“I don’t need you to remind me, young lady. I’ve been your guardian for six months now.” Catharine shook her head in frustration and disbelief. How could she act so nonchalantly?
“Then you shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Greta said. She bent down to remove her shoes, then wiggled her toes with a resounding “ahh.” She started for the stairs, dismissing the conversation.
Catharine scurried to her with Anna right on her heels, then grabbed Greta’s arm and spun her around. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m not through talking with you.”
The front door opened and closed, and Peter walked in. Catharine ignored the warning he cast her with his eyes and continued. “Tell me where you were and who you were with.” She turned to Anna. “Anna, go on up to bed. This is between me and Greta.”
Anna hung back. “But I just want—”
“Upstairs, now!” Catharine’s stern tone sent Anna scurrying up the stairs, and Catharine waited until she heard the bedroom door slam before continuing. “Greta, I want some answers.” She knew she was raising her voice, but now she was thoroughly aggravated with Greta’s attitude.
“Please, Cath, you don’t have to yell,” she snapped back. “Can’t we talk about this in the morning? I’m feeling tired—”
“Tired!” Catharine shrieked. “You’re tired? How dare you pretend this is a usual outing in the middle of the night. You’ll talk to me now—”
Peter placed a heavy hand upon Catharine’s shoulder. “Maybe it would be better if you both slept on this and talked when you’re calmer.”
His hand had a calming effect on her, and Catharine sighed in exasperation, but Greta only glared at her, crossing her arms. “Okay . . . but after breakfast you and I are going to have a heart-to-heart talk. Is that clear?”
Through gritted teeth, Greta answered, “Yes. Good night.” She slipped quickly up the stairs, her shoes in her hands.
“Let’s go have that cup of coffee since it’s already made. We can talk in the kitchen,” Peter suggested.
He led her to the table, and after he’d poured the coffee, Catharine said, “Peter, I don’t know what to think. What happened?”
“Greta was at a line shack a couple of miles from here, with Bryan Gifford.” His face was sober.
“Yes, I know. Anna found a note in Greta’s room. I knew she was acting strange the last couple of days, but I had no idea she would sneak away.” Catharine stared into the dark liquid, wondering what she would do to rein in her sister.
“I had a little talk with him, but he didn’t back down. He spells trouble, and Greta is ripe for the pickin’.”
Catharine’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, Peter . . . you don’t think they . . .”
Peter pursed his lips. “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her. But I will say if there’s no intervention, it’ll only be a matter of time. I don’t trust him. He’s cocky and unreliable.” Peter lifted the mug and drained it. “I need to get to bed.” He rose and took their mugs to the sink.
Catharine dragged herself to her feet and touched his sleeve. “Peter, I want to thank you for going out in that storm and bringing her back . . . and I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable earlier tonight. It won’t happen again.” Her voice trailed off.
He gave her a halfhearted smile. “You’re welcome. You know that I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your sisters on my watch.”
She waited for him to say something about his rejection of her, but after a few moments, Catharine knew he either chose to ignore it or had already put it out of his mind. But her feelings were hurt all the same. She’d apologized, but for what? She wasn’t sure. He’d always seemed eager to make love to her, even when she had been distant. But that suddenly ceased with Clara’s surprise visit. Now that she felt true desire for him, it wasn’t reciprocated.
She turned down the wick on the kerosene lantern and followed him upstairs, her heart aching and confused.
Clear blue skies as far as the eye could see greeted Catharine when she set out with a rake she’d retrieved from the barn to work in her flower bed. From her apron pocket she pulled out a pair of soft leather gloves. Peter had purchased a pair for each of them when he’d outfitted them at the mercantile. She slipped them on her hands to keep from getting blisters while she worked. She would clear out the rest of the weeds and prepare the ground so that the next time they went to town, she’d purchase flower seeds from the mercantile, or plants if they were available.
She was glad to be outdoors with a task to focus on. When something was on her mind, her best thinking came while she was outdoors. Wyoming was as far from Amsterdam as possible in every way, but she was beginning to appreciate the vast silence and the constant wind. She was used to the hustle and bustle of city life, and now there was no one for miles around. Since her father had been a shipping magnate, most of her life had been spent in their home nestled downtown, surrounded by glorious fountains and beautiful parks in vast array. Occasionally, for respite from the city, they would travel to the countryside where her uncle lived, which was an added pleasure that she’d looked forward to as a child. She closed her eyes and remembered the gentle rains of Holland and wished rain would come to the prairie, especially once she had her flower bed planted.
Greta hadn’t come down for breakfast. She had told Anna she wasn’t hungry and would be down later. That gave Catharine time to ruminate on last night’s situation, so she left Anna doing the dishes. She needed to get the ground worked before the sun was high in the sky.
The wind blew, causing her apron and skirts to flap. She held the rake against her skirt to keep it from flying upward when the next gust came along. Not that anyone would be around to see her undergarments. Glad for the protective bonnet covering her head, she feverishly worked out her frustrations, dragging the rake across the tilled ground, yanking away any unwanted grass or roots that she’d missed the first time.
