“You love heem?”
“Of course not!” She took a gulp of coffee and burned her tongue. “How could I love a man like that? He’s too big, too pig-headed, too stubborn.”
“He ees a typical man.” Jeanne nodded. “You love heem.”
“I assure you I don’t. And I don’t want to talk about Tanner Blaine.”
Jeanne grinned.
“Do you have any more pie recipes?” Kate asked, hoping to change the subject.
After discussing the finer aspects of pie creation, Jeanne left, then Kate dressed and straightened her quarters. She had a headache and didn’t feel like baking. She’d remained closed one day, one more wouldn’t matter.
She retired early, determined to make up for the lack of sleep from the night before, but once again she spent most of the night tossing and turning, finally getting up to spend the remainder of the night in her chair by the stove.
You love heem.
“She’s wrong. I couldn’t love him. I don’t,” she cried. Then why did she always end up in his arms? She closed her eyes, remembering the ecstasy, the passion. She wasn’t a loose woman. Yet, she had come close to surrendering her virtue. She would have been ruined. And, God help her, she wouldn’t have cared.
Fluffy came and put his head in her lap and gazed at her with soulful eyes.
The agonizing truth sent her to her knees. “I do. I do love him.” She bent and buried her face in the dog’s fur. “But he doesn’t love me. Oh, Fluffy, what am I going to do?”
* * *
After tying the last of his tools on the mule, Tanner took a drink of water from the canteen and used the remainder to wash the sawdust from his eyes. He had worked long and hard, quitting only when it became too dark to see. He gazed up at the sky where stars now popped through the twilight. The number of trees he had felled today should have given him satisfaction. But the only thing he felt was tired.
He looped the canteen strap over the pommel and climbed into his saddle. “Damn it, Kate. Why can’t you be reasonable?” He gathered the reins and clucked to the horse.
Reasonable? Women weren’t known for being reasonable. Usually just the opposite. And Miss Kathleen Amanda Deveraux was no exception. In fact, now that he’d come to think on it, she was probably worse. He’d been trying to look out for her best interests. Why couldn’t she see that?
Her best interests?
He’d almost seduced her—in Madame Jeanne’s parlor. On a desk. With a bevy of would-be husbands waiting outside in the hall. Thank God none of them had opened the door.
Kate was pretty, but so were a lot of other women. And some of them had better figures. And they would be willing, if not eager, to have him make love to them. He had no problem keeping his hands off them. In fact, once he’d satisfied his baser instincts, they didn’t affect him one way or the other.
Why was Kate different? What was it about her that made him want to strip her naked and make love to her every time he laid eyes on her?
He didn’t know, but one thing was for sure. They would both be better off if he did stay away. Not that that would be difficult. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. She’d stated that loud and clear.
He also remembered her confrontation with the men in the hall. She’d said she didn’t want to see any of them, either. So until she changed her mind, he had nothing to worry about.
His mood greatly improved, he smiled, then he nudged his horse into a faster pace and headed for home.
* * *
After a successful season in San Francisco, the Gold Coast Players were booked to do a melodrama at Horne’s new hall in Jacksonville. Almost everyone in the area would be attending the performance, and Kate found herself looking forward to the event. After the fiasco with Tanner and her would-be suitors, she had rarely gone out in the evening and then only to see Madame Jeanne. She had attended a few functions, such as a quilting bee or a poetry reading, with some of the ladies from church, mostly to find out if she was the subject of any gossip. If she was, nobody had breathed a word.
Her pie business hadn’t suffered because of her self-imposed exile. She had been busier than ever. Today she had baked right up until it was time to get dressed for the evening’s gala. In fact, she’d worked so late that she hadn’t had the opportunity to put her week’s proceeds into the bank. Since this wasn’t the first time the bank had closed before she’d made her deposit, she’d hidden the wad of bills in a crockery cookie jar, then placed it in the cabinet. The money would be safe enough, and besides, Fluffy would be there.
