by Regina Scott
“‘My flesh and my heart faileth, but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever.’”
He ought to rest on the second part of that promise, but too many times he felt the first part. This family had a way of tugging at his heart, challenging his strength. Today, however, he had another concern about praying.
And how did a man pray for the strength to go courting?
* * *
Catherine felt as if the room warmed with each reading. God had been the strength of her heart. He’d seen her safely around the country, through months at sea, and now was helping her prosper in this new land. She was so full of thanks that when Drew’s hand reached for hers, she did not pull away. The touch felt right, pure.
Hand in hand, they listened as Simon played a series of hymns, the last of which had the whole family singing. Something seemed to be rising in her heart like bread dough in the morning, and it took her a moment to realize it was joy.
Dangerous, a voice whispered inside her. Where one strong emotion bloomed, others would follow. But surely there was no harm in praise. It had been an eventful few days, and she was grateful God had brought them all through it safely.
But apparently others needed help as well, for Drew and his family had barely said “Amen” when there was a knock on the door, fast and furious. James, closest to the panel, jumped up to answer it as the other brothers rose to their feet, Drew once more putting himself between her and possible danger. But then, what else would she expect from a knight, even one in a brown wool suit that stretched across his shoulders?
James threw open the door, and to Catherine’s surprise, Old Joe hobbled into the room with a nod to Drew and his brothers.
“Gents,” he greeted. “Ladies. I’m right sorry to interrupt, but I got an itch I can’t stop scratching.”
Drew’s voice was a warning rumble. “I’ll not have Miss Stanway bothered. She’s already refused your suit.”
Beth wrinkled her nose. “He was one of those suitors?”
Around Drew, Catherine could see the prospector grimace. “Didn’t come courting this time. Came for some doctoring.” He yanked up on the sleeve of his shirt. “See?”
Beth and her mother recoiled from the puffy red flesh. Catherine rose and pointed to the door. “Outside, sir. I’ll do all I can to help.”
“Much obliged, ma’am.” He hurried back to the door, fingers pressed against the rash. “It drives me so crazy at night I can’t hardly sleep.”
“Excuse me,” Catherine said to the room at large. “I’ll be back shortly.”
Only Drew followed her out. She thought perhaps he still didn’t trust Old Joe, but instead he looked to her as they paused on the porch. “How can I help?”
Catherine smiled in thanks. “Let me examine the fellow and then I can tell you what we’ll need to ease his discomfort.”
It took her a few questions to confirm what she’d suspected on first sight.
“Is poison ivy or oak prevalent in the area?” she asked Drew, who had remained at her side as Old Joe sat on the porch and Catherine stood over him.
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Drew replied, rubbing his chin with one hand. “But there’s a good-size patch of stinging nettles between here and the Rankin claim. Beth picks them sometimes and boils them for greens.”
“You must have brushed against them without realizing it,” Catherine told their visitor. “If you can get into Seattle, ask Doctor Maynard for some calamine lotion. If not, I’ve heard him say that the backs of bracken ferns can be rubbed against the rash for some relief. You might try that.”
“You bet,” Joe declared, slapping his hands on his dusty trousers. He rose and eyed Catherine. “Sure you won’t reconsider, miss? You’d come in right handy during an influenza outbreak.”
“She comes in handy all the time,” Drew corrected him.
Though she had never trusted such praise, his sounded so heartfelt she blushed. “Good luck to you, Mr.... What is your last name?”
“Holzbrinkdannagermengin,” he supplied with a grin. “And now you know why they’d rather call me Old Joe.”
He started away from the porch, then glanced back at Catherine. “Might be a few other gents in need of doctoring in these parts. Mind if I send them your way?”
“Not at all,” Catherine replied with a smile. “But warn them I only plan to stay another few days at most. After that, they’ll have to come into town to help.”
Old Joe shook his grizzled head. “Shame, that. Body could die between here and town. God bless you, miss.”
Catherine waved as he walked toward the woods.
“He’s right, you know,” Drew said quietly beside her. “A man could die trying to reach town for medical help.”
Darkness seemed to be creeping up on her, as surely as the clouds building over their heads. “A man can die trying to do his duty, as well. That’s what happened to my father and brother.”
He touched her chin, drawing her gaze to his. “You would have saved them if you could have. I know it.”
Tears burned her eyes. “I would have. Oh! I would, Drew. But I never had the chance.”
“So now you help others. I will always be grateful for what you’ve done for my family.”
His head dipped lower, and she thought he meant to kiss her cheek. Instead, his lips brushed hers, tender, sweet. Her eyes drifted shut, and for a moment, all she did was feel.
He raised his head and lowered his hand. “Will you walk with me?”
At the moment, she would have gone to the ends of the Earth had he asked. “Of course.”
She wasn’t sure where he meant to go with a cougar possibly nearby, but he returned to the house long enough to retrieve the rifle. Beth’s face appeared at the window, grinning, before she ducked back.
Drew shook his head. “This way,” he said, stepping down from the porch.
