by Griggs, Winnie; Pleiter, Allie; Hale, Deborah; Nelson, Jessica
Enough worrying. He certainly had done his share over the Black Four. Now, two of the awful gang were locked up in the Brave Rock jail while the other two lay dead under burlap sacks in the wagon Lars and Gideon drove a few yards behind them. The Chaucer men had gone on ahead, having much rebuilding work ahead of them after the battle waged on their property. Clint gave Katrine’s hand a reassuring squeeze and brought it to his lips. “Enough worrying. Today we lay that burden down. We lay all of them down.”
“Yes, all of them.” They’d talked a long stretch at the cabin, peeling off the layers of history and doubt between them. He was sure he’d split in two from regret as he told her all he could not give her, astounded to discover she already knew. She knew, and wanted him anyway. It didn’t seem possible.
And Katrine had cried as she told him of the terrible burden she’d carried since that night in that alley. Oh, how he’d wanted to hunt that man down and throttle him for hefting such a burden on a young girl. To think he’d ever given her reason to think he’d hold something like that against her. The law in Brave Rock would be about justice and mercy, not the kind of condemnation that had given Katrine such deep wounds.
“You are a good woman, Katrine.” He gave her hand another kiss, just because he could and just because it felt so wonderful to do so. “More kind and caring than I deserve.” The words felt like they were coming from some other man—some poetic, lofty gentleman like Lije rather than the ragged soul he knew himself to be. Still, he felt compelled to tell her—over and over—that her past held no sway with him. When she pressed it further, telling him of the sordid jobs she’d taken at saloons and the like over the years to keep her and Lars fed, his admiration for her only grew. She’d done what she had to, made sacrifices far beyond any he’d made in battle or law. She survived. Katrine Brinkerhoff was far braver and stronger than he’d ever suspected.
The wagon gave another nasty lurch, knocking him against her shoulder, and he allowed himself to rest his head there. He, Clint Thornton, allowed himself to rest against her. The day might never hold a greater wonder than that. All this time he’d been striving to protect her, never realizing the perfect partner, the exquisite helpmate, she could be to him.
“Tak Gud,” he whispered into the yellow bliss of her hair. For some reason, the Danish words had become his personal prayer rather than the English ones. God had returned His presence to Clint’s life. Of course, that wasn’t really true—it was never God who left but only Clint’s admission of Him that wavered. Still, tak Gud had become like a heartbeat, pulsing over and over through his weary chest.
“Tak Gud we are almost to town?” she mused aloud, her voice so close to him he could feel it hum against his cheek.
How had he managed to keep such a distance from this beauty for so long when now it seemed as if an ache began every time she left his side? He turned to look up at her. “That,” he said, starstruck for the hundredth time by the color of her eyes, “and much more.”
He watched the pink come to her cheeks, feeling something so close to delight he wanted to laugh. He must have, for Katrine shushed him with a gentle finger against his lips. “Alice’s medicine has clouded your head.”
That wasn’t it. Clint felt as if he saw the world clearly for the first time in years. It was yellow and blue, bright as sunshine and clean as wind—as clean as the wind that would blow through the two windows in the cabin he’d built.
He knew, now, that he’d not built that cabin for Lars and Katrine. Without knowing it, he had built it for Katrine and himself. When she’d told him what the pair of windows had meant to her, Clint recognized it could not be any other way. There were lots of details to work out—a man couldn’t rightly toss his newly resurrected best friend out into the night with no place to stay—but Lars and Winona would need to carve a future of their own, as well.
There would be time enough to work all that out. Clint had his whole future to work out a life with Katrine in Brave Rock. For now, the perfection of her shoulder was a fine place to rest.