Tomorrow she would send a portion of it to Melody and her husband. The last letter she’d received from them sounded as though they could use it, especially now that the baby, a little girl, had been born. She bore her cousins no ill will. In truth they had done all they could for her.
She’d written to them upon her arrival. She’d explained that she and Mr. Blaine had disliked each other on sight, and had agreed it would be better to each go his or her own way. She had also told them that the West was filled with opportunities and she had opened a very successful pie shop.
They had written back eager to know more. Since then she had told them all about her life in Jacksonville, mentioning everything except that courting mess—and Tanner. She’d be mortified if they found out about that.
It had been almost three weeks since she had seen Tanner, and during that time she had been forced to face some hard and painful truths. No matter how much she might wish it different, there could be no future in their relationship. Accepting that, she’d made a decision. As soon as she had repaid Tanner and Madame Jeanne, she would leave Jacksonville.
She fastened a garnet clip into her hair, a Christmas present from Tanner and the boys. The boys had brought it in. Tanner hadn’t come into town, probably afraid to show his face. She had sent presents back in return. A toy for John, books for Mark and Luke, a bottle of cologne for Matthew, and a pair of gloves for Tanner. Soon after that the weather had turned bad and she hadn’t seen any of them since.
She studied herself in the mirror. Outside, she looked the same as she had when she’d arrived, but inside, she had changed. Now, she had confidence in her ability to survive on her own. She took pride in her new-found independence. Her pie business had proved that she could support herself. Why, farther north in a more populated area, she might do even better. And maybe there, in time, she could forget Tanner Blaine.
Thinking of Tanner made her sad and more than a bit wistful.
“Put the man out of your mind,” she scolded, adding a dash more Spanish paper to her cheeks. “There.”
The burgundy velvet dress, a present from Madame Jeanne, hugged her waist and hips and flared around her ankles. The neckline dipped scandalously low. When she did reach the theater, she wondered if she would have nerve enough to remove her cape.
“Nonsense. If I’m doomed to a life as an old maid, I may as well have some fun before I die.” She gazed into the mirror. If she said so herself, she’d never looked better. Too bad Tanner wouldn’t be there to see her.
A knock on the door told her that her escort for the evening had arrived. She hurried to let him in.
Dr. Frederick Thomas gave a whistle of admiration. “My word, Kate, you take an old man’s breath away. Maybe I should have come armed. I daresay I’ll have to fight men off by the droves.”
She smiled. “Thank you. And you, sir, look so dashing, I fear I may be fending off a few heart-struck females on my own.”
The doctor bowed and doffed a top hat. “The buggy’s outside, if you’re ready, my lady.”
“I only need to find my gloves.” She hurried back to her living quarters to seek her black gloves one last time. Where did she have them last? The day she went to confront Tanner. She hadn’t seen them since. Giving it up as a lost cause, she pulled a pair of tan gloves from her drawer and returned to the other room. “I guess I must have misplaced them. Maybe no one will notice that these don’t match.”
&nb
sp; “My dear, the last thing anybody will be looking at is your hands.”
* * *
Tanner tied his horse to a hitching rail. Then, glancing around toward the theater, he removed his duster, folded it, then tied it behind his saddle. This was a tomfool idea. He didn’t know why he let Jeanne talk him into it. He awkwardly straightened the stiff, scratchy collar, then bent and brushed the legs of his pants. The tie and tails had also been Madame Jeanne’s idea. A former boarder, an actor, had left the suit in lieu of rent.
Tanner had never been so gussied up in his life. He felt like a monkey in a circus show. Or an undertaker. Well, at least it was dark. Maybe nobody would see him.
He tarried as long as he dared, then, squaring his shoulders, he entered the lobby of the theater.
“Tanner.” Madame Jeanne, her voluptuous body encased in sleek black satin, left the group of people she was with and hurried in his direction. “I was afraid you were not coming, cherie.” She placed her hands on her hips and gave him the once-over. “Ooh la la, you look so handsome.”
“You look pretty scrumptious, yourself.” He gazed around the gathering of people. “Quite a turnout for this shindig.”