She was quite sure that Greta was smitten by Bryan just by the way she’d talked last night. Lord, please help me to control my temper and say the words to Greta that You’d have me say. I don’t want her to distance herself from me, but I must protect her. Make my words graceful and not accusing so that she’d consider what I have to say. Amen.
It wasn’t long before she heard the screen door squeak open. Catharine watched as Greta bounded down the steps and strolled toward her. “Morning, Greta. I see you finally got up. I’m afraid breakfast has long been over.” Catharine paused and leaned on the rake to catch her breath.
Greta met her gaze warily, then folded her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t hungry. Do you need help with that?”
Was that her way of making peace? It would take more than that.
“I’m nearly finished. But you can help me pile up the debris on this tarp so I can drag it over to the burn pile.” Catharine got down on her knees and started working again. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Greta followed suit and waited anxiously for her to break the silence.
They worked quietly until Catharine started to speak, but Greta touched her hand. “Cath . . . I just want to say . . . I’m sorry if I worried you needlessly. Truly I am.”
Catharine sat back, clasping her arms around her legs. Greta did seem genuine in her apology. “Goed! Apology accepted. But we need to discuss this and consider your actions.”
Greta looked away but continued on her hands and knees, gathering the discarded weeds. “What is there to talk about? You know that Bryan likes me—”
Catharine interrupted, shaking her head. “Then he should court you in the proper way by coming to the house and asking to see you. That’s how it’s done, Greta. I don’t need to tell you that!” She was desperately trying to keep her tone even but felt it was a losing battle.
Greta turned back to stare at her sister, her face a mottled pink. “In a few weeks, I’ll be eighteen. I thought that was old enough to make my own decisions.”
Catharine took a deep breath to control her emotio
ns. “You are old enough and I expect you to, but with guidance from someone who knows more than you do. I’m just afraid you don’t see the danger there. A gentleman would have asked to call on you and be proud to escort you out in the daylight, not sneak around after midnight like a thief. He needs to be honorable in his actions toward you. I’m scared that you don’t see him for who he is. How could you, in such a short time?”
Greta tossed her head, pushing a loose strand of her silky hair behind her ear, then shrugged. “I don’t know . . . we just liked each other from the moment we spoke at the depot.”
Catharine’s lips formed a thin line, and she looked at her innocent and gullible sister. “Are you sure it’s not attraction instead of mutual admiration? Would you know the difference? Men who are transients, like those in the army, don’t always form strong attachments before they’re assigned to another post.” She knelt down in the dirt and filled her apron with more roots.
“What are you saying?” Lines formed across Greta’s forehead.
“Greta, did Bryan touch you in an unfamiliar way?”
A silvery laugh escaped Greta’s lips. “Please, he’s not like that.”
“I’m afraid, my dear sister, that you don’t know that. Do you understand how babies are made?”
“What?” Greta’s eyes were wide as she stopped and brushed the dirt from her hands.
Catharine did not like bringing this topic up but knew she must. “My devotion to you and Anna extends much farther than you having a roof over your heads. I don’t want to see you hurt or someone take advantage of you, that’s all. I think you’re blinded with infatuation, and I want more for you and Anna than that.”
Greta grabbed Catharine’s hands. “Sweet Cath, I know you worry about us. I know your experience with Karl brought you so much pain, and I’m sorry for that.”
Catharine stiffened at the reminder. She had tried to put away those thoughts that would creep into her mind. “You were a big help to my healing, Greta. I owe you.”
“Nee, you don’t owe me, but you can’t compare my experience to what you went through. I see the pain behind your eyes, except when you look at Peter. I can tell you love him.” She gave Catharine a tight squeeze, tears glistening in her crystal-blue eyes. “Worry about Peter and let me worry about me.”
“Well then, while you are living here, Bryan will come calling on you in the proper way, and you’ll come to me if you need to talk or have any concerns. The ways of the heart can be hurtful. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
“You’re worrying too much. You know I’ll talk to you if the need arises, but I can take care of myself.”
Catharine wasn’t exactly reassured, but she could pray it was so. “Shall we drag this pile over to be burned? I appreciate your help. I know how you hate yard work—you never even went in the garden at home.” She bent down and picked up a clump of dirt. “Now if I can just get some flowers to plant . . .” She allowed the rich dirt to sift through her fingers. When she looked up, she could see the relief on Greta’s face and knew that there was nothing more to be said about what they’d discussed.
Greta hooked her arm through Catharine’s. “Let’s go get something cool to drink. This spring weather is warming up quickly.” They turned around in time to see Peter striding across the lawn to the barn.
Catharine lifted her arm in a wave, so Peter paused mid-stride, a hand on one hip. “I’m heading into town on a business matter, but I shouldn’t be long,” he said.
He was about to continue on when Catharine called out to him. “Do you mind if I tag along? I want to buy some seeds for my flower bed.” She and Greta walked closer to him.
