Katie dabbed a bit of paper into the lard from the pail in the pantry and returned to the skillet she’d wiped clean, using the lard to coat it. “You don’t wash your iron skillets, do you, John? You’re not supposed to, you know, only wipe them out. Water’s not good for them.”
John thought she sounded worried and in response, he only nodded his agreement, unwilling to confess that he had washed that very skillet only yesterday after frying eggs in it.
She put the vessels on the stove and found a small slab of bacon in the store of supplies John already had in the pantry, located a knife and sliced through it, forming six thick pieces for their meal. The remaining bacon was wrapped in cheesecloth and put away for another time and the skillet was placed on the stove, where the remains of last night’s fire kept the stovetop warm.
“I’ll have to build up the fire a bit before you can cook anything much,” he told her and she stepped back, giving him room.
“I can do it, John, if you have chores to tend to. I know how to make a fire.”
He grinned up at her, as he crouched before the wood box. “I’m sure you do, but for tonight you don’t have to. Bill gave me the day off, and the men don’t expect to see me till morning.”
In less than ten minutes, he had a fire worthy of its name glowing in the depths of the stove, and she was busily turning bacon and thinking of what next she could do to make a meal.
“There’s beans and such in the cupboard beside the sink,” he told her. “Berta works in the big house and she brought out a supply of canned good for you to use. She heard from Bill that you’d be here, and she said she’d leave some stuff for you in that white cabinet.”
He opened the doors and revealed rows of home-canned produce on the three shelves, both pints and quarts, all of them full of colorful vegetables and fruits.
“My word,” Katie murmured. “I never saw so much good food in one place.”
“Didn’t the Schraders have a kitchen garden?” he asked.
“Oh, yes. But we had to sell a good bit of it to make money. Mr. Schrader took it to town to sell at the general store, and we canned the leftovers. I made applesauce from the windfalls, and he picked the good apples to sell. He didn’t believe in wasting the best of the crops on his family.”
John merely shook his head, aghast at yet another example of the stinginess she had lived with for so long. “You don’t have to worry about such a thing here, Katie,” he told her. And meant the words with every bit of his heart, for she had lived a life of frugality such as he had not thought possible. Yet had survived with her spirit intact. She was a bright shining flame of womanhood, glowing with a beauty he had seldom seen in his life.
Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he settled instead on the plans he had set in motion. And decided that he needed to make his thoughts clear to the girl who would be living in his house.
“Katie, I need to tell you something, and I don’t know how you’re going to take this.”
She turned her head and her eyes were calm, as if she were ready to be agreeable, no matter what he had to say.
“I’m not a marrying man, Katie. I just want you to know that there isn’t much of a chance that I’ll ever be bringing a bride home to this house. You don’t have to worry about me pushing you out the door to make room for another woman. So long as we can get along and things go well here, I’m planning on you staying here until you decide on something else for your life. I’ve already talked to Bill about you and—”
“I don’t plan on making any changes in a hurry, John,” she said quickly. “I’ve barely had time to settle in here. Don’t be planning on me moving on any time soon.”
He laughed. “Just so we understand each other, Katie. I don’t want you to think that I’ll be pushing you to sleep in my bed or be anything other than an employee here.”
“I can sleep right here on the floor in front of the cookstove, John,” she said quickly. “It’ll be warm and if you’ve got a quilt I can wrap up in, I’ll be happy. I used to sleep with my sister, Jane, when we were young’uns. But lately…”
What she was thinking as her gaze sought the floor was not apparent, and John did not poke into her silence, but watched, even as he wondered at the mention of Katie having a sister. Something he’d not heard of before.
And so he spoke of what was more important right now. “I’ll be making a room for you in the near future, Katie. For I have but one bed, and one bedroom. You can sleep on the floor if you like, but there’s a sofa there in front of the fireplace, and it should be long enough for you. I want you to be secure here, and know that nothing will harm you, least of all me.”
Her eyes darkened at his words, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “John, I’m fearful of a man’s hands on me. I don’t know any other way to say it than that, but I’m hoping you’ll know what I mean. Jacob Schrader seemed bent on slidin’ into my bed more than once, and he gave me the shivers, just lookin’ at him, let alone how I’d have felt if he’d laid his hand on my—” Her voice broke off as she groped for words, and John knew a moment of pure rage as he thought of the man who had so frightened this girl.
He considered all he had to say to her and wondered if it might be better to call a halt to his ramblings, lest he frighten her off. There was no point in upsetting the girl.
She swallowed, a visible effort and her eyes veered from contact with his, as if she had not the courage to look into his gaze. “I appreciate you being kind to me, John. I just feel sort of uneasy right now.” She threw up her hands as an expression of frustration, unable to verbalize her thoughts and he took pity.
He took her hands in his, feeling her draw away, but determined to make this small contact. Holding her before himself, he grinned. “Don’t worry about it, Katie girl. It will all work out and we’ll do well together. For tonight, just cook us a meal and we’ll eat and talk about what has to be done to make this place more comfortable for you.”
