“Well, I’ve been working at Hudson’s Haberdashery for a while now as well as at Myrtle’s Cookery,” Kathryn answered. “Both of my employers said they’d be willing to pen letters of reference for me, if you’d like.”
“So you’re an accomplished seamstress and cook?” The woman’s question carried approval.
“Well, probably a better cook than seamstress, but yes, I have skills at both.”
Larson could well imagine the telling crinkle in Kathryn’s forehead as she answered, and he surprised himself by hoping she actually got the job. Wherever it was had to be better than her current situation at the brothel.
“May I ask why you’re seeking to leave your current employ?”
From the corner of his eye Larson saw a young girl, no more than seven or eight, approaching his table with a pot of coffee. The aroma had already enticed him, but he shook his head. Keeping his face turned, he held up a hand, still trying to follow the conversation behind him. “No thank you, miss,” he whispered. “I . . . I have no way to pay.”
But the child pulled a mug from her apron front and set it before him anyway. “Sorry, sir, but I’ve got my orders,” she said, her tiny mouth pulling into a bow. Tucking her lower lip beneath her front teeth, she gripped the cloth-wrapped handle of the pot with petite hands and poured with practiced care.
Larson stole a glance at the girl as steam rose from the cup. She was a beautiful child, with flawless skin and hair as black as a raven’s. Her violet eyes seemed especially brilliant set against such coloring. Her eyes suddenly flashed to his, and Larson held his breath, steeling himself for her shock.
But her expression softened. She looked directly into his face and smiled, then pointed back over her shoulder. “That man over there says this one is on the house.” Then she giggled.
Larson looked in the direction she motioned. A tall, slender man standing by the cook’s table nodded to him. Larson sent his silent thanks with a tilt of his head, wondering why the man seemed familiar to him. He looked a bit like the late president Lincoln, tall and willowy, a little younger than Larson, with features that bespoke quiet strength and rightness. Then Larson realized where he’d seen him before. At his own funeral!
“Is that man a preacher?” he asked the girl.
“Yes, sir, and he’s my papa too. My name is Lilly,” she proclaimed, her eyes bright. “Go ahead and taste it. People say my mama makes the best coffee in all of Willow Springs.”
Larson started to take a sip, then noticed the child’s irregular gait as she walked away. He looked down to where her calico dress fell just above her ankles. The sole of her right boot was markedly thicker than the left. How had he missed that before? He took a sip of the coffee. It was smooth and strong and soothed his throat, washing down to warm his belly.
Suddenly realizing that he hadn’t been paying attention, he half turned in his chair to make sure Kathryn was still behind him. The women’s voices had grown hushed.
“Yes, very well stated, my dear,” the older woman was saying. “We all have circumstances we’d rather change in our lives, to be sure. And I dare say that, if given the opportunity, we’d all prefer to choose our adversities. However, I doubt it would matter much, because in the end, seems as though we’re all learnin’ the same lessons.”
The older woman’s tone had grown soft with measured consideration, and Larson silently scolded himself for having missed the other half of the exchange.
“I don’t have any further questions for you, my dear. My employer has reviewed your letter and qualifications, and I’m certain he’ll approve of my decision.”
A long silence followed. “So . . . Miss Maudelaine.” Kathryn’s voice was tinged with surprise. “You’re saying that I have the position as housekeeper?”
The older woman laughed. “Yes, you do. Unless you’re to be wishin’ for the job of stableman instead, which I hardly think suits you . . . especially in your present condition,” she added softly.
Larson detected the gentle reprimand in the woman’s tone and the fact that Kathryn apparently hadn’t revealed her “present condition” in the letter. He leaned closer, wondering how Kathryn would respond to being caught in the deceit.
