Tainted Dreams

by Christi Corbett

  She crossed her arms and tapped her foot while eyeing him with what had become an all-too-familiar scolding expression. "You're supposed to be resting."

  With an exaggerated, though good-natured groan, Jake trudged to his bedroll he'd set up on the floor at the end of her bed the day after he'd arrived. As he stretched out and laced his fingers behind his head, a series of thoughts occurred.

  It felt right to have him share her table.

  It felt right to have him checking on the horses in the barn.

  It felt right to have him bringing in wood.

  Most of all, it felt right to have him in her life.

  Kate turned away, yet again hiding her sorrow. She'd spent the past week wavering between jubilation to see his strength returning and misery that since he'd arrived under protest, he'd have no reason to stay once he was well.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Certainty

  Friday, January 19, 1844

  Jake leaned against Kate's doorway, watching her walk toward the barn, her face tipped to the sky as she enjoyed the unseasonable warmth of the day. In the three weeks it had taken for him to heal, his love for her had grown stronger with each passing day.

  After he made certain Kate was out of sight, he pulled the white box from his pocket. Using his left hand, he tossed it into the air and then caught it, marveling at how his strength and dexterity had returned.

  Toss, catch.

  The night on the trail they'd spent in a cave lying together before the fire as a thunderstorm had raged outside, he'd been wholly unprepared for the feelings holding her in his arms had evoked in him.

  Now he knew without a doubt how much he loved the headstrong woman, and he wanted to make her his wife. Not to spite Theo, not out of obligation to her father, but because he truly did love her. He wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life loving her, caring for her, and building a life together with her.

  Toss, catch.

  Though he'd had the best of intentions, he'd made a mess of things with his first pathetic proposal. This time there would be no stammered words, no sentences bungled. This time he would make her understand he wasn't asking because she was in trouble, because he thought he could save her, or because of a promise to her father. This time he'd convince her he wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to become the man she needed. The man she deserved.

  Toss, catch.

  Sighting Kate returning from the barn, Jake slid the white box into his pocket and stepped off the porch.

  It was time.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  A Long-Awaited Second Try

  Kate pulled the barn door shut and headed toward her home, smiling to see Jake waiting for her beside the porch. As she neared he held out his hands, palms up. She went to him without hesitation, curling her hands around his when his fingers beckoned them close.

  He cleared his throat and shifted his stance. "Kate, I need to do something."

  Dread settled in deep. He was leaving.

  "I can do anything you need done," she said, hating the pleading in her voice but continuing on in the hopes she'd find the right words to convince him to stay longer. "You're still favoring your shoulder, and the doctor's orders were for you to get plenty of rest, and we both know you've been pushing yourself too hard this week."

  Jake kissed her gently on her forehead, then pulled back to look at her, a hint of a smile playing across his lips.

  "The night we spent in the cave gave me a glimpse of what it would be like to have you in my life, and I've longed for you ever since. You've given me a second chance on life, and I can't imagine one more day without you by my side."

  He squeezed her hands before letting go and lowering himself to one bended knee. She gasped and her hands flew to her chest as he pulled a small white box from his pocket.

  "Katie," he said, opening the box to show her a gold ring resting atop a blue velvet cushion, "will you marry me?"

  "Yes," she said breathlessly. "Yes!"

  Elation coursed through her as Jake stood and slid the ring over her finger, then subsided into a delicious anticipation of the bliss to come when he lifted her into his arms and carried her through the doorway and into their home.

  Epilogue

  The Good Life

  Sunday, September 8, 1844

  Kate smiled as Jake appeared on their porch, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. He leaned to kiss her, then straightened.

  "I'm thinking about going into town for a few hours. Two more wagon trains are expected to roll in today and the men want to greet them." He knelt beside her, pressed a hand against her gently rounded stomach, and looked at her in concern. "Of course, I won't go if you need me here."

  "I'll be fine."

  As she watched Jake ride over the rise toward town, she thought of how he had proven to be a wonderful and caring husband, and now in only a few months she would undoubtedly see him do the same with their child.

  They'd married earlier that year, on Saturday, February 24th. Since theirs had been one of the first weddings Oregon City had ever witnessed, the townspeople had worked together to host a fantastic reception. Clara had come with the doctor at her side, and William and Margaret had even managed one of their rare trips into town for the occasion, bringing along their beautiful, healthy daughter.

  Theodore was still in jail, and would stay for years to come. He'd initially been put away only for the unsuccessful attempt on Jake's life, but after proof of his deeds scheme had been uncovered when Clara had cleaned out the contents of his desk drawer, more time had been added to his sentence for fraud.

  Kate hadn't recovered her father's money, but her appeal to the Provincial Government had been a success. She'd been granted her father's claim, where she and Jake had decided to make their home. Albert at mercantile had agreed to buy all the contents of all the wagons her father had arranged to have sent out, and she and Jake had already invested in two more mares for their fledgling horse ranch.

