She pictured Larson’s muscled physique, far more at ease in handworked leather and rawhide than silk shirt and tailor-made suit. And his arms, so incredibly strong, yet they possessed a tenderness so intoxicatingly gentle that it wooed her heart even now, leaving her with a physical ache for him.
She ran a hand over his pillow. O Lord, that you would grant me a second chance. Instead of wishing her husband to be someone he wasn’t, she would love him for who he was. And she would gratefully accept the precious pieces of his heart he was willing to share, without passively demanding more.
In the past weeks of self-reflection, her insatiable need for physical safety and security had also become evident to her. She realized now that she’d sought to obtain them through Larson’s aspirations for the ranch. But great wealth hadn’t provided it for her in her youth, or for her mother. So what had made her think it would now?
Smoothing the coverlet, Kathryn remembered the emptiness in her mother’s eyes and in her parents’ less than loving marriage, and the physical longing within her hardened to bitter regret. She stared down at her empty hands as truth wove a grip around her throat. While coveting the dream of something beyond her reach, she had overlooked—and lost—the treasure in her grasp.
Looking down at Larson’s side of the bed, a familiar sense of grief swept through her, but she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on those punishing thoughts, at least not today. Too much was at stake. As she walked to the kitchen, she turned her mind to the hope blossoming inside her.
Tearing a piece of bread from yesterday’s loaf, she was thankful that the queasiness had passed. By her estimations, she had just completed her fourth month, and the baby was quickly filling the tiny space inside her. She marveled at the changes her body would go through to accommodate the little one’s growth. When could she expect to feel the child move inside her? She assumed that time was near. Oh, for another female, a trusted confidante who had experienced this before. Someone she could share this knowledge with that she kept secreted and who could answer the questions crowding her heart.
But there was One who knew. Who waited for her even now.
Lord, thank you for this child growing within my womb. Make him strong, make him like his father. She smiled as she pulled on her coat. Some nights ago, she’d dreamed she would bear a son, though she would welcome a daughter with equal joy. It didn’t matter, so long as the child was healthy. Perhaps it would help to secure the slender thread still tying her to Larson and the fading hope of ever seeing him again.
She walked outside and a mild breeze ruffled her long hair. Leaving her coat unbuttoned, Kathryn watched the first rays of morning reach through the treetops to touch the towering blue spruce. The light mingled with the dew-kissed boughs to create a shimmer of a million tiny crystals on the April breeze. For a moment she stopped, thinking she heard something in the distance.
She searched the cloudless blue overhead and waited. The air around her quivered with an almost tangible anxiety. Finally deciding it was nothing, she walked to the barn to start her morning chores. As she worked, she silently spoke her heart to the One who knew it perfectly already. She scooped feed from the burlap bags, careful not to lift anything too heavy.
Footsteps crunched the hay behind her, and she peered over the stall door. She smiled at the unexpected sight.
The hulk of a man who’d pounded her door weeks ago stood nearby, cradling a kitten against his chest. He stroked its black fur and cooed in hushed tones.
She came around to stand beside him. “Good morning. I see you’ve found Clara’s litter.” She’d seen him several times since that morning but only at a waving distance.
His blue eyes danced. “Yes, ma’am. It’s so tiny and soft. Wanna hold it?”
Kathryn took the kitten and brushed the shiny black of its coat. The size of the man’s hands and strength of his thick fingers belied their gentleness. He was certainly different from any of the other ranch hands she’d met. She was thankful to have him, especially with the task before them today.
“My name is Kathryn.”
“I’m Gabe,” he said, a grin lighting his face.
Kathryn listened as he told her how he’d found the litter a few days ago and had been checking on them ever since. Two other ranch hands strode in, and Kathryn nodded their way.
“Mrs. Jennings,” they murmured back in greeting, touching their hats as they walked to the back to gather their gear.
Gabe gave the kitten’s tiny head one last brush with his thumb. “I better get to work now. Mr. Taylor told me this is an important day.”
