by Amanda Cabot
It was all an honest mistake. Anyone would have thought the same thing Tucker did, that he’d found his man. Anyone would understand. Anyone other than Enright. The man did not tolerate failure. Look what he’d done to Shorty. Tucker shuddered and downed the whiskey. He couldn’t tell Enright he’d failed. He couldn’t go back without the doc. Somehow he had to find Enright’s doc, but where?
“Gimme another.” He slid the empty glass across the bar. Pretty soon he’d have drunk half the bottle. So what? If he drank the rest of it, maybe he could forget Enright’s face the night he’d told him not to come back alone.
Where was that confounded doctor?
Tucker closed his eyes, wishing he could block the memory of the way Shorty had died. It hadn’t been pretty. No, sirree. Not pretty at all. As a man jostled him, his eyes flew open. The bar was getting crowded. Time for him to leave. Time to figure out what to do next. But first he needed another drink. Just one more.
He’d lost count by the time that gal in the red dress started singing. At first the words made no sense, but gradually they made their way through his foggy brain. Something about home. An old Kentucky home. Tucker slapped the side of his head. Home. That was it! Critters went home when they were scared. Folks did too. Tucker would bet his last dollar that’s what the doc did. He went home. Now all Tucker had to do was find out where the doc hailed from, and he’d find him.
He’d do that. Right after he celebrated with another shot.
As Catherine awoke to the aromas of coffee and bacon, she smiled. It felt so good not to have to rush to make breakfast. The extra half hour of sleep was wonderful, the food better than any she could have made, but the best part was Grace’s company. In the space of a few days she had gone from being a stranger to a friend to something more. The only way Catherine could describe her feelings for Grace was to say that she had become the older sister she’d longed for all her life. She couldn’t explain why she felt that way. All she knew was that she was comfortable confiding in Grace, telling her things she hadn’t shared with either Mama or Lydia. It was no exaggeration to say that Grace was the answer to her prayers.
“Good morning,” Catherine said as she entered the kitchen. “I’m surprised Hannah’s not up.”
Grace slid the buttered bread into the oven, then turned to smile at her. “She is. She saw a rabbit in the yard and wanted to see if she could catch it. I knew she couldn’t, but I didn’t see any harm in it.”
“It’s good for her to burn off a bit of energy. A couple months ago, she wouldn’t have done anything other than sit in the corner, but now she’s acting like a normal six-year-old. The change in her seems like nothing less than a miracle.”
Grace nodded. “If it was a miracle, you had a part in it. Even though I didn’t know her before, I can see that you’ve been good for her. I wasn’t surprised when she told me she wished you were her mother.”
Though Catherine knew she shouldn’t have been surprised, she was, as much at the fact that Hannah confided in the older woman as what she’d said. “I love her dearly, but marriage is not something Austin and I have discussed.” It was true that both Lydia and Rachel believed Austin might be the right man for her, but it was too soon for them to be contemplating marriage. Though she’d put off the outward trappings, in her heart Catherine was still mourning her mother. Besides, Austin had secrets, and Catherine had other concerns.
While she had told Grace many things, Catherine wasn’t ready to reveal her feelings for Austin. Part of her longed to ask Grace how she’d felt being Douglas’s second wife, but part of her held back, wanting to get to know Grace better before she asked such a personal question. Still, Catherine couldn’t help admitting that she’d thought of one aspect of marriage to Austin. “I don’t know why, but I keep having dreams where Hannah is my daughter. I had one last night.”
The smile Grace gave her said she wasn’t surprised. “It must have been a night for dreams.” She peeked into the oven to check the toast. “I dreamt I was in a city I know I’ve never visited. I think it must have been somewhere in France, because even though I couldn’t understand what anyone was saying, I somehow knew they were speaking French.”
Catherine smiled, thinking of the number of times she’d dreamt about traveling to France. With one exception, the dreams had been pleasant.
