“Knock on the door, K. C.,” Wyatt ordered.
She did, and the door opened almost immediately. A short man with graying hair motioned for them to enter. His somber coat and backward collar identified him as the minister.
Rachel had no chance to look around the dusky foyer before Wyatt carried her into a room on the right. The dark red upholstery on the furniture showed signs of long use, but the rosewood arms and legs glistened with care. Several tables and a piano nearly filled the room to overflowing. On top of them, books and papers and knickknacks threatened to tumble in the slightest breeze.
Wyatt placed her on her feet. She started to thank him, but agony ripped along her leg. The room contracted into darkness as she struggled to hold onto her senses. A soft voice, as lush as sun-warmed moss, urged her to sit. She did so with the help of a hand beneath her elbow.
“Are you all right?”
At the question, she blinked and focused on Wyatt’s face, which was shockingly close to her. The shadow of every whisker emphasized his straight lips and the firm line of his chin. Wanting to tell him that he should not be leaning over her like this—it simply was not polite—she rested her head against the knobby antimacassar on the back of the chair.
“I’m none the worse for wear, thank you,” she whispered, closing her eyes and trying to will away the pain.
“You look like hell.” Hearing a throaty laugh, she opened her eyes as he added, “Sorry, Reverend.”
The minister appeared on her other side. “Can I get you something, Miss Browning?”
“I didn’t realize that you recognized me,” she said.
“I’ve made it part of my duties to keep an eye on all the children who came off the orphan train and the people who took them in.” Reverend Faulkner’s smile was kind and concerned at the same time. “It’s important to me—and to the Children’s Aid Society, which placed them out here—that the children are happy and make a good adjustment to their new homes. I’ve paid calls on many of the children, and I’m happy to report that, for the most part, they’re doing even better than I had dared to hope.”
She sat straighter. “If you could share some of the stories of your calls with Kit—with Katherine, I’m sure she’d be delighted to hear how her friends are faring.” Stroking the little girl’s tangled curls, she smiled when Kitty Cat began asking questions too rapidly for Reverend Faulkner to answer.
“Shall we do that over a cup of tea? A bit of brandy?”
“Nothing for me, thank you, although Kitty Cat and Wy—Mr. Colton might like something.”
“I should be going,” Wyatt said, obviously ill at ease. Was it because he was in a minister’s house or because he was ashore?
Reverend Faulkner smiled at the little girl. “I believe Mrs. Faulkner has at least one piece of strawberry rhubarb pie left in the kitchen.”
Kitty Cat turned to go toward the back of the house, then paused. “Wyatt, tell Horace I said goodbye.”
“Why don’t you tell him that the next time you call?”
“Wyatt!” Rachel gasped. “I asked you before not to encourage her to misbehave.”
“I don’t think she needs any encouragement.” He winked at Kitty Cat. “And I’m sure you’ll be back to The Ohio Star soon.”
Rachel did not want to quarrel in front of the minister. Instead she let Reverend Faulkner ask about her ankle and how she had hurt it. As he lauded her bravery, Kitty Cat returned with a pie plate in her hand. The minister sat her and the pie plate next to him on the sofa.
When he motioned for Wyatt to bring the chair next to the window closer to where they were sitting, Wyatt considered repeating that he needed to return to his boat. He opened his mouth to say that, but paused when he looked at Rachel’s gray face. She winced when he dragged the chair forward, so he picked it up and set it next to hers.
“So you need a way to get back to River’s Haven,” said Reverend Faulkner when Rachel finished her story. “That you’re here must mean that you can’t help her, Mr. Colton.”
“Other than carrying her out there, which doesn’t sound like the best idea, my only transport is The Ohio Star.”
“Which isn’t ready to leave the pier, I assume.”
“No.” He smiled. “If you’ve got a buggy, Reverend, I can drive her out there before it gets much darker.”
“Mrs. Faulkner is using our buggy while she visits her sister a ways up the river.”
“That can’t be the only buggy in town.”
