Courting Kate

by Rich, Mary Lou

  He hoped that Kate had better sense, but, all smiles, she answered the door.

  The man gave her a bouquet of daffodils—which Kate accepted. After she stuck them in a vase, she and the slicker walked across the street to the Franco-American.

  Tanner followed from a distance, spying on them from behind the boardinghouse until the cook came out to dump the garbage. Afraid he might be recognized, Tanner went back to Kate’s, where he prowled the alley, waiting for them to come home. He checked his pocket watch for the umpteenth time. What could she be doing? He could have eaten three meals in the time it took her to eat dessert, and they’d been eating that an hour ago.

  The tinkling of her laughter alerted him to her presence. He darted into the toolshed, and peered from behind the half-opened door.

  “It was a divine evening, thank you, Daniel,” she said upon reaching her doorstep.

  “Not half as divine as the company, my sweet.”

  De-vine? Tanner rolled his eyes. He’d never heard such hogwash in all his life. He almost bolted from the shed when the scoundrel kissed her hand. Then her wrist.

  Before Tanner could act, Kate reclaimed her arm and opened her door.

  Fluffy poked his nose out and growled.

  Tanner grinned. He knew he liked that critter.

  The salesman took one look at the dog and retreated down the steps. “Good night, Kathleen.”

  “Good night, Daniel.” She slipped inside and closed the door.

  Her suitor released a regretful sigh, then with one last wistful look at the house, he strolled away.

  Tanner stepped from hiding. “Hold up, there.”

  The man whirled, startled. “What...” He hoisted his arms, thinking he was being robbed.

  “Put your hands down, you fool.” Tanner took the salesman’s arm and pulled him out of earshot of the house. “Look here, friend. We need to get some things straight. That’s my woman you’ve been stepping out with. My woman you’ve been kissing.” Tanner drew himself up, looming over the smaller man. “I don’t like it,” he bit out, his tone full of menace.

  The man held up his hands and backed away. “Sorry, mister, I didn’t know.”

  “You know it now.” Tanner gripped the front of the stranger’s suit. “See that it doesn’t happen again.”

  “No, sir. You have my word.”

  Tanner released him.

  The man hurriedly moved away, then broke and ran toward the saloon.

  “One down.” Tanner dusted his hands together and smiled. Now if the rest of them would scare off that easy.

  * * *

  It was nearing sunset and Kate had just removed a fresh batch of pies from her oven when she heard a knock on her door. “Now who could that be?” She wasn’t expecting company. After the late hours she’d been keeping, she’d decided to go to bed early for a change. She wiped her hands on her apron and peeked through the window glass. Him again.

  She opened the door. “What do you want?”

  “Same thing I wanted last time,” Tanner answered, as if determined not to be put off by her frosty attitude. “I’ve come courting. And since you insist on it, I’ve come to ask you ahead of time.”

  “I don’t think so.” She went to shut the door.

  He stuck his foot in the crack, then thrust a wilted bouquet through the opening. “Here.”

  “Flowers?” She pinched her nose, but the pollen had already done its work. She began to sneeze. “Get them—achoo— out of—achoo-achoo—here!”

  He tossed the wildflowers into the street.

  When she turned to grab a handkerchief, he took the opportunity to sneak inside.

  She glared at him, tears flowing from her eyes.

  “Sorry, Kate. That other feller brought you flowers. I though maybe you were over your allergy.”

  “Ah-choo! What other feller—fellow?”

  “That duded up salesman.” He scuffed his boot on the floor. “Yellow flowers, remember?”

  “I tossed those out after he left.” She blew her nose, then looked at him. “How did you know about that?”

  “I—uh, somebody must have told me.”

  A lie if she’d ever heard one. “Oh?” She tapped her foot. “And what else did they tell you?”

  “Nothing much. Only you haven’t been home much lately.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Only that you’ve been staying out till God only knows when every night.”

  She smiled. “I have been keeping rather late hours.” She stifled a yawn.

