by Karen Kirst
Mary slid a plate with a fat slice of chocolate cake her way. “Dessert, Kate?”
He was fast losing patience. Not only did the run-down cabin reek, but the rapidly cooling wind gusting outside whistled through the missing chink in the walls, making him regret not grabbing his jacket. So far Matthews was a no-show.
Rising from the lone chair in the room, he resumed his pacing. If Matthews didn’t return within the next half hour, Josh would have to try again tomorrow. Nathan was probably already on his way.
His gaze settled once again on the amber-hued bottles scattered across the table, and he grabbed the oil lamp he’d lit earlier to get a better look. At first glance, they appeared to be empty bottles of alcohol, but the labels said otherwise. Dr. J. Collis Browne’s Chlorodyne claimed to heal asthma, bronchitis and catarrh. Hostetter’s Celebrated Stomach Bitters warded off rheumatism.
In the wagon accident that had claimed Lily’s life a year earlier, Matthews had suffered severe injuries. He’d spent a month at the home of Dr. Owens, teetering between life and death. The townsfolk had called it a miracle when he’d finally pulled through.
Somehow Josh had the feeling the man didn’t share their sentiments.
He sniffed one of the bottles and reared his head back. Disgusting. Setting it down, he wondered why Tyler would need medicine after all this time.
A muffled sound outside drew his attention. Muscles tensing, he snuffed out the lamp, crept to the window and, rubbing a spot clean with the threadbare curtain, peered out at the front yard. In the shadows stood a horse, its owner sliding to the ground and stumbling toward the cabin. Matthews.
One hand on his holster, Josh walked out of the cabin. “Had a bit too much to drink tonight?”
“What?” He brought his head up fast, squinting in the darkness. Then he moaned, his hands gripping the sides of his head. “What’d ya want, O’Malley?”
“What I want is for you to stay off my property. Leave Kate Morgan alone.”
His hands dropped to his sides. “Kate,” he mumbled, staring down at the dirt. “I dunno any Kate. Do I?” He started for the stairs. “Need sleep.”
Watchful, Josh stood motionless. When Matthews’s foot caught on the bottom step and he went sprawling, Josh rushed forward to haul him upright. And when the man didn’t struggle, he decided it wouldn’t do a bit of good warning him off Kate. At least not tonight. He was just about passed out.
Resigned, Josh helped him inside and guided him toward the bed in the corner. He landed facedown and was snoring before his head hit the pillow.
He shook his head. What a wasted life.
“Josh?”
Nathan. He strode for the doorway and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “He’s out for the night.”
“Let me guess,” he said from the saddle, he thumbed his hat up. “You didn’t get to have that discussion, did you?”
“Nope. Sure didn’t.” Josh rounded the cabin to where he’d left Chestnut. Nathan’s horse, Chance, followed. “But he hasn’t seen the last of me.”
They rode at a brisk pace through the darkness, Josh eager to get inside and get warm. As soon as they reached the yard, he looked toward Kate’s cabin. Light in the window told him she was still up, and for a moment he thought about going to her.
Nope. Too risky.
That kiss was still fresh in his mind. He’d be a fool to go anywhere near her.
Chapter Eight
Kate couldn’t breathe. Darkness pressed in on her. Panic rose up to claw at her throat. She must not scream, must not make the tiniest noise. Nanny said so. Else something much worse would happen to her.
The musty odor merged with the acrid tang of mothballs, burning her nostrils. She hated it in here! But there was no one to rescue her.
Father and Mother were at the seashore and wouldn’t be back for another month. Fran was with her tutor in the opposite wing of the estate. And the other employees were scattered throughout, tending their chores.
Nanny Marie had sole charge of her. She would decide when Kate could come out, when her punishment was over. Not that she knew exactly what she’d done to anger Nanny. Kate tried to be on her best behavior, but she ran afoul of her nanny nearly every day.
Suddenly, she wasn’t in the closet anymore. The darkness remained, but now the walls were lined with wine bottles. It was the estate’s wine cellar. A pleasant, earthy smell hung in the still air. Wesley’s handsome, shadowed face appeared, his eyes gleaming and his voice coaxing.
No! This was all wrong. And yet…he was so confident and reassuring. Everything would be fine. He wanted to show her what love was really like.
She didn’t have to drink a drop of wine to be intoxicated. His touch drove all reason from her mind. With every fiber of her being, she yearned to be loved.
Wesley? The shadows morphed and he was gone. Shame stained her heart. What had she done? Tears spilled down her cheeks.
Gradually, Kate woke to wetness on her pillow. It took a minute for her mind to grasp her surroundings. She wasn’t in New York, but in Tennessee. Josh’s cabin. His bedroom.
The horrible reality of the dream lingered, and she couldn’t help but think of that night with Wesley. No matter how much she wanted to despise him, she couldn’t, for the burden of guilt didn’t rest entirely on him.
Kate could’ve stopped him at any moment. She hadn’t. His words, like blessed rain, had fallen on the parched soil of her soul. She hadn’t been able to resist.
Fumbling in the dark, she crossed to the window and pushed the curtains aside. The moonlight, though weak, enabled her to see enough to light the lamp’s wick. The golden flare soothed her somewhat.