The minister chuckled and picked up a pipe he must have been smoking when they arrived. “No, it isn’t. And, if you’ll look out the window behind you, you’ll see a buckboard in front of the courthouse. It’s Samuel Jennings’s.”
“Mr. Jennings?” Kitty Cat jumped to her feet. “Is Brendan Rafferty with him?”
“I don’t know. Samuel came into town this evening to attend the meeting about plans for a library in Haven.” He smiled and added, as smoke curled around him, “Why don’t you go over there, young lady, and see if he’s willing to give you and Miss Browning a ride back to River’s Haven?”
“That’s too much to ask of him!” Rachel gasped. “I have never met Mr. Jennings.”
Kitty Cat ran out of the room.
Reverend Faulkner smiled as the front door slammed. “You’re right about Katherine, Miss Browning. It would do that youngster a world of good to hear about how her friends have settled into their new lives. Samuel Jennings’s farm is on Nanny Goat Hill Road, which isn’t too far from River’s Haven. He’s a good man, and he’ll be glad to help you.” The minister turned to focus his eyes on Wyatt. “That’s the way we do things here in Haven. When we need help, we seek out one another without hesitation.”
Was Reverend Faulkner trying to tell him something with that steady gaze? If so, Wyatt could not guess what it might be. Rubbing his hands on his trousers, he noticed for the first time the oil stains on the trousers. He glanced at his palms. The oil was dry, so it would not smear on the minister’s nice furniture or …
His eyes riveted on the handprint on Rachel’s blouse beneath her short jacket. Right where he had been holding her when he carried her here. Then he noticed the dark blotch climbing up the back of that coat. It was nearly lost in the black wool, but when she leaned forward to speak to the minister, the undeniable smudge left by his hand sweeping along her back glistened in the lamplight.
He stifled a laugh. Not too successfully, he realized, when Rachel looked over her shoulder at him. He was tempted to run his finger along that streak, but a glance at the minister made him recall his manners. He almost chuckled again. The very manners Rachel believed he did not have.
But it was not Reverend Faulkner’s presence that halted him from teasing her. Pain had stolen the sparkle from her eyes, and her pallor warned him that her ankle was hurting even worse. If she had shown some sense and stayed aboard The Ohio Star tonight, she could have rested it in his quarters.
When he envisioned her leg propped up in his bed and her hair falling in a luxurious stream across his pillow, he kept his curse silent. Other women had tried to persuade him to give up his free life and stay ashore. They had failed. Rachel would be glad to see him gone … and yet she lingered in his mind.
Wyatt was glad when the front door opened and freed him from those bewitching fantasies. The man who entered was not as tall as he was. His black hair fell forward over his green eyes and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. The man’s boots were scuffed from hard work, but his clothes were clean and neatly pressed. He had, Wyatt saw, his arm around K. C.’s shoulders, and the little girl was looking up at him with the widest smile Wyatt had seen on her face. They laughed together as they paused in the parlor doorway.
Something unpleasant struck Wyatt like a blow to the gut. He had no time to figure out what it might be because Reverend Faulkner was introducing Rachel to the man who was, as Wyatt had guessed, Samuel Jennings.
“I hear that you need a ride to River’s Haven,” Jennings said i
n a voice that hinted at years of education. “I’ll be glad to take you out there so I can have a chance to talk more with this young lady.” He put his hand on K. C.’s curls. “Brendan had me confused for days before I figured out that Kitty Cat wasn’t a real cat.” He turned to Wyatt and held out his hand. “Samuel Jennings.”
“Wyatt Colton.” He shook Jennings’s hand.
“You’re the fellow with the boat getting fixed down on the river, right?”
“News travels fast in Haven.”
Jennings laughed. “Not a lot happens in small towns, so the arrival of your paddleboat was an exciting event. At least for Sean O’Dell, who rode out to my farm to tell Brendan and his sisters about it.”
“Sisters?”
Reverend Faulkner interjected quietly, “There are three Rafferty children at Jennings’s farm.”
“You must have a generous wife if she’s willing to take on the work of three children,” Wyatt said.
