Hope In Cripple Creek

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Ma reached out and laid a hand on top of Katherine’s, her features pained. “Oh, sweetie. I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “It is.” Katherine met her mother’s gaze, a tightness in her throat giving way to tears. “Wyatt knew exactly what to do and when and how and . . . ”

  Ma’s features softened as she squeezed Katherine’s hand. “He does have the advantage of experience. Don’t forget, he sees babies and small children in the clinic. And received training on their medical needs.”

  Katherine nodded. Her mother spoke the truth, but she wasn’t satisfied. “It was more than that. He seemed so comfortable, so at ease with the children. Even you, you’re a natural, Ma.”

  “Don’t forget that I, too, have experience to lean on.”

  She wasn’t even sharing her thoughts well. Katherine looked down at her hands.

  “Katie, mothering doesn’t happen overnight. It’s a skill that’s honed and perfected over time and many, many mistakes. You will learn to be a mother to these two precious children. I know you will. Just be patient with yourself.”

  Her mother was only trying to make her feel better. Or could it be true? After all, Wyatt didn’t need time to adjust.

  Ma seemed to read her mind. “I bet Wyatt had his own nerves to deal with. You were just too caught up with your own self-doubt to see it.”

  Turning her hand to clasp her mother’s, Katherine’s voice grew stronger. “Thanks, Ma. You always know just what to say.”

  “That, too, is a result of time and acquired wisdom.”

  Katherine’s face widened in a smile. “I best get these children home. I’m planning on making dinner tonight.”

  “You’re planning to cook?” Ma’s eyes widened.

  “Yeah,” Katherine said, stepping over to where Jack sat on the rug. “Wyatt made dinner last night, and I wanted to make sure I did it tonight.” She helped him put the blocks away.

  “Have you ever cooked a family dinner by yourself?”

  What did her mother mean? Of course she hadn’t. Ma knew as much. She had attempted to train Katherine in the tasks of homemaking, but Katherine’s mind had always been on other things. By the time she left for finishing school, the family had not yet had an edible meal by her hands. But that was different.

  “No, but I watched you plenty of times. And I wasn’t serious before. I am now. How hard can a simple meal be?” With the blocks put back in their box, Katherine stood and faced her mother again.

  Ma’s eyes returned to normal and a slow smile broke out on her face. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Now that Katherine had Jack’s hand, she came toward her mother and collected Susie.

  “Yes,” she said, her eyebrow quirked at her mother’s odd expression. “I’m sure we will.”

  And with that, she and the children were off.

  * * *

  Wyatt finished with his last patient of the day, an arthritis checkup. His patient had been doing well on the latest medicinal regimen he had put her on, and he encouraged her to continue her daily exercises. As he ushered her out the door, a horse galloping down the main street caught his attention. The rider drew closer and it became clear that whoever tore through the town was headed for the clinic.

  He pulled the elderly patient back into the building for her own safety and watched as the rider approached. Once the horse drew closer, Wyatt saw it was David Matthews in the saddle. His immediate thoughts were of Katherine. Was she hurt? That gave his heart pause within him.

  Moments later, David pulled the horse to a halt just short of the clinic doors and hopped off. “Dr. Sullivan, there’s trouble at the mine. We need your help!”

  Relief washed over him, but Wyatt had no time to take it in. “What’s happened?” Had there been a cave in?

  “It’s the strike.” David’s face fell. “A group of strikers were armed and they . . .well, they ambushed and captured some deputies who were trying to protect strikebreakers.”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up. Why would David be involved in something like this?

  David raised his arms in an apologetic shrug. “Somehow shots were fired. No one knows which side they came from, but it led to a fistfight. And, needless to say, there are some injured men out there now.”

  Wyatt did his best to belay his judgment and instead stepped back into the clinic to grab his medical bag and go after his horse. He was a healer first. No matter what. Then, once both men were mounted and ready, he allowed David to lead him to the men that needed his attention.