He led her on a wide track that descended past the house to the lakeshore. Today the waters were as gray as the clouds, but she spotted blue sky in the distance and something else.
“What is that?” she cried.
Drew grinned. “The mountain’s out. That’s Rainier.”
Where she lived in Seattle she’d never gotten a good look at the mountain, obscured as it often was by clouds or hidden behind tall trees. Now it rose in snow-capped majesty, as if it sat at the end of the lake itself. Gulls wheeled past with shrill cries like courtiers begging a boon.
“Pa loved this place,” Drew said, gaze traveling across the water as if he could see his father even now. “He had big dreams—first a homestead, then a town site.”
Catherine glanced around, then pointed to the upper curve of the lake, where a knoll thrust out into the water. “Along there, I imagine, with fine houses.”
“And wide streets,” Drew agreed. “Fit for riding or promenading.” He chuckled. “Funny. Pa never struck me as the promenading sort. He was always busy working.”
“Like you,” Catherine said, watching him. “I get the feeling your mother’s illness is the only thing that slowed you down, and then not by much.”
“By too much,” he said. “Fields need seeding, and we should bring in another load of timber for the mill to pay for a plow.”
“You’ll have time soon,” Catherine promised him. “You can see how she’s improving. And Levi should mend quickly. Things will return to normal.”
“Normal.” He snorted. “There is no normal out here. Every day can be a challenge.”
Catherine smiled. “My friend Allegra calls it an adventure.”
He turned his gaze on her, the blue-green as alive as the forest around them. “Do you like adventure?”
Once, no. She had been rather pleased with her life in Sudbury. But then the war had come, and her father and Nathan had gone.
And she’d sailed around a continent.
And into Drew’s arms.
“My work is adventure enough, Mr. Wallin,” she said. “Perhaps we should go back. I’d like to check on your brother.”
He nodded and turned from the lake, but not before she saw his face sag. He’d wanted another answer.
So had she. She just wasn’t sure she was ready to give it.
Chapter Seventeen
He had made progress. Drew told himself to be satisfied with that. But the feel of Catherine’s lips against his had opened a window, flooding him with light. He didn’t want to return to the dark.
They spent the rest of the day in family pursuits, playing chess, looking through Beth’s sketches of gowns she wished to sew one day, making plans for the week to come. He knew Simon wanted to quiz Levi further on his injuries, but their younger brother looked so sore and worn out Drew advised Simon to wait another day. He couldn’t see how digging for information now would help any of them.
And he didn’t want to do anything that would spoil the day. His brothers, Ma and Beth were all teasing each other and laughing, with Catherine joining in as if she’d always been part of the family. Was he wrong to hope she might soon be?
Beth and Ma must have been enjoying her company as much as he was, for they begged her to sleep with them again that night. She cast Drew a smile as she retired upstairs.
“I hear the church bells ringing,” James predicted, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his chair.
Drew only wished he heard them, too.
But tomorrow was another day, as his mother often said. So long as Catherine remained at the Landing, he stood a chance.
* * *
“That tree has to come down today,” Simon said the next morning over a breakfast of dried venison, leftover biscuits and honey as the brothers minus Levi gathered at the table before dawn. “Captain Collings isn’t going to wait much longer.”
“Agreed,” Drew said. “Can the three of you handle it?” He was having a hard enough time following the conversation. He’d made the mistake of peering into the ladies’ half of the loft this morning, candle brightening the space. Catherine had been curled up on one side, hair loose about her face. The vision was going to make work challenging today.
“We need you,” John answered him, joining them at the table, tin cup of coffee in one hand. “It will take two on the saw and another two with the oxen.”
He knew his brothers depended on his skill with an ax and saw to bring down the big trees. But with a cougar around, he could hardly leave Catherine alone with Beth, his ailing mother and an injured Levi.
“It will have to wait, then,” he said. “Someone who knows how to handle the rifle has to stay here.”
James and John exchanged glances.
“That’s easily settled,” Simon said, licking honey off his fingers. “Teach Catherine to shoot.”
“No,” Drew said. He realized he’d just crumbled his biscuit to powder, and dusted off his hands. “Out of the question.”
“Why?” John asked with a frown. “She already understands the rudiments. She proved that when she fired to call us back.”
“And being a good shot will only make her more attractive to her future husband if you fail to come up to scratch,” James reasoned, popping the last biscuit in his mouth and talking around it. “She can bag the game, dress it and cook it. I’d marry a woman like that.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in a long time,” Drew started, but Simon shoved to his feet and reached for the dirty dishes.
“It’s settled, then. After Drew teaches Catherine to shoot, he can meet us at the tree.” He glanced over his shoulder as he headed for the sideboard. “Unless you’d rather I spend the next hour or so with my arms around her, helping her hold the gun.”
John’s brows shot up as if he’d never considered teaching from that angle, but James grinned as if he approved of the technique.
Drew pushed back the chair. “I’ll do it. But you’d better watch yourselves, because when Catherine learns to shoot, I wouldn’t want to guess how she’ll use that gun.”