*
It took Katrine a second or two to recognize the sound. At first she thought it a trick of the wind, but as the distance closed, she heard the shouts and cheers for what they were. Turning the last corner into Brave Rock, she peered over the wagon’s front bench to see a crowd gathered all along the main street. It was like a tiny parade as the wagon pulled into town. Molly Murphy cried into her handkerchief, shouting offers of free meals and ginger cake delivered every night from the café until Clint was on his feet again. Dakota ran alongside the wagon, waving wildly until Katrine lifted her hand to wave back. The Gilberts stood waving as well, shouting “Thank you!” and “Get well!” with such enthusiasm that Clint managed a laugh or two. When Felix Fairhaven rushed out of his store with a pair of new shirts tied up in twine, Clint fingered the “Heard you needed these” note with an expression of stunned disbelief. Two loaves of bread followed a few feet down the road, hoisted onto the cart by one of the Ferguson sisters. Half a minute later Maureen Walters, Martin’s mother, slid a whole pie onto the wagon bed.
He’d never done his job with the expectation of thanks; that was not who Clint Thornton was. He simply, quietly, fulfilled his calling. Katrine felt her heart swell for the gift of this wild, noisy outpouring and what it would do to Clint’s spirits. She knew he felt the weight of all the damage the Black Four had been able to do before he could bring them to justice. He took it as a personal failing that he had not been able to prevent their slew of crimes before good people had abandoned their hope of a future in Brave Rock. The law had always been deeply personal to him; it always would be. It had been one of the reasons she’d been afraid her past could stand between them. The man fed his life on justice the way she’d fed her life on story and faith. She’d hoped now that their future could be a story of how justice and faith wove together to create hope and grace.
Hope and grace, however, had to wait until this lawman’s shoulder healed.
“I said I wanted to go home,” he muttered as the wagon turned toward the infirmary. For all his new lightness, Clint’s stubborn streak had not lapsed.
“You know Alice won’t hear of it. She’s insisting you stay in the infirmary at least two nights until she’s satisfied the wound won’t open again.”
“One night,” Clint grumbled, wincing when the wagon hit another ditch. “No more. Besides, where will you sleep?”
“Oh, I will be just fine.” Katrine had hoped to save that for later, knowing once she revealed her news it would take both his brothers to hold Clint down on the infirmary cot.
“You can’t stay there with me in the infirmary. It’d be improper.” He was still watching out for her. His protection wrapped around her like a soft shawl, banishing the worries that had pressed down her shoulders for weeks.
“Of course not.” She smiled at him. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever stop smiling at him. “But I am settled for now, so there is no worry.”
Clint eyed her as the cart came to a stop. “Where?” He’d needed to know where she was every moment since he’d woken. Not out of control, but out of a craving to keep her near. It made her feel beautiful in a new and splendid way.
“With Alice and Elijah, of course. Close enough to keep an eye on you,” she teased. How long had it been since she could feel such laughter in her voice?
“Close enough for me to keep an eye on you, you mean.” His good hand tightened around hers. More than one person had noticed how close they were sitting in the wagon payload, and part of her worried about being on display, as they rode into town. Still, Katrine was delighted to see smiles from friends, and even nods of approval as she could see their eyes register how Clint’s hand was wrapped around hers, or the way she could not help but look into his eyes. Goodness, could everyone know already? She could not bring herself to care—this happiness was too dear to squelch even one little bit.
“Besides,” Clint went on, “I thought you said Lije and A
lice were a bit too lovesick to be around any longer.”
She smiled at Clint and squeezed his hand. “It is not so hard to see now, ja?”
Clint said nothing, merely ran his thumb along the back of her hand in a way that made Katrine’s breath hitch. He looked different. She felt different. People looked at her differently. Did the inner change—which felt like it had washed through her with the power of a flood—show on the outside with the same force?
“Not much longer, you two,” Alice called from the wagon bench. There was a warm teasing tone to her voice, too.
“Alice knows,” Katrine whispered.
Clint laughed. “No kidding?” he teased, for Alice had been anything but subtle in how she cooed over Katrine and Clint. “Oh, believe me,” Clint moaned, “Elijah does, too. He was giving me all kinds of brotherly grief while he got my shirt back on. Actually, from the looks of things, I think all of Brave Rock knows. Where’s Gideon? I half expected him to join in on the fun.”
