Eden

by Carolyn Davidson

  IT WAS BUT A FEW DAYS later when John had pulled the wagon up before the general store and handed the list of supplies to Katie before he took his leave. “I’m going to the hardware, honey. Give your list to Shandy and he’ll take care of you.” Lifting her down from the wagon, he tossed her a quick grin and with a touch of his hand on her shoulder, he left her.

  She went into the store, Jane wandering behind her, ever watchful, looking over her shoulder, as if she might see danger approaching at any moment. That Jacob or Agnes might be in town was a possibility, but it wasn’t likely, Katie thought. Jacob usually made a solitary appearance in Eden once every month or so, but Agnes stayed back in the dingy farmhouse much of the time.

  Aware of the facts, Jane had cringed when they left the Stanley ranch, speaking softly to Katie of her thoughts. “It’s like someone’s watching me,” she’d said softly. And now she stood close to Katie’s elbow, as if the shelter she found there would be enough to keep her safe. She assumed the pose of almost invisibility when they walked through the store, as if she feared to speak aloud. Katie frowned, urging her to enter into the shopping expedition.

  “I was thinking maybe we could buy some paper and pencils to use with our books,” she told Jane in a low voice. “I’ll bet there’s something in that stuff Mr. Peterson got from back East.”

  “If not, maybe Mrs. Rice could find some supplies for us,” Jane said thoughtfully. “I’ll bet she can get things easy.”

  “Maybe that would be better, and then, too, we’ll see if there’s any chance of getting any more books. I’d like to find something special for John one day, a book maybe that he hasn’t already read. I wouldn’t know what to look for, but I’ll warrant Mrs. Rice would.”

  She rubbed a finger against the wrinkle that had formed between her eyes. “I wish sometimes I was a whole lot smarter, Jane. I don’t even know the names of the men who write the kind of books John has in his collection.”

  “We’ll ask Mrs. Rice if she comes out on Saturday,” Jane said soothingly. “You don’t give yourself credit enough, Katie. You’re learning fast, and John’s proud of you.”

  Katie’s eyes lit for a moment as she considered that idea. “I know more words than I ever did, and when I was reading to him last night, he said I was making real progress.”

  “Well, for now, we need to be thinking about the supply list,” Jane said. “Did you give it to Mr. Peterson yet?”

  Katie shook her head. “No, but I’m gonna let you take care of it. I want to walk over to the saloon and see Molly. I’ve got a need to talk to her and maybe there’s time while John’s at the hardware.”

  Jane dug in her heels. “He might not like that, you know. He thinks you’re going to be right here, and if he thought you were wandering around by yourself he’d be having a fit.”

  “I’ll only be gone a few minutes. I’ve just got some things I want to talk to Molly about. And John won’t care that I talked to her.”

  The list from her pocket was transferred to Jane’s hand and Katie headed for the door. “I won’t be but ten minutes or so. You just take care of getting the things John wrote down and I’ll be right back.”

  Jane opened her mouth, as if to protest, but Katie was gone before she could draw a breath, the door closing behind her.

  “This is something I have to do,” she whispered aloud as she hurried to the alley. “I just hope John will understand.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  THE ALLEYWAY LEADING to the back door of the saloon was just a couple of doors from the general store, just past the barbershop and bank, and Katie made her way there quickly, careful to look around to be sure she wasn’t being observed.

  The back door to the saloon sat ajar, as if the woman who worked inside the room invited a cool breeze to enter her kitchen, and Katie pushed it open, rapping once on the surface as she did so.

  “Come on in.” The words were firm and welcoming, and Katie entered the warm kitchen with a sense of stepping into the past. Faint memories of this place rode the edges of her mind, and she recalled several women at the table, eating and talking together. A face rose before her, soft eyes and brown hair. A woman who seemed to remind her…

  “Well, hello there, young’un.” Molly’s words were lilting, her accent familiar, and Katie walked toward her.

  “I’ve been thinking about you, Molly,” she said.

  “Everything going along all right with that man of yours?” Molly asked, her eye keen as she swept her gaze over Katie’s form.

  “Right as rain. He’s good as he can be. And I’ve been learning how to be a wife.”

  Molly laughed aloud. “I’ll just bet you have, young’un. You look like a happy girl.” She poured a cup of coffee from the ever-present pot on the back of the stove and pushed it toward Katie. “Sit yourself down for a spell and talk to me.”

  Katie nodded her acquiescence and pulled a chair from before the table, settling into it and then looking around the room.

  “This place seems familiar to me. I can almost see a couple of ladies here at the table, and I remember you at the stove.”

  “Do you now? And do you remember your mama?”

  Katie stilled and shook her head. “I don’t think so. But, there was one lady who was pretty, with dark hair and pretty eyes and I think she was someone I cared about.”

  “Sounds like your mama to me,” Molly said firmly. “Claire was her name and she was just a youngster when you were born. She kept you upstairs in her room during the day, except when she took you for walks out in the countryside.”

  Molly joined her at the table then, folding her hands before her and slanting a long look at Katie. “You remember anything else about her?”