“They all come to see the new hall,” she said, hooking her arm through his.
He glanced overhead, taking in the flickering crystal chandelier. “Looks real elegant. I doubt if even Portland has one so fine.”
“I reserved you a place next to me. Oh, see, the lights are dimming already, I theenk we should take the seat.” She tightened her grip on his arm and led him into the darkened theater.
“I hope you know where you’re going,” he whispered. “I can’t see a blamed thing.”
“Here.” She led him down the aisle and preceded him into a row. “Sit.” She tugged him into a vacant seat.
“Looks like a full house.” He peered around at the people now taking up standing room along the walls.
“Everybody een town ees here.”
Everybody? He craned his neck to look again. Then the stage lights came on, and the melodrama began.
Ten Nights in a Barroom captivated the audience and many a feminine eye was being wiped for tears, but Tanner found it hard to concentrate on the play. He was too busy scanning each row, although he couldn’t see much. And if anybody had asked, he would have denied he was looking. Where was she? Maybe she hadn’t come.
The curtain fell to a roar of applause, and the lights were turned up.
Tanner turned to Madame Jeanne. “Is it over?”
“No, no, cherie. Eet ees only the first act.”
“Oh. What do we do now?”
“We could go eento lobby and have refreshments,” she suggested.
“Yeah, let’s do that. I don’t know about you, but I feel plumb parched.” Tanner stood, grateful for the chance to stretch his legs. He decided that whoever had constructed the seats must have been a midget. It sure wasn’t built to accommodate anybody as tall as him.
“I need to powder my nose, cherie. You go ahead, and I meet you een a meenute.”
Tanner followed the rest of the crowd into a large anteroom off the theater entrance. Where is that punch bowl? Spying a group of men in the corner, he headed in that direction, then stepped backward to avoid a man juggling three cups of cherry-colored liquid.
“Oh!”
Feeling something soft under his boot, he looked down, then shifted sideways. “Sorry, ma’am. Hope I didn’t squash your foot.”
“Only my toe,” a familiar voice said.
Tanner jerked around and met a pair of violet eyes. “Kate?” He’d always thought her pretty, but tonight she fairly took his breath away. Her dress, what there was of it, fit her like a second skin. It was the part it wasn’t fitting that made his eyes bulge. He frowned. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch a cold or something?” he asked, glancing around to see if anybody else had noticed.
They had. Every man in the room was getting eyestrain.
“Cold? Goodness no. I find it very warm in here.” She opened a lacy black fan and waved it in front of her. The motion loosened tiny tendrils of gleaming black hair and sent them fluttering around her face.
“Here’s your punch, my dear.” The doctor handed Kate a cup. “Hello, Tanner. Kind of surprised to see you here. Didn’t know you went in for this sort of thing.”
“I don’t, usually. Jeanne talked me into it.”
“Here, Tanner, why don’t you take this stuff? One of the boys offered me something a little stronger.” He glanced at Kate. “If you don’t mind, Kathleen?”
“Go ahead, Fred,” she said. “You deserve it after the week you’ve put in.” Kate brought the cup to her lips and took a sip. A bead of water dropped from the bottom of the cup and landed at the base of her throat, then, little by little, it inched lower, finally coming to a stop between the shadowy cleft of her breasts.
Mesmerized, Tanner watched, wondering if it would stay there or go lower still.
“What are you looking at?” she asked, fixing him with a frown of disapproval.
“Uh, nothing. Your cup was dripping.” He congratulated himself for being able to drag his gaze back to her face. It took every bit of concentration he had to keep it there. “You said something about the doc putting in a hard week. Is it diphtheria?” Every winter the dread disease took a heavy toll.
“No. Smallpox.” She sipped her punch. “You haven’t heard?”
“Smallpox? No. Tell me about it.”
“The first case occurred about two weeks ago. A man in Roseburg died. Then a few cases showed up locally. Everyone was worried for a while, but this week there were only two new cases. The Sentinel reported that the worst of it was over.”
