The preacher’s smile grew more false. He gestured toward the front.
Katie sighed and nodded. “Best get this over with.”
As she stood beside Reverend Ford, facing the room, her eyes found Tavish O’Connor a few pews back, sitting with his parents. She recognized Ciara Fulton, Tavish’s youngest sister, and her husband nearby. Ian and Biddy weren’t far removed. An older sister and her family occupied the pew behind Biddy’s brood. What would that be like, to be so surrounded by family?
She let her gaze drift back to Tavish. Amusement twinkled in his eyes. He thought her predicament funny, did he? Katie set her shoulders and looked away. If she were to be embarrassed before the congregation, she’d not give Tavish the satisfaction of seeing her discomfited. She would rather he think her haughty than weak. She’d learned very young that people preyed mercilessly on the vulnerable.
“Friends.” Reverend Ford spoke the word as though he wished he meant it. “We have a new member of our congregation.” He looked at her, the same unconvincing expression of welcome on his face. “Tell us your name and where you join us from today.”
He meant to make a point of her Irish roots. He meant to force her to take a side. Not only was she far from keen on being pulled into a feud, she might very well need a job from someone on the Red side of the room. Making enemies there was not wise.
“My name is Katie Macauley, and I come here today from the Archer farm, just up the road.”
Amusement shown on the Irish faces, a touch of surprise on the Red.
“I meant”—the preacher’s words emerged slow and a touch impatiently—“from where do you come to Hope Springs?”
“Omaha—’twas there I boarded the train that brought me.”
Reverend Ford’s smile slipped even as smiles appeared amongst the congregation. Even a few on the Red side of the room allowed themselves a wee smile.
“Perhaps I should take a simpler approach.” The preacher clearly meant the words as a poor reflection on her intelligence. “We all would like to know if you come from Ireland.”
Katie looked over the expanse of green and red. Did this town really require them all to stand up at church of all places and declare their nationality? She’d sworn to Joseph Archer that she would stay out of the feud. She meant it as much in that moment as she had when she said it.
“Before I answer, Reverend, might I pose a question to you? A matter of doctrine, as it were.”
He pulled himself up proudly. “Of course.”
She didn’t allow her posture to slump in the slightest. “When I reach the pearly gates, how likely is it that God himself will have posted a ‘No Irish Need Apply’ sign thereon?”
The smallest splotches of heat began to form on his cheeks. “That is an odd question.”
Katie nodded. “And might I say that, at least as it concerns attendance at church, so is ‘Are you Irish?’”
If she weren’t so thoroughly put out with the man, she’d have found his momentary blustering humorous. Reverend Ford recovered himself quickly. “Well, if you’re Irish, then you belong over here.” He pasted a smile on his face and motioned to the green side.
“You’ll be forgiving me, Reverend, but I’ve never taken kindly to being told where I belong.”
Katie kept her head high as she marched herself down the aisle, passing every pew without a glance. She looked neither to the Green nor to the Red but moved directly to the back and out the door without so much as a pause. She took the steps at twice her usual speed and made straight for the road back to the Archers’ house. Let the town feud, if they wished. She meant to stay out of it.
Mr. Archer caught up to her before she’d gone far past the field where the horses stood waiting for their owners.
“I had a feeling you were going to run off,” he said.
“I thought it best to get out of the building before I spat profanities at that man’s head.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I told you staying out of this feud is almost impossible,” Mr. Archer said.
That pulled her eyes back to his face. “I didn’t come here to make enemies. Saints, I didn’t even come here to make friends. I came to work. I came to earn the money I need to go home. That’s all I’m trying to do. That’s all. I’ll not come to church and glare at my neighbor over the color of her dress. And I will not have some pompous, arrogant preacher—”
She bit off the rest of her remarks and turned away again.
“Will you at least wait long enough for me to get the buggy? It’s a longer walk than you probably realize.”
The offer surprised her. She’d fully expected to be scolded. “I thank you,” she said, “but no. The exercise’ll do me good. ’Twill give my temper a chance to cool.”
He didn’t leave. “Are you certain you want to walk all that way?”
She nodded. “Your offer is very kind, but I’m quite certain.”
He hesitated a moment. What was the question she saw hovering in his eyes? He didn’t voice it, didn’t even hint at the reason why he lingered. She was but his employee, one who’d likely embarrassed him despite his not scolding her about it. If not for the way the town divided itself, she might have sat peacefully through the service and spared Mr. Archer the bother she’d caused.
She sighed. “I didn’t realize the feud ran so deep as to touch Sunday worship.”
“I did try to warn you,” he said. “The feud touches everything, Katie. And though you did an admirable job of stepping around it in there”—he motioned back toward the church—“it will catch up with you eventually, and you will have to decide just where you stand.”
Chapter Fifteen
Joseph suspected that first day that he’d hired no ordinary housekeeper. Katie Macauley seemed determined to prove him right.