  “No. Just that she was pretty and she used to brush my hair, I think. Seems like I remember her telling me stories, and there was one time we sat under a tree and she talked to me.” As though memories streamed through her mind, she felt awash in thoughts that were new to her, and her heart stuttered within her breast.

  “Claire? Her name was Claire?” Katie asked the question softly, as if not needing an answer and then she whispered another query that slipped from her without thought. “And who was my father, Molly? Do you know?”

  “Claire never talked about your pa,” Molly said, and Katie wondered if she were trying to steer their conversation from that information.

  “Did she know who he was?” And if her mother had not known, if the knowledge of the man who had fathered her had been lost with Claire’s death, Katie recognized that she would never know that truth, either. “Did she ever say anything about him?”

  Molly nodded once. “I suspect she knew. We didn’t talk about it, but your mama wasn’t one to say much anyway. She cared about him, I know that, for she said more than once that she’d like for you to have a real family, and should she ever marry him, he’d be a good father to you.

  “But mainly she wanted you to have a family, and I guess it didn’t look like that was gonna happen here, with Claire and your pa. Maybe she let him know how she felt about you and having folks of your own. I guess that’s why you got sent out to live with the Schrader family after she took sick and died. They said they were wanting a girl child to take in as their own. I guess Agnes just couldn’t have any young’uns, and when they put out the word that they were looking for a child to take in, you came to mind.”

  “Who gave me to them?” Katie spoke the words that had haunted her over the past, wondering who had cared so little for her that they would give her up to a family who didn’t know how to treat a child.

  Molly’s lips tightened and she shook her head. “It was something that just happened,” she said. “You were living in a saloon and it wasn’t any place for a child. Anybody could see that. I suspect it seemed like a good idea at the time, to give you a real home and someone of your own to take care of you.”

  Katie laughed, a sound of derision, and her heart ached for the home she might have had, if someone had really w
anted her. “They took care of me all right. Like you’d take care of a stray dog. And sometimes not even that.”

  Molly’s eyes teared up and she reached for Katie’s hand. “Well, you don’t have to be looking for scraps of food nowadays, do you? I’ll bet John Roper feeds you right well.”

  Katie’s head lifted, her chin tilted and pride filled her voice. “I told you before. He treats me good, Molly. I can cook anything I want to, and—” She thought suddenly of her reason for coming here today. “And that’s what I want to talk to you about.”

  “Eating? You want to talk about food?” Molly appeared puzzled and well she might, for Katie seemed to be well nourished and happy.

  “No, not about eating, but about not feeling like eating.” Katie swallowed, looking down at her coffee as if it were somehow not up to par. “I got up this morning and started in fixing breakfast and all of a sudden, I got sicker than a dead dog. I didn’t have anything in my stomach to get rid of, but I sure enough tried to empty it out. John came in and found me in the bedroom, leaning over the slop jar, and he was all worried.”

  Molly grinned. “You feeling all right otherwise? Not ailing, are you?”

  “No.” Katie spoke the single word and then looked into Molly’s eyes. “John thinks we’re going to have a baby, Molly. I haven’t had my woman’s time but a couple of times since we got married, and he’s figuring that we’ve made us a baby.”

  Molly rose and swept Katie from her chair. “Well, if that don’t beat the band,” she said with a laugh. “You ain’t much more than a child yourself, girl, not even eighteen yet, are you?”

  “Almost. I think my birthday is this month. If I recall, it’s toward the end of July, but I’m not sure.”

  “You were born in midsummer, as I remember,” Molly said. “It was warm, a nice day. Your mama had you all by herself. Didn’t even tell us she was ready to deliver, just went upstairs all alone and when I went up to bed, I thought to check on her and she was holding you. You were still attached to her, must have just been born, and your mama was smiling and cuddling you up close.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Went down and got a pair of scissors and some string. Then I cut the cord and took care of things, washed you up and found some things your mama had made for you to wear. Wrapped you up nice and snug in a piece of flannel and tucked you in beside her. She stayed right there in bed for a few days and I had the doctor come by and see to her. She thought she didn’t need him, but I convinced her that she should be certain that everything was all right.”

  “And she named me Katie? Was I called that for anybody she knew, or was it just a name she liked?”

  “It was her mama’s name, she told me. She said it sounded old-fashioned and it was a good, solid name for a girl. She wanted you to amount to something, Katie. She was so proud of you, kept you so clean and nice. We made dresses for you and she bought you a bonnet from the general store one time, I remember.”

  “I wish I had all that in my mind.” Katie felt frustration eating at her as she tried to recall memories that eluded her. “I wish she knew that I’m happy now.”

  Molly sat back down in her chair and folded her hands before her again, looking down at the work-worn fingers. “Maybe she does, girl. We don’t know what happens when we die, do we? I mean, maybe somehow, your mama knows that you’ve found a good life. I’d like to think so anyway. She was a good woman, no matter that folks looked down their noses at her. She did the best she could, and that’s all any of us can do.”

  “Who you talking to back here, Molly?” The voice of the newcomer was deep, friendly, and Katie felt no threat from his presence. He was a big man, tall, with dark hair and a nice smile. He cast her a measuring look and his eyes seemed to darken, as if he had something to say, but didn’t want to spit it out.