  Kate dozed in the rocking chair Jake had made her for a wedding gift, happy to feel a gentle breeze that would keep all but the most persistent mosquitoes away. She woke to see the sky, the clouds, and the trees dotting the hillside had turned fiery orange as the sun was just beginning its descent over the home, their crops, and the horses still out grazing. Winter was coming and they still had much to do—chop wood, gather and shock the hay for the horses, harvest and sell their crops, and buy supplies—but she smiled at the thought of doing everything with Jake by her side.

  Hearing a far-off whinny, Kate turned her attention to the rise at the end of their claim and watched her husband, the love of her life, and the father of their unborn child ride toward their home and her waiting arms.

  About the Author

  Christi Corbett lives in a small town in Oregon with her husband and their twin children. The home’s location holds a special place in her writing life; the view from her back door is a hill travelers looked upon years ago as they explored the Oregon Territory and beyond.

  See how Kate and Jake’s story began in Along the Way Home

  Chapter One

  Kate's Decision

  Charlottesville, Virginia

  Wednesday, April 5, 1843

  Every Wednesday Kate stood on the same front porch, her hand poised inches from the door, willing herself to do the unthinkable — walk away without knocking. However, during the hesitation, her courage inevitably fled.

  Wednesdays were a long-standing tradition, and one she couldn't disrupt.

  She rapped her knuckles on the wood. Familiar footsteps clicked toward the other side of the entry, and she forced a smile as the door opened to reveal an overdressed, overfed, overbearing woman.

  "Katherine Davis, how dare you appear at my doorstep bareheaded like some commoner? Get your bonnet on this instant!"

  Kate's smile faded. "Yes, Aunt Victoria."

  She slid the velvet cage over her head, knowing she'd only remove it after stepping across the
threshold. Under the guise of propriety, her aunt had tortured her for years. Recently she'd expanded her teachings to include the fine art of manipulating men and viewed snaring a husband as the ultimate goal.

  Kate followed the bitter spinster's perfume cloud into the parlor. Cream and gold wallpaper, the best her father's money could buy, adorned each wall. Marble-topped tables stood between overstuffed chairs and a matching sofa. After taking a seat on the sole wooden chair in the room, she smoothed a wrinkle from her skirt in preparation for the weekly inspection.

  "A lady's appearance is of the utmost importance." Aunt Victoria paused to wriggle her fingertips into her taut sleeve, tug out a handkerchief, and dab a line of sweat from her upper lip. "Might this be the week you finally manage to pull yourself together?"

  Secure in her dressing room choices, Kate held steady under the probing gaze. Her auburn curls were captured in a perfumed knot at the nape of her neck. She wore a dress of the finest green velvet, custom dyed to match her eyes and brushed by servants to a soft sheen. A silk ribbon accentuated her trim waist, not that she needed any help. Her petite frame misled many. She was a grown woman with the responsibilities to show for it.

  "Though the color is garish, the style of your dress is appropriate." Aunt Victoria clucked her tongue. "Too bad the same can't be said for your hair."

  With an indifferent shrug, Kate poured herself a cup of tea. She'd long since given up on winning the woman's approval. After a glance at the wall clock, she added a pastry and a melon wedge to her plate. It was early morning, but she'd been up for hours without breakfast.

  "Don't take too many sweets. They'll ruin your figure." Aunt Victoria hefted a wedge of Brie and three pastries on her own plate and then leaned back against the upholstered sofa. "I assume your servants have improved their work ethic since my lecture last week?"

  After discovering muddy footprints on the front porch during an unannounced visit, her aunt had lined up the household staff and disparaged each and every one. Three had left the room in tears. One had quit on the spot.

  Kate merely nodded.

  "Good. They have to learn to serve their betters with more respect. Now, did you enjoy the Ladies’ Society meeting yesterday?"

  Kate grimaced at the thought of wasting an afternoon listening to a herd of fussy, jewel-laden women congratulate themselves on bettering the community.

  "I didn't attend."

  At this, her aunt's tone hardened. "Securing you an invitation required delicate negotiations among the most influential women of this town. Your position in society is not guaranteed, so I trust you have a good reason for embarrassing me. Again."

  Undaunted, Kate met the narrowed eyes with ease. "I needed to review a contract and finalize the monthly profits and losses."

  A wrinkled hand flew into the air and the familiar rant began, as always, with an exaggerated sigh.

  "Your father should hire a bookkeeper instead of forcing the task upon his only daughter."

  "Father doesn't force me," Kate said, dropping her plate on the table hard enough to garner a wince from her aunt. "I rather enjoy it."

  Actually, tracking accounts was the highlight of her day. Numbers were logical and consistent — little else in her life was as uncomplicated.

  "The intricacies of business are useless knowledge to a woman," her aunt declared with a disdainful sniff. "At twenty-two years old, your focus is better spent on more ladylike pursuits, like improving yourself to attract a husband." Pinched lips gave way to a taunting sneer. "Unless Crandall finally proposed?"

  Kate met her aunt's hard stare with her own. "No, ma'am."

  "Maybe if you paid attention to my advice, you wouldn't have to pass your evenings with only your father and dim-witted brother for company."

  Kate sprang from her chair even as the cruel words still hung in the air between them. She would bear the brunt of her aunt's insults and had for many years, but drew the line at attacks upon her nine-year-old brother, Ben.