“He’ll be along, I am sure.” Katrine knew exactly where Gideon was, and what he was doing, but this was to be a happy secret for now.
The wagon bumped to a stop, and Clint let out a sigh. “I could have ridden. It would have hurt less.”
“And miss your grand return to town?” Katrine motioned to the back of the wagon, which had filled with gifts of good wishes as much as Alice’s table had filled with gifts of comfort the morning after the fire. Everything was coming full circle, healing, as if God were going out of His way to spread her joyful new life out before her. Before both of them.
Clint shifted his weight to rise, grimacing. “Well, yes, that was kind of the idea.”
He wasn’t fooling anyone. For all his grousing, Katrine could see the satisfaction in Clint’s eyes at the town’s gratitude. By now, they all knew what lengths he and Lars had gone to in their efforts to protect Brave Rock. Why deny these good people the chance to show their gratitude?
As Katrine moved the many gifts aside to let herself and Clint climb down off the wagon bed, her eyes met those of her brother. Lars stood smiling on the infirmary steps, looking as happy as she felt. He held Winona’s hand. Looking up at Lars with obvious affection, Winona clasped Lars’s hand in both of hers. Katrine recognized the impulse to clutch these heroes close.
Gazing at the happiness washing over her brother’s face, Katrine had her answer: yes, love did show on the outside. It radiated from Lars and Winona like summer sunshine.
Clint must have seen it as well, for he gave a groan and tapped Katrine’s hand. “We don’t look like that, do we?”
“Ja,” Katrine laughed softly, “I am sure we do.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Clint had spent Tuesday night drifting in between pain and sleep, waking many times to see both Katrine and Alice dozing on chairs in the infirmary. Most things were hazy, but he knew he was home. Well, close to home, if everyone would just stop their fussing and let him get on back to his quiet cabin.
Nothing doing. By midday Alice had poked at his wound too many times and an endless stream of nosy visitors came to wish him well. Each time he thought he’d gotten a chance at a few moments alone with Katrine, Alice would return with new torments.
“You’ll have a nasty scar,” she tsked as she dabbed anew at his wound with something that smelled awful and stung worse.
“Won’t be the first,” he said through gritted teeth. This morning, Clint felt as if he’d been hurriedly stuffed into someone else’s body—one that was tight, battered and tossed downstream. He’d spent so many hours giving recounts of yesterday’s battle that he felt more like the town storyteller than the town sheriff. He flexed his arm despite the jolt of pain, just to show Alice that it was working fine and needed no more of whatever that vile bottle held. “I’m fine.”
She narrowed one eye. “So you keep saying. You’re still staying here.”
“Lije?” Clint appealed to his brother when he appeared with lunch. “Call her off. Aren’t you the head of this household?”
Elijah laughed and tossed his head in the direction of his cabin. “I am the head of that household. She is the head of this infirmary. If she says you stay another day, I’ll sit on you myself if required.”
“Where’s Gideon? He’ll spring me.”
“Only for an hour,” came his middle brother’s voice from behind Alice. “I have some important business with the sheriff.”
“Anything to get me away from this.” Clint reached for Katrine’s hand, though, just to let Gideon know he wasn’t quite ready to let Katrine out of his sight.
“You will have to come back,” Katrine chided. “Today you can only go out for a short visit.”
“Anywhere but here,” Clint grumbled, then added, “No offense,” when Alice raised her eyebrow.
“It won’t be all that bad.” Gideon laughed. “I’ve borrowed a carriage for the occasion. Less bumpy.”
Once out in the sunshine, Clint felt some of his energy return. He was tired, but one look at the blue of Katrine’s eyes seemed to pull his spirits back to life. Would it always be that way, or was that just the wonder of new love?
He stared at her the whole carriage ride, not caring the destination, only glad to be nearly alone with her someplace halfway quiet. I love her. The thought settled in his chest with ease as he watched the breeze lift tendrils of her blond hair. I’ve loved her for a while. “Tak Gud,” he whispered into her ear as she sat next to him on the carriage seat.