She looked about her, her eyes touching the curtainless windows, the bare floor and the table without the adornment of any covering, and then she smiled. “This is perfect, John. I can’t ask for anything more. Everything I need is right here. I’ll have a place of my own and I can fix it up as I go along. But for now, I’m happy to be here, in your home, with you.”
An emotion he hadn’t expected flooded his heart as he looked down at the girl he’d brought home with him. An impulsive move on his part, but perhaps the smartest thing he’d ever done. If anyone had told him just yesterday that he would have a housekeeper here, he’d not have believed it. But it was true, and for some strange reason he felt that he might have made a good choice, that his life would be easier from now on.
THEY ATE AT THE SMALL table, their knees almost touching beneath, their eyes tangling several times, as if words should be said between them, but for some reason the silence that filled the room did not lend itself to small talk. Katie was edgy, her hands trembling as she dealt with her knife and fork, her plate seeming heavy as she lifted it to carry it to the sink. It slid from her fingers into the dishwater she had prepared. She turned back to the table to retrieve John’s plate as he cleaned up the final bite of his beans, scooping them onto his biscuit and carrying the bite to his mouth.
His hand covered hers as she fit her fingers around his silverware, the warmth of his skin comforting, and she looked into his eyes, wishing she didn’t feel such a dolt, so unable to speak. But it seemed her words were like dust in her mouth, and she could not form them upon her lips.
Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she turned quickly from him, carrying his eating utensils and plate to the sink where she added them to the dishpan.
“Katie.” He spoke her name softly and waited. Apparently he expected her to turn around and face him and she couldn’t find the strength in her legs to do that simple thing. Added to which, the tears that slid down her cheeks made her feel foolish and she would not allow him to know the fear that lay just beneath the surface of h
er mind.
“Katie, come here. Please.”
Had it not been for his final word, the simple plea he uttered, she might have remained apart from him. But she could not resist his softness. Perhaps she could have tilted her head and walked from the room had he simply ordered her to obey his whim, but John Roper apparently was wiser than that.
She bowed her head and shook it carefully, not willing to turn toward him, yet unable to ignore him. His chair scraped across the wooden floor and she sensed his presence behind her as he moved to where she stood, her hands clutching the edge of the sink.
His wide palm covered her shoulder and she knew a moment of fear, for he was more than capable of forcing her to his will and she was only too aware of the power of a man’s hands. That John would raise his to her in anger seemed not to be an issue, for she had sensed a careful control that reinforced his promise to her. That he would not harm her, that she would suffer no injury at his hand.
“Look at me, Katie.” He could have forced her to turn on her heel and face him, and indeed, she expected him to. But instead he only waited. And then his second hand touched her arm, a presence so gentle she could not move from it. She released the hold she had on the sink and moved to obey him.
“Relax, Katie,” he whispered. “I only want to talk to you about our living arrangements. And since I seem to be in charge tonight, I’ll make the decisions and tomorrow you can let me know if you see things differently than I. Will that suit you?”
She blinked furiously in an attempt to halt the tears that ran unimpeded down her cheeks and he smiled, then bent and pressed his lips against her forehead. A relief she had not thought to feel swept over her then and she recognized that he was being most patient with her emotional state. Her forehead felt the impression of his mouth, there where his lips had touched her so briefly, and she searched her memory for such a thing happening in her life.
“No one’s ever kissed me before, John. Like you just did, I mean. Maybe when I was little, for I think I remember a lady who held me on her lap, but not in a lot of years.”
His mouth opened as if he searched for words to speak and then he shook his head, telling her of what would happen. “I’ve taken your new clothes in the bedroom, Katie. The bundle is on the floor, but I put your nightgown on the end of the bed. I want you to get undressed and wrap yourself in the quilt that’s on my bed, and then come back out here. All right?” He waited then, his patience seemingly unending and his lips curved again, his eyes kind as he watched her for her response.
“Yes, all right.” It was all she could manage, but it seemed to satisfy him. He nodded and released her, turning her toward the other room, where the bed lay in shadow. She stepped over the threshold slowly, and then stiffened her spine. John had been clear on this matter, and all she must do was as he asked. Get undressed and wrapped in the quilt he’d offered.
The man had told her the lay of the land and she might as well do as she’d been told. After all, she didn’t see that she had much choice anyway. And if he’d wanted to hurt her, he could have already done so. For there was within her a fear of anything masculine, and if nothing else, John Roper was just that. A man. A man who was capable of bringing harm to her if he so chose.
Her chin lifted, her pride coming to the forefront and she sat on the edge of the bed, easing her heavy shoes from her feet. Then she bent and slid her stockings off, unwilling to wear the heavy things another minute. Tomorrow would be time enough to wash her underclothing. Perhaps the man had a washtub and some soap. And it would be none too soon, for her underclothing was the same she had put on three days ago, the Schrader family not being much on clean clothes or bodies.
Her mind traveled rapidly to the new clothing he’d bought for her and she smiled with a quick lightening of her spirits. She’d have new underthings to wear tomorrow, those soft leather shoes and even brand-new stockings. Her old things could be washed up and put aside for an emergency, but tomorrow she would wear soft new undergarments next to her body and dress as a lady.