She’d gone to bed troubled. Worried about Josh and Nathan, she’d stared at the low ceiling—unable to sleep until she heard the sound of horses entering the lane. Careful to conceal herself, she’d watched from the edge of the glass the brothers riding tall in their saddles, relief filling her at the sight of them safe and sound.
Tonight’s emotional upheaval had stirred up disturbing memories of the past, hence the dreams.
Cold through to her soul, Kate rubbed her arms, hugging herself against the whirlpool of gloom and shadows tugging her down. Her gaze fell on her Bible on the bedside stand.
Remember the truth, Christ forgives us because of His faithfulness and goodness. We don’t have to do anything to deserve it—nor can we. He chose to love each and every one of us, despite our failures.
Her old friend Danielle’s voice echoed in her head. A young ladies’ maid working at the estate at the time of Wesley’s betrayal, Danielle had seen Kate’s misery and, flouting protocol, befriended her. Told her about God’s love. Talked to her about the Scriptures. It was because of Danielle that Kate had turned to God.
God knew her inside and out—her fears and dreams, strengths and faults—and loved her anyway.
That truth had the power to drive out her uncertainties and worry.
Sliding the Bible into her lap, she turned to the book of Psalms and began to read.
Hard at work in his shop the following night, Josh was still kicking himself. Kissing Kate, allowing himself to feel things for her, was reckless. Against his will, she affected him. Not only had she captured his thoughts, she’d enslaved his senses, sharpening his awareness of her every move. He felt her every sigh like a soft caress. Her tender smiles weakened his resolve.
Hers was the face he saw in his dreams. Not Francesca’s. And that bothered him. Was he really that shallow? Or worse, had he mistaken admiration and affection for love? The romance with Francesca had happened so fast—that initial meeting at the Meades’ and then picnics beside the river, strolls through the park, shopping excursions. Three whirlwind weeks of shucking his work in order to spend time with her.
He’d been in awe of her classic beauty, her coy playfulness and breezy confidence. Francesca was fun. That last night before she left for New York, he’d blurted out a proposal. She’d laughed outright. Then, realizing he was serious, she’d smiled in that carefree way of hers and said sure, she’d be happy to.
His heart ached from the loss of her. Or was it the loss of his dream?
Unsettled, he concentrated on measuring out the chair legs for the walnut dining set he was making for Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun. After that he had a pie safe to build for their daughter, who was getting married next month and setting up her own house. He had six more pieces on order. It was enough work to keep him busy from dawn until dusk. And he had furniture yet to build to showcase in his shop once he bought it.
Bent over his worktable, he’d barely acknowledged the quiet knock before the door scraped open and in stepped the object of his turmoil. Kate. The smell of fried chicken reached him before she did.
Laying aside the cloth tape measure, Josh grabbed a towel and wiped the sawdust from his hands.
As she approached, her wide-eyed gaze surveyed the workshop with interest. She stopped a footstep away, the plate of food held out as an offering. Her eyes brimming with questions connected with his. Her finely etched brows arched up.
“I take it you’re the local craftsman?”
Feeling exposed, he jerked his head. “Did Ma send you out here?” Careful to avoid touching her, he accepted the plate and utensils. “She knows I’ll eat when I have time.”
He ground his teeth in irritation. This wasn’t the first time he’d skipped supper. His family understood his heavy workload and knew he’d be in to eat as soon as he could. So he was suspicious now. Was his ma trying to push them together?
He hoped not. He was still wrestling with Francesca’s decision. And he was smart enough to know not to fall for her little sister.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” She folded her hands at her waist and waited for his explanation.
Focusing on the meal, he tried not to notice how beautiful she looked in the yellow light of the oil lamps. She was dressed casually in a filmy green blouse that matched her eyes and a simple, unembellished black skirt. Her brown hair, caught up in a French twist, gleamed like the rich walnut wood he often worked with.
Swallowing, he said offhandedly, “I didn’t see the need. You’re a visitor here, Kate. You’ll take your photographs and go back to New York. What does it matter what I do?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stiffen. “You’re right, of course. You don’t owe me any explanations.”
Josh winced at the hurt in her voice.
“I’m sorry I bothered you,” she exhaled. “Good night.”
Her whole body rigid, she swept toward the door. He willed himself to be silent. Only when it closed behind her did he let out a ragged breath.
His appetite gone, he pushed the plate aside and went back to measuring. Only, he couldn’t concentrate. He kept picturing the wounded look about her eyes. He’d hurt her feelings, and that made him feel like an insensitive boor.
Kate didn’t deserve his harsh attitude. She couldn’t know that whenever she was near, a warning hammered in his skull. If he wasn’t careful, she would be his undoing.
One agonizing hour later, he gave up. It was no use. No matter what the reasons, he couldn’t excuse his churlish behavior.
Tossing aside the tape, he untied his apron and hung it on the nail. He washed his hands in the basin and extinguished all the lamps but one, which he carried with him out into the night.
Time to apologize.
