by Avery, Joan
“Thank you, miss. We’ll have the package delivered directly.” Before she could provide an address he said, “And if I do say, it’s good to see Mr. Worth back in Denver after all this time.”
“He’s not been in Denver for a while?” She tried to sound nonchalant. “Do you know where he has been?”
The woman wrapping the package gave the clerk a silencing look.
“Sorry, miss. Don’t know. I can’t keep up with the comings and goings of everyone. Denver’s a pretty big city now, as you see.”
What I can see is that you know where he’s been and will not tell me. For the first time in a while, Kate remembered the Pinkerton man her uncle had hired. When would they hear from him? Surely if a shop clerk knew where Stephen Worth spent the last two years, the Pinkerton man should have found out by now.
“Is there anything else you’d like, miss? We have wonderfully warm coats for children. Denver winters are very cold.”
“No, thank you,” Kate said curtly. “We won’t be here this winter.”
Her response flustered the young man. “Yes, yes of course. Have a good day then.”
“Thank you, I will.”
As the door slammed behind her, Kate inhaled deeply. She had to calm herself before she went home.
…
Stephen saw her before she saw him. She had on a violet walking suit. The one she had worn the morning they had arrived a week ago. The weather was mild and she had chosen not to wear a hat. He smiled. How unlike her. As she walked out from under the striped awnings on the far side of Larimer, the sun repeatedly kissed the top of her head.
For the first time since the ball, she had not pulled her hair tightly into a bun, but had piled it in loose curls. She had crimped the hair nearest her face, and several strands played in the light breeze, brushing her cheek and caressing her ear.
Peg’s words came back to haunt him. I’ve seen the way you look at her. How did he look at her? As if he envied the curls that whispered in her ears and kissed her cheeks? He did.
They had spent a week in close quarters and he found he did not leave or return, did not take a step in the house, without being aware of her presence. The house smelled of her perfume and echoed with her voice.
Kate’s voice and that of his son’s intermingled so as to be inseparable. The thought of separating them, which he had avoided thinking about, now disturbed him.
Hurting her had become repugnant. He had grown to care about and to understand her fears. But that was only half of it. The other was much more personal and unexpected. He suspected that separation from this woman would be as painful for him as separation from his son had been.
Unexpectedly, Kate had helped him manage the memories he had of Lizzie. She held the promise of a future that was free from guilt, free from hate. She had accepted Lizzie’s tragic death and moved on from it. Perhaps he could as well. With Kate he felt both guilty and grateful.
He needed to win her over. Not just for Andy’s sake but for his own.
…
Kate stopped on the boardwalk in front of what a sign happily proclaimed was Edward E. Achert’s Curiosity Shop. “Welcome. Welcome,” came a raspy voice. Above her head a brightly-colored caged parrot squawked the greeting. She approached the window. Inside, several kittens rolled and tumbled as they fought over a strand of yarn.
She could not resist. She stepped from the bright sunlight into the shop. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but once they did, she smiled. The store was alive with the twitter and chatter of all manner of animals from the warmly familiar to the intriguingly exotic. The tin ceiling served to heighten the creatures’ racket. It was as if she had entered a party. Goldfish swirled in their aquarium as if dancing. A snake slithered closer to the glass to get a better view of the newcomer. She laughed for the first time in a long time.
“Good day to you. Good day.”
She turned to return the greeting only to find herself facing another colorful bird. “Good day to you, my feathered friend. And how are you on this fine day?”
“Fine day... Fine day,” the bird mimicked.
She laughed, delighted. What other wonders did the store hold?
She approached a cage lined with straw. A ball of fur without head or tail occupied one of the corners. She tapped lightly on the cage, only to have a small white face with sparkling black eyes emerge from the mass of brown and white fur.
“And what are you, my furry friend? An overweight mouse?”
A white-haired bespectacled man approached Kate. “It’s a Cavy, miss. A guinea pig. Come all the way from the Andes in South America.”
“I’ve never seen such a creature in my life.”
“Would you like to hold him? He’ll not bite.”
“Yes, I would.”
The man reached in and, sliding a hand under the animal’s black fur belly, lifted him out.
Kate held out her hands. “He’s as soft as he looks, isn’t he?” She gently stroked the small animal, and it relished the attention.
The man smiled. “They make good pets, especially for the little ones. Do you have a child that might like one?”
“Yes, my son...” She paused, aware that the term could be challenged. “He’d love one, but I’m afraid that the poor creature would be manhandled. The boy is only two, you see, and not quite aware of how delicate a small animal can be.”
The man put the guinea pig back in its cage. “Perhaps a bird then? The cage will protect the boy from the bird and the bird from the boy.” He laughed. “I have a beautiful pair of lovebirds.”
Kate followed him to the far wall where a small cage held two beautifully colored birds. They sported bright yellow bellies which contrasted with their lime green backs and black heads. She was fascinated as they groomed one another, caressing each other with their red bills.
“Are they always so attentive to one another?” she asked.
“Yes, miss. They mate for life and I’ve never seen a pair that weren’t affectionate. Guess that’s why they got their name.”
