Courting the Corporal

by Heather McCorkle

  “We’ve much to discuss,” Ashlinn said in a guarded tone that made the hair on the back of Catriona’s neck stir.

  It was what she had come to think of as the woman’s “physician tone,” the one she used when she removed herself emotionally from a situation. Catriona had witnessed her do so several times while working with patients in the family practice down the street. What could cause such detachment now, though, she had no idea. Behind her eyes, regret stirred.

  “I could tell you that Michael died honorably, fighting to unify our country and end slavery. I should tell you that. But I won’t lie to you,” Ashlinn began.

  Prickles of concern danced their way across Catriona’s skin. While Ashlinn had always protected and doted on Michael, she had seemed ignorant of his true nature. No ignorance shone in the depths of her eyes now. Catriona wanted to ask her not to go on, but she couldn’t find her voice.

  “I am deeply sorry, Catriona, but Michael was a deserter who nearly got both myself and Sean killed with his foolishness. I do not tell you this to hurt you, or cause you shame, but because you deserve to know the truth,” Ashlinn said softly.

  Heart sinking, Catriona’s mind began to race. This made her the disgraced widow of a deserter. If she left soon enough, before word spread, perhaps she wouldn’t be stoned to death on her way out of town. A shiver went through her as she recalled the stories of such things happening. She had no family to go back to, the pox had seen to that. And there was no way she would even attempt to impose upon her friends. Awful as this news was, it didn’t surprise her. Nothing horrible that came her way through her deceased husband surprised her anymore. A deep breath helped her straighten her back and swallow her emotions.

  “I understand. I will gather my things and be gone by morning,” she said.

  She fought back the instinct to beg for time to leave before Ashlinn spread the word. The words hung heavy on the back of her tongue, but she bit them back. If Mrs. MacNeil from the Widows organization found out, she’d lead the stone throwing herself. The thought of giving that woman any reason to hate her more turned Catriona’s stomach.

  Ashlinn’s eyes flew open, moisture gleaming in them. Her grip on Catriona’s hand tightened. “No! You misunderstand. No one but you, Sean, and I will ever know about Michael’s disgrace. I do not seek to disinherit you, or have your position in society threatened in any way. You are my sister as surely as if we had been born of the same mother. I will never allow harm to come to you, especially because of something my foolish brother did,” Ashlinn swore.

  Catriona’s mouth moved, but she was unable to give voice to any words. Leaning toward her, a fervent light filling her eyes, it was Ashlinn who filled the silence.

  “I saw something in my brother that day, something dark and terrible. I pray that it was a side of him you never had to see, but I fear maybe you did.”

  Tears scorched lines down Catriona’s face. Though she dropped her head, her hair was bound back with pins and clips, offering no way to hide her shame. Not so much as a single scarlet strand hung free. A strangled curse thick with emotion came from Ashlinn.

  “Oh God, you did. I am so sorry, Catriona.” Ashlinn drew her into an embrace.

  Silent sobs shook Catriona to her core. Tears streamed from her eyes to fall upon her sister-in-law’s fine silk shawl. They sat like that for some time, with Ashlinn patting her back and murmuring comforting words into her ear. When her tears finally dried up, Ashlinn drew back and offered her a handkerchief. As she saw to pulling herself back together, Ashlinn pulled a large envelope out of her bag.

  “My brothers purchased a plot of land in California. Michael gave me the deed before he died. I want you to have it. You deserve it after all that you have been through.” She handed the envelope to Catriona.

  Both excitement and trepidation shook her hands as she accepted the envelope. California, the land of sunshine and gold. More intriguingly, a place with at least a nine-month growing season. She had only ever heard stories of it, wondrous stories. It could be much worse. Ashlinn could be banishing her to Nebraska, or simply disinheriting her altogether.

  Ashlinn touched her arm. “Do not misunderstand me, Catriona. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. You may stay here in New York, in this very house, for the rest of your life if you so wish. I merely want you to have this land, this choice, because it is rightfully yours.”