* * *
Catherine had spent the night next to Mrs. Wallin, sharing the big bed in the ladies’ half of the upper floor. She could hear Levi’s snoring and the snort as he stopped when Drew must have nudged him. After spending such a lovely day together, having Drew just on the other side of the hearth made it difficult to sleep. She kept remembering the faraway look on his face as he’d talked about the town his father had hoped to build. She’d been captivated by the image.
More, though, she was captivated by the man. Those large hands could swing an ax and bring down a massive tree, yet his touch to her chin had been soft, tender. He might argue with his brothers, but she could see the love between them. They all relied on him.
But she couldn’t allow herself to rely on him. She didn’t want to listen for his voice in the morning, the sound of his boots on the stairs. She didn’t want to inhale the scent of him, feel the strength of his arms. She didn’t want to look into his smile and feel herself trembling.
And she certainly couldn’t spend time with this family without missing her own. When Levi grinned, she saw Nathan. When James teased, she heard her brother’s voice. Even Mrs. Wallin’s gentle correction reminded her of the way her father had taught his children.
She’d already had one family pulled away from her. She couldn’t bear to lose another. And the thought of losing someone as close as a husband made her want to jump into the lake and swim for the far shore.
The sooner she left Wallin Landing, the better.
She woke to Mrs. Wallin’s yawn. Sunlight brightened the room. Beth was humming to herself as she laid a cream-colored cotton gown dotted with blue forget-me-nots on the bed. Catherine thought it must be for her mother, but Mrs. Wallin nodded toward the dress and smiled at Catherine.
“That’s for you,” she said, green eyes crinkling in pleasure. “I thought you might like something else to wear today.”
First the beautiful gown yesterday, and now this. She felt a little guilty how happy the dresses made her. When she’d agreed to join the Mercer expedition, she’d known she would have to leave most of her clothing behind. Her single trunk and bandbox had carried only five gowns, one of which was a blue silk evening dress; several white aprons for her role as nurse; a warm wool cloak; a paisley shawl; and a supply of undergarments. But when Levi had abducted her five days ago, even those precious few belongings had remained behind in Seattle, and she’d been wearing her blue dress until yesterday.
Five days? Was that all it had been? She felt as if she’d known the Wallins her entire life.
“It’s beautiful,” she told Mrs. Wallin and Beth, holding up the simple dress against her frame. The bodice was gathered at the collar and waist, the lower part of the skirt cut on the bias to give it more flounce. The cotton was worn but clean, the blue flowers sprinkled over the cream material bright and cheerful. She’d have to belt the skirt with her apron to compensate for Mrs. Wallin’s greater height, but otherwise it would fit. And she wouldn’t need nearly as many petticoats to fill the narrower skirts. She felt positively buoyant as she came down the stairs.
Drew was waiting for her, leaning against the wall at the base of the stairs. His damp hair was combed in place around his heart-shaped face; his smile broadened when it met hers. The admiration in his eyes made her cheeks warm.
“Good morning, Catherine,” he said, pushing off the wall. “I trust you slept well.”
Manners. Being polite. Those things she could manage this morning. “Quite well, thank you. I looked in on Levi, but he was sleeping so soundly I didn’t have the heart to wake him.”
“Let him sleep,” Drew advised. “He can take the day off. Tomorrow, I’ll
think of things he can do while sitting to keep himself busy. Simon and the others ate up the biscuits, but I can fry some eggs if you’re hungry.”
Him serving her? That she could not handle. “I’ll just make some tea. I’m sure you have work to do.”
He nodded, but he accompanied her as she headed for the stove. “When you’ve finished, I’ll teach you to shoot.”
Catherine stopped on the rug. “Shoot? I heal people, Drew. I don’t maim them.”
“No one says you ever have to aim at a person,” he promised, pausing beside her. “But my brothers and I have to work today. Ma and Levi aren’t as mobile as I’d like, and we need someone besides Beth who can handle a rifle in case the cougar returns.”
She could hardly argue with that. Every time she thought about the woods she remembered that powerful body slinking through the shadows, eyes watching her hungrily.
“Very well,” she said.
After a quick cup of tea, she and Drew ventured out into the clearing. The day was gray and overcast; she expected they’d see rain shortly. The mist rising from the lake drifted through the trees, leaving the clearing hushed and pebbling her skin with dew.
“The oxen are out at the tree we’re cutting,” he explained to Catherine, stopping not far from the spring. “The horses and goats are out to pasture. I moved the chickens to a pen by Simon’s cabin, so it won’t hurt anything if you aim at the barn.” He nodded to where someone, probably him, had sketched a circle on the gray wood. “To start, we’ll see if you can put a bullet inside that ring.”
That shouldn’t be so hard. Catherine took the gun from him and held it out as she’d seen Simon do. She remembered firing the other day, but the morning had been such a blur that she wasn’t sure she could repeat her performance now. The wood of the stock felt worn under her hand, the barrel cool and slick. But the weight was no different than holding the porcelain-coated cast-iron tray of instruments while her father operated.
Of course, that porcelain pan hadn’t propelled deadly bits of metal.