  “Hey there, Tom. It’s just Katie, come to call. We’ve been talking about things out at the Stanley place. Her husband’s the foreman there, you know.”

  “I know John Roper.” Tom’s words were careful, and he frowned at Katie, then offered a query in her direction. “You here to complain about him to Molly?”

  Katie shook her head. “I got no reason to complain. My life’s about as good as it gets. My sister is living with us now, and Mrs. Rice, the schoolteacher, has been coming out to work with both Jane and me on our learning.”

  “How far did you go in school, Katie?” he asked.

  “I never went to regular school,” she admitted, ducking her head, shame washing over her at the admission. “But Jane used to share her books with me. And John has a whole store of good books in his cabin. He lets me look at them.”

  “How does Jane happen to be with you?” Tom asked, his look inquiring.

  “She ran off from the Schrader place, and came to us.” It didn’t seem wise to add much to the basic information, Katie thought. Nobody’s business but Jane’s anyway.

  But apparently Tom thought differently. “Wasn’t she happy there? Were there problems?”

  Katie shifted uncomfortably on her chair. “It was kinda hard on her with me gone, and double the work for her to do.”

  “Doesn’t old man Schrader have any hired hands to do the work? I can’t imagine that a young girl would be—”

  Katie blurted out the first words that came to mind. “You’ve got no idea what it’s like out there. Jane and me did the work while I was there, all the milkin’ and feedin’ stock and such. And once I left, Jane was stuck with most of it herself. I feel bad that I left her to the whole mess, but I had to get away. And now that she’s got all her nerve in one piece and hightailed it out of there, I suspect that Agnes and Jacob will be workin’ up a sweat themselves.”

  She closed her mouth firmly and settled back in the chair. “Jane came to us without much to wear, just the clothes on her back and one change of drawers she brought, along with her schoolbooks. I’m gonna ask John to get her some things at the general store. I should have thought of it sooner, but she’s been sharing my stuff so far.”

  “John’s got his plate pretty well loaded, don’t he?” Molly asked to no one in particular, as if the words were a statement of fact.

  “Do you think we’re expecting too much, me and Jane, living there and all?”

  “I doubt that John thinks you’re too much trouble, Katie,” Tom said firmly. “And if Jane changes her mind, I can find her work here to do.”

  “This is no place for a young girl,” Molly said sharply. “It’s not even right that Katie’s here now. She don’t belong in a saloon.”

  “It’s where I started from, Molly,” Katie reminded her. “And if things had worked out different, I’d probably be here yet, maybe working here.”

  “Not on your life.” Tom’s tones were harsh as he spoke and his eyes fixed on Katie. “It was bad enough that you had a rough time growing up, but now things are different for you, girl. You’ve got a real future.”

  “More future than you know about, Tom.” Molly sent him a look that he met with an inquiry of his own.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Katie’s probably gonna be having a baby. It looks pretty certain anyway.”

  He grinned widely at that. “Is that so, girl? You’re gonna be having John Roper’s child? I’ll bet he’s tickled to death.”

  Katie felt a flush cover her cheeks, and wondered why Molly had so readily divulged her news. That Tom should know such a thing was beyond decency. He barely knew who she was and now he was privy to her most hidden secret. “I think maybe,” she said quietly. “Time will tell.”

  Molly shot a look toward the back door. “John will be wondering where you are, I’ll warrant, Katie. Did he know you were coming here?”

  She rose, aware of the passing of time as she’d been talking to Molly. “No, he doesn’t know where I am. I left Jane in the general store, getting the stuff on our list, and John is over at the hardware, picking up things for Mr. Stanley. I’d better get back, or he’ll be wonder
ing what’s happened to me.”

  “I’ll walk you to the end of the alley,” Tom said. “There’s fellas sometimes out back, and it’s not a good place for a young girl.”

  He held the back door open and Katie moved toward it, turning to speak again to Molly, words of thanks for her hospitality. And then she was out the door, walking quickly the few steps to where the opening of the alleyway led to the sidewalk, and back to the general store.

  Tom bade her farewell and stood watching as she left, her head turning once to see him there in the shadows. How strange, she thought, that he should be concerned about her safety. Perhaps he was a nicer man than she’d thought, being the owner of the saloon and all.

  John stood in front of the general store, his hands on his hips, his hat pulled down, shielding his eyes from her scrutiny. “Where you been?” he asked shortly, holding the door open for her to enter the establishment before him.

  “I went to see Molly for a few minutes, to let her know that I’m all right and that things are going well for me.” And if John was upset over that, she’d have to bear the brunt of his anger, for she wasn’t sorry for a minute that she’d gone for a quick visit.

  But he seemed not to be angry, only concerned, for he took her arm and walked with her to the counter where Jane waited, foodstuffs piled high in front of her.

  “You got everything we need?” John asked her, and her nod was answer enough, apparently, for he merely spoke quick words to Shandy Peterson, telling him he’d pay up at the end of the month, when Bill Stanley paid him his wages. To which Shandy seemed more than agreeable.

  “John, could I talk to you for a minute?” Katie asked, touching his hand, drawing him to one side.