Catharine’s heart felt full. Here was her sister, a woman, now ready to be launched into whatever life brought her way. She prayed life would be full of wonder and happiness for Greta.
Catharine felt Peter’s eyes on her, and her gaze swerved toward him. His eyes held hers for a long moment, and she felt flushed.
Bryan stood up and fished in his pocket for his present. “I have something for you too, Greta.” He handed her a small box, then sat down.
Greta looked at him in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting anything, really.” She flipped open the box and pulled out a small locket in the shape of a heart. “Oh, goodness . . . Bryan, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”
Bryan placed the gold chain around her neck. It twinkled in the light against her pink gown. Greta reached down, touching it. “It’s simply beautiful. Thank you so much, Bryan.”
Bryan turned a light shade of pink. “You’re welcome. Now, how about that walk you promised me?” He winked.
Everyone was quiet, watching young love unfold right before their eyes. Even the twins seemed to sense something special happening.
Greta shoved back her chair and looked at the group around the table. “If you all will excuse me, I have an appointment to keep.”
A strange, distant buzzing penetrated Catharine’s sleep, and with a drowsy gaze she glanced around the bedroom, looking for its source. It had been a fitful night filled with a haunting dream.
She saw nothing, but the sound was real. She lifted Peter’s arm off her hip, quietly slipped out of bed, and made her way downstairs to the porch. It was a warm night again, and her nightgown was sticking to her. Leaning against the post by the porch railing, she looked out across the yard and beyond the grassy fields of wheat illuminated by the moon. All was still, and with the breeze absent she could hear the locusts.
The party had been a great success, despite Prince’s frolic and Clara’s disapproval on so many levels. But on Catharine’s mind now was the dream she’d just had. It was exactly as she remembered it when the events happened.
The gavel of the judge had rapped hard on his massive desk, executing his verdict. Accidental death. She’d been glad that her parents hadn’t had to witness this. Catharine stole a glance at Karl, fighting the huge lump in her throat. In slow motion she moved through the filmy haze to do what she must now, her heart broken. When she walked past him, his eyes pleaded, but she was devoid of any feeling of love she’d had for him before. Eerily, she continued out of the courthouse, remembering . . .
Catharine shuddered from a sudden chill. Would she ever forget? She patted her abdomen to reassure herself of the life within her. Karl Johnsen had been a smooth talker, handsome, and oh so incredibly charming. It had been a whirlwind romance, and her parents had warned her, just as she’d tried to warn Greta. But at least Bryan had come courting in the proper manner now, and he did seem to really adore Greta.
Catharine’s heart was full as she prayed. Lord, watch over the unborn baby You’ve entrusted me with. Thank You for my sweet Greta, a young lady now. Give her a good future with whomever You have planned for her. Watch over my little Anna with her tender heart. And, Lord, I know Peter is worried about the wheat crop, but I know You will provide if we trust You. Thank You for loving me. Amen.
A sudden wind blew, and she heard an owl hoot from its roost in a nearby tree. It was a lonely sound, but she wasn’t feeling as sad now. She heard the door open and Peter stepped behind her, encircling her with his arms and pulling her back against him so they both faced the field.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked.
She could feel his warm breath against her ear, and she snuggled back further. “The sound of the locusts interrupted my dreams. Can’t you hear them?”
Peter sucked in a deep breath. “Yes, and that’s what concerns me now. Last summer was so hot and winter was the coldest one on record, which resulted in the grasshoppers. I feel a repeat coming.”
She lifted one of his calloused hands from her waist, brushing it lightly with a kiss. “I pray not, Peter. Maybe it won’t be as bad as last year.”
“In a couple of days I’ll be able to know if the bait we put out is working. Anything is better than nothing at all, considering last year’s swarm.”
“Tell me, how did you know to do all that?” Catharine listened to the hum of the locusts and shivered.
“Congress created a commission to respond to the grasshopper plague and how best to stop it. The bait is part arsenic and part sawdust. So we’ll just wait and see.”
She turned around to face him, gazing into the kind blue eyes she’d come to love. “It was a nice party today and the food was so delicious. What a relief for me not to have to make it.”
He cupped her chin. “Don’t worry about what my mother said. I swear she’s just jealous that she never thought to do that. However, we will have to do something about all those puppies.” His mouth twisted sideways. “Agree?”
“It was almost comical seeing your mother so undone. Anna told me later that she forgot to put the puppies in the pen. She felt badly about it.”
“I should hope so. I know she’s only fifteen, but don’t you think it’s time she started to be a little more responsible?”
Catharine splayed her hands against his chest and felt his heartbeat underneath her palms. “I’m trying, truly I am. Anna is different somehow. She’s more of a free spirit than Greta or I.”
“I’ll give you that. But you still have to talk to her.” Peter’s face was serious.
She cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you might let us—I mean her—keep all four puppies?”
Peter laughed softly. “You little minx.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “What I was thinking was maybe she could part with two of them for Angelo and Alfredo. That’s if Mario will let them. He may refuse outright.”