The man’s smile tightened. “I’m not married.”
Curiosity pinched Wyatt, but he did not press. The comment should not have brought such coldness to Jennings’s voice. Maybe his wife had died. But her death would create sorrow, not this frosty anger.
Shrugging aside a puzzle that was not his to solve, he looked back at Rachel. She was grasping the arms of the chair. Before she could push herself to her feet—this woman did not have the sense God gave a goose!—he picked her up again and settled her soft curves against his chest.
“Is your wagon out front?” he asked, to halt Rachel from scolding him for not asking her permission before lifting her out of the chair.
Jennings stepped back into the foyer. “Yes. Bring her this way.”
With Reverend Faulkner and K. C. following, Wyatt carried Rachel out to the simple wagon that was parked by the church steps. He wished it was not so close. The light breeze was sending a single tendril of her hair up against his cheek, and he wanted to let it tease him a while longer. Its clean aroma was exhilarating.
“Rachel?” he asked quietly.
She looked up at him. “Yes?”
Fascinated by the warmth in her eyes, he forgot what he was going to say. He just wanted to look into her eyes again. Just? That was not all he wanted. He wanted her hair free and loose on his pillow and her arms around him as he delved deeply into her to revel in every bit of her warmth.
“What is it, Wyatt?” she asked.
“Send for the doctor if your ankle hasn’t improved by the end of the week.”
“I said I would.”
Her sharp tone again shattered his daydreams of making love with her all night. Setting her on the seat of the buckboard, he reached to lift K. C. in. That irritating thud in his gut returned while he watched Jennings swing the little girl up into the back of the wagon.
Wyatt stepped back as Jennings climbed onto the seat beside Rachel. Jennings was a man who would catch a woman’s eye, and he seemed to have caught Rachel’s, for she gave him a warm smile. Wyatt cursed again under his breath, not caring that he stood in the shadow of the church’s steeple. Jealousy was something he should not be feeling. Why should he care that Rachel was ready to flirt with this farmer? One kiss had warned him how easy it would be to get his life tangled up with hers, and he did not need to end up with ties to the shore if those ties were part of the River’s Haven Community.
He said nothing as the wagon turned and headed out of Haven and toward the road leading along the river. He should be thinking good riddance when it drove out of sight, but that pinch of regret remained.
“The church is sponsoring a social,” Reverend Faulkner said in a matter-of-fact voice, “to celebrate the exercises the children do each year at the end of school and the centennial of our country’s founding. It’ll be on the Fourth of July. I thought it would be nice to have the children from River’s Haven participate as well as their parents. It could bring the folks in the village and River’s Haven together as they were at the barn raising out at Sawyer’s farm earlier this spring. It’s good for folks to see each other instead of just listening to rumors.” With his hands clasped behind him, Reverend Faulkner rocked back and forth on his feet as he watched the buckboard vanish into the darkness. “That’s in just a few weeks, Mr. Colton. Surely you won’t have all the repairs made on your boat by then.”
“No, although I wish I could say that we’ll be on the river and heading for Louisville by then.” He tore his gaze from the road to look at the minister.
“You might want to consider coming to the social.” He smiled. “It doesn’t take much more than a couple of weeks for a twisted ankle to heal, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“When I twisted mine a few years ago, the doctor suggested that I get some exercise for it as soon as the pain was gone. That took about two weeks, and then he wanted me to exercise it every day.” He climbed back onto the porch and sat on a rocker. “Dancing isn’t a difficult exercise for a young lady.”
Leaning against the pole holding up the porch roof, Wyatt laughed. “You’re wasting your time preaching, Reverend. You should be playing Cupid for the folks around here.”
“I do. Regularly.” He pointed his pipe toward the far side of the green. “There go Miss Underhill and her beau. I suspect the town will be looking for a new teacher soon.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Reverend, but this life in Haven isn’t one I want.”
“I know.”
“So you’re wasting your time trying to match me up with one of the gals here.”
“I wouldn’t waste my time or yours.” The minister laughed. “I’m just suggesting that you shouldn’t waste your time either.”