  The tenderness in Ashlinn’s eyes revealed the truth of her words. She had always been kind enough to Catriona, but this was completely unexpected.

  Catriona shook her head. “No. Rightfully this belongs to your family, as does this fine house. You are too kind to me.”

  “You are part of this family, Catriona. Even if you decide to remarry in time, you will still be my sister. If you choose to go to California, this home, Michael’s inheritance, all are still yours and always will be.”

  Had she any tears left, she would have wept again, but, thankfully, they were gone. A huge part of her, a part she had buried four years ago, wanted out of this city in a desperate way. But she had ties here now, friends, and from the look of devotion on Ashlinn’s face, even family. Did she dare? Her fingers fumbled with the envelope until she finally managed to extract its contents. Smiling, Ashlinn helped her.

  “To be honest with you, I was tempted myself when Michael gave me the deed. But somethin’ told me it was meant for you,” she said in a wistful tone.

  As Catriona pored over the documents, she went on. “It is a total of four hundred and eighty acres, a lot, I know, but three plots really. My brothers wrote to a friend of theirs in California, paying him to put in for a plot under the Homestead Act while they were in the war. Unfortunately, that means it has already been two years, leaving you only three to make the required improvements on the land.”

  She heard every word, but it was background noise to the words on the pages before her. Sonoma Valley California, near San Francisco. Almost five hundred acres was hers if she built dwellings on the three plots and improved the land by 1867. Hers, by her own hand and hard work. She hadn’t had anything like that in a long time.

  “Three dwellings,” she murmured.

  The very idea of such a cost made it hard to swallow. Ashlinn leaned forward, pointing to a line lower on the page. “’Tisn’t as bad as it sounds. They only have to be twelve by fourteen feet, a shack really. You could build a manor house on the prime plot and two small guest houses on the other two, and still have coin from Michael’s inheritance left for cattle or whatever you choose to do with the land,” she said.

  Not an ounce of push tempered her tone. It was merely matter-of-fact, almost disinterested. “If you don’t want it, don’t worry, I can send along a cousin of ours to settle it. Take a few days to think it over. We can discuss it more over the week if you like.”

  Grinning, Catriona set the papers aside. “You will be staying awhile?” She tried not to sound too eager, but feared she failed terribly.

  The few times she and Ashlinn had been able to visit with one another before the war had always been filled with interesting conversation and fun. Michael had always been happier when she was around, as if his sister brought out the best in him. It had made her visits the highlight of Catriona’s married life. Now, with Michael gone, she longed to have her sister-in-law all to herself. Guilt stirred within her over feeling that way, but she pushed it down.

  “Yes, we are staying in the hotel down on main street, and visiting whenever ’tis convenient for you,” Ashlinn said.

  Catriona shook her head. “A hotel, no. You must stay here. There are dozens of empty rooms in this house, and you and Sean are more than welcome.”

  Eager gaze going to Sean, Ashlinn inclined her head. He grinned and nodded.

  “Only if you are sure we are not imposing. We did arrive unannounced, after all,” Ashlinn said.

  They clasped hands and grinned
at one another like schoolgirls. “O’ course not, you’re family!” Catriona insisted.

  After a bit of giggling and more hugging, Catriona called for her servants to ready the rooms and draw water for baths for both Ashlinn and Sean. She would see to it that her sister and new brother-in-law had every comfort she could provide. As they headed up to their rooms to retire for the evening, Catriona called for one of her servants. The head of the household help sent along a skinny young man who either hadn’t filled his clothes out yet, or had just gone up a size due to a growth spurt. A shock of hair almost as red as her own peaked out from beneath his cap. Catriona handed him a letter.

  “Please deliver this to Mrs. Deirdre Quinn,” she told him.

  Accepting the letter, he bowed deeply to her and hastened out the door, closing it carefully behind him. Catriona’s heart began to beat a steadily increasing rhythm. Her heart wanted two different things, and her head another entirely. Right now, she needed desperately to speak to her friends.

