The women remained quiet for the rest of Sarah Jane’s bath. By the time they helped her from the tub and dried her off, the aroma of chicken stew and biscuits filled the house.
“I’m sure you must be hungry,” Hannah said. “I’ll have food on the table in no time at all.”
As they entered the parlor, Katie glanced out the open door, and her feet stilled as she spotted Tom standing near the barn with the wolf-dog.
“Maybe I’d better wait to call Tom to supper until he’s finished talking to Lobo,” Hannah said.
Katie turned to the elderly woman and cocked her head. “He’s talking to the dog?”
“They have an unusual bond. Lobo won’t be happy about staying behind, but he’ll look after Sarah Jane and me if Tom tells him to.”
Katie scoffed. “If the dog doesn’t tag after Tom, it’s probably because he knows he has plenty to eat here.”
Hannah touched Katie’s arm. “You’re wrong, dear. Tom and Lobo understand each other. Their loyalty is unbelievable.”
Unbelievable was right. Katie had a pet once, a gray and yellow finch named Pretty Boy. The little bird chirped and sang to her every day. One afternoon, when she let it out of the cage to play, it flew away and never came back.
She glanced across the way at the man and beast. They certainly seemed to have a bond, an unusual friendship of sorts. They certainly had a closeness Tom and Katie didn’t share.
They had reached a truce for the sake of Sarah Jane, but could they become friends? Could they form a relationship based upon mutual respect and trust?
They’d have to get to know each other first. And that meant setting their differences aside.
Katie was willing, but she wasn’t so sure about Tom. He seemed too set in his ways to see reason. Of course, she was a bit stubborn, too. But she would try to talk to him as soon as she could get him alone.
But when an interesting old man entered the house, Katie feared that chance might never come.
“Miss Katie O’Malley,” Hannah said by way of introduction, “this is our dear friend, Jack Cavendish.”
The old man grinned, sporting yellowed teeth—one of them missing. “Pleased to meet you, Miss O’Malley. Tom told me about you, and while he said you were pretty, I have to tell you, he didn’t do you a bit of justice. No sirree.”
Katie wasn’t so sure Tom had said anything of the sort, but she accepted the old man’s compliment. “How do you do, Mr. Cavendish.”
“Call me Trapper—or just plain ol’ Jack. No need for us to be formal.”
He smiled, his blue eyes glimmering like a child’s at Christmas, although she couldn’t imagine what he found so amusing.
Ten minutes later, after giving Erin her fill of chicken stew, which was merely a few bites, they sat down to a delicious meal, during which Trapper Jack chattered on about one thing or another. When the dishes had been washed, Katie excused herself to take her bath. It wasn’t until afterward that she thought she might have a chance to catch Tom alone.
Since Hannah had taken Sarah Jane into the small guest room to read a storybook, and Trapper had apparently gone into the barn, Katie used that opportunity to search for Tom. She found him standing on the porch, peering into the darkness, the wolf-dog resting on its haunches beside him.
When she opened the screen door, he turned. For a moment, as their gazes met, her breath caught.
What was it about the man that stirred her senses?
Unable to come up with an answer, she shook it off and asked, “What time do you plan to leave tomorrow? And when will you be back?”
“I’m leaving in the morning. If all goes well, I’ll be back in three days—more or less.” Tom leaned back against the porch railing and sighed before returning his gaze to hers. “I just hope Harrison Graves is still alive when I get there.”
Tom had mentioned that Sarah Jane was the old man’s only heir. “If it’s decided that she is his great-granddaughter, who will care for her when he dies?”
“That’s not my immediate concern.”
A chill settled over Katie, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its path. “Well, it certainly should be. What will become of her? Who will love her?”
“Harrison’s housekeeper looked after Caroline when she was a girl, but let’s take things one day at a time.”
Patience had never been one of Katie’s virtues. “But what if Sarah Jane isn’t happy there? What if she isn’t welcome? What if she isn’t even the heir that dying cattleman is looking for?”
“Take it easy.” Tom took a step forward and lifted his hand as if to...
As if to what? Reach for her cheek? Offer comfort?
She’d never know because he dropped his hand back to his side as quickly as he’d raised it and said, “Maybe he’ll let you take her to Wyoming until she’s of age. There are other, more immediate concerns. But keep in mind that I’m not taking Sarah Jane yet. I’m leaving her here, where she’ll be safe.”
“Safe? But what if the man who hurt Erin followed us here?”
“If I thought there was a good chance of that, I wouldn’t leave. But just in case, Trapper will stay behind. And Hannah can handle a gun. Besides, you’ll be here, too.”
She lifted a brow. “Does that mean you trust me to look after her?”
“I’m not sure how successful you’d be, but you’d probably die trying.” A smile tugged at his lips. “You’re feisty, Katie. And I’d pity any man who tried to put you in your place.”
Like Tom had once tried?
She returned his smile.
He studied her for a moment in the moonlight. It seemed that the truce they’d reached earlier might have grown a wee bit stronger.
“Just so you know,” he said, “Hannah said that you, Erin and Sarah Jane are welcome to stay with her for as long as it takes.”