Wyatt stepped down off the porch. “Good night, Reverend.”
“Two weeks, and her ankle should be healed, Mr. Colton.”
He did not answer. What could he say? That two weeks was not enough time … and that two weeks was too long? Not enough time to seduce Rachel and too long to be stuck in this backwater town. He strode toward his boat, determined to get the repairs done before that wily minister had him betrothed and wed to a woman who already was too enticing for his own good.
Seven
Rachel scratched out another line in the accounts book. She had never made so many mistakes. Usually her math was without errors. Today she doubted if she could add one and one together correctly.
She wished she could blame her lack of concentration on her ankle, but it was healing quickly. After almost a week, she could walk on it as long as she was careful.
No, thoughts of her ankle were not intruding on her work. It was her concerns for Kitty Cat. The little girl had not left River’s Haven since the day Rachel had trailed her a second time into the village of Haven. Or so Rachel thought, although she was not sure about that. Kitty Cat could easily get to Mr. Jennings’s farm to see the Rafferty boy and be back at River’s Haven before she was missed.
The little girl was happier than Rachel had ever seen her. Was Kitty Cat deciding that she wanted to stay at River’s Haven, or was the youngster up to some mischief?
And Kitty Cat was not her only problem. Rachel was plagued by thoughts of Wyatt Colton as well. No, she would not let him intrude on her work again. He must be busy on his boat, and she should be busy here.
Bending over the account book, Rachel tried to see where she had made her mistake. She picked up the invoice sheets that had come from the tool shop and from the weavers. They listed the work done during the past week and the billing for costs and supplies. Setting the pages back down, she rose from her desk, still being cautious about her ankle. She went over to the window and sat on the wide sill, looking at where the children were playing five stories below.
Kitty Cat was tossing a baseball with one of the boys. A broad smile brightened her face.
Rachel went back to her desk to continue her work. Maybe she was worrying for no reason. Kitty Cat had said she wanted to be sure her friends were well settled with their new families.
Both Sean and Mr. Jennings had assured her that was so. Now the little girl could turn her mind to her life here at River’s Haven.
When footsteps stopped in front of her door, Rachel looked up in irritation. Immediately, she stifled the harsh words that had burst into her head. She could not become so caught up in her fretting that she was short-tempered with one of the members of the Community.
Mr. Atlee regarded her with shock, warning her that her irritation had been on her face. He was a squat man with light brown hair, light brown eyes, and light brown skin. She had never heard him speak a cross word to anyone about anything.
“Miss Browning,” he said quietly, “there’s a gentleman here asking to see you.”
“Who is it?” she asked as she folded her arms on the desk.
He glanced uneasily over his shoulder. “A stranger. No one who’s come to River’s Haven before. He said his name is Wyatt Colton, and that he was Katherine’s friend.” He paused before adding in a near whisper of despair, “How could that be? He’s an outsider, Miss Browning.”
“We have other callers from outside the Community.”
“They come to see the Assembly of Elders.”
She stood and smiled as if she were completely at ease with the idea of Wyatt Colton here at River’s Haven. If he wanted to continue the argument that Kitty Cat should be allowed to visit The Ohio Star, she must put him to rights straightaway.
“Mr. Atlee, would you tell him that I’ll meet him in the Community parlor?”
“Shall I have some refreshments sent in?”
“No. I doubt Mr. Colton will be staying long enough for that.”
Mr. Atlee stepped aside as she came out into the hallway. When she walked toward the closest staircase, he went in the opposite direction. Where was Wyatt waiting? The main door to the common house was in this direction.
She chuckled to herself. The huge building with all its wings was disconcerting to the residents of the Community. For an outsider, it must be a bewildering maze.
Running her fingers along the mahogany paneling that covered the lower half of the wall, she tried to calm her frantic heartbeat. A week had passed since she had last spoken with Wyatt, but even when she worried about Kitty Cat, her thoughts had drifted to how his lips had seared hers and how his eyes twinkled as his mouth lowered toward hers.
Moonlight on Water Page 7