Peter looked at her apron and fingernails full of dirt, her smudged face, and her bright green eyes, and he felt a tug in his heart. Greta’s arm was linked through hers, and it looked as though they’d made some sort of peace about last night’s episode. Looking at Catharine now, he felt guilty that he’d judged her so quickly. “’Course you can come. I can drop you off at the mercantile, but you might want to change your apron and wash the dirt off your cheek fist.” He grinned and watched as her face lit up. Her smile was so infectious, and the blush on her cheeks was charming and hard to resist. This was the side of her he liked, not the sad, brooding face of last night. But you were part of the problem, he reminded himself. He swallowed hard.
Catharine spun around, releasing Greta’s hold on her. “Greta, you and Anna can fix your own lunch today. I’ll be back in time to fix supper. I’ll only be a minute, Peter.” She crossed the yard to the house.
He had never seen her move so quickly before and called after her, “Take your time. I have to hitch up the wagon now that you’re going.”
“Just make sure you’re back before supper, Peter. You don’t want to have to try to eat anything I’d fix,” Greta said.
“That’s for sure.” He smiled. “I’m glad to see that you and Catharine talked.”
“It was a good talk. I think she forgets sometimes that I’m a grown woman.”
Peter scratched his chin, then looked her squarely in the eye. “I don’t think it’s that. I think she just doesn’t trust a man a couple years older who’s convincing you to sneak out of the house late at night.”
“I see her point, really, I do,” Greta said in a somewhat patronizing tone.
“Then listen to her. She knows what’s best.”
“Not always.” She flipped her blonde hair back over her shoulder and walked back to the house. She definitely had a strong will, heaven help her. Catharine would have to keep a close eye on her—he was certain of that.
Giving a short whistle, Peter tapped the reins against Star’s back. Star lunged forward, his harness making a jangling noise along with the clatter of the wagon wheels as they headed down the drive toward Cheyenne. Peter had been surprised when Catharine emerged from the house with Greta and Anna, who wanted to go to town too. Not exactly what he had in mind. He’d been looking forward to spending time alone with Catharine on the ride. Now he’d have to endure their chatter the entire way to town.
He bit the inside of his jaw rather than protest, acknowledging that females didn’t need any excuse to go to town. Perhaps they’d been out here away from other people too long. Catharine had written to him about how active they were in their community in Amsterdam.
Hopefully her sisters would keep Catharine occupied while he visited his mother. He had questions that had plagued him since their talk. And he didn’t think he could let another day roll by until he talked with her, or he wouldn’t get any sleep tonight. He’d had enough of tossing and turning and staying on his side of the bed.
Clara pulled aside the lace sheers to look out of the upstairs window of her fashionable Terrace Row house, swallowing the lump in her throat. Ever since she’d talked to Peter, she’d anguished over their conversation. Would he ever speak to her again? Then she chided herself for thinking such incongruous thoughts. He’ll come around, she thought, once Mac produces evidence that Catharine was married before.
When she thought of Mac, her heart gave a flutter. He’d sent an invitation by messenger yesterday, asking her to dinner tonight at the Tivoli restaurant. Maybe he had the proof she needed. Or wanted to spend time alone in her company. Hardly, you old fool!
Deep in her heart, Clara knew she shouldn’t entertain such thoughts or read anything into the invitation, but she was lonely. Other than her volunteer work at the church and tea with the ladies’ social club, her life held few amusements. Widowhood was lonely . . . very lonely indeed. And now that Peter was married with an instant houseful, he didn’t need her. The Lord had not seen fit to bless her with any other children, so after several miscarriages, Clara had given up hope for a baby sister or brother for Peter. It had been her dream that he would marry Dorothy and have a brood of children she could dote on.
She dropped the curtain back in place and headed downstairs to her favorite chair to sew. Taking care of a town house for one person requi
red little work at all, so she hadn’t hired a maid, preferring to keep up her own house to help fill the hours. It was a distraction for a while, until everything seemed to become mundane and repetitious. She reckoned that was the reason for being flattered by Mac so quickly. Well, I’ll enjoy it while it lasts.
Only moments had passed since she’d picked up her embroidery when the doorbell chimed. She nudged the sleeping calico off her lap, and the cat landed on her feet with a whimper and stared up at her. “Amelia, you are the laziest cat in town. Why, you never even catch me a mouse,” Clara complained. The cat scampered away to bask in the shaft of sunlight dancing on the floor beneath the window.
She opened the door to find Peter with a somber look on his face. “Peter, I must say I’m very pleased to see you. Come in.” She swung open the door for him to enter.
“You may not think so later, Mother.”
“I was just doing some needlework,” she said, ignoring his comment. She walked to the parlor. “May I get you something to eat or drink?”
“No thank you,” he said, taking a seat opposite her.
“Where is Catharine? I would’ve thought she’d be with you.” She gazed at her handsome son, aware of the chasm between them.
Peter removed his hat, placing it to rest on one knee. “I’ve been thinking about our little talk and going over it in my mind. I’m sorry if I was in any way disrespectful to you, and I know my temper kept me from thinking clearly or asking you any questions.”
He paused as if thinking of what to say next, and Clara felt her mouth go dry. She didn’t like confrontation, but she should’ve been expecting this. “Peter, I didn’t want to upset you. But what was I supposed to do? Not share my information with you?” She squirmed in her chair and shifted, trying to stifle the sudden heat she felt rise to her face.
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