“That’s kind of her,” Katie said. “But tell me something. I’ve been curious. How did you and Hannah meet?”
“Trapper brought me to stay with her when I was a kid. My mother had just died, and I didn’t have anyone else in the world to look after me. Hannah took me in and raised me. And when I had trouble at school, she taught me at home.”
“Did you struggle to learn?”
He stiffened. “I wasn’t in need of tutoring, if that’s what you mean. Apparently, some of the townspeople didn’t like the idea of an Indian boy going to school with the white kids. They voiced their disapproval, and some of the boys thought they could take it out on me. I came home with several black eyes and split lips, but after a pretty serious beating, Hannah refused to send me back.”
The children had singled him out, just like Silas and his friends had turned on Sarah Jane.
Katie’s heart went out to the lonely boy Tom had once been, and she gained an even deeper respect for Hannah.
“I’m sorry you lost your mother,” she said.
He gave a shrug. “It happens.”
“I know. I lost my mother, too. When I was a baby. I suppose, in some ways, that’s easier. But at least you have memories of yours. I don’t have any.”
Katie’s father hadn’t talked much about her, thinking it might be easier that way. So Katie had sometimes created memories in her mind of a woman who’d been too good to be true.
One day, when Katie had been about nine, the teacher had given the girls an assignment and asked them to write about their mothers. Katie had won a prize for having the best essay of all. She’d written about her imaginary mother, who wore yellow dresses, lilac water and a smile. A woman who baked cookies every day and kept a library of books that children would enjoy.
A kind, loving woman who could have been Hannah, only Katie had imagined her tall, slender and blonde.
Growing up without a mother had been very hard, which was why Katie was so determined to stand by Sarah Jane and provide her with
a loving home. That’s also why Katie wanted to know who’d be looking out for her, who’d be mothering her.
“Maybe I should go to Stillwater with you,” she told Tom.
If truth be told, the words had surprised her as much as they surely surprised him, but if Sarah Jane had to live with strangers, Katie wanted to make sure they would treat her well.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious.” She placed her hand on his arm to convince him of her sincerity and felt the warmth of his skin under his shirtsleeve. Their gazes met again, and for a moment, the intimacy seemed to meld them together.
That is, until he drew back his arm and pulled away. “You don’t want anyone to see you travel alone with a man, especially a half-breed. It might ruin your chances of landing an upstanding husband.”
If he thought she gave a hoot about what others thought of her, he was mistaken. In fact, after that unfortunate confrontation with Sweet Heather at the Gardener’s House, he should know that about her by now.
She stood tall and crossed her arms. “I don’t want an upstanding husband.”
A slow smile stretched across his face, sparking a glimmer in his eyes. “What kind of husband would you like?”
“I don’t want a husband at all.”
“Why not?” He scanned the length of her, then let his gaze drift back to her face again as though assessing her. Had he somehow found her lacking?
The momentary insecurity took her aback, and she chided herself. His opinion didn’t matter in the least.
“I don’t intend to be some man’s pretty little slave he refers to as a wife.” She hadn’t meant to say “pretty.” It sounded so...well, so vain.
Katie never had placed much value on beauty or the lack of it. Her auburn hair always garnered a compliment or two, but not the freckles splattered across her nose. Nor her outspoken personality, for that matter.
“I don’t think there’s much chance you’ll need to worry about that, Katie.”
Heat rose to her cheeks. “What do you mean?”
His lighthearted smile faded, and a thought-provoking expression took its place. “You might be able to recite poetry or quote ancient philosophers, but I doubt you know enough to come in out of the rain. A man would have to be plain loco to consider asking for your hand. You’d be useless as a wife.”
Katie stood tall. Useless? The word struck a hard blow. All her life she’d struggled to prove her worth, her value, her competence.
He took a step closer. “You’d argue even if obedience would save your own hide.”
Katie’s hands went to her hips. “And I suppose you think a woman would find you appealing?”
“You do.”
The fact that he was right set her scampering to deny it, and she snorted, making a most unladylike noise. “When it rains lemon drops.”
“Is that right?” His grin returned, blossoming into a full-blown smile. “Has anyone told you that the shade of your eyes darkens whenever you’re not being completely honest?”
She let out another unladylike sound. “Are you insinuating that I’m lying?”
“Your eyes are usually the color of the summer sky. But when you’re not being truthful, they turn a blue-gray.”
If that were true, it wasn’t dishonesty causing change. It was anger. And sheer disbelief. She shook her head. “It’s too dark out here for you to even see the color of my eyes.” Then she turned on her heel and returned to the house.
The sound of his low chuckle merely stirred the tempest within—and surely deepened the color of her eyes to a stormy gray.
* * *
The morning sun streamed through the crocheted curtains and cast a dappled light into Hannah’s guest room, where Katie sat up amidst the rumpled sheets of the four-poster feather bed and rubbed her eyes. Sarah Jane had risen without waking her, and obviously so had Hannah, because the aroma of freshly ground coffee and fried bacon wafted through the air.