  * * *

  Hours later, Wyatt made his way home. Today had been particularly grueling to say the least. His body ached, and he was worn. One patient after the next kept him busy at the clinic all day and then he’d had to clean up the fallout from the miners’ ill-laid plan. Had he even the chance to sit down today? Filled anew with an eagerness for home, he pushed his horse into a faster trot.

  What would be waiting for him at home? One thing he did know—it wouldn’t be empty. Katherine would be there. Comforted by that thought, he urged the horse to pick up his step. She had been adjusting to her new role quite well, but she still leaned on him. Not that he minded. They were partners in this, after all. And she had to learn a lot rather quickly. He’d had some experience to draw from.

  But nothing in his experience had prepared him for dealing with the emotions she stirred in him. Yes, he’d had a schoolboy crush on her years ago. Had that not faded when she’d begun to treat him as if he’d forced Ellie Mae into the mine? That it was somehow his fault?

  When he stepped foot in the schoolhouse the day she returned to Cripple Creek, when he saw her face, he knew then there might be trouble. For the same feelings stirred in his chest then that filled him now as he thought about her. Feelings difficult to describe. A tightening, painful almost, constricting of his heart.

  He should have married Betsy long ago and been done with this foolishness. Yet something had always kept him from moving forward with her. Could that something have been Katherine? That thought made the ache inside him sharpen.

  All in all, each time he came home to her, he feared, he wondered, what would this evening bring?

  But the time for all speculation came to an end as the house now stood in front of him. The lights burned, and movement within drew his attention. He made quick work of closing his horse in the barn stall. Stopping for a moment, he steeled himself for what lay ahead.

  As he opened the door to the house, he was assaulted with a burst of smoke. Coughing, he flapped his arm to clear the air. The house was filled with it. Was his home on fire? Adrenaline coursed through him, and every muscle in his body went on alert. Where was Katherine? The children? He had to get them out. But as he stood at the ready, the smoke cleared, escaping through the open door, and he took stock of the house. There was no fire. The remaining smoke poured from the kitchen stove.

  The kitchen was a disaster. But Katherine still scurried about, trying to save whatever dish she had burned. Jack bounced up and down, running around the great room, and Susie cried from her high chair.

  Wyatt leaped into action, opening the windows to continue airing out the house. He picked up Susie and bounced her with gentle movements to soothe her.

  “What happened?” he asked Katherine.

  She whirled toward him, her face registering surprise. Clad in an apron splattered from her hard work preparing whatever she had made, the marks of dinner were on her face and in her hair. The sleeves of her top were rolled up, and she had a sopping wet towel in her hand that dripped on the floor. And her eyes, her once sharp eyes, were now dull and watering with unshed tears. Her lip trembled, and she seemed afraid to speak, as if fearful everything would spill out, tears and all.

  And so he remained silent, not sure how to proceed.

  “I . . . I was trying to make dinner,” she managed.

  “All this?” He waved his free arm. “Is from dinner?”

  She nodded, a few tears escaping. “Chicken and dumplings.
”

  Wyatt looked at her, touched by her efforts and moved by her tears. He couldn’t be mad at her. Especially since she had been preparing his favorite meal. But how did she know? Was it just a coincidence? No. That night in Denver, after their wedding. She must have remembered he’d ordered chicken and dumplings. His heart melted a little more.

  “It’s all right, Katie,” he said, longing to reach out to her, but timid at the same time. “Why don’t you get Susie a bottle, and I’ll get this cleaned up. I’ll make dinner tonight.”

  She wiped at a tear and her shoulders slumped. Taking Susie from his arms without any other acknowledgement, she moved off toward the family room.

  He hated how defeated she was in that moment. But there wasn’t much he could do about it. Still, it gave him an idea.

  * * *

  Another long day at school came to an end. Katherine’s days dragged more and more, and her nights were abbreviated. Her evenings were filled with the schoolwork she used to do in the afternoons. No more. Now that was time she spent with the children. Then the leftover papers. Susie interrupted what sleep she did get, though Wyatt still took his share of feedings. All of this combined made for one tired schoolteacher. Did her students know? How could they not?

