut him off, not interested in lies. "You're deceptive as always, and playing a dangerous game. Telling Kate how to get her land, then raising questions to the claims office about whether she has a legitimate right to her claim. What I can't figure out—yet—is why you're talking out both sides of your mouth."
"That has nothing to do with you," Theo snarled. "Stay out of it."
"No. I made a promise to her father to watch out for her, and if someone is trying to get her off her land, it has everything to do with me."
"Oh yes, that's right." Theo sneered. "Her father hired you to bring Kate, the younger brother, and himself out here. Perhaps if you'd been a better trail guide they wouldn't have died along the way." He began to dismount.
"I'd stay seated if I were you," Jake muttered, clenching his fists but otherwise staying still. Once he started, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop, and he neither wanted to drag an unconscious man back to town nor leave him for Kate to discover.
Theo settled his rump against the saddle. "Jake, consider this a friendly warning, but also your last. Don't poke your nose into my affairs, especially when it comes to the woman I intend to make mine."
Jake snorted at the absurdity. "Kate doesn't want a man who views her as a possession, as an object to be won."
"She'll learn eventually what I can give her is in her best interest. She already understands I'm an important man with enough money and power to buy most men fifty times over. That beats a saddle tramp any day of the week."
Hearing the same insult, again, brought on a stunning realization. "You're afraid."
"Of what?" Theo scoffed. "You?"
"Of what's going to happen when she realizes you've got only money to offer." Jake recalled Theo's angry movements outside of Kate's house and realized she'd probably already rebuffed his advances. "In fact, I'd wager it's already happened. You offered her everything, and she wasn't interested in a man who considers his possessions as symbols of status and wealth, and his peers as pawns."
"Move aside, before I start to take serious offense to your words." Theo shifted his reins into his left hand and gave them an almost imperceptible tug.
Jake had been watching for the coward to attempt a retreat, and simply walked Nickel forward, effectively blocking his path. Theo gave up on sleight of hand tricks and opted to instead yank on the reins, eliciting a sharp whinny from his horse. Once again, Jake outmaneuvered him.
"I'll move after you answer my original question," Jake replied. "What were you doing at Kate's house?"
"Figures a man satisfied with eking out his living in the woods wouldn't be concerned with wasting away my day." Theo’s fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on his saddle horn. "If you must know, Kate and I were having a rousing discussion on whether the harpsichord could make a worthy substitute for the piano in Beethoven's Sonata Number Fourteen. I believe the piano is better suited to portray the intricate movements, but she's got the peculiar idea the harpsichord might be up for the task."
Theo let out an arrogant laugh. "I assume by your slack jaw and dumbfounded expression you have no input on the matter? It's just further proof that you're unsuitable for her in every way imaginable." He raised his elbow to bring attention to the basket on his arm. "We also shared a delightful breakfast, followed by a tender moment. I won't get too descriptive, but since you blundered your way into my parlor and interrupted us once, you already know to what I'm referring."
Jake couldn't risk a response for fear of spewing bile.
"I'm hosting a social gathering at my hotel in less than an hour." Theo smirked. "Kate is on the guest list, and since any self-respecting man knows never to keep a beautiful lady waiting, I'll be on my way."
This time Jake made no attempt to halt his departure.
Chapter Forty-Six
Problem Days
Thursday, December 7, 1843
Kate lay on a pile of hay on the barn floor, her stomach tight from hunger, her eyelids drooping from lack of sleep, and her feet and hands numb from cold. According to her father's pocket watch it was just after midnight, which meant she had fifteen minutes until it was time to walk Nina again. Fifteen minutes to worry over everything she'd done, and still needed to do for the next few hours and days, to keep her prized mare alive.
Back home in Virginia she'd had a team of helpers, including stable boys and her father, whenever one of their horses had impaction issues. Here, she had no one.
No one to notice when or why her prized mare had gone from alert to lethargic, from pawing and pacing to flopping to the ground and thrashing about wildly, or when her manure had gone from normal to nothing. No one to review Nina's past weeks and help pinpoint the various reasons for her trouble—change of feed from quality grain to musty hay, and change of routine from walking for twenty plus miles a day to near constant idle stall time.
No one to help ease the fatigue that stemmed from round-the-clock monitoring of Nina's heart and breathing rates, temperature, stomach sounds, and gums. No one to quiet her frantic horse as twice a day Kate eased a tube up Nina's nose, down her throat, and into her stomach to deliver the life-saving mineral oil treatment. No one to walk the horse ten times around the barn every hour, day and night, praying the regular movement helped instead of hindered.
Kate was on her own, and the life or death of her beloved horse rested solely on her shoulders.
Though exhaustion whispered for her to snuggle into the hay and sleep until dawn, Kate got to her feet, straightened her shoulders, and went to Nina's stall. After a glance at the bare floor again revealed nothing, she sighed.