  "Father trusts me with our livelihood, and I won't flit about town sipping afternoon tea, obsessing over the latest fashions, or hosting parties when there's real work to be done. As for my evenings, you needn't worry. They are far more fulfilled than your own."

  With a dismissive nod, Kate started toward the doorway.

  "Wait."

  The single word confirmed again Aunt Victoria's one weakness — money. Kate's father paid handsomely for the weekly lessons, and her aunt wouldn't allow a few harsh words to stop the lucrative practice. Kate returned to her seat not because of her aunt's command, but because she couldn't bear the thought of disappointing her father.

  An hour later she donned her shawl and bonnet, stepped into the bright sunshine, and exchanged a last round of false niceties. When the door closed behind her Kate raced down the stone path to freedom. Six glorious days lay ahead before her expected return.

  When the visits had begun nine years ago, she'd been a child teetering on the verge of womanhood, unable to protest the absurdity of piano lessons twice a week, French instruction with a private tutor, and Aunt Victoria's vicious style of imparting etiquette. Now she was long past caring what anyone thought. Anyone besides her father. The lessons made him happy, and since little else did, she continued the weekly farce.

  Kate walked along the dusty boardwalk toward her father's store. When she stepped down onto the street, intent on crossing, the sight of five boys caught her attention. They were crouched shoulder to shoulder, peering under the boardwalk. She frowned to see her brother's sandy-brown head in the middle of the group.

  As she approached, a boy spun around, scanning the street in a search for potential interferers. Sighting her, the lookout nudged Ben.

  "Your nosy sister's coming. She's gonna ruin everything."

  Kate closed the distance with three steps. "What do we have here?"

  Ten hands scrambled for cover behind backs and into pockets. Trouble obviously brewed.

  "Hands out. All of you."

  Grubby hands reluctantly came forward.

  "Open them."

  Fingers uncurled, revealing chunks of bread in each palm.

  "What are you boys doing?"

  When no one answered she looked to her brother. "Ben?"

  "N-n-n-n-n-nothing."

  Ignoring the other boys' snickers, Kate focused on her brother. "Certainly seems like something."

  "It was Ben's idea," the lookout said.

  "Yeah," added another with a defiant sneer. "It was all his idea."

  Kate knew better. Ben tried too hard to fit in with boys his age and was often a scapegoat when they were caught during mischief.

  Rustling under the boardwalk quieted the remaining boys. Kate wondered at their silence until a small black nose emerged and began sniffing crumbs scattered in the dirt. Moments later a black-and-white head appeared, followed by the well-fed body of a skunk.

  All kept still as the creature plodded across the street, and only when it disappeared under Smith's Hardware did the boys take flight. To his credit, Ben stayed behind.

  "What were you thinking?" Kate asked in exasperation.

  Soft blue eyes pleaded understanding and her heart melted. To a point.

  "You have to stop getting in trouble, Ben." She crossed her arms and attempted a firm stare. "Or have you forgotten how last week Mr. Sherman brought you into the store, sopping wet?"

  "You never let m-me have any f-f-fun," he cried.

  With a sigh of defeat, she reached to comfort him. Too late. He recoiled and she dropped her hand. Ben desperately needed what she and her father could never provide — his mother's love.

  Kate watched her brother's lanky frame as he galloped down the street. Knowing he would hide and lick his imagined wounds for the remainder of the day, she continued on toward the store. When she entered she greeted their stock boy and then sat at her desk in the back room. With January through March's ledgers opened before her, she began tallying all supplies purchased for the first quar
ter.

  Hours later, the stock boy whispered news of a visitor. She walked out front, smiling to see Marie Ann, her dearest and closest friend, lumbering past the displays.

  "What are you doing here?" Kate scolded her enceinte, yet stubbornly mobile, friend. "You should be resting. Robert will be furious when he discovers you've escaped from your bed."

  Marie Ann leaned against the counter, her burgundy curls bouncing with each panting breath. "I heard the news about you and Crandall."

  Safe and predictable, Crandall Hewitt was the one constant in Kate's life. During her youth, he'd pulled the ribbons from her hair; later he'd led her through her first dance with a man besides her father. They'd courted exclusively for the past year, but recently he'd begun pressuring for more than attending social functions together. Maybe one day she would grow to love him.

  Kate frowned in confusion. "What news?"

  A torrent of giggles accompanied Marie Ann's gleeful hug. "I'm so happy for you! Crandall confirmed to Robert he's engaged."

  In a daze, Kate grasped Marie Ann's shoulders and pulled away. "Not to me."

  Honey-brown eyes widened in dismay. "If not you, then who?"

  "I'm going to find out." Kate rushed behind the counter, snatched her door key off the wall hook, and pressed it into Marie Ann's hand. "Lock up for me."

  Ignoring her friend's look of disbelief, Kate grabbed her shawl and marched out of the store. Within minutes she stood in the doorway of Crandall's apothecary. Her eyes swept the room and located the back of his blond head behind the counter. For the moment, she held her fury in check — Marie Ann could be mistaken.

  "Is this talk of your engagement true?"

  Slowly, Crandall turned to face her, his eyes filled with wary hesitation.

  "Is it true?" she demanded.