“Good idea. I knew you were a smart man,” she said, playfully running a finger along his mouth. “Anna will feel better knowing they have the puppies.” She yawned, trying to cover her mouth. “I’m getting sleepy. Let’s go back to bed.” She felt the pressure of his hand massaging her lower back, and her pulse quickened.
“Only if you let me hold you close.”
“I think that can be arranged.”
The owl hooted in agreement from his perch high atop the elm tree.
The day after the play, Mac didn’t return to Clara’s as promised. She’d wanted to bring him along to Greta’s party, but apparently he’d gone out of town once again. She wished he’d at least told her. Every time he returned to Cheyenne from his trips, he was so charming that he won her over with his attention, so she was never miffed at him for very long. She was finding it hard to concentrate on much of anything without his face swimming before her. She felt like a silly schoolgirl.
She took great care picking her dress today, wanting to look her best. She intended on walking to Mac’s office on the chance that he might be there. She couldn’t wait any longer. She selected a day dress the color of bisque, which was cooler for summer wear with its lightweight fabric. Staring at her image in her mirror, she felt satisfied with her look and glad that she’d maintained her slender figure as she’d aged. The conservative dress held an open neckline and a lightweight chemisette that ended in a small V. Coral piping continued down the length of the bodice to meet her waist, making it appear even more slender. The sleeves were full at the shoulders, but the skirt remained narrow with a soft bustle at the back. Perfect, she thought.
She gave her cheeks a slight pinch for a hint of color, then picked up her reticule, praying that Mac would be in his office. Not wanting to appear in a hurry, she strolled down the sidewalk to the center of town, nodding to passersby here and there, then waved to Angelina, who was sweeping off the sidewalk in front of their restaurant across the street. It surprised her that she really liked Angelina and Mario. It was obvious they were becoming fast friends with Catharine and her sisters.
You could too, if you tried.
At her destination, she slowed her steps and reached for the door handle when suddenly an arm reached around from behind her, unlocking the door. Turning, she looked into the smiling face of Mac.
“Good morning, beautiful! You look wonderful. Perfect timing, I was just arriving.”
Clara had to still her heart. Was she old enough to have a heart attack like her husband did? She sucked in air then smiled back. “Mac, I’m so glad you’re back. Where on earth have you been?”
His eyes swept over her in admiration. “What kind of greeting is that? Have you missed me?” He took her hand and pulled her inside, shutting the door behind them. He pulled her to him, giving her a long, deep kiss until she thought her lungs would burst from lack of air. “Ahh, your lips are so sweet, Clara.”
“Mac.” She moaned, then staggered back, her heart hammering. “Yes, I’ve missed you.” Had he said he missed her too? She couldn’t remember exactly what he’d just told her.
“That’s more like it.” Mac’s dark eyes penetrated her. “I had to make a short trip to Denver. Come on in. What have you been up to?”
Clara swallowed hard. “Is that all you can say? You couldn’t drop by and let me know you were leaving? You promised the night of the opera that you’d come back the very next day so we could talk.” She would not let him skirt the issue this time.
“Clara, I meant to. Really, I did. I just got busy and forgot.”
“At the very least, you could have sent me a message.” She stiffened as he reached for her again. She could smell his aftershave, and she loved how the dark hair at the edge of his neck curled into his collar. “I went to Greta’s birthday party without you.” She pouted, folding her arms across her.
He stepped closer. “I know, my sweet. I’m sorry. That was just an oversight. How about I make it up to you and take you to lunch?” His lips descended on hers again, and she let them linger there, allowing the pleasure that shot through her.
She’d longed for his touch when he was away. Clara struggled to keep her head this time—business first. “I’m really not that hungry. Have you found out any more about Catharine yet?”
He eyed her. “Come sit down and we’ll talk.” He patted the leather chair next to his desk, which Clara noticed was devoid of his usual clutter. He pulled out a folded piece of paper that appeared to be a wire and pushed it across his desk toward her. “This is proof that she was married to a Karl Johnsen. What I don’t have is proof that she was ever divorced from him.”
Clara stared at the wire confirming from a solicitor in Amsterdam that Catharine Olsen indeed was married. She moistened her dry lips. “Was she divorced or not? This could totally ruin my son and my reputation! I must have proof, Mac!”
He turned in his chair and looked briefly out the window, his fingers tapping together while he pondered her demand. “And you’ll get the proof you need. I promise. I have my contact working on it, and he believes she was never divorced before leaving the country. Unfortunately, I’ve run short of cash with my last trip, and my contact in Amsterdam won’t send any more documents until I wire him more money.” He swiveled in his chair again to face her, imploring her with his eyes. “You can understand that, can’t you? The solicitor there has done quite a lot of research for me, and he’s not cheap.”
Clara’s heart fell. More money? “How much?” she asked, compressing her lips into a thin line.
“About a thousand dollars should take care of it.” He leaned over and lifted her hand. “All in all, that’s not a lot of money to get to the truth, is it?” He turned her hand over and kissed her palm tenderly, gazing at her with half-lidded eyes.
She found his endearing smile irresistible and sweetly romantic. “All right. I’ll go over to the bank and have a draft written for you today, and I expect to get some answers right away. But I’m afraid this is all I can spend on this investigation, Mac.”