"Hey, girl," she murmured. She took a moment to scratch her morose horse's muzzle and ears before she led her out of the enclosure and began the now-familiar trek around the outside of the barn. At least the rain had subsided from downpour to drizzle.
Twenty minutes and a thorough evaluation later, Nina was back in her stall with her head again tied high to prevent her from rolling. One violent turn could potentially twist her internal organs and prove fatal within the day.
"I'll be back soon, sweetie," Kate said, forcing a cheery tone to reassure Nina. She hated to leave her horse unattended for even a few minutes, but her unrelenting hunger and thirst could no longer be ignored.
Kate trudged across the yard to her house, shoved the door open, and hurried to the dark fireplace. Her numb fingers initially fumbled through the motions to light a candle and then a fire, but eventually flames flickered to life. She moved to the kitchen and mixed ingredients to make a batch of pancakes—a simple, portable meal that could be eaten cold.
Daily chores had gone by the wayside three days ago when she'd entered the barn and seen Nina with her head turned, eyeing her flank. From that moment, nothing else had mattered but keeping the mare calm, medicated, and alive. This marked the fourth day of round-the-clock care, and if Nina didn't pass her obstruction soon, there would be no hope.
Kate ladled lumpy circles onto the spider pan and
then waited with a spatula in one hand and a mug filled with water in the other. Four pancakes were more than enough to sate her current hunger and keep her going until nightfall.
Anticipation of owning a claim had proved far better than the reality.
Once again, like her first month on the trail, Kate found herself totally unprepared for a new way of life. Except now she was alone. At least on the trail she'd had others to commiserate with, and to share in the daily struggles. Now she was isolated, with her horses as her only companions. And though they listened attentively when she confessed her worries, they made poor conversationalists.
She'd had such high hopes her first few days on her claim. But now, two weeks later, she was trying so hard and failing at everything. She couldn't keep up with the daily chores, much less weekly ones, and the seasonal ones Clara had mentioned weren't even a consideration anymore. As for the horse ranch, she could barely handle feeding and caring for her own four horses, so adding more to her herd held no appeal. Everywhere she looked she found work to be done, and now she knew all the money in the world wouldn't buy what she so desperately needed—the time, skills, or lately the energy to do any of it.
At this point, she was struggling just to survive.
Kate eased the spatula under the edge of one of the pancakes, peered beneath, and then flipped all four. Rising, she noticed the bucket resting in the middle of her kitchen table needed to be emptied. As did the one on the floor near the window, along with her iron kettle on the end of the bedstead, and Clara's mixing bowl and bread pan sitting side by side in the center of the room.
She was out of ways to catch the rain.
The roof had too many leaks, and she had too few pots. The only thing she could do—aside from nail old porch boards over the worst of the rotten sections—was to strategically place items throughout the house to collect the raindrops, and suffer through until Nina recovered enough to allow for a trip to town to place an order for lumber. And, hopefully, new hinges for her door. If not, the groove in her floor would turn from a mere annoyance to a true concern. Already the bottom edge of the door was losing a chunk of wood every time it passed over a split floorboard.
With practiced efficiency, Kate slid the pancakes onto her plate to cool. She longed for butter, jam, or syrup to adorn the stack, but her wants far outweighed her abilities to make her favorite toppings, so she had to settle for sips of water to ease down the meal.
Kate carried the plate, fork, and mug to the table and collapsed into the nearest chair. As she took her first bite, she stared at the chair sitting across from her, empty. Tears filled her eyes and flowed unchecked down her cheeks as she forced herself to take bite after bite of pancake, unwilling to allow emotion to keep her from the animal waiting faithfully in the barn.
It wasn't supposed to be like this.
She had everything she'd wanted—a house, a barn, land, and the freedom to do as she pleased, but the victory felt hollow without someone to share it with. Without Jake.
Kate swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hand and then swallowed hard, wincing as the lump of dough made its slow descent down her throat. She covered the remaining pancakes with a dishcloth and headed back outside.
Inside the barn, a long-awaited stench brought Kate's hand to her nose and a smile to her lips as she peered into Nina's stall and saw what covered the floor.
Success!
Chapter Forty-Seven
A New Normal
Tuesday, December 12, 1843
Jake closed the mercantile door and limped toward his horse waiting at the hitching post. After dropping the tool he'd just purchased into his saddlebag, he grabbed the saddle horn. Though every muscle in his arms throbbed in protest and his left leg threatened to buckle beneath him, he grimaced through the pain and fatigue and pulled himself into the saddle.
The physical aches he felt after building a stable by himself in less than two weeks were agonizing, but having no one to share in his joy hurt far worse. Loneliness and regret had made setting the final roof board in place a subdued rather than celebratory moment.
Jake guided Nickel out of town and onto the now familiar path toward his property. The path that took him along the western edge of Kate's claim. He'd put off checking on her, rationalizing his need to build shelter for his horses took priority over social calls. But now that the task was done and the drawknife he needed to smooth the rough edges of the pile of shingles awaiting placement on the stable roof was tucked into his saddlebag, he was out of excuses.