“Where did they put the sick people?” He didn’t like to think of Kate being exposed to anyone that might have the disease.
“The Board of Health opened a pesthouse up on Kanaka Flats. They also opened a hospital for the overflow in that old store building outside of town, but so far there hasn’t been any need for it.”
“Kanaka Flats.” It figured. Kanaka Flats, mostly a conglomeration of saloons and shanties, was home to most of the undesirable element in the area. “Guess they figured to get rid of the riffraff along with the victims.”
“It’s nothing to joke about, Tanner. I can’t imagine a more horrible way to die.”
“I’m sorry, Kate.” Thinking of the array of people she came in contact with, he frowned. “Have you taken any precautions?”
“Of course. I’ve had the vaccination, and I also have a saucer of chloride of lime in my house.”
“Is that enough?”
“Do I look sick to you?”
She had never looked healthier. His gaze dipped to her chest. Almost too healthy. “You got a shawl or something? I wouldn’t want you to catch cold.”
“I told you, I’m fine. In fact I’m hot. Feel.”
She took his hand and put it on her forehead, then on the base of her neck.
He jerked his hand back like he’d been burnt.
“Kate, are you all right?” the doctor asked, hurrying back to her side.
“For pity’s sake. I’m fine. Do I look sick to you?”
“No, but I saw Tanner—”
“He wanted me to put on a shawl, but I said I didn’t need it.”
“Oh.” The doctor peered up at Tanner and grinned. “She sure looks fine to me.” He glanced down at Kate. “I think it’s time to raise the curtain. Shall we go back to our seats?”
“Goodbye, Tanner. Enjoy the show.” She hooked her arm through the physician’s and went back into the theater.
Tanner scanned the emptying room, then spotted Jeanne. “I wondered where you went to,” he said.
“I did not theenk you would meess me,” she said, smiling. “Besides, I had beesness to deescuss with Cornelius.”
He led her back to her seat. “How is Beekman these days?”
“Looking forward to the new year; he plans to make even more money.”
“New year? By golly, I had forgotten. Tonight is New Year’s Eve. Speaking of money, I guess Kate’s pie shop is still doing a booming business.”
“Yes, eet ees a shame she weel be leaving us before long.”
“Kate’s leaving?”
Madame Jeanne didn’t answer. The curtain had risen, the second act was beginning. Tanner knew Kate wasn’t in front of them, for he had examined the back of every head. None of them belonged to her. Trying not to be obvious about it, he swiveled and looked to the right and then to the left. Finally, he turned completely around and found her seated directly behind him.
“Sit still. I can’t see,” she hissed.
“Sorry.” Feeling like a fool, he faced the stage and scooted down in his seat. At least now he knew where she was.
Toward the end of the act, he heard a man say in a loud whisper, “Doc, you’re needed at the hotel. Looks like another case of the pox.”
“Kate?” the elder man asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” she said softly.
Tanner turned. “Go ahead, Doc, I’ll see she gets home.”
“Thanks, Tanner. Kinda cold out. I’ll leave my buggy.”
The rest of the performance seemed to go in slow motion and more than a few of the patrons began to nod. Others, mostly men, retreated to the lobby for a cigar or something to drink. But Tanner had no difficulty staying awake. He could actually hear Kate breathing. And with every intake he visualized the rise and fall of her breasts.
When the second act ended, the patrons again headed for the lobby.
By the time Jeanne stood and they started up the aisle, Kate was nowhere to be seen. Jeanne left Tanner and was soon huddled with Cornelius over a piece of paper, giving Tanner the opportunity to look for Kate. He found her in the midst of a group of women.
Telling himself he was glad she was unapproachable, he stepped outside to catch a breath of air. Several men in deep conversation drew his attention.
“I heard three more came down sick today.”
“Thought the worst of it was over. At least that’s what the Sentinel is telling us.”
“Well, it appears that editor don’t know everything, no matter what he prints in his paper.”
Courting Kate Page 11