  “Yeah.” He leaned close and lifted her eyelid and stared into her eye. “Just like I thought. Bloodshot.”

  She pushed him away. “They are not. Even if they are it’s none of your concern—or your friend’s either.”

  “You’re the one who said you weren’t getting enough sleep.”

  She hadn’t said that, had she? “Well, maybe I could take a nap, if you’d quit pestering me.”

  “I’ll leave—when you agree to go out with me.” He crossed his arms and leaned back against her door.

  “Is that the only way I’m going to get rid of you?”

  He nodded.

  “All right then. I will.”

  “When?”

  She bit her lip, then lifted her hand and begin counting on her fingers. “I have an engagement then, and then, and, oh yes, then, too.” She glanced up at him. “How about two weeks from next Sunday?”

  “What? That’s dang near a month away.”

  She shrugged. “Sorry, but that’s the best I can do. Take it or leave it.” Mimicking his stance, she crossed her arms and smiled.

  His brows drew into a scowl. “Since I don’t have any choice, I guess I’ll take it.”

  “Good. Now that we have that settled, you can leave.” she moved toward the door. She couldn’t open it because he was still leaning against it. You’d think he was holding the wall up.

  “How about a piece of pie first, or maybe a cup of coffee, or tea?” He shot a hopeful look toward the kitchen area, where the scent of cinnamon and peaches hung heavy in the air.

  “Those are for my customers— my paying customers,” she added. “They’re too hot to cut tonight. Besides, they are already spoken for. I will be making some peach pies tomorrow.”

  “I won’t be here tomorrow.”

  “I know. Isn’t that too bad?” She peeped at him from beneath her lashes. “You could have Matt make you a pie. Or for that matter, you could make your own. I seem to remember you’re rather handy in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t have the fixin’s.” He could be handy in other places too, if she’d give him the chance.

  “Mercantile is still open—if you hurry.” She pointed toward the door.

  He sighed, then hoisted himself to an upright position. “I guess I can take a hint.”

  “Tell the boys hello for me,” she said, almost shoving him through the doorway.

  “I’ll do that.” He untied his horse and went down the alley.

  Curious, she watched from her bedroom window and saw him amble across to the mercantile and go inside.

  “Kate, are you busy?”

  Recognizing Dr. Thomas’s voice, she dropped the curtain and hurried to open her door. She knew a guilty flush tinged her cheeks, but the physician didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hello, Fred. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to show you something,” the doctor said, his blue eyes sparkling. “Olson’s mare had the prettiest twin fillies I’ve ever seen. Thought you might like to see them.”

  “I’d love to.” Her fatigue forgotten, she grabbed her bonnet and shawl and followed him to the buggy.

  * * *

  Leaving the mercantile with a gunnysack full of canned peaches, Tanner glanced up when he heard a buggy coming down the street. Recognizing it as Dr. Thomas’s, he raised a hand in greeting.

  “Howdy, Tanner,” the silver-haired man said, nodding to him. A woman, her face partially shielded by a bonnet, a
lso waved. “Goodbye, Tanner,” she called back over her shoulder.

  Tanner whirled. “Kate?”

  He watched the buggy until it rolled out of sight, then he hoisted the sack and tied it to a piggin string behind his saddle.

  She’d told him she was too tired to go anywhere. Told him she wanted to take a nap.

  She’d had no intention of taking a nap. And she didn’t look tired at all. Her cheeks bloomed with color.

  It would be three weeks before she would even go out with him. Anybody else showed up, and off she’d go.

  He swung onto the saddle.

  Three weeks? He shook his head. He had no intention of waiting that long.

  * * *

  The next day Tanner showed up in Jacksonville at dawn. He staked his horse out behind Dr. Thomas’s, hoping the critter had sense enough not to eat too much of the sweet green grass and make itself sick, then he strolled down Main Street and went into the Stars and Bars for a cup of coffee. By the time he ambled back to Kate’s, a crowd had already gathered there.