Kate blushed. “Yes, no doubt it is.” She watched the birds a moment longer and then added, “But I don’t think a small boy would quite appreciate them.”
“Perhaps something more along the lines of the guinea pig, but bigger?” The shopkeeper walked toward the back of the store and she followed like a child expecting a present.
She rushed to a small raised pen where several blond puppies romped, tumbling and rolling over one another in their attempt to gain the attention of the humans.
“Oh, they’re adorable. What breed are they?”
“We’re not sure, miss. Part hunting dog, that’s for sure. They can smell their food before they ever see me bringing it.”
A familiar voice interrupted them. “I’d say they’re mostly Golden Retriever. I used to breed them for hunting in England.”
What was Stephen doing here? Following her?
“Yes, sir. Now that you say it, I believe you’re right. They’d be a good addition to any household.”
The conversation was interrupted by the ring of a bell on the front counter of the store, summoning service.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” the shopkeeper said.
She nodded, then almost called the man back as Stephen took a step closer.
“I think this one has too much ambition for his own good.” He leaned over and scratched a lively puppy who had almost managed to escape the high-sided pen. The eager pup’s two front paws were over the top of the sideboard and his belly balanced precariously on the wooden barrier. Stephen picked the pup up and was slathered with the dog’s affectionate licks.
“Whoa, boy. I think you deserve a much more attractive object for your affections.” He handed the pup off to Kate. She took the squirming dog without thinking. The pup scrambled up the bodice of her dress and slobbered her with its tiny tongue. She had to laugh and found the more she laughed, the more excited the puppy became.
“Help,” sh
e pleaded, and looked up, still giddy. Stephen was laughing too. For the first time since she met him he seemed young, not just in years but in spirit as well. The lines that had etched themselves deeply around his eyes appeared less severe when they were crinkled with laughter. “Don’t just stand there laughing,” she implored. “Do something, please.”
He reached out to take the dog from her but touched her hand instead. The dog stopped his squirming and began to lick Stephen’s hand as he folded it over hers.
She had not expected the touch. Not now when she was happy for the first time in weeks. Not now when this man was acting so appealing, so warm. She had not had time to steel herself for the touch and its effects.
He secured his hold and came closer until only the pup was between them. The puppy quieted himself by laying his head against Kate’s breast.
The pup’s quick heartbeat mimicked her own. Stephen cupped her hand as she cradled the dog. Slowly, he rubbed his thumb against its palm.
She wanted him to stop. But she was afraid the dog would fall if she tried to pull away. The slow caress of his thumb made her knees weak. She pressed an urgent kiss into the soft fur of the dog’s head.
She must make him stop.
But not just now.
He continued his soft massage. His other hand touched her cheek. He moved a strand of hair, damp from the dog’s attentions, off her face, tucking it behind her ear.
When he had completed the task, he cradled her cheek and Kate laid her head into his palm, exhausted by fighting this man. Exhausted by fighting her own feelings for him.
She closed her eyes. It was good. Better than good. His thumb brushed her lips, then her cheek to the base of her ear. A pause. Again he caressed her lips and cheek. In the darkened quiet of the back of the store, she pressed a kiss into the palm of his hand.
It was electric.
He cupped her head in both his hands. Every muscle and tendon tightened as his lips brushed hers. She leaned into him. Wanting more...needing more.
He massaged her temples until she opened her eyes. It was a mistake, for his eyes mirrored her own longing and need.
When he kissed her it was with an urgency and a desire that left her breathless. Everything faded away but their passion. She was vaguely aware that he had taken the puppy and placed it back in its pen. She was more aware that she was being pulled into him. However tightly, it was not close enough.
He pressed her back into the side wall and covered her with his body. He kissed her neck and she could smell his hair—his beautiful black hair. She pressed a kiss into it and gasped as his hands moved up her bodice to cup her breasts.
What were they doing? What was happening? She had to stop him.
“Please,” she begged. “Stephen, please.”
He stopped. He rested his forehead against the wall so close she could feel his heat. His ragged breathing vibrated against the loose curls at the nape of her neck.
She raised a hand and cradled his cheek. He kissed her palm.
“Please, what?” he finally said, his voice raspy with emotion.
She couldn’t answer him with the truth. She couldn’t say, Please tell me the truth. Please explain what it was that kept you away so long. Please tell me who you are and who I am to you.
And unable to these things, she said simply, “Please stop.”
In the distance, she heard the storeowner with another customer. Their discussion was quiet, muted, floating in as if from a different world, a different time. But she grasped at it to free herself from the terrifying uncertainties that threatened to paralyze her.
The door to the shop opened and then closed and footsteps headed toward them.
Stephen took a step back and ran a hand through his thick black hair. He turned as the shopkeeper approached.
“Well, have you decided?” The shopkeeper smiled expectantly.
“I think we’d like the puppy. That one.” Stephen pointed to the puppy who had lavished its affection on her. “I think it will make my son very happy. Every boy should have a dog, don’t you agree?”
Every warm emotion drained from her. Why had she let him touch her again? It had made her forget.