“I was walking along a river,” Grace continued. “I don’t know how long I walked, but suddenly I saw an island in the middle of the river, and on that island was an incredibly beautiful church. There were two square towers in the front and an enormous round stained glass window on the side. I have no idea what they’re called, but there were almost lace-like arches on the side, going from the building to the ground.”
She looked at Catherine, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “It was all so beautiful that it made me want to cry, and here I’m doing it again, only this time I’m crying because I wanted to be there.” Grace brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Have you ever had a dream like that?”
Catherine nodded. “Yes, but I didn’t have to be asleep to dream it. There’s something I want to show you.” Thankful that Hannah hadn’t yet returned, Catherine hurried to her room and brought out a book. Opening it to one of the bookmarked pages, she showed it to Grace. “Is this the church you saw?”
“Yes. That’s it. Exactly. How did you know?”
“Because as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to see that rose window and those flying buttresses. That’s what the stained-glass window and the arches on the side are called.” She placed her hand on Grace’s shoulder, wanting to reassure her. “You were right in thinking your dream was about France. The river you saw was the Seine. It flows through the heart of Paris right next to the cathedral of Notre Dame. That’s the beautiful cathedral’s name. The island is called Île de la Cité.”
Catherine smiled, remembering the hours she’d spent studying the pictures in this book, learning all the details she could of the famous buildings in Paris. “It seems you’ve borrowed my dream.”
16
Hannah’s growing up.” Catherine said it as calmly as if she’d been telling him that the bluebonnets that carpeted the hillside were particularly beautiful this year. Austin had admired them as he’d driven into town and had even considered asking Catherine if she’d like to take a ride to see them, but the reception he’d received—correction: the lack of reception—from Hannah had chased every other thought from his brain. While Austin didn’t doubt that Catherine was correct, the situation wasn’t as simple as she made it sound. She wasn’t a parent. She couldn’t understand the ache that lodged in his heart.
“Hannah’s only six,” he protested. “I thought it would take longer, but look at her.” He pointed toward the trio of girls in front of the school, so intent on their game that they appeared oblivious to the rest of the world. “She’s more interested in playing hopscotch with the other girls than going home with me.”
And that hurt more than he’d expected. It was Friday afternoon, the time he always came to take Hannah back to the ranch. Every other week, she’d been waiting on the schoolhouse steps and had run toward the wagon when she saw him. Today Hannah had given him a casual wave, then gone back to her hopping.
Catherine’s smile said she understood more than he realized. It was warm and comforting, as if she were trying to reassure him that he was not alone. “Hannah’s like a baby bird. She’s spreading her wings, the way all chicks do as they grow.” Catherine’s smile broadened. “You haven’t lost her, Austin. She’ll fly back home once she’s tired of playing.”
He stared at his daughter and tried to focus on her obvious happiness. That was what he wanted: for Hannah to be happy and safe. Returning his gaze to Catherine, he nodded. “I want to believe you’re right.”
“I am. Believe me, I’ve seen this happen so many times I’ve lost count. Each time the parents wonder if they’ve done something wrong, and each time the chick comes back to the nest.” She glanced at the scho
ol’s side yard. That, Austin knew, was where the pupils spent their recesses, trying their hands at everything from baseball to jacks.
“You look like you need to play a bit too. When’s the last time you swung?”
Swinging? The question was so unexpected it almost made him laugh. Surely Catherine didn’t think he was going to engage in such a childish pastime, but she stood next to him, clearly waiting for his response.
He shrugged. “I can’t remember. I probably wasn’t much older than Hannah.”
“Then it’s time to try it again. You can’t be out of sorts when you’re swinging.”
A soft spring breeze carrying the scent of freshly cut grass triggered childhood memories of a swing on the neighboring ranch. His family had gone there for Sunday dinner one week, and Austin and the neighbors’ son had spent hours trying to outdo each other by swinging ever higher. That was one of his happiest memories of life on his parents’ ranch. Odd how he’d forgotten that.