“Thank you, Miss Maudelaine. I’m sorry I didn’t mention being with child in my initial letter to you.” Contrition weighted her voice. “I didn’t want that to influence your decision, but I should have been honest with you from the beginning. It was wrong of me to exclude that information. If you’d like to change your—”
“I accept your apology, my dear, and admit I was a bit surprised upon first seeing you a moment ago. But I believe you’ll work hard to do a job well done. I’ve already spoken with your current employers, and they have only the highest of praise for your work. As to the care of the child, I’ll be leavin’ that to you when the time comes. I think you’ll agree that your wages are most generous and will afford you the opportunity to hire someone to help as you might be needin’. So write down your address for me, and I’ll send a man to gather your things. I’d like you to start within the week, if possible.”
Larson sensed Kathryn’s hesitation and could imagine what she was thinking. She could hardly tell this cultured woman to pick up her new employee at the local brothel.
“I can start on Monday,” Kathryn said finally. “But I’m sure I can find my way out there if you give me directions.”
Another pause. “You mean you don’t know where Casaroja is?”
Larson’s stomach hardened at the name. Every muscle within him tensed. Not Casaroja. Lord, she can’t go there. Anywhere but there.
“No, I don’t, but I have a friend who can take me there.”
Larson’s grip tightened around his cup. A friend. Matthew Taylor, no doubt.
“Well, if you’re sure,” came the response after a moment. “Take the road leadin’ east from town. It’s about ten miles out.”
“Is there a turnoff? How will I—”
“Don’t worry, my dear.” The woman’s lilt thickened with what sounded like amusement. “You’ll be knowin’ it when you get to Casaroja.”
Once Kathryn left, Larson followed the elderly woman to a black carriage parked on the street. He prayed that the opinion he had formed of her was accurate and that he was hearing God’s direction clearly. Once Miss Maudelaine was situated in the carriage, he approached.
“Excuse me, ma’am. May I have a word with you?” His voice sounded surprisingly strong to his own ears. When she looked at him, she didn’t flinch. Her features remained smooth. She studied his face closely, as though measuring the man behind the mask. He liked her immediately.
“Yes, what may I be doin’ for you, sir?”
“I understand you’re looking for a stableman. I’d like to apply for the job.”
Her right brow rose slightly. “Do you have experience with runnin’ a stable and handlin’ horses?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” Best to keep his answers simple.
“And can you supply me with references?”
Lord, you know what I have a mind to do here. If it’s your will, please open the door. “No, ma’am, I don’t have any references.”
“So you’re new to the area, then?”
“You could say that.” He’d been away for a while, and he’d certainly returned a different man.
She nodded as her gaze swept him. Her eyes narrowed, but not in a way that made him uncomfortable. “Are your injuries prohibitive to your doin’ this job, sir?”
“I’m getting stronger and I’ll work hard. I know I can handle the job.” He looked away briefly. “But I can’t do everything that I used to.”
Miss Maudelaine chuckled and shook her head. “And who among us can? Time sees to that with amazin’ efficiency, I’m afraid.” Her smile faded. “You’ll have to be approved by the ranch foreman, but . . . I’ll tell him to expect you. Be at Casaroja no later than week’s end.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.”
“
I’m Miss Maudelaine. I oversee the main house. And what would your name be, sir?”
His name. Larson hadn’t considered that. “Jacob,” he finally answered, feeling a confirmation within him. “My name is Jacob.”
“I’m sorry about your husband, Miss Kathryn.”
“So am I, Gabe.” Kathryn looked up at her former ranch hand as he loaded her single trunk into the back of the wagon behind the haberdashery. She was thankful he’d shown up on her doorstep when he did. The breeze ruffled his blond hair, and his muscular arms were already bronzed.
His blue eyes held hers. “Do you miss him?”
“Every day,” she whispered. Hearing footsteps behind her, she turned.
Kathryn winced at the fresh bruises on Annabelle’s face and wished again that she could take both Annabelle and Sadie with her. But maybe she could do something even better.
She reached into her pocket for the envelope and pulled Annabelle aside. “I want you to reconsider and take this for—”
“I’m not takin’ your money, Kathryn.” Annabelle shook her head, but Kathryn detected a lessening in her determined response from the night before.
“You and Sadie could share a room somewhere in town, away from that place.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple to leave this place. And besides, it’s not right, me takin’ the money from you.” Annabelle pushed the money away. “You’ll need that for the child.”
