"So old Bessie holds a grudge, does she? Well, it doesn't surprise me. She always did strike me as a cranky old thing. Does Laredo say much when you talk to him?" He turned to rest his arms on the top rail, eyes on the magnificent horse.
"Not much, but he snorts and acts like he knows exactly what I'm talking about. Though I suspect he has little appreciation for the finer points of keeping a house."
"No, I don't suppose he does." Quentin glanced down at her, seeing the wistful tilt of her mouth.
"Are you very lonely, Katie?"
She glanced up, surprised by the question. The real concern she saw in his eyes put a warm glow in her heart.
"Not usually. Sometimes I wish we weren't quite so far from town or neighbors. I do get tired of hearing myself talk. But then I don't answer myself back, either, so I suppose I must be a reasonably good conversationalist."
He laughed again but his expression remained thoughtful. "I don't think I'd ever realized how isolated this life would be for a woman. I suppose I should have spent more time around the home ranch."
"Although I didn't expect parties every night and people dropping in at all hours of day and night, I hadn't expected quite this," she said, her eyes roving the wide emptiness that lay beyond the bulk of the barn. "But I've come to appreciate the beauty of it. And the privacy. Oh, I've privacy aplenty. If I wanted to run out to get a dress off the line wearing only my petticoats, there'd be no one to know or care."
Quentin saw the twinkle in her eye and his mouth widened in a smile. "And do you run to the line in your petticoats, Katie Sterling?"
"I do not. Or at least, I'm not going to admit to it if I do."
He laughed again, feeling peace drift over him, as it always did in Katie's company. There was something about her that made him forget everything but the simple pleasure of her company.
"You know I've shown you little of your home," he said thoughtfully. "At least, little beyond what you can see from the house."
"You've been busy," she said comfortably, enjoying the sunshine on her back and the quiet strength she always seemed to feel when he was near.
"I'm not busy now. How would you like to take a drive?"
"Don't you have things you need to do?" she asked, feeling a stir of excitement.
"Nothing that can't be put off for a few hours." There was a mischievous look in his eyes that she hadn't seen since the day he'd convinced Louis to let them dine at Henri's. It was boyish and quite irresistible.
"I've some cold chicken left from supper and cold potatoes. It wouldn't take long to put together a small luncheon."
"I'll hitch up the buggy."
Feeling like a schoolgirl playing hooky, Katie lifted her skirts to her ankles as she ran toward the house.
❧
An hour later, Quentin drew the buggy to a stop deep in a canyon, near where a stream ran, bubbling and dancing over the rocks. Willows bordered the streams, and higher up the canyon's sides was the deeper green of pines and the pale shades of quaking aspens, which Quentin told her would turn gold with the frosts in the fall.
Quentin had chosen a level patch of ground, covered with grass. He cleared an area for a small fire to heat some of the coffee, which Katie had learned was considered a necessity at every meal. The simple meal of cold chicken and potato salad couldn't have tasted better if it had been roast pheasant and champagne.
After the meal, Quentin leaned back on one elbow, watching sleepily as Katie settled herself on one corner of the blanket and took out her knitting. He tried and failed to remember a time when he'd seen her with her hands idle.
"What are you making?"
"A jacket," Katie answered calmly, her fingers steady on the pale blue wool.
"Are you happy?" She glanced up, surprised by the question. Quentin was looking at her, his eyes serious. She felt her heart swell with love. He might not love her passionately, but he cared.
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. It was the truth. She might not have everything she wanted but it was given to no one to have everything. And she knew, suddenly and without doubt, that if all she ever had was his affection, she could live with that. It was more than many marriages ever had.
He seemed content with her answer. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the cloudless blue sky. "The ranch isn't much yet, but I have plans, Katie. With Laredo's cooperation, we could have one of the finest lines of blood stock in the West. Cattle may always be the heart of the ranch, but horses are always going to be in demand. Good horses. And ours will be the best."
"I know they will. Quentin?" She hesitated, twisting her fingers restlessly in the fine wool she held. "Do you ever think of passing all this on to your children someday?"
"Someday. But I plan on being around a good long while, yet." He settled his head on his laced fingers, his eyes drifting shut.
"Quentin? You do want children, don't you?"
Something in her voice must have caught his attention. He opened his eyes, raising himself on one elbow to look at her. She didn't lift her eyes from the wool she held and he saw that her fingers were trembling ever so slightly.
"Katie? Is it... Are you..."
She lifted her eyes to his, nervousness and excitement warring in their depths. "You'll be a father come the first of next year."
"A child," he said, wonder in his voice. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Katie." He reached out to gather her into his arms, holding her close. "You have made me so happy."
He didn't say anything more, but he didn't have to. She'd seen the look in his eyes and knew that she couldn't have given him any gift that would make him happier.
Maybe this child would serve to draw them closer, to erase the subtle barriers he seemed to hold between them.
❧
January 1906
Dear Edith,
I know it's been nearly a month since I last wrote.
I hope you'll forgive me. Winter has closed in on our little home and it's difficult for anyone to get in or out.