“Yes,” she whispered back but then pointed through the carriage window, “but thank them, as well.”
Clint hadn’t bothered to notice where the carriage had brought them. Before his eyes stood Katrine’s cabin, finished right down to the blue gingham curtains fluttering in its double windows. Evelyn and Walt were standing on the grass outside the cabin, as were Elijah and Alice and a host of other Brave Rock citizens.
Clint tried to form a word—any word—but ended up with his mouth just hanging open in shock. Every ounce of pain and fatigue left his body, along with all the air in his lungs. If he’d have been standing, Clint couldn’t rightly say he wouldn’t have fallen over.
“Welcome home, brother,” Gideon’s voice called from the front of the carriage. Walt broke free from his mother’s hand and rushed up to the carriage, jumping up a few times to catch the door latch and swing it open.
“Uncle Clint! Uncle Clint!”
This time the words did not sting at all. They felt warm and welcoming. “Hi there, Walt.”
“Uncle Clint? Will you be the baby’s goodfather?”
Clint’s head started to spin. “The what?”
Gideon’s sheepish face peered around the carriage door. “Walt, you were supposed to wait on that.”
“Wait on what?” Clint grabbed Gideon’s arm as he eased himself down out of the carriage. He did not let go of his brother. “Wait on what, exactly?”
Evelyn came up to take Walt’s arm. “Walt was supposed to ask you if you would be the baby’s godfather. Tomorrow.”
Clint tightened his grip on Gideon. “Do you mean…?”
Gideon grinned. “Just after Christmas, near as we can tell.”
Katrine threw her arms around Evelyn. “A baby! Tillykke! Congratulations! Oh, you must have been so worried before!”
Evelyn’s hand went to her waist. “Yes, I was very frightened. But I am fine. And all this was supposed to be for tomorrow, not today.” She gestured toward the cabin behind her. “Today was for you.”
Clint shook Gideon’s hand heartily, amazed at how easy it was to be happy for his brother. “That’s wonderful. Really.”
“I didn’t want to steal your day, brother, but we could hardly wait to tell you.”
“Of course I’ll be the baby’s ‘goodfather.’” Clint winked at Gideon and ruffled Walt’s hair.
“Come take a look.” Gideon gestured toward the tidy homestead. “Everyone pitched in, just like they did for me.”
Clint walked toward
the completed cabin, taking in the thousand tiny details people had managed to finish. “It’s done.”
“Well, mostly.” Gideon shrugged. “There’s a bit more to do before you can move in. But we ought to be done by the time Alice lets you out of her clutches.”
“Which isn’t for another day yet,” Alice cut in, her sharp orders undone by her wide smile. He hadn’t even noticed that she and Lije had come up behind him.
Clint gaped at Katrine. “This is where you live.”
“No,” Katrine said, “this is where we will live.”
That was the way he’d always seen it, hadn’t he? The notion that wouldn’t leave his heart no matter how he lectured himself on the impossibility?
Katrine squeezed his hand. “We will get married and live here, ja?”
Clint was pretty sure the ground just lurched under his feet. “Aren’t…” He blinked, trying to make his tongue work properly. “Aren’t I supposed to ask you proper first?”
Katrine began to laugh. “You did. Four times last night. I do not know about the proper, but I did say yes every time.”
“I heard it,” Alice offered. “Well, one of them, at least. I was worried you were going to send me off to fetch my husband to do the honors right there and then.”
“You’ll marry me?” Clint could hardly believe the words were coming from his mouth. He didn’t think there was this much happiness in the whole world, much less one piece of Oklahoma.
“Very much so. And we will live here. With two windows—one for each of us.”
Clint wrapped his arms around his soon-to-be bride. “One for each of us.” He rested his forehead against hers. “That will be enough?”
She nodded, tightening her hands around his neck. “It is more than enough.”
He kissed her, right there and then, right long and hard, not minding who saw or who cared. “I love you.”
She smiled against his cheek, laughing softly. “You said that many times, too. But I do not think I will ever tire of hearing it.”