The comments on Katie’s expert handling of the town’s preacher were plentiful, ranging from shock to admiration to wishes that more would stand up to Reverend Ford’s dictates. Left unspoken was the fact that the preacher would not ask newcomers to take sides if the town hadn’t insisted on dividing itself. Though Joseph didn’t approve of the practice, he knew what had started it. The preacher had long ago grown tired of breaking up brawls in his church. Keeping the combatants separated had calmed things down considerably.
Katie had promised to stay out of the town feud. He’d heard her declaration but doubted her ability to carry it out. He’d seen the feud at its height. She hadn’t.
She handed him his morning coffee almost the moment he reached the kitchen on Monday morning. Did she know the cup she’d given him was the one he preferred? He wouldn’t put it past her to have discovered that. If not for her obvious discomfort with the girls, she might very well have been the perfect housekeeper.
The slightest hint of daylight coming up over the horizon drew him to the kitchen window. A soft blue lit the low eastern hills from behind. The small shrubs caught the tiny wisps of light.
“’Tis a beautiful sight, is it not?”
“I never grow tired of it.” He stood gazing out, sipping at his coffee. The sunrises and sunsets were what had first bonded him to Wyoming. “There’s nothing like it in the city.”
“That there is true as a carpenter’s corner.”
He looked back at her. “Is that an Irish expression?”
“No, I can’t say that it is. More of a Katie Expression, I suppose.”
A Katie Expression. If anyone would have their own lexicon, she would. Katie did things her own way.
He turned again to the window, enjoying the sights of early morning. The silence between them was easy, comfortable. If things could always be that way, he would be more than satisfied having her there.
“Are you from the city, then?” Katie asked. He could hear pots clanging about as she began her morning work. “You talk as proper as any of the fine gentlemen I overheard in Baltimore.”
“I lived my entire life there, actually, before coming here.” Before eagerly coming he
re, he silently added.
“And what brought you out so far?”
He sipped and watched the sun continue to rise. Though few had asked him for specifics of his history, he wasn’t averse to telling it. “I wanted to look out my window and see something other than rows and rows of houses. I wanted to live in a place that was quiet, where the air was clear. I wanted to see something real come from my work, something I raised with my own hands.”
He’d wanted open space where his children could run and play and not feel as though the very city around them was closing in. He wanted to know his work counted for something other than an entry in a ledger.
“I’ve wondered since I came here,” Katie said, “how anyone grows anything in a place where it never rains.”
“It does rain sometimes.” Though not enough, he acknowledged silently. “And we have water from the river and irrigation ditches already dug. We’re far better off than most of the rest of Wyoming.”
“Farms fail in other parts of Wyoming, then?”
He looked back at her. “Farms fail here.” He’d known more than a few families who’d lost too many crops and were forced to move on. “I suppose the risk makes our little successes that much more satisfying.”
She seemed to understand that. Had coming this far west been a risk for her? It likely had. And, he realized with a twinge of guilt, that risk hadn’t precisely paid off. She was earning only half the salary she’d anticipated and, whether she realized it or not, had virtually no chance of finding other work.
“What did you do before you came out here?” she asked.
“I sat behind a desk in a tall building in Baltimore, day after day.”
“You were a clerk, then?”
He shook his head. “I ran a company, one my family has owned since before the War for Independence. But I never enjoyed it the way my father did.” He set his empty cup on the work table. “I wanted something different.” Something his father hadn’t understood in the least. Father questioned his decision right until the very end. Mother had questioned it as well. His late wife had railed against it at times. In uncertain moments, he himself wondered if he’d made a wise choice.
“So you gave all that up to come here?” The idea clearly baffled her as it had so many others.
“I still own a large portion of the company and, though I’ve left the day-to-day running of it to someone else, I do make a profit from its success.” Although the generous income had failed to appease Vivian. His wife had missed her life back East too much to be at all comfortable in Wyoming.
“So a little extra income, then,” Katie said. “That is a nice thing.” More than merely nice, she seemed to find it a relief.
“Yes. So you need not worry about your salary. I can afford to pay you.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprised offense. “That was not my reason for asking, I assure you. I’m not so selfish as that. And I’ll thank you not to go putting words in my mouth.”
What little ease had existed between them vanished entirely.
“Why is it, Katie, that every conversation we have inevitably ends with you convinced that you ought to be thoroughly offended by some innocuous comment I’ve made?”
She planted her hands firmly on her hips and eyed him with much the same fire she’d thrown at Reverend Ford. “If I am a touch sensitive, Joseph Archer, it’s only because you’re so quick to condemn me. All I did was ask in a friendly manner about what brought you out here, and suddenly I’m a selfish, greedy woman who cares for nothing beyond getting paid.”
“When did I say you were selfish or greedy? Did those words come out of my mouth and I somehow didn’t hear them?”
She pointed a finger at him. “You needn’t become sarcastic with me. I am not stupid.”
Stupid? When had he said she was stupid? When had he even hinted at it? “And now we have come back to the part where everything I say is meant to insult you.” He shook his head in exasperation. “I knew you were going to be difficult the moment you arrived here.” He pulled open the door. “Lest you read any unintended criticism into my leaving, I need to go milk a cow and clean out a stall.” He stepped outside.