He stared at Catherine. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
A Cheshire Cat smile was her only answer.
“But I’m a d—” Now, look what he’d done. He’d been so surprised by the mere thought of getting on a swing that he’d almost admitted he was a doctor. Austin swallowed and amended his statement. “I’m a grown man. Grown men don’t swing.”
“This one should.” Catherine started walking toward the swing that hung from one of the live oak trees. “Come on, Austin. Try it.”
He couldn’t deny the appeal of her smile or the challenge she’d offered. “Only if you show me how. I think I’ve forgotten.” He hadn’t, of course, but it would be fun to watch the schoolteacher kicking up her heels on the swing.
“I don’t believe that for a moment, but, all right, I’ll go first.” She looked at the ropes that suspended the board from the tree limb. “We need to tie knots in the ropes or our legs will drag on the ground.”
Austin nodded and shortened the ropes until the board hung a couple feet off the ground. “Is this okay?”
“Perfect.” Seconds later, Catherine was swinging with as much enthusiasm as Hannah, gripping the ropes as she urged the swing higher and higher, her face wreathed with a smile. When she stopped pumping and the swing slowed, she stepped off and turned toward Austin, a question in her eyes.
“You convinced me.” Though memories of enjoying time on a swing had resurfaced, Austin felt a bit foolish as he settled onto the board and gripped the ropes. He was, after all, an adult now, a man with serious responsibilities. But if Catherine could swing, so could he.
Backward, then forward. That’s the way to do it. Almost before he’d reminded himself of the basics, he was swinging, going higher and higher with each pump, just as he had that Sunday afternoon more than half a lifetime ago. Catherine was right. This was fun. For the first time since he’d arrived at the school, Austin felt free. Like Hannah, he was testing his wings a bit, enjoying the sensation of doing something different, the novelty enhanced because he knew what was waiting at the end: home. Being on the swing felt good, so very, very good, that he started to laugh from the pure joy of it.
“If that ain’t the most doggone thing I ever seen, a grown man acting like a boy. What’s the matter with you?”
The man’s slurred words brought Austin back to reality. It had been weeks since he’d seen Boone Dalton, and that had been fine with him. Though he’d heard that Boone spent too many afternoons at the Silver Spur, using the money Austin paid for Seth’s services to buy whiskey, this was the first time he’d had a firsthand view of the effects of the man’s excessive drinking.
Boone was wearing the same ragged shirt and pants he’d had on the other times Austin had seen him. His face sported a few days’ growth of whiskers, as it had in the past. His hair was as unkempt as ever. What was different was Catherine’s presence and the way Boone was leering at her.
Austin jumped off the swing and moved to Catherine’s side. A sober Boone was unpredictable; one who’d imbibed too heavily might be dangerous.
“Is this why you hired the boy?” Boone demanded. “So you could spend your time playing? You dang sure better not be teachin’ him to do this. That ain’t the way I raised him.”
Austin heard Catherine take a deep breath and suspected she was trying to control her tongue. So was he. He knew better than to comment on the way Boone had raised Seth. Nothing would be gained by baiting someone who was oblivious to his shortcomings as a parent. “How I spend my time away from the ranch has nothing to do with you.”
“Humph.” For a second Boone said nothing, and Austin began to hope that he’d leave. As far as he knew, Boone had no reason to be at this end of Main Street, but perhaps Faith had asked him to leave the Silver Spur when he’d become rowdy and he’d wandered aimlessly. The man had probably been looking for a fight.
Boone blinked his bloodshot eyes, then focused them on Catherine. “I heared you was sparkin’ the schoolmarm. This here’s a mighty strange way to spark a gal. Unless she’s as peculiar as you are.” Boone seemed pleased by the fact that he’d managed to pronounce “peculiar.”
Though Austin wanted nothing more than to plant his fist on Boone’s face and make him retract his insinuation, he took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly, forcing the tension out of his spine. A quick look at Catherine told him she understood why he was refusing to spar with Boone and that she approved. A glance at the front of the school confirmed that Hannah was still engrossed in her game of hopscotch. Thank you, God.