Her mouth watered, reminding her it was time to eat. She didn’t need a clock on the bureau to tell her she’d slept later than usual, but that shouldn’t be a surprise. After the past few days of eating dried beef and hardtack and sleeping in a wagon, it had been such a comfort to rest in a cozy, warm bed.
Rising quickly, she tidied up her room. Then, after combing her hair and dressing for the day, she headed for the kitchen, eager for a cup of coffee.
She’d written two letters last night, one to the Granville school board, explaining her situation and promising to arrive as soon as she could. The other had been to Ian Connor, letting him know she was safe and in good hands. She would ask Hannah to mail them for her, since she planned to leave the next day with Tom, although she expected him to fight her on it.
When she reached the kitchen, she found Hannah at the stove, frying bacon.
“Good morning,” Katie said.
Hannah turned, and her smile made her almost look... Well, pretty wasn’t the word, but there was something about her, a kindness, a warmth that Katie found appealing.
“Can I get you some coffee, dear?”
“Yes, please. That would be lovely.”
Hannah poured a cup, then handed it to Katie. “Careful now. It’s hot.”
“Thank you.”
“Cream and sugar is on the table.”
Katie sweetened her coffee and added a drop of cream, then lifted the cup and blew across the rim to cool it. “I’m afraid I slept like a rock last night. How did Erin do?”
“She rested well. I offered her a little poached egg this morning. She ate nearly all of it. Then I gave her some medicine. She’s sleeping again.”
“That’s good. Where’s Sarah Jane?”
“Outside.”
“Is she all right out there alone?”
“She’s fine. Lobo is with her.”
In spite of Hannah’s attempts at reassurance, Katie scooted back her chair and carried her cup to the back door, where she peered outside to check on the child. She’d never been particularly fond of dogs, especially those that looked more like wolves.
It didn’t take long for her to see that Hannah might be right, because Sarah Jane hooked her arm around the dog’s woolly neck and cuddled against him.
About the time Katie was going to turn away, she spotted Trapper Jack coming out of the barn and heading for the house.
“Good mornin’,” he said, his voice resonant and clear.
Katie greeted him, then stepped aside so he could enter the kitchen.
“I hope breakfast is ready,” he said. “I’m hungry enough to eat a mule.”
Hannah chuckled as she poured him a cup of coffee. “You’re always hungry, old man. But now that you’re here, I’ll go outside and tell Sarah Jane that it’s time to come inside for breakfast.”
As the older woman made her way to the door, Katie took a sip of coffee, then asked Trapper, “Where’s Tom?”
“He left a little bit ago.”
“He left? Already?”
“Didn’t get a chance to tell him goodbye, huh?”
“Well, no. But I’d actually hoped to go with him.”
Trapper studied her for a moment, then stroked his chin. “Now that’s a real shame that he left without you. As far as I’m concerned, it would have been best if you’d gone with him.”
She wasn’t used to men agreeing with her so readily. “Why do you say that? I mean, I have a good reason for going with him. I want to meet those people in Stillwater myself so that I can decide whether they’re suitable to care for Sarah Jane.”
“That’s a good idea. Just ’cause folks have money don’t mean that they’re kind.”
Katie blew out a sigh of relief, glad that Trapper understood her concern. “I couldn’t agree more, and while that’s been a real worry, it’s too late for me to go now.”
“I’m not so sure about that. Tom had a stop to make about three miles from here. The lonely old feller he went to see will probably talk his ear off, so we could catch up with him in no time at all.”
“We? You mean you’d take me to meet him?”
Trapper stroked his chin again, as a slow grin stretched across his craggy face until it crinkled his eyes. “That fool kid would probably skin me alive for not stayin’ put until he gets back, but how could he get mad at either of us when we’re just lookin’ out for that poor little girl?”
Katie figured Tom could get plenty mad at her, and if truth be told, a part of her was tempted to stay here and wait with Erin and Sarah Jane. But Tom said he’d be back in a couple of days, which meant that Stillwater was probably only a day’s ride—more or less. And while Tom would be upset, he’d probably get over it. Particularly since they both had Sarah Jane’s well-being in mind.
“So what do you say?” Trapper asked.
“Well, for one thing,” Katie said, “on the ride here, he complained about the horse I borrowed from the livery. He said she wasn’t a trail horse. I’m afraid I’d never be able to keep up with him.”
“You can ride Hannah’s sorrel mare. Gully Washer is a bit testy, but strong and sturdy.” Trapper’s eyes fairly glimmered. “I’ll have Hannah pack you some vittles while I saddle the horse.”
He made it sound so easy, but Katie knew better than that. Still, she loved a debate and a challenge. And she’d have several hours to change Tom’s mind—if not his mood. “Okay. I’ll pack a few things for the ride. I just wish I would have brought some bloomers with me. They’d make riding a horse a lot easier.”
In a fit of anger, her da had burned her only pair. She would have ordered another—or perhaps several—but he’d died shortly thereafter, and she hadn’t felt nearly so rebellious when she’d been grieving his loss.
Still, a pair of bloomers would certainly come in handy now.
The Rancher's Courtship & Lone Wolf's Lady Page 31