There was a nip in the night air, and clouds like stretched cotton obscured the stars. Angry, deep-throated yowls echoed off the barn walls, and he could make out two shapes tussling in the grass. Cats fighting over territory. Or a female.
He rapped on the cabin door and waited, not sure exactly what he planned to say. He heard the scrape of a chair, then her faint footsteps on the planks.
“Who is it?”
Not expecting her to speak through the closed door, he hesitated. “It’s me. Can we talk?”
Quiet. “I’m tired, Josh. Can it wait until morning?”
Even though her voice was muffled, he could make out the defeated undertones punctuating her words. Laying his palm flat against the wood, he resisted the urge to bang his head in frustration. Fool. In protecting himself, he’d hurt her.
“What I have to say won’t take long.”
“I—I’m not dressed to receive you.”
Sighing, Josh pushed away from the door and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Good night, then. Rest well, Kate.”
“Good night.”
Discouraged, he stopped in the shop to get the forgotten plate of food. Back inside the house, he placed the leftovers in the icebox for tomorrow and walked into the living room. His father, relaxed in his chair, looked up from the Bible in his lap.
“Late night again, son?” Sam pushed his spectacles farther up the bridge of his nose.
“Yes.” Josh moved to stand near the hearth, where his father had built the first fire since early spring. The heat seeped through his pants legs to warm his skin. The thought struck him that Kate needed a fire.
He turned to go. “I’ll be back. I forgot to start a fire in Kate’s fireplace.”
“Already done.” His father’s voice halted his progress. “I showed her how to let it die down before she retires for the night.”
Darn, he’d hoped for a solid excuse to see her. “Thanks, Pa.”
His mother sat on the far end of the sofa piecing quilt squares. “What did she think of your workshop?”
“She didn’t say.” Not that he’d given her a chance to say much of anything.
Pulling a cushioned stool nearer to the fire, he sank down and rested his hands on his knees. Exhaustion overwhelmed him. He resisted, pushing aside the need for sleep for a little while longer.
While he loved his work and the hours passed quickly, the heavy workload took its toll on him physically. And he missed his family’s lively conversations around the supper table. If the shop proved successful, he’d be forced to hire help. A good problem to have, he supposed.
“What’s bothering you?” his father regarded him thoughtfully. “Is it too difficult? Having her here?”
“No, it’s fine.”
“She seems like such a sweet girl.” Ma peered at him.
“She is.”
Kind and generous, she didn’t use her status and wealth as an excuse to act superior. A forgotten moment from his time in Sevierville slid unbidden through his mind.
He and Francesca had been dining in a finer dining establishment than he could reasonably afford, and the young waitress, nervous and unsure, had accidentally tipped a glass of water over into his lap. Much of it missed him, wetting only a small part of his pants, but Francesca was livid. She’d been ready to demand that the “unskilled peasant,” as she’d called her, be relieved of her job. It had taken some fast talking, but he’d managed to calm her.
He couldn’t fathom Kate ever acting that way. She’d shown nothing but kind regard for everyone she’d come in contact with. The way she’d taken to his cousins pleased him. Anyone who could meet Nicole’s sassy, and, at times impertinent remarks with patience and even understanding was a rare person in his book.
“Do we have any more pie left over from supper, Mary? Maybe Josh would like a slice.”
Setting the fabric aside, Ma rose. “Would you like one, too, dear?”
“Yes. Thank you, dearest wife.”
“You’re welcome, sweet husband.”
He winked at her, and she blushed. All those years together and his parents loved each other more than on the day they married. It was the kind
of love he craved for himself.
At twenty-four years old, he was ready to settle down and start a family. Maybe that’s why Francesca’s decision to marry another man chafed so. She’d cheated him out of his dream.
When Ma had left the room, his father closed his Bible and folded his hands on top. His wise gaze settled on Josh’s. “What’s on your mind, son?”
“I want what you and Ma have. Now that the wedding has been called off, it’s not likely to happen anytime soon. Francesca is with another man and Kate…” He stroked his goatee, unable to voice his concerns. His forbidden, mixed-up feelings for her.
“Choosing a bride is one of the most important decisions a man will ever make. Did you consult God about your decision?”
Wincing, he shook his head. “Everything happened so fast. She was leaving, moments away from boarding the train, and I panicked at the thought of never seeing her again. I wanted her connected to me somehow, so when she went back to her glittering world she wouldn’t forget me.”
He’d made a mistake. Should’ve prayed about the matter first. God, in His ultimate wisdom, would’ve led him to the right choice.
Of course, his father didn’t condemn him, only nodded in understanding. “I realize it’s difficult for you to accept her decision, but maybe it was God’s way of saving you from a regrettable marriage.”
Was it difficult? He’d thought so at first. His pride had certainly taken a beating. Now, he realized the harder part was sorting through his unforeseen reaction to Kate.
Restless, he stood. Laying one arm across the mantel, he leaned against it, staring into the popping, hissing flames. If he didn’t get this attraction sorted out, it could very easily burn out of control and he’d wind up making another rash mistake.
Kate was off-limits. An heiress to a vast fortune. Soon she would return home and, in time, marry a man possessed of a vast fortune. Together they would live a life of untold luxury.