“My child will be fine. You and Sadie could both get jobs and—”
Annabelle huffed a laugh. “Yeah, doing what? Quilting with the ladies at church? Or maybe Mrs. Hochstetler would give us jobs at the mercantile. I hear they have some openings.”
Kathryn smiled at Annabelle’s droll tone. Then she sighed and brushed a wayward red strand from her friend’s forehead. They’d had this conversation before. “God sees you so differently, Annabelle. He didn’t make you to live like this, to do the work you do.”
“Do you think I enjoy doing this?” Annabelle’s eyes hardened for an instant before she looked away. She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Kathryn. I know you mean well.”
“And I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to imply that you . . .” She sighed. “What I’m trying to say is I’ve got room and board where I’ll be working. I’ll be making a good wage. I want to give you this. Please take it.”
Annabelle’s eyes filled. “Put it to that land you’re tryin’ to keep.”
In truth, Kathryn had considered doing just that. But she felt God prodding her to do this for Annabelle, and she couldn’t ignore His lead, no matter the cost to her and her dream. “If I lose the ranch, it won’t be because of this small amount. I am going to try and keep the land, or at least the homestead and the rights to the stream.” Kathryn laid a hand to her unborn child. “But even if that fails, I’ve got something far better, and I wouldn’t trade this gift for the finest ranch in the Colorado Territory.”
A single tear slipped down Annabelle’s cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away.
Kathryn warmed at the subtle softening. “You have no idea what you’ve given me, do you?” Swallowing, she noticed the quickening of her pulse. “I haven’t talked much about my late husband—not because I don’t love him and miss him terribly. I do, but . . . but sometimes when people you love are taken away, their absence creates a hole so gaping that you fear even the slightest shift will send you plunging. My husband was a very loving man.”
“I bet he was handsome too.”
Kathryn pictured Larson and nodded. Her smile took effort. “Yes, he was very handsome. He had the clearest blue eyes, eyes that could see right through you.” Her throat tightened with regret. “But he suffered a great deal of pain earlier in life. Pain I couldn’t even begin to understand . . . until Gabe brought me to you that night.” She glanced back at Gabe, who stood silent by the wagon. “I thought he’d made a mistake in bringing me there. But God was guiding his steps.” She squeezed Annabelle’s hand. “You helped me to see who Larson really was. All my married life I was so busy wanting my husband to be what I thought I needed that I missed the man that he was. The man God had chosen for me.”
“Larson,” Annabelle whispered. “I wondered what his name was.” She glanced at the wagon, then bit her lower lip until it paled. Her jaw tensed, and she let out a shuddering sigh. “I’m gonna miss you, Kathryn.” Sniffing, Annabelle wiped her tears with the back of her hand, then looked at Gabe. “But ol’ Gabe’ll stay and watch over me. Won’t you, friend?”
Kathryn’s gaze swung to Gabe’s and her heart nearly stopped. The love in his eyes—the absolute purity and power of it—stole her breath.
“Gabe showed up last night at just the right time, again. I don’t know how you got into that room, but thank you. That man would’ve killed me for sure this time.” Annabelle walked over and touched Gabe’s arm.
His large hand covered hers completely.
Kathryn took a step forward, taking in the bruising on Annabelle’s face and marks on her throat, already suspecting the answer to her question. “Who did this to you?”
Annabelle shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now.” Then seeing Kathryn’s expression, she added, “Betsy finally told him not to come back, so we won’t be havin’ trouble from him anymore.”
When the wagon pulled away minutes later, Kathryn looked back over her shoulder. Clutching the rough plank seat with one hand, she turned and waved. Annabelle stood in the alley, her hand raised. Kathryn’s throat ached. Hadn’t God meant for her to do more in Annabelle’s life in this short time? She felt like a failure for leaving Annabelle in that evil, hope-starved place. A life so full of cruelty and selfish desires.
“Sometimes people can be real mean.” Sitting beside her, his voice quiet, Gabe’s face was pensive. He tugged the reins as he negotiated the wagon around a curve.