  “Good morning,” she called to her customers as she hung the Open sign on a peg by her front window. In her blue calico dress and with her hair pulled back and tied with a matching ribbon she looked pretty as a mountain wildflower. He had the feeling she could be selling empty pans and the men would still line up to buy them.

  Smiling, she took orders at the door. She collected her money and wrapped each pie, passing a moment of conversation with the buyer before going on to the next customer.

  The pies disappeared like snowflakes in July. Judging by the number of the crowd remaining, Tanner knew he would be likely to do without unless he took matters in hand.

  When he saw she was nearing the end, he stepped forward. “I believe that one is mine. Remember, you promised it to me yesterday?”

  She looked at him, then nodded. “I didn’t think you would make it.” She glanced down at the next man in line. “I’m sorry, but I did promise this one to Tanner. I’ll make sure to save you a special one tomorrow,” she said.

  “All right.” The miner glared at Tanner, who gave him a broad grin in return. “I’ll pay for it right now, just to make sure. I purely love peach pie.”

  The miner and the rest of the men filed away.

  Tanner held out his money and collected his pie. Then he took off his hat and sat down on her front step.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, frowning down at him.

  “Eatin’ my pie.”

  “Here?”

  “This will do—unless you want to ask me inside.”

  She shut the door.

  He finished the pie and leaned back against the doorway. The sun warming his body and the pie filling his stomach proved more than he could resist. Soon he found himself nodding off.

  * * *

  Is he still here? Kate wondered. If he’d left, she hadn’t seen him go. She eased the door open to check outside.

  Tanner toppled onto her floor, sprawling backward across her rug.

  “Oh!” She peered down at him. “Tanner, are you all right? Are you hurt?” Her heart thundering, she knelt to see if he was breathing. Was he unconscious or was he dead? Maybe he’d choked on a peach pit. She’d checked the fruit, but nevertheless... She unbuttoned his shirt and pressed her head to his chest. He seemed to be breathing all right. What was it, then? “Tanner?” Then she heard him snore.

  She jumped to her feet. “Tanner! Tanner Blaine,” she hissed, nudging him with the toe of her shoe.

  “Humph?” He snored again.

  “Tanner, you wake up this minute.”

  He opened one eye a slit. Just as quickly, he shut it and went back to sleep.

  “You can’t stay there. I can’t even shut the door.”

  She glanced up the alley toward the street. Was it her imagination or was half the town out for a stroll? What if somebody saw him? “Tanner, get up this minute.”

  He didn’t move.

  She jerked his arm. Why wouldn’t he wake up? Maybe something really was wrong with him. Should she go for the doctor? Then she remembered seeing the physician’s buggy leaving town earlier.

  She bent and lifted Tanner’s eyelid.

  A steel gray eye stared back at her.

  His eyeballs weren’t rolled back in his head. He seemed to be simply asleep.

  She refused to leave him where he lay. And she couldn’t move him. She studied the rug and the freshly waxed floor.

  Or could she?

  She bent, grabbed the edge of the rug and pulled.

  It, and Tanner, slid across the floor.

  She tugged again until his feet cleared the threshold; then, snatching up his hat and the pie tin from the doorstep, she hurried inside and closed the door.

  She turned to see Fluffy nuzzling him, then, apparently satisfied, the dog yawned and went back to his place in the corner.

  “Big help you are,” she scolded.

  The dog merely cocked his head to one side and wagged his tail.

  “What now?” she asked herself. After checking Tanner’s pulse, she didn’t think there was anything physically wrong with the man. Then she remembered Matt having once said that his brother was prone to these episodes, especially when he was exhausted. Matt had also said that, once asleep, the house could fall on Tanner and he’d never know it.

  That explained the situation. But why did he have to go to sleep here? Now?

  She smoothed a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. He did look tired, and she knew he had been working awfully hard. She didn’t know anyone who labored more diligently.