Tomorrow, Joe is going to leave. He'll return in the spring but there's no real need to keep all the hands on during the winter months. The work is bitter and cold but there's not as much of it. Joe has promised to post this letter to you in Laramie.
We spent the holiday season very quietly. Just the hands and us. I was so touched by the gifts all the hands made for me and for the baby to come. There was even a small saddle, though Quentin has promised me he won't try to teach the baby to ride until he can walk.
Quentin's gift to me was a piano, shipped all the way from Chicago and hidden in the barn until Christmas morning. I'll confess I shed some foolish tears over it when I realized it was for me. It seems that tears are so much closer to the surface these days. But Quentin didn't seem to mind.
Indeed, he's been very tolerant of my foolishness these past few months. No woman could ask for a husband to be kinder and more considerate. At times I feel as pampered as a princess.
If the lull in the weather holds long enough, Quentin plans to send for Louise Campbell to come and stay with us until the baby arrives, which should be in only a week or two, though I'm told that babies tend to arrive on their own schedule.
She'll be able to stay in the room Quentin added on this summer—it's a nursery for the baby, but we will put a bed in there for our guest.
Though I told Quentin it wasn't necessary to ask Louise to stay, I will confess to you that I'm relieved at the thought of having her here. I know childbirth is a natural thing and women have been doing it since Adam and Eve, but I must admit to a certain amount of apprehension as my time approaches. It will be nice to have another woman nearby.
It grows late and Quentin has already suggested twice that I need my rest, so I'll say farewell for now. When next I write, I'll be able to tell you about your new nephew or niece.
Write soon and give my love to Colin.
Your fond sister,
Katie
❧
&
nbsp; Katie stared out the window at the light snowfall and sighed. It was lucky that Joe had left yesterday. From the look of things, the lull was over and winter was settling in again. They were only a week into the new year, so spring was several long months away.
She shifted in the rocker, pressing a hand to the ache that nagged at the small of her back. Quentin had sent one of the other hands for Louise but they weren't expected to be back here until tomorrow. If the snowfall grew heavier, they might not even try to make the trip.
She sighed again before turning her attention back to the tiny bootee on her knitting needles. She knitted a few more rounds before her gaze drifted to the window again. The snow was lovely, but her eyes were beginning to crave the sight of something green and growing.
Setting aside the bootee, she got up and put another log in the wood stove that kept the cold at bay. Wandering to the window, she stared out longingly. Quentin had warned her about the danger of walking on the deceptively smooth blanket of snow. Thaws early in the season, followed by freezes, had left a layer of ice beneath the powdery white.
A movement down by the corral caught her attention. Laredo was exploring his domain. Maybe she should go down and make sure that the ice had been broken in his water tank. Of course, one of the hands did that every morning. Making sure the animals could get to water was one of their primary tasks during the winter. But they might have forgotten Laredo. After all, they all thought he was vicious.
She was reaching for her coat even as she rationalized her reasons for going out. She hadn't been down to the corral in nearly two weeks. It was harder to sneak in her visits when Quentin was around the home ranch so much. But he was away today and if she didn't get out, even just the few yards to the corral, she was going to scream.
The cold hit her when she stepped out onto the porch. She drew in a deep breath, feeling the chill all the way to her toes. At first, it felt bracing. Halfway to the corral, it began to feel paralyzing and she had a momentary doubt about the wisdom of this small journey. But it would be foolish to turn back now.
She paused at the fence, grateful to have something to hold on to. Laredo approached slowly, though she knew the men had done their best to break up the ice beneath the snow here, not wanting to rtsk losing a valuable animal to a broken leg.
"Hello, boy."
He snorted, reaching out to take the sugar cube she offered him on her gloved hand. Katie stroked his strong neck, talking to him softly, enjoying the feeling of company. Here, the barn sheltered her from the wind that seemed to cut right through her layers of clothing. It felt almost warm in comparison to more open ground.
After a moment, she edged to the gate and pulled it open wide enough to slip through. She'd long ago discovered that Laredo didn't have any objections to her presence in his corral, though he tended to keep his distance. This time, he followed along behind her as she made her way to the water tank.
The ice had been broken^ just as she'd known it would be. But actually checking soothed her conscience. That was, after all, what she'd come out for. She turned, startled to find the stallion right behind her.
"Well, so you're lonely, too, are you?" She scratched his forehead and when he didn't object to that, she moved around and brushed the light snow off his back. His winter coat was shaggy and looked warmer than she felt.
Katie gave him one last pat and turned to make her way across the corral. The footing was surer here and that proved to be her downfall. With the cold nipping at her, she took a step too quickly.
She felt her shoe come down on a patch of ice and felt herself start to fall. She threw out her arms but there was nothing to take hold of, nothing to break her fall. She hit the ground heavily on her back. The shock was such that she lay where she was for a moment, the breath driven from her.
It was driven from her again when she felt pain lance across the mound of her belly. She clutched her hands over the child she carried, fighting the panic that threatened to smother her.
"It's all right," she whispered breathlessly. "It's only natural that he'd be protesting such treatment."
Groaning, she struggled to sit up, finally rolling over and pushing herself to her hands and knees. She rested there for a moment, fighting back tears as another pain stabbed through her belly.