“Yes, Gabe, it is.” She had to remind herself not to speak to him as though he were a child. Gabe was easily her age, if not a few years older, but with his childlike manner it was hard to tell.
She heard riders approaching, so she put the kitten down and went to meet them. Mr. Taylor reined in and dismounted. The four men riding with him stayed astride. Only one of them looked familiar to her, and Kathryn instantly recalled where she’d seen him. The day Matthew had first come to the cabin.
Even smiling, especially then, the man had a reproachable look about him. He rested his forearms on the saddle horn and stared down. “Nice to see you again, ma’am. You’re lookin’ real nice this mornin’.” He grinned and the scar along his jaw bunched and twisted. “I wasn’t so keen on workin’ for a woman at first, but I might be changin’ my mind.”
His high-pitched laugh made Kathryn’s skin crawl, and she retreated a step.
“Mornin’, Mrs. Jennings,” Matthew said. “Can I have a word with you, please?” He shot the man a dark look over his shoulder, then took Kathryn’s arm and led her inside the barn.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Taylor?”
“No, ma’am, I just need to make sure you still want to do this.”
“I’m very certain. You went over the ledgers with me, Mr. Taylor. You know the numbers.”
“I just wish there was another way. This is going to leave you with no breedin’ stock, no bulls. Nothing.”
She laid a hand to his arm. “But at least I’ll have the land and my home, and then someday I’ll—” She stopped. “Someday my husband and I will start over again.”
Something akin to admiration shown in his eyes, and he nodded. “Two days ago I sent men to round up the larger herd from the north pasture.” He glanced at the group on horseback waiting outside. “I had to offer higher wages, but I found a few more hands. We’ll round up the strays on the south side this mornin’, then join up at the pass with the others. I’ll get top dollar for the herd, Mrs. Jennings, don’t you worry.”
“I’m not worried one bit.” She wished that were true, but truth be told, she would breathe much easier once everything was settled with Mr. Kohlman and the bank. She could always buy more livestock, but this was their land—hers and Larson’s—and she wasn’t about to let it go.
“I’ll be back in two, maybe three days—but no more than that. I’ll oversee the sale of the cattle as well as all the supplies we loaded up yesterday. You’ll have the money to pay Kohlman. Don’t you worry.” He searched her face for a moment and then turned to the men in the barn. “Let’s mount up.”
He walked a few paces before turning back. He looked at her and then down at the hat he twisted in his hands.
Kathryn laughed softly. “What is it, Mr. Taylor? You’d better be out with it before you ruin a perfectly good hat.”
Giving a half-hearted grin, he shook his head. “I’m just wondering . . . are you healing all right from your fall, ma’am?”
She smiled. Matthew Taylor was a good man. He’d become like a brother to her in the last few weeks—showing up to help her with chores, seeing that firewood was chopped and stacked. Larson was right to have entrusted him with so much. “Yes, I’m fine. Still a bit sore, but I’m healing fine.”
“If you need me to take you back to that doctor you saw, just let me know. Or to Doc Hadley in town. I’d do it for you.”
�
�I know you would and I appreciate that. But I’m fine, thank you.”
Seeing the kindness in Matthew Taylor’s eyes, it was on the tip of Kathryn’s tongue to share her secret. Then she thought better of it and kept it hidden in her heart.
Loud pounding on the door later that night caused Kathryn to bolt from bed. She got as far as the bedroom door before a dizzying rush pulsed in her ears. She grabbed hold of the doorframe to steady herself.
The pounding continued.
“Just a minute,” she called out, groping in the dark for an oil lamp. She struck a match and a burnt-orange glow haloed the immediate darkness. The clock on the mantel read half past four.
She moved to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Matthew Taylor, Mrs. Jennings. Please . . . open the door.”
He sounded out of breath, but she recognized his voice and slid the bolt.