Boone planted his fists on his hips and took a step toward Austin and Catherine. “I don’t reckon I oughta let the boy work for you no more. There’s no tellin’ what fool notions you’re puttin’ in his head.”
Keeping his voice as calm as if they were discussing the weather and not Boone’s son’s welfare, Austin said, “It’s your decision, but don’t forget that the money I give you for Seth’s work pays for your time at the Silver Spur.”
A loud hiss was Boone’s response, but the look in his eye told Austin he wasn’t willing to give up the extra income. He started to stagger away, then turned and glared at Austin. “You think you’re so high and mighty. Let me tell you, boy, you’ll get your comeuppance.”
When he was out of earshot, Catherine spoke. “I’ve never seen Boone like that. He’s worse than I feared.” She took a shallow breath, as if trying to control her emotions. “Poor Seth. I keep praying that God will soften Boone’s heart, but so far those prayers haven’t been answered.”
“Boone has to be willing to let God in, and he’s not.” Austin looked at the man who was making his way back to the saloon. “I’ve met men like him before. They’re bullies who believe force and intimidation are the way to accomplish everything.” One of those bullies was the reason Austin was in Cimarron Creek. Sherman Enright was simply a more polished version of Boone Dalton.
“How do you handle people like that?”
“There’s no reasoning with them.” Austin wished he had more answers. “All you can do is refuse to sink to their level.”
“And pray.”
“Yes, and pray.”
“What’s bothering you?”
Catherine tried not to sigh. It had been three days since the encounter with Boone in the schoolyard, and though she’d tried to forget how the man had destroyed Austin’s newfound peace, she had failed. She hadn’t said anything to Grace, since there was nothing she could do to change Boone, but it appeared that she had not succeeded in hiding her emotions.
“I’m confused,” she admitted. “I can’t make sense of my feelings.”
“About Austin?” The older woman was seated in what had become her favorite chair in the parlor, darning a hole she’d found in one of the bedsheets. Unlike Catherine, Grace enjoyed mending.
“How did you know? Did you hear the same rumors Boone Dalton did about Austin courting me?” Since Austin hadn’t mentioned that portion of Boone’s diatribe when they’d talked about him, Catherine hoped he believe
d it to be nothing more than the rantings of a man who’d imbibed too heavily. It would be embarrassing—horribly embarrassing—if he thought she was spreading rumors like Mrs. Brooks, who’d tried to convince Lydia and the other customers at Cimarron Sweets that Austin was on the verge of proposing to Anna.
Grace’s needle continued to weave in and out, restoring the muslin. “I don’t know that they were the same stories, but there’s definitely speculation in town that you two are destined to be more than friends now that his daughter is living here. I get questions every time I go out.”
“Oh.” Why hadn’t she considered that? While no one had confronted Catherine with the rumors, it seemed that Grace had not been as fortunate.
“You needn’t worry.” Grace reached out and patted Catherine’s knee. “I don’t encourage the gossip, but I’m also not blind. I see the way your eyes sparkle when you speak of Austin, and you do that more often than you realize. That tells me he’s an important part of your thoughts.”
“He is. I won’t deny that I enjoy being with him. Austin is the most intriguing man I’ve ever met. When I’m with him, I feel more alive than at other times.”
Grace nodded slowly. “That sounds like more than friendship to me.”
“I don’t know.” That was the problem. It had been weeks since Catherine had poured out her feelings at Mama’s grave. That day, she had asked God for help, and he’d sent Grace. Perhaps it was time to ask Grace the questions she wished she could ask Mama. “I never thought I’d consider marrying a widower.” But Grace had, and from everything she’d said, she had been happy with Douglas.
“Why not? Surely it’s not because he has a child. I know you care for Hannah as well as Austin.”
“I do, but I always wanted to be a man’s first love.”