As the door slowly swung closed, he heard her muttering to herself. “Isn’t that just like a man? Gets the last word by running off to muck midden.”
He poked his head inside once more. “Perhaps you’d care to tell me just what midden is.”
In an instant her cheeks flamed and her eyes widened with surprise. Having at last claimed the upper hand in their argument, Joseph nodded crisply and stepped out once more.
He had the strangest urge to laugh. As it was, he smiled. If the uncertainty he’d seen flit across her face were any indication, his sharp-tongued housekeeper would be on the porch any minute intent on making a very humble apology. He was looking forward to that.
He turned to watch the door just as it pulled open. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to keep down the smile he felt.
Katie caught sight of him and visibly started with surprise. “Laws o’ mercy, Joseph Archer. You frightened me out of clear half my life, you did.”
He could see that he had most certainly startled her. It was probably not very gentlemanly of him that he enjoyed the sight.
Katie pressed her open palm over her heart and took several quick, shaky breaths. “What in the name of Charlie MacMaster are you doin’ standing here on the porch starin’ at a door? Have you taken full leave of your senses?”
“Who’s Charlie MacMaster?”
“That has nothin’ to do with nothin’, and I’ll thank you for sticking to the topic at hand. You meant to frighten me, didn’t you?”
He nearly laughed—the woman’s words were almost impossible to understand. “Did you know your brogue gets very broad when you’re angry?”
Katie plopped her fists on her hips and glared him down. “Well? You gonna tell me what you’re about or am I to speculate on your lacking mental state?”
“‘What am I doing?’ I’m waiting for you, of course.”
“For me?” His answer surprised her enough to take some of the air out of her sails.
“Though I’m not familiar with the exact phrase you chose, I am certain you implied that men, as a whole, are devious.” He shrugged. “I assumed you wanted to apologize for that.”
“Very well.” Katie looked penitent, a little too penitent, in fact. “I am truly sorry that men are devious.”
The woman was quick on her feet and witty besides. “You certainly avoided that apology. Isn’t that just like a woman?”
Katie’s posture relaxed by degrees. Though she was far from the verge of laughter, at least she didn’t seem truly angry with him. He liked to think she had a sense of humor beneath her tough exterior.
“You’d be wise to speak kindly to a woman who means to do the washing today,” she warned. “I may just let your clothes sit and fester until they stink enough to bring down the very heavens and let that be a fine lesson to you.”
“As much as I would enjoy standing around talking about laundry, I do have chores.”
“Might I ask you one more thing before you go wish the animals a good morning?”
Oddly enough, he didn’t mind the delay in the least. When was the last time he’d had a good conversation so early in the morning? “If I said no, would it stop you?”
“Likely not.”
He’d expected that answer.
“As I said, Mr. Archer, I mean to do the washing today, but I’ve not found a drop of bluing nor a single bit of laundering soap. Might you know where it’s kept?”
Bluing? Laundering soap? He wasn’t even entirely sure what those things were. “I haven’t the slightest idea. We may not even have any. I’ve been sending the laundry out.”
She seemed surprised to hear that. Surely she didn’t think a man who couldn’t keep his house clean had the time, energy, or expertise to do the family’s laundry.
“Then I’ll need to add that to m
y list, I suppose.”
“You have a list?” Did he even want to know what her list entailed?
She looked tempted to roll her eyes. “A list of things I’m needing from town. You are ridiculously low on the most basic cleaning things. One would think your house hadn’t been properly cleaned in months.” She’d added a touch of dryness to her tone. It was clear to anyone with eyes that his house hadn’t been properly cleaned in a very long time.
He stepped off the porch on his way to the barn. “Finbarr and I are going into town today. If you’ll write down what you need, I’ll pick it up.”
She shuffled about uncertainly even as her color climbed higher. “Might I just tell it to you rather than write it down?”
He understood the difficulty in an instant. “My apologies, Katie. I’d forgotten you don’t write.” He could see he’d embarrassed her. That was badly done of him. “You are welcome to dictate a list, if you’d like. Or you could come along. We were planning to take the girls. They enjoy picking out sweets at the mercantile.”
“Would I be expected to look after them?”
What was her objection to the girls? It seemed to go beyond mere discomfort. She was always very careful to avoid being left alone with them, even for the briefest of moments. “You would not be expected to tend them.”
She nodded, her face registering immediate relief.
“Can I ask why you dislike them so much?”
“I don’t dislike them at all,” Katie said.
His gaze narrowed as he studied her. “Yet you are very insistent that you have nothing to do with them.”
Her chin went up again. “I told you when I first came that I have no experience with children, and keeping a distance seems best for all of us.”
He could clearly see there was more to it than that. He didn’t think her objection to Emma and Ivy was personal, but he knew for certain it was deeper than a lack of experience.
“You make a good show of believing that, Katie. But there’s more to it, I can see it in your eyes.”
She grew instantly uneasy. Though his own curiosity pushed him to ask more, something in the near fear he saw in her eyes stopped him. There would be time to learn more about her. He found, in fact, he very much wanted to.
Longing for Home: A Proper Romance Page 12