  Katherine went through the motions of packing up and gathering the children from her parents’ house. She did it all as if in a daze. Then she made her way home. It intrigued her how, in such a short time, she began to think of Wyatt’s house as ”home.” That’s where her things were. And where her small family gathered at the end of the day. A smile graced her lips.

  They were a mismatched family indeed, but a family all the same. A warmth spread through her body, soothing her. Her little family. Glancing over at Jack and Susie in the back of the wagon, she sighed. She wanted to be so much more for them, for Wyatt. And she would be.

  Pushing past the weariness, she became determined anew. Tonight she would attempt to make dinner again. Only this time she’d prepared herself, having had a long conversation with her mother and received some tips from the expert. This time would be different. Her expectations were more realistic. They would be having something a bit more simple—breakfast. So what if it was odd. It would be made by her, and she would be proud of it.

  Katherine pictured Wyatt’s surprised face when he would walk in and discover she had completed an entire meal. He would be impressed, wouldn’t he? A rush of tingled excitement spread from the center of her chest, expanding outward. Why did she care so much to please him?

  They approached the homestead and Katherine busied herself putting the horse and cart up. Then she gathered Susie in her arms and took Jack’s hand, leading them to the house. But as they drew near the door, she heard movement within and froze. She hadn’t noticed Wyatt’s horse in the barn. Could it be he returned early and started dinner already? Her heart dropped. No surprise. No proud moment. It all vanished.

  She opened the door and stepped into the family room. While the house was indeed abuzz with the smells and sounds of dinner cooking, Wyatt was not to be found. There, in her kitchen, was none other than Betsy Callaway.

  What could be her business here? Katherine opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Then she licked her lips. Her mouth had become rather dry. She was dumbstruck by the sight before her. Betsy, however, continued to cook, oblivious to Katherine’s presence. After some moments, Katherine found her tongue.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Betsy jumped, nearly upending the pot of boiling water she stirred, but soon regained her composure. Wiping her hands on the apron that belonged to Katherine, she said, “Oh, Wyatt asked me to come over and make dinner.”

  “What?” Something in Katherine’s chest squeezed painfully.

  “Wyatt asked me to make dinner.” Betsy met her gaze, staring back with cold eyes.

  Once again, Katherine didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t dispute Betsy’s claim . . . yet. So, she closed the door behind herself and went about taking care of the children. After she changed Susie’s diaper, she saw to it that Jack was occupied with some toys before turning her attention back to the intruder in her home.

  She stepped into the kitchen, balancing Susie on one arm, and put her other hand on her hip. “Betsy, are you certain you understood Wyatt?”

  “Yes,” Betsy spoke as if she were explaining something to a small child. “He asked me to come over, cook, and have dinner ready for him. There aren’t many ways to misunderstand that.”

  Katherine supposed not. She looked at the floor, the clamp squeezed tighter around her heart. What could she do but take Susie back to the family room? So, she and Susie joined Jack on the floor to play. Watching the case clock, she counted the moments until Wyatt came home and watched Betsy move around the kitchen as if nothing came more naturally to her.

  It seemed as if hours passed before hoofbeats, the sound growing louder by the second, came closer to the homestead. Should she go outside to meet him? No, it was best she wait with the children. At last, Wyatt walked through the door. Relief washed over her. Finally, he would put an end to this craziness. Rising to her feet, she opened her mouth.

  “Betsy, so glad you could make it,” he said, acknowledging her before he even looked toward Katherine.

  A coldness swept through her. What could she say? Betsy had spoken the truth. He had no problem inviting Betsy to come into their, well his, house and cook for them without so much as asking Katherine.

  Wyatt moved into the great room.

  Katherine held her breath.

  But he moved past her and crouched on the floor next to the small boy, giving him a hug. “How’s my Jack-boy?”