She tried to armor herself. The pain of her own traitorous actions seared her mind. She shook her head. “Andy already has a dog...in St. Louis.”
She bolted from the store and up Larimer, tears of shame burning her eyes.
Chapter Eleven
Stephen sat at his desk in his study. The news was not good. Zechariah Morse had left Denver over a week ago for Silverton. He would not be long there before he left for San Francisco and then Europe to investigate a new smelting procedure. Once in Europe, he could avoid any legal action taken against him—could avoid all responsibility for killing Lizzie. This news and the rapidly approaching winter made it urgent that Stephen leave now. But before he left, he had to deal with Katherine.
She had avoided him the last two days. It had been a stupid thing to do, kissing her. But he could still taste her. Still feel her. Her lips against his had been moist and pliant. Her skin beneath his fingers had been like satin.
He had to get away from her before something happened that he would regret.
But before he did, he needed to reinforce his good name.
“Peg?” When there was no answer, he called her again. “Peg?”
Peg came puffing in from the hall. “Now what’s got you by the tail?”
“We’re going to be entertaining on Saturday. I’m inviting Otto Mears for dinner.”
“Well, halleluiah. It’s about time you did something other than thinking yourself into a sulk.” She smiled. “Not to worry then, I’ll see everything is just the way we used to do it when dear Lizzie...” Her voice tapered off to whisper.
“It’s all right. We can talk about her.”
Peg took a step into the study and pushed the door closed behind her. “Miss Kate’s not at all like her, is she?”
“No, she’s not. She lacks Lizzie’s sweet temperament.” He fiddled with the papers on his desk. Peg wasn’t going to leave him alone on this.
“But there’s something to be said for spunky.”
“Spunky?” Stephen raised a dark eyebrow.
“You know what I mean. But she’s been nervous as a long-tailed cat under a rocking chair these past few days. What did you do to the poor gal?”
“What makes you think it has anything to do with me?” He busied himself with his papers, avoiding Peg’s careful scrutiny.
“Because you’ve been ornerier than sin yourself, that’s why. And don’t bother telling me I’m crazy. We’ve known each other too long.”
“There was a misunderstanding, that’s all.”
“Then it’s time you straightened it out, don’t you think? I’ll not have my house cluttered up with unhappy people.” It was an order. No question about it.
“I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled at the older woman, whom he suspected knew far more than she would admit.
When Peg had left the room, he rested his head in his hands. He would be taking a major risk leaving Kate ignorant of his recent whereabouts until he returned, but it couldn’t be helped. He needed to deal with Zechariah Morse before any more time slipped away.
…
She wore midnight blue. The dress, watered silk, fell softly from her shoulders while its bodice pushed the soft mounds of her pale breasts up for admiration. Blue velvet so dark that it appeared almost black accented the soft drapes of the skirt which lay tight across the front and then pulled back to a small bustle. She had piled her shimmering pale hair high. A spray of satin violets nestled over her left ear nodded softly as she entered the dining room.
“Do you approve?” He spoke to distract himself and motioned to the table setting.
The mahogany table was set with fine bone china and silver serving pieces that shimmered on the polished surface as if in a tranquil pool of water. Kate stepped forward and picked up a delicate Waterford wine glass. She
must have recognized it.
“They are the same pattern as your parents’. I got them for her as a wedding gift,” he said as a gesture of reconciliation.
For a moment, Kate didn’t acknowledge him.
“Did you love her?” There was no hidden challenge in her question. She appeared open to his response.
“Yes, more than life itself.”
She said nothing more. He did not know if she believed him or not.
“Tell me about Mr. Mears.”
He laughed, glad to change the subject.
“Old Otto? He is the epitome of a self-made man. His roads carry mining equipment in and the newfound wealth out of the mountains. His knowledge of this area is second to none. He is preparing to build narrow gauge railways on his right-a-ways wherever possible, and where that’s not possible, he will sell his land to the larger railroad companies. I have a great deal of admiration for the man. As you’ll soon find out, the West is full of self-made men. They may be eccentric or uncouth, but they share a belief in the land. And it is the land and the prosperity it can bring to those who claim it that drives both the Indian and the white man to make poor decisions. We and the Indians are not as different as you would think, Katherine.”
The doorbell rang.
“Ah, here he is now.”
…
Kate sat quietly as the two men discussed business throughout the meal. The dinner was marvelous. Raw oysters, baked filet of trout with Madeira Sauce, Roast Quail Larded. Peg managed to present one of the best meals Kate had ever eaten. Now, a steamed English plum pudding with rum sauce sat temptingly before her.
There were many unanswered questions running through her mind as she listened to the men talk. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity to get some answers.
“Stephen tells me you are an invaluable source of information on the current situation, Mr. Mears. Our train was harassed by a small party of Utes on the way to Denver. I believe one of them was named Piah. He said he was brother to Ouray’s wife. Stephen knew him. And yet I see Ouray’s name raised in connection with the massacre of a Mr. Meeker, an Indian agent I believe, and the capture of the man’s wife and children. The papers think that retaliation is the answer if the heathens can attack at their leisure.”