It had been a bone of contention during the years of her life that Katie had taken every opportunity to wash herself and her belongings, and had taken much abuse because of her high-falutin’ ways, as Mrs. Schrader had said. Now, perhaps she would have hot water and soap available on a regular basis and her body would be as clean as a scrub rag could make it. That thought alone was enough to cheer her and she smiled.
Glancing up at the kitchen as she rose from the mattress she caught sight of John as he locked the back door, then turned down the oil lamp over the table. The glow from the wood-burning stove gave substance to his form as he crossed to the bedroom door.
“Shall I light a candle? Or can you make out what you’re doing in there?” He halted, hesitating in the doorway and she paused in the unbuttoning she had begun, her dress open down the front, her chemise exposed.
“I’ve undressed in the dark my whole life, John Roper. There’s enough light from the window and that fireplace out there to see what I’m doing, and I suspect there’s a slop jar in the corner where the washstand is.”
“You’re right on both counts, Katie. There’s towels and washrags over there in the drawer beneath the bowl and pitcher. Help yourself.” He went to the kitchen sink then, pumping water easily, filling a cup and drinking from it as he waited for her to make ready for the night.
The washrag smelled clean and she poured some water into the bowl provided and sloshed the rag in it, then rubbed his bar of soap on it, wrung it out and used it on her face and reaching beneath the bodice of her dress, used it beneath her arms, not willing to carry the scent of her perspiration into bed with her. A matter of pride she supposed, but she’d smelled the odor of unwashed bodies for years and if it was in her power, she would not allow her own to be of that ilk.
In moments, she had rinsed the cloth in the water and repeated the journey it had taken over her face and arms, removing the soap readily. The towel was rough, but she was used to such things and it took only moments to prepare for bed. Using the slop jar was beyond her right now, for there was no screen or any way to hide her doings from him and she could not bring herself to be so familiar.
“Can I use the outhouse?” It was the most difficult thing she’d ever had to request, but he didn’t appear to be shocked, only murmured a different solution.
“I’ll stay out in the kitchen a little longer and close the bedroom door. You can use the facilities over in the corner. I’d just as soon not send you outside again tonight, but you’re welcome to your privacy, Katie.”
He was as good as his word and did as he’d suggested, leaving her to tend to her duties hastily before he should return, the few minutes long enough for her to don the nightgown he’d bought for her. She’d barely pulled it down over her body, admiring the soft fabric and the small pearl buttons marching down the front placket, when he rapped on the door and then opened it, making a small production of entering the room, as if he would give her warning of his coming.
She grasped the quilt he’d offered and wrapped it around herself, then walked past him into the other room, heading for the couch he’d offered for her use. She slid quickly atop the firm surface, forming a cocoon of the quilt.
“All set?” He stood in the doorway between the two rooms, and asked the question softly. “There’s a pillow here for you to use, Katie,” he offered and approached carefully, tossing the pillow to where she lay.
“Thank you. I appreciate that,” she told him, watching as he went back into his bedroom, listening as she heard the bed creak beneath his weight. Whether he undressed or not, she did not know, for she turned her face to the back of the couch, her head on the pillow he’d given her, and closed her eyes.
“I’ve never had so nice a pillow.” The words came from her lips before she thought twice and she grimaced as she thought of how foolish she must sound. As if a pillow was a thing of great importance. Yet it was true. The feathers that filled the pillow beneath her head prov
ided a luxurious place to rest and she was grateful.
From the bedroom, John’s laugh was soft, and she was aghast at her own words. He must think her foolish.
But apparently he was not surprised by her words for he spoke readily. “Berta, the housekeeper in the big house made me the set when I moved into this cabin, just the other day,” he said. “She dug up the towels and quilts for me, too, and the canned things you saw in the kitchen cabinet.”
His voice carried to her and she turned over on the couch, forming an answer. “She must be a nice lady.”
John chuckled. “She is, but no one would dare to call her nice to her face. She puts on a big front, snapping and snarling at the men when they come in for meals. Her biggest gripe is dirt on the floor, and woe betide the man who comes to the table with his hat on. She’s a great one for manners, Berta is, for all that she’s gruff and picky.”
“She sounds like someone I could like,” Katie said, realizing that her words were slurring just a bit. Her eyes were fighting to stay open and she felt the weariness in her bones sweep through her whole body.
“Go to sleep, Katie,” John said from his bed. And then, almost as an afterthought, he spoke again. “Are you comfortable?”
She nodded, aware that he couldn’t see from his bed, with her in the dark, the only light in the room the faint glow of the fireplace. She was sleepy, and strangely, felt safe here in this place, even though a man would sleep only a few feet from her. “I’m fine,” she said softly, and realized that the words were true, that she felt safe and secure for the first time in longer than she could remember.
WHEN KATIE AWOKE IT WAS with a start as she heard a rooster crowing outside the cabin. And then she inhaled sharply as she sensed eyes upon her, and sat up quickly, unable to think for a moment where she was.
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