Kathryn turned to face forward on the bench. “I was just thinking that.” Larson used to say the same thing, in so many words. She wished her husband could have experienced the generosity people were capable of, instead of all the deception and meanness. Perhaps then things would have been different between them.
Nearing the outskirts of town, Kathryn spotted an old man. From the looks of the rickety handcart he dragged behind him, he was a peddler. The sort she’d seen before while visiting here with Larson. Under different circumstances, she would’ve made a point to approach the wizened gentleman about his wares. Thinking of what Larson’s response would have been tugged at her heart, and she pulled the music box from her skirt pocket. Two cranks of the key and the familiar tune tinked out in staccato rhythm.
“That’s my favorite Christmas song, Miss Kathryn,” Gabe said after the music stopped.
She nodded. “Mine too, Gabe.”
Larson had always told her those peddlers sold mostly junk, but his smile always lingered as he watched her converse with them. And on the rare occasion when she actually bought something, she anticipated and almost looked forward to the long-suffering shake of his head as he helped her back into the wagon. But the gentle squeeze of his fingers around hers had conveyed his true opinion.
Larson had shown his love for her in so many ways. Quiet, unadorned ways. Kathryn only wished she’d been more aware of them at the time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE FENCED BOUNDARY OF Casaroja began about twenty minutes out of town, and it companioned Kathryn and Gabe for the rest of the hour-long ride. Kathryn couldn’t help but anticipate what the house might look like. In her mind’s eye she imagined the home she and Larson would’ve someday built together. But her mouth dropped open when Casaroja’s main house came into view.
Situated on a bluff of land rising gently from the eastern plains, the home was far grander than her imagination had indulged. No wonder Miss Maudelaine had smiled at her question about finding the place.
Two stories high with red brick, white-painted wood, and gray-stained eaves, Casaroja rose from the dusty brown plains like a pearl in a pool of dross. The m
assive white columns bracing the expansive upper porch glistened in the golden summer sun. Miss Maudelaine had been right—Casaroja was impossible to miss.
Gabe drove the wagon around to the back of the house. He helped her down, then carried her trunk to the back porch.
“I’ve got to get back to town, Miss Kathryn,” he said, climbing back into the wagon.
Kathryn nodded, wishing he could stay awhile longer. She felt . . . safe with him.
“You take care of yourself, Miss Kathryn. And your baby,” he added quietly, his mouth turning in that knowing way of his. He looked toward the house, then to the stables and fields. A gleam lit his eyes as though he knew a secret she had yet to discover.
“What is it?” Kathryn finally gave in, wondering at the grin on his face. She narrowed her eyes inquisitively.
He shook his head. “I’ll be back to visit you soon.” He gave the reins a flick.
Kathryn brushed the road dust from her black dress, still taking in the wealth of this place. Not only the main house, but the rows of bunkhouses, the stables and corrals. Even a separate livery, where the blacksmith was hard at work, if the dull pounding coming from within was any indication. An enormous field lay east of the house with workers bent over perfectly furrowed rows of soil. Kathryn couldn’t help but think of what her and Larson’s ranch might have been like one day, if only . . .
The back door swung open, drawing Kathryn’s attention.
Miss Maudelaine appeared, looking pleased. “Welcome to Casaroja, Mrs. Jennings. You’re just in time to be helpin’ with dinner for the ranch hands.” The older woman glanced around. “But how on earth did you get here, darlin’? I hope you didn’t walk all this way.”
The lovely Irish rhythm in her voice coaxed a smile from Kathryn. “No, ma’am, I got a ride. The wagon just left.”
Miss Maudelaine’s hands went to her hips. “I usually hear a wagon comin’ up the road. I must have been lost in my work. There’s never a lack of it around here. I have a surprise for you,” she added with a lilt, pointing to a small white house some short distance away. “That’s the guest cottage our employer built for me a few years back. But as I’ve gotten older, I find bein’ in the main house is easier on me, plus it helps me keep up with the servants.” She winked. “I had it cleaned for you, thinkin’ you might enjoy the privacy and extra space.”
Rekindled Page 18