  Nevertheless, she’d have a hard time explaining Tanner’s presence if some of the ladies from church dropped by, as they were prone to do from time to time. She pulled her front drapes, hoping they would think she wasn’t home.

  She eyed the curtain strung across the room, and the bed beyond it. Did she dare? Her reputation would be ruined if anyone discovered him. But at least if she could get him that far, he would be out of sight. She’d feed him coffee; strong black coffee. That should get him on his feet.

  She pulled the rug; then, noticing his boot heels were marking her floor, she bent and removed them. She pulled again. This time, without his boots dragging, he moved more easily. When she had him out of view behind the curtain, she returned to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. When it had boiled, she poured a large cup and carried it to the bedroom.

  He lay just as she’d left him. He hadn’t moved a finger.

  She couldn’t give him the coffee lying down, she might choke or scald him if she tried. She set the cup on the bedside table. Then, getting down on all fours, she pushed him into a sitting position and propped him against the bed.

  She reached for the coffee.

  He slid back onto the floor.

  “Drat!” She moved the cup closer, then propped him up again.

  Realizing the coffee may still be too hot, she took a swallow herself, then held it to his lips. “Drink,” she commanded.

  He took one sip, and another, and looked at her through half-shuttered eyes.

  She forced some more of the brew past his lips, praying it would do the job. When the cup was empty, she shoved it to one side.

  “Tanner, stand up. That’s an order,” she said gruffly.

  “Yessir,” he mumbled thickly, making a feeble attempt to rise.

  She pulled, hoisted, tugged and lifted until she had him on his feet. Her apron had fallen off, and somewhere during the struggle she’d lost her top dress button. Lost her hair bow, too, she noticed, tossing her head to throw her hair back out of her eyes.

  Tanner yawned, stretching his arms overhead. Then his eyes slammed shut. He swayed.

  “No, you don’t.” She grabbed him around the waist and held on tight. But he was too big. It was like hugging... a falling tree.

  He toppled backward, taking her along with him. Another of her buttons shot across the room and ricocheted off the wall. The next thing she knew, she was entangled in
Tanner’s long limbs. And they were both lying on the bed.

  “Oh, good grief,” she cried, trying to pry his arm off her neck. It was like trying to move a dead weight. When she had managed to move that arm over her head, he turned onto his side. His other arm fell across her breast.

  He snored, his warm breath tickling her ear. Mumbling, he snuggled even closer. One leg slid over hers.

  She couldn’t get free of him; he was on top of her skirt. She couldn’t turn. His leg had her pinned to the bed. With his arm stretched across her middle, she could barely breathe.

  “Tanner. Tanner, wake up.”

  He snorted, then exhaled.

  “If this isn’t a fine kettle of fish,” she muttered, staring at the man by her side. She sighed in resignation, knowing she wouldn’t be going anywhere until he either rolled over or woke up. Both seemed highly unlikely anytime soon.

  Since she’d never had him this close, or this still before, she began to examine his features. She studied the long, slightly hooked nose, the square chin. In sleep he looked younger, less fierce, almost boyish.

  She’d never noticed what long eyelashes he had. He’d always glared at her with those steel-colored eyes. His high cheekbones and bronzed coloring told of his Indian heritage. As did his glossy black hair. He was sinfully handsome—and he knew it. Arrogant, too.

  Her gaze traced the contour of his mouth. She could feel the short puffs of air that drifted between his lips. He smelled of peach pie and coffee.

  She remembered how those same lips had felt when he kissed her. Unable to resist, she tilted her chin and pressed her mouth to his. His lips were warm and smooth. She kissed him again, glad he was asleep, but at the same time wondering what would happen if he should wake. A warmth spiraled inside her.

  She ran a finger down his arm and traced his muscles, hard, sinewy. She trailed her hand across his muscled torso, tangling a matt of silky chest hair around her fingers. She touched his nipples and was surprised to see them harden. She eyed them curiously, wondering what he might be feeling. She probably should button his shirt, she decided, but with him lying on it, she couldn’t pull it together.