There was a movement nearby and Katie turned her head cautiously to see that Laredo had come over and had lowered his head to nudge her. Was it her imagination or was there understanding in those dark eyes?
"You can help, boy. If you'll just hold still." She reached out cautiously, getting one hand on his neck. As if he understood exactly what she was trying to do, the stallion stood rock-still. Katie used the grip on his neck to balance herself as she crawled slowly to her feet.
She leaned against him for a moment, her forehead pressed to his shoulder as the breath shuddered in and out of her. The pains in her belly had nearly subsided. Or was she simply growing too numb to feel them? Was it colder?
One hand still resting on Laredo's neck, she turned toward the house, sliding her feet along the ground. She was nearly to the fence when she felt her foot slipping again. She grabbed frantically for the stallion's mane but her numbed fingers refused to grasp.
She hit the ground harder this time, her head slamming back to connect with the frozen earth. There was a confused moment of pain and it seemed as if lights flashed before her eyes. She struggled to rise, knowing that to lie here was to die. But there was no strength in her and she fell back, blackness sweeping over her like a thick blanket.
Laredo stood next to the fallen woman, waiting for her to get up. When she didn't move, he nudged her with his nose. But there was no response. Only the mournful whisper of the wind.
He snorted, lifting his head before lowering it to nudge her again. She didn't move, didn't seem to notice the white flakes of snow that drifted over her. Not knowing what else to do, the stallion stood guard over Katie's fallen figure.
But he couldn't protect her from the most dangerous enemy of all—the cold that crept up from the ground and drifted over her in a deadly blanket.
Chapter 11
Quentin stomped the worst of the snow off his boots on the back porch, shaking the coating of white off his hat before pushing open the back door and stepping into the warmth of the kitchen. He'd let Lefty take his horse to the barn for him. He didn't like leaving Katie alone, with her so heavy with child and even the small delay to care for his horse was more than he could tolerate.
The rich scent of stew filled the air, making his stomach rumble hungrily. It had been too long since breakfast and he'd spent a good portion of the morning wrestling late calves out of snowdrifts. Late calves were always a problem and few of them would make it through the winter, but he'd do what he could to help the ones who'd made it this far.
Katie wasn't in the kitchen and there was no sign of her in the living room. Quentin walked toward the bedroom quietly, thinking that she might be napping, though she seemed to resent time spent sleeping during the day. But the bedroom was empty as was the nursery and the new bathroom he'd put on only last summer.
His heart seemed to skip a beat. There was no reason for her to have gone outside, but she must have done so. Maybe she'd just stepped out front to check the blankets she'd layered over those roses that seemed so precious to her.
He practically threw the front door open but the stoop was empty. His hand clenched over the edge of the door. He shouldn't have left her, not even for a few hours. Where was she?
A shout near the barn brought his eyes slashing in that direction. Lefty lifted his arm in a wide wave, the urgency in the gesture visible even at this distance. Quentin took the steps in one stride and covered the distance to the corral at a pace far in excess of anything that could be called safe.
He skidded to a halt next to Lefty, his heart beating in slow, heavy thuds when he saw what Lefty was pointing out. It could have been nothing more than a bundle of rags, covered with a light dusting of snow, but for th
e fiery red of Katie's hair spread over the white ground, its color grayed by the snow that had fallen on it.
The big golden stallion stood over her, his eyes on the men at the fence. The scene seemed to tell its own story. He didn't know how or why Katie was in the corral with the stallion, but obviously he'd attacked her. Rage was an ache in his throat, a pain in his temples.
"Get me my gun," Quentin said, his voice as icy as the ground under their feet. "I'll nail that animal's hide to the barn. I swear to God I will."
"Hold on, boss." Lefty set his hand on Quentin's arm. "You can't shoot him. There's too much chance to hurting the missus. 'Sides, there ain't no sign of blood and if he'd laid into her, there'd be more than a sign of it. I seen a stallion stand over a hurt mare like that one time, on guard, like."
Quentin blinked, trying to clear the haze that anger had put in front of his eyes. Lefty was right. There was no sign of Katie being injured and the stallion didn't look as if he'd just trampled an enemy.
He slipped the gate open, barely hearing Lefty's caution that he be careful. Snow crunched beneath the heels of his boots as he moved toward the fallen woman and the huge stallion.
Laredo watched him warily, dipping his head a time or two as if in warning. Quentin held out his hand, talking soft and low, edging closer to Katie. Laredo trembled but showed no sign of attacking. When Quentin dropped to his knees beside Katie's still form, the stallion dipped his head to nudge her as if to show Quentin that something was wrong.
Quentin stripped off a glove, putting his hand to Katie's throat, feeling his heart start to beat again when he felt the thread of her pulse. He got his hands under her shoulders and knees, climbing to his feet.
Laredo, satisfied that he'd done what he could, snorted and wheeled around, trotting to the other side of the corral, as if relieved to be away from the man smell.
Lefty held the gate for Quentin as he carried Katie out of the corral. He followed him up to the house, opening the front door for Quentin to angle Katie into the warmth.
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