  “I got to brush a horse today!”

  “That’s great. You’re such a big boy.” He released Jack so the small hands could go back to playing. Then Wyatt turned his attention to Susie, who lay in Katherine’s arms. Letting her grab his finger, he shook his hand, smiling down at her.

  Katherine remained as still as she could. A curious pain shooting through her chest. Her eyes glued to his face.

  “What is it that smells so good?” he called to Betsy while meeting Katherine’s eyes at last.

  “Pot roast,” Betsy announced, a broad smile breaking out across her face. “One of your favorites, if memory serves.”

  “Yes, that is correct.” Wyatt’s eyes moved over to Betsy.

  Katherine frowned.

  Betsy let out a light laugh. “It’s almost done. Shall we gather everyone to the table?”

  Katherine longed to disappear, to shut herself up in her room, but she knew the children needed to eat. So she passed Susie over to Wyatt and worked to set the table. Though, in her anger, she could think of better uses for the knives than setting them next to the plates.

  By then, Wyatt had the children settled at the table. And so Katherine sat, trying not to scowl while Betsy served the meal. It did not escape her notice that Betsy made sure Wyatt got an extra helping. Why that should bother her, she didn’t know. But it did.

  Betsy sat and the meal commenced.

  Everyone dug in, everyone except Katherine. She was none too eager to partake of the meal. Instead she pushed the vegetables around on her plate.

  “Mm, mm, mm. This meat is so tender,” Wyatt complimented.

  Betsy smiled and spooned more onto his plate.

  “And these potatoes, cooked to perfection.”

  Heat warmed Katherine’s face. How could he treat her this way?

  Betsy dared to look over at Katherine with a wicked sort of grin. In her own home, Katherine was supposed to endure this in her own home?

  “And this gravy . . . ” he started.

  Katherine shot to her feet. “Wyatt, may I speak with you?”

  Wyatt raised a brow, but stood at Katherine’s request. “Betsy, if you’ll excuse us.”

  Katherine didn’t so much as glance over her shoulder as she walked toward her bedroom. She trusted that Wyatt followed her. Once she found
herself in the safety of her room, she spun on him.

  “Why did you invite her to come? To teach me a lesson?” She all but spit out.

  “Exactly.” Wyatt’s voice was kind, as if it was part of some plan Katherine and Wyatt had come up with together.

  “What?” Katherine’s eyebrows shot up. Her shoulders slumped.

  “To give you a cooking lesson.” His gentle tone still confused her.

  “How can she give me a cooking lesson when she’s finished dinner before I arrive?”

  “She what?” Now it was his turn to be confused, and his wide eyes showed it.

  “Yes,” Katherine said flatly, arms folded. “She was in this house cooking when I got here today.”

  “She was supposed to come after you got home.” He appeared deflated.

  And Katherine began to put the pieces together. The way he had carried on about the meal . . . It had been his intention to compliment Katherine on her cooking. Yet, because of Betsy’s maneuvering, he had insulted Katherine without knowing it. It almost made her laugh. Almost.

  Katherine kept her voice softer, but not kinder. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “Look,” Wyatt voice was pleading. “She wasn’t supposed to come over and cook for us. She was supposed to help you learn how to cook.”

  “Wait. You told Betsy I can’t cook?” Her eyes widened, and all of the color drained from her face.

  “When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound good.”

  “I’m so embarrassed. It’ll be all over town. How can I ever face anyone?” Katherine’s hand was on her forehead. She imagined the talk, the looks, and the comments behind her back. Added to what folks were already saying.

  Wyatt reached out to touch her arm. “Come now, you can’t think Betsy would . . . ”

  Katherine jerked her arm back. “How can you think she wouldn’t?”

  Wyatt shifted uncomfortably.

  “You must know Betsy made this meal to impress you. To . . . to . . . to show me up.” Katherine wasn’t sure why she cared so much. What did it matter to her what Wyatt thought of her? Or of Betsy Callaway?