  Chapter 2

  The setting sun cast a lovely orange glow on the open marketplace by the time Catriona finished explaining. Open mouthed and silent, both Sadie and Deirdre stared at her. The silence from her friends stretched her nerves until they were taught as a fiddle’s strings. No disappointment or suspicion played upon their faces, only shock. She had told them every word and every nuance of character that had come to pass in her parlor, leaving no question as to her sister-in-law’s intentions.

  Orange light—and something else, was it excitement?—began to fill Deirdre’s dark blue eyes as she leaned forward. “What an adventure! Are you going to do it?” she asked.

  Joy at the very idea brought a smile to her face at the same time anxiety flipped her stomach upside down. “I couldn’t possibly,” she murmured.

  While her eyes were cast out over the fruit stands and merchant carts, she saw neither the people who walked the cobbled city center, nor the wares they searched for. Instead, she saw rolling fields of green bathed in brilliant sunlight.

  “But you have always wanted to work with the land! Can you imagine it, the land of sunshine, the Wild West!” Deirdre exclaimed, her hands moving with each word as if they spoke for her as much as her voice did.

  She turned a circle, twirling her burgundy skirt out, pausing halfway around to fetch an orange off a merchant stand. Eyebrows rising, she held the fruit beneath Catriona’s nose. “A place where things like this grow wild, they say!”

  Though she shared her friend’s enthusiasm, fear held her back from expressing it. Plaintive calls for her to handle the expensive fruit carefully came from the vendor behind her, but Deirdre seemed not to hear.

  Sadie nodded. “You do have a knack for growing things.”

  The vendor behind them began to beseech their better nature. His desperate pleas finally made Catriona dig a few coins from her purse and press them into his hand as they walked by.

  “You want to; I can see it in your eyes. Why stay here where the hens of high society sneer down their noses at you?” Deirdre asked.

  Her gaze moved from Deirdre’s flushed face to Sadie’s guarded one. “I couldn’t leave you two. Sadie here would be out of a job, and who knows what trouble you would get up to with me gone,” she said, one eye narrowing at Deirdre as her gaze returned to her.

  Laughing, Deirdre threw an arm around her as they walked. “That is certainly true, on both counts. But what if we both went with you?” Not so much as an ounce of tease peppered her tone. Excitement, yes, but not teasing.

  “You’re serious?” Catriona asked.

  She watched as Sadie’s brows rose, her head tilted, and a smile started to lift the corners of her lips. Deirdre draped her other arm around Sadie and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

  “Sunshine, beaches, a warm ocean, all within a few days’ travel,” she tempted her.

  The smile playing at Sadie’s full lips spread. The joy on her face stripped away the aging her husband’s death had wrought upon her, making her look her true twenty-five years once again. “It would be an adventure, would it not?” she asked.

  Deirdre nodded. “The grandest adventure, indeed! Far away from the cackling hens of New York high society, in a place virtually untouched. Imagine it, the three of us forging a new path.” Her arm tightened around Catriona. “Three plots, one for each of us. That means it is meant to be. I would be happy to pay the fees on one of the plots and build a home on it. Together, we can fund the building of Sadie’s home.” She held up a hand just as Sadie’s mouth opened. “I know what you are going to say, it would not be charity. If you insist, you could work off the cost of the home by working at whatever endeavor we undertake with the land, but the home would be yours, yours!”

  The passion in her friend’s voice moved Catriona, stirring an excitement in her that she hadn’t realized had been sleeping there.

  “But what venture would we undertake?” Sadie asked.

  Her thoughts went to her garden, the only part of that house that felt like hers. The idea sprung immediately into Catriona’s mind, as if it had merely been waiting for the right prompting. “A winery.”

  Springing up, Deirdre skipped ahead of them, spun around to face them, and clapped her hands together. The woman’s girlish enthusiasm melted away the last of Catriona’s resistance. “That would be perfect! With our connections here in New York, we could even sell to buyers here!”

  Eyes alight, Sadie laid grabbed one of Catriona’s hands. “Your mother’s grapes! You can take the vines. That is perfect,” she said.