Dread lined his expression, telling her something was terribly wrong. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Kathryn’s chest tightened as the anguish in his face seemed to pass through his grip and up her arm. She shuddered.
It was then she noticed the blood staining his shirt at the waistline. “You’re hurt! What happened?”
He waved off her concern, his breath coming heavy. “I’m fine. But . . . I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“The cattle? Did you get the cattle to market?”
“When we got to the pass with the strays, we waited for the others. After a while, I took another man and went to see what the holdup was.” He winced and held his side. “Bloated carcasses were everywhere . . . littering the field.”
Her body went cold. “The entire herd?”
“All we could see. Been that way for at least two days. And there was no sign of the men I posted with them.” He leaned on the doorframe.
Kathryn saw through Matthew Taylor’s pained expression to the harsh reality. She waited for a flash of rage to heat her body. Instead, she felt . . . numb.
For ten years Larson had waged war for this ranch. He’d battled disease that siphoned off livestock by the hundreds. He’d taken on this willful, stubborn land with its brutal winters and drought-ridden summers. And though Kathryn didn’t know the full depth of it, she knew her husband had fought a war within himself as well. A battle so personal, so consuming, that at times it almost became a living, breathing thing.
A fatal truth arrowed through her heart, taking her breath with it. Larson had come so close to achieving his dream, and she had lost it all in a single blow.
CHAPTER TEN
THE STENCH WAS OVERPOWERING. Kathryn’s stomach convulsed. She held a kerchief over her mouth and laid a hand to Gabe’s arm. He had brought the wagon to a halt at the edge of the pasture. From a distance, it appeared the herd might have been resting in the warm midday sun among scant patches of snow still dotting the prairie. But as the wagon drew closer, an unnatural stillness hovered in the air, and the bloated carcasses and sickening smell of decay proved the notion false.
Kathryn felt Gabe’s gaze and looked over at him. The startling blue of his eyes gave the fleeting impression that their brightness somehow shone from a source within. He laid a rough hand over hers, and comfort moved through her in a way beyond the command of words. But even at his soft smile, she couldn’t manage one in return.
“Thank you for coming out here with me today, Gabe. I needed to see it for myself.” She sighed and looked out over the fields, recalling the anguish in Mr. Taylor’s eyes last night. Their source of livelihood lay rotting before her eyes.
“I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Kathryn’s tears returned. She was touched by the sincerity in his voice. Nodding, she lifted her eyes to the mountains in the west. From whence cometh my help. Before coming out here this afternoon, she’d purposely reread Psalm 121, which spoke of God being her helper and provider. And sitting here now, stunned at the scene before her, she fought to continue believing in its promise. But the breeze encircling her, reeking of devastating loss, tempted her to do otherwise.
Matthew Taylor rode up beside them, a bandanna tied over his mouth and nose. He tugged it down and threw a quick nod at Gabe before speaking. “Mrs. Jennings, we’re going to start burning the carcasses soon. . . .” The concern in his voice told her he wanted her to leave. His grimace suggested he bore a weight of responsibility for what had happened here, however misplaced his guilt might be.
“I’ll leave,” she said, “but before I go I want you to know that I in no way hold you responsible for what happened here. This was not your fault.”
He glanced away, his eyes narrowing. “I still haven’t found the men I posted here a week ago. They were new hires. I’ve already sent for the sheriff. Don’t know that it’ll do any good, but I’d appreciate his seeing this just the same.”
She frowned. “Do you have any idea what happened to the cattle? How they died?”
He shook his head. “There was a poisoning down south of here a few years back. They finally traced it back to the feed. There was a cattle drive that passed through these fields not long back, and they coulda brought the Texas fever with them, carried by ticks.” He sighed. “Honestly, I just don’t know, ma’am. But it sure looks suspicious.”
She’d gained respect for Matthew Taylor’s opinion in recent weeks. Plus, she’d learned that once he got something fixed in his mind, it would take an act of heaven to move it. When pressed to consider his speculation of an intentional slaughter, she found one person kept returning to mind.