It was long past time he paid Kate a visit, especially given what had taken place minutes ago in the mercantile.
Jake heard the ring of metal against wood long before he spotted Kate on the rise behind her house, chopping chunks off a fallen tree. He rode closer, thankful, yet at the same time alarmed, that her back was to him and she was so preoccupied that she hadn't noticed his arrival. After all, if he could watch her unobserved, so could others.
Judging by the coat hanging off a nearby branch and the darkness under her arms, she'd been working for a while, yet she only had a meager woodpile to show for her effort. Half a day's worth of warmth at best.
Still in the saddle, he moved closer.
She'd lost weight. The shirt she wore—one he'd always enjoyed due to its tendency to stretch taut across her hips and chest—hung loose, now unencumbered by curves. Her hair looked different too—a frizzy mess that hadn't seen the working end of a brush in days. Maybe longer.
Still oblivious to his presence, she lifted what he quickly realized was a hatchet rather than an ax over her head. Then, with a noise that was more whimper than grunt, she brought it down against the tree. Instead of sinking deep into the wood, the blade bounced off the trunk, nearly hitting her ankle.
"Hello, Kate," he said, quietly so as not to startle her.
She whirled so fast her feet tangled and she wobbled briefly before steadying herself. The moment she caught sight of him, she bowed her head and turned away.
"What are you doing here?"
Jake frowned and slowly dismounted. He'd gotten only a glimpse of her, but it was enough to see hard work wasn't the sole reason for her unkempt appearance.
"I figured I'd take the liberty of inviting myself over to see how you've been doing," he replied, forcing a cheerful tone. "So, how you been doing?"
Her bony shoulders rose in a half-hearted shrug.
Jake eyed the hatchet still in her gloved grasp. Even he could see the blade was dull. At the rate she was going, she'd work until nightfall and not have enough wood to cook dinner. Certainly not enough to heat her house through the night.
"I've spent plenty of time working a woodpile," he said, taking a tentative step closer. "Mind if I take over?"
With her back still to him, she raised her hand to stop him. "I don't need help."
She brought up the hatchet again. This time when she attempted to hit the trunk, she missed completely. Thankfully the swing ended harmlessly between her legs rather than into one.
"You need an ax and a wedge for this job," he said, stepping closer and wishing she'd turn to face him. "Or at least sharpen the blade of what you're using now."
"I know!" she shrieked, her tone uncharacteristically shrill. "I know I'm working twice as hard as I should be, yet accomplishing next to nothing!"
"I'm only trying to help you, Kate."
His gentle tone and patience were rewarded when she shifted slightly, allowing him a peek through her hair to see her quivering bottom lip.
"I'm sorry." Her voice cracked, and she paused to take several deep breaths. "What I should have said was that I've checked the mercantile. There's no ax or wedge to be found, and since Albert got word the final shipment of goods for the year is stuck in the mountains, there aren't more expected until next spring." She brandished the hatchet in the air, unwittingly close to Jake's nose. "Until then, I'm stuck with this useless thing."
He placed a steadying hand on her back, then leaned down and pu
lled the handle from her grasp. To his surprise, she didn't fight him. To his even bigger surprise, she leaned against his arm for several glorious seconds before pulling away.
"Why won't you let me help?" he whispered.
"I can't rely on you," she whispered back, her head still bowed, hiding her face. "I've got to be able to do this on my own."
Whatever had sparked her earlier tirade—be it exhaustion or irritation—Jake had no intention of tolerating her hiding from him any longer. Something was wrong, and he wouldn't leave until he knew what it was and had done his best to fix it.
"Look at me, Kate."
Her hair swung in greasy, tangled strands around her face as she shook her head in adamant refusal.
"Katie," he pleaded. "Please."
After a long moment, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and raised her face to meet his gaze.
It took every bit of resolve Jake had to smile instead of gasp. Dark circles below her red-rimmed eyes were the only spots of color on her face, and he suspected their glittery shine wasn't from crying. Due to either clumsiness or carelessness, she'd missed several of the upper buttons when putting on her shirt. Usually her décolletage was smooth, rosy, and guaranteed to tempt Jake to distraction; now the skin was nearly translucent and showcased a myriad of blue veins and bone bumps.
Jake steeled himself against the overwhelming urge to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to his dugout, where he could lavish her with hearty meals, a warm bed, and days of rest. He settled instead for asking her a simple question, even though he knew the troublingly obvious answer.
"Are you well?"
Her laugh bordered on hysterical, and ended in a horrific coughing fit that had him once again reaching out to steady her. After she recovered, she gave him a bitter smile.
"I've had better days. Nina suffered an impaction last week, and I've been nursing her back to health."
Tainted Dreams Page 21