“Perfect!” He pushed back his chair and rose. “Now let’s go have lunch and forget our troubles. Does that sound good to you?” he said, slipping his arm about her waist as she stood. “My, but you smell divine.”
Clara felt a surge of love so strong that it dazed her. She wanted nothing more than the pleasure of his company.
Morning light cast streaks of red across the horizon. Peter stalked toward the fields, his legs feeling heavy, to survey what was left of his wheat. Normally this was his favorite time of day, with the quiet likened to the hush of a lover’s sigh. But not today. He knew the wheat, which had grown nearly two feet high, was now reduced to about a fourth of its size from the Rocky Mountain grasshoppers. In the last few days the humming had gotten louder in warning, and though the bait had killed many of the eggs buried during the winter, yesterday afternoon he’d witnessed a swarm of grasshoppers a half mile wide. He’d told everyone to hurry inside and stay indoors, and to close the windows to seal off the house. Frantically, Catharine and her sisters hurried to do his bidding, with Anna snatching up the puppies to carry them to safety.
Peter stood surveying the ravaged field with despair. Now where would the money come from to run his farm? Not only that, but he had three more mouths to feed. He stuffed his disappointment deep inside. He mustn’t let Catharine know how really bad this could be for the farm. He wasn’t about to ask his mother for an advance, at least not until the next crop yielded. He’d had to do that last year, but not now with their strained relationship.
At least he hadn’t lost the entire crop this time, but he blamed himself. Could be he hadn’t gotten the bait down in time, or for whatever reason perhaps not all of them took the bait. Maybe I’ll just become a rancher.
Catharine’s flower bed was destroyed, as well as the vegetable garden—after all her backbreaking work. The grasshoppers had gnawed nearly every plant in sight.
Shoulders slumped and head down, Peter turned to go back to the house. He’d figure something out. The Lord hadn’t ever let him go begging. When he finally looked up again, Catharine was walking toward him, a sad look on her weary face. Somehow he would find a way to make it all work.
“I’m sorry about your flower bed.” His voice was barely above a whisper as she took his hand in hers.
“That’s the least of your worries, Peter. Don’t even give it a thought. I can plant another one.” She rubbed her hand across his shoulder, and he felt comforted as they walked in companionable silence.
What had he expected? That she wouldn’t support him? He needn’t have worried. Catharine had come to accept her role as a farmer’s wife with enthusiasm, despite her background, and he was proud to call her his wife. He stopped and turned her to face him. He could get lost in those sparkling eyes so full of life, and he felt an instant tingle of desire. That’s what she did to him every time she looked at him. He stared into her lovely face as she stroked his jaw. No words were needed when she slipped her arms about his waist and held him tight against her.
Later that morning, Catharine watched as Peter started plowing under the field. Other farmers had been hit just as hard, so there was no use whining. They’d all help each other out. That’s what neighbors did around here, she was learning.
She hummed a tune, trying to stay cheerful as she raked away the ravages of her flowers, then went on to what was left of the vegetable garden. She’d go to town again to look for some vegetable seedlings to plant. If they were to be found at all. Thankfully, Peter had canned tomatoes and beans with the help of his mother last summer, and there was still a good supply handy. So they wouldn’t starve.
“I’m finished cleaning the porch,” Anna called from the steps. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”
Catharine tilted her head back in order to see from underneath the brim of her bonnet. “Why don’t you see if Greta needs help
getting supper started? I’m nearly through here.”
Anna flung the broom aside and hurried back inside. Catharine smiled to herself. Her sisters were becoming indispensible to her. They would be a great help when the baby arrived.
She wanted to tell Peter about the baby, but now was not a good time with the failure of the crop on his heart and mind. But soon she would. Perhaps in a week he’d have a better grip on things and she could tell him. I want a little boy that looks just like him. Catharine hugged her arms across her chest, daydreaming. Soon she’d have Peter bring his childhood cradle down from the attic.
Supper was a somber affair without the jovial talking and discussions normally heard around the dinner table. Everyone sensed Peter’s mood, and they were also tired from the long day of cleanup.
“Peter, thank you for letting the puppies come inside during the grasshopper swarm.” Anna spoke softly as everyone concentrated on their simple dinner. “I’m sure they would’ve been so scared. I know I still have to give three of them away.”
“You’re welcome,” he said with a grunt, setting his fork down. Catharine knew Anna was expecting him to agree that she’d have to part with the puppies, but he seemed too dejected to even care. “I’m going to Cheyenne in the morning. I’ll pick up some more flower and vegetable seeds. The UP railroad will deliver fresh vegetables to the market up from Colorado, so I’ll buy some. Need some fertilizers too . . .” His voice trailed off. He seemed to be going over his mental list out loud.
“I could go with you,” Catharine said.
He gave her a steady look. “Not this time. It’s going to be a fast trip . . . unless you just want to go for the ride.”
“Not really. I have plenty to do. Tomorrow is laundry day.”
“Ugh.” A groan escaped from Greta. “We just did laundry.”
“It just seems that way,” Anna piped up. “It always does when it’s the least favorite chore.”
Deeply Devoted Page 20