  Those vines were the one possession that her mum had brought all the way from Ireland, nursing them in American soil before Catriona had even been born. When she left home to marry Michael, her mum had given her a cutting off the vine as a wedding gift.

  Shaking her head, Catriona stopped on the sidewalk before one of her favorite stores. Bailey’s Spirits. The mercantile sign hanging over the solid oak door announced that they sold wine, tobacco, and spirits. That they had ended up before this very shop struck a chord deep within her. But then, she had a feeling Deirdre’s tugging and prompting had a bit to do with that.

  “Could we really do it? Should we really do it?” she whispered.

  “Yes!” Deirdre and Sadie said in unison.

  The bubbling excitement building within her threatened to boil away her reservations. Her friends’ eager faces fed the latter rather than the prior. Chin tucked, Deirdre peered at her from beneath her dark eyebrows.

  “We try it, if it doesn’t work out, we come back. You said yourself that Ashlinn is leaving you the house here in New York, along with Michael’s inheritance. You have nothing to lose save for the experience of a lifetime,” she said.

  Letting out a long breath that eased the pressure from her corset, she nodded. “All right. We’ll try it.”

  Squeals of delight pierced her ears as her friends hopped about like young lasses and took turns embracing her.

  “We must celebrate!” Deirdre said.

  “Yes, we must!” Sadie agreed.

  Eyes going to the shop door to their left, Catriona smiled. “I’ll buy the wine. ’Tis only appropriate that we do so with a special bottle.”

  Sadie looped an arm through Deirdre’s. “We’ll pick up the cheese. There’s a shop just down the block that has the finest in all of New York,” Sadie said.

  Deirdre nodded to her. “Excellent plan. We’ll meet you back here in a few moments,” she told Catriona.

  With a nod and a wave, Catriona began to ascend the stairs to the shop. Deirdre’s voice rang out, making her turn her head back in their direction. “Red or white?”

  “Red,” she called back as she kept climbing.

  Foot halfway up the next step, she turned her head back around, and smacked into an unyielding body. The momentum of the person descending the stairs redirected her own, and she began
to topple backward. A pair of striking green eyes widened within a face boasting fine cheekbones and a strong jaw that hadn’t seen a razor in at least a week. She had just enough time to fret over a handsome man—rugged though he was—seeing her tumbled to her arse, before his hand dashed out and grabbed hers. One moment she was falling, the next she spun around and landed in strong arms.

  Pressed up against a firm chest as she was, she could scarcely draw enough breath to cry out. Arms that bulged with muscles barely contained within a simple cotton shirt engulfed her. The scents of lavender soap mingled pleasantly with the subtle musk of man.

  “Easy there, ma’am. The path ahead is more important than the one behind,” a deep voice thick with a brogue that didn’t quite seem all Irish resonated from the chest against hers.

  Finding her balance, she pushed away from the hard planes of muscle, freeing herself from arms that tugged with a slight reluctance to release her. She had to crane her neck back to take in all of the man who towered over her, and not because he was a few steps up from her like she had thought. He stood on the same step she did, he was just that tall. Cotton breeches filled out quite nicely—she hated to admit—went along with the simple shirt and an ankle-length leather duster. The outfit created the picture of a rugged man who looked like he belonged out West rather than in downtown New York.

  Her cheeks heated as she realized he had said something, and she couldn’t recall for the life of her what it had been.

  One of his brows rose into dark brown hair that hadn’t seen a barber’s scissors for at least a year, maybe longer. The motion made his green eyes all the more alluring, as if it increased their magnetism.

  “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

  He didn’t even attempt to hide his brogue. Either he wasn’t from New York, or he had not undergone years of lessons to strip the Irish from his voice. Either way, his lack of concern over the matter both incensed and intrigued her—though she would never admit the latter to anyone save herself. And to speak to her with such familiarity, well it simply wasn’t done. Nor did it help that he used her old nickname. Hearing it reminded her of all the things she no longer was. And those reminders hurt.