Harold Kohlman.
But surveying the lifeless cattle, she couldn’t believe that he would do something like this. That he would sabotage her ability to repay the loan. What motivation would he have? He gained nothing if she couldn’t repay her debt. Quite the contrary, the bank stood to lose a substantial amount of money if she defaulted.
She turned back to Mr. Taylor with the intent of putting his concern to rest. But at the look in his eyes, her thoughts suddenly evaporated. His look was less like that of a ranch hand to employer, and more of a man to a woman. Warning sounded within her and she made herself look away. No, it couldn’t be . . . surely she’d misread him.
When Taylor prodded his horse closer, Kathryn looked back. The unmistakable sentiment in his face clearly portrayed a desire she did not—and could not—reciprocate.
Deciding to save them both embarrassment and hoping Gabe hadn’t noticed, she quickly forced a smile. “As always, Mr. Taylor, I trust your judgment completely. And I appreciate whatever you do on my behalf, as will my husband . . . upon his return.”
His features clouded for an instant, then quickly smoothed. “Yes, ma’am, of course. Gabe, you take care of Mrs. Jennings.”
“Yes, sir,” Gabe answered, giving a mock salute.
Absent of his customary smile, Matthew Taylor tipped his hat.
Watching him ride away, Kathryn wondered if she’d misinterpreted his intentions. It had all happened so fast. Surely she had. And now she felt a bit foolish at the hasty presumption. Still, it would be wise to distance herself from the friendship that had been developing between them recently, if only to avoid further misunderstanding.
“Are you ready to go home, Miss Kathryn?” Gabe’s quiet voice pulled her back.
“Yes, Gabe. I am,” she whispered, thankful for his company.
But she wondered where home would be in coming days. She’d have to move to Willow Springs—that much was clear. With the ranch being insolvent, she needed to find a job that paid and a place to live. She knew no one in town, and even with selling everything she owned, the amount would fall far short of what she needed.
The wagon jolted as a front wheel slid into a rain-worn rut. She gripped the buckboard and laid a hand over the promise nurtured deep within her belly. Thoughts of the cabin pressed in close, and she realized how lonely she’d been there without Larson. She couldn’t imagine staying there without him indefinitely. Strangely, with each passing day, home became less a place an
d more a person.
Kathryn closed her eyes, uncertain if she would ever truly be home again.
She folded the last of Larson’s clothes and laid them in the trunk, smoothing a hand over the shirt on top. Kathryn had spent the last two days packing and had saved this task for last. Holding the shirt to her face once more, she breathed in the fading scent of him.
A heaviness filled her chest as her grip tightened on the cotton fabric.
“Can I help with something, Miss Kathryn?”
She jumped at the voice behind her and turned. “Gabe . . .” She blew out a breath. “You startled me.” She nodded to the crates by the door. “You could take those to the wagon, if you don’t mind.” Placing the shirt back in the trunk, she secured the latch.
Gabe carried the crates outside, then returned and hefted the trunk with the customary smile in his eyes. They had worked in companionable silence all afternoon. Having Gabe there brought a comfort to Kathryn that she hadn’t anticipated, and with his strength and dutiful attentiveness, the difficult job was finished before the afternoon was spent.
She loaded a light crate into the wagon, then walked back to the cabin. Pausing in the doorway, she drew a slow breath.
Loneliness emanated from every empty corner. Painful reminders of failure. Her failure. And of broken dreams. She’d planned on staying here one more night but didn’t know now if she could.
Gabe stopped beside her in the doorway. “How long did you and your husband live here?”
“Ten years,” she whispered, tracking his gaze around the barren space. It looked smaller than she remembered upon first seeing it all those years ago. Larson had built it for her, and that had made it a palace in her eyes. So when had the silent, subtle comparisons between this cabin and her childhood home started to encroach the happiness of her and Larson’s early years together? And had Larson ever sensed her longing for more?
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