by Regina Scott
Drew pointed to the gun. “Pa brought this with him when he came West. There aren’t too many like it. See the circular chamber? The gun will fire six times before you have to reload.”
He sounded proud of the fact, so it must be a good thing. “How handy,” Catherine said.
“It can mean the difference between life and death if you’re shooting at something as big as a cougar or bear.”
Something she hoped never to have to do. She thought he’d explain further, but he positioned himself behind her.
“Keep the barrel up,” he murmured, putting one hand on her elbow. “Look down it to where you want the shot to go. See that little knot near the end? That’s the sight.”
Catherine squinted down the barrel, spotting the bump at the end. She pointed it at the circle. “Very well.”
“Now,” he continued, other arm coming around her as his breath caressed her ear, “put your finger on the trigger.” He hooked her finger over the curved metal. “Hold your breath, and pull.”
Hold her breath? She couldn’t even find it! With his arms around her, she was held in his embrace. She could feel him behind her, the length of his body, the breadth of his chest, the strength of his arms.
“Catherine?” he murmured. “Is something wrong?”
Yes, but she refused to admit it. She swallowed and pulled.
The gun barked, bouncing upward and pushing her back against Drew. His arms tightened to steady her. But she wasn’t steady. Her heart was hammering in her ears.
“Close,” he said as the smoke cleared.
Blinking, she saw that a small nick had appeared on the edge of the circle.
“Now you know the gun pulls to the right,” he said. “How would you compensate?”
How could he be so calm? Was she the only one affected by their proximity? She took a deep breath and raised the rifle again. “I imagine I aim farther left.”
“Exactly.” Was his breath hitching, as well? She didn’t dare look at him. Once more, his arms came around her and positioned the gun. She pulled the trigger and felt her body press into his. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of him.
“Better,” he said.
Opening her eyes, she saw a hole closer to the center of the circle. Grinning, she glanced back at him. Sweat stood out on his brow as if he’d run a race, and his eyes were wilder than Puget Sound waves in a storm. They stood there, no more than a foot apart. She couldn’t move. She wasn’t sure he was even breathing.
Beth came out on the porch and started flapping out her dust rag. “I saw you from the window. I’m so glad you’re learning to shoot. How’s she doing, Drew?”
He stepped away from Catherine, and the air felt cold, her limbs too heavy to possibly lift the gun. “Just fine. Try it alone this time, Catherine.”
She knew women who would have pretended to misfire, just for the chance to be back in his arms. She wasn’t that kind of woman. She lifted the rifle, sighted down its length, accounted for the pull and fired, rocking back with the recoil. Raising her head, she nodded in satisfaction at the hole in the center of the circle.
Beth applauded before darting back inside the house.
“Well done,” Drew said, making no move to close the distance between them. “Beth can show you how to load it. You remember the way we call?”
“Once for danger, and twice for dinner,” Catherine said.
That earned a smile from him. “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” He finally took a step closer, smile fading. “If you need anything, call. I’ll come.”
She nodded. She didn’t dare do more than that. For if she opened her mouth she might just tell him how much she was beginning to need him.
And then he might never let her go.
Chapter Eighteen
The rest of the day, Drew waited for the sound of a shot that would send him careening through the forest to rescue Catherine. He imagined men circling the house, demanding her hand in marriage. He envisioned the cougar prowling up to the back door and scratching its way inside. He thought about whoever had poisoned the spring and left the haunch of venison returning to set fire to the house with her inside.
He was, in short, a mess.
“What are you planning to do, brother?” James teased him at one point after they’d felled the tree and set about removing the limbs. Drew had sat on a log to sharpen his ax and discovered the sun was suddenly much farther along its track.
“Any sharper,” James warned when Drew looked up, “and you can give Simon a nice close shave.”
Simon arched a brow and continued chopping at the branches.
He at least could focus. But how could Drew put himself into his work when all he could think about was Catherine? The brush of her hair against his chin when she was in his arms, the warmth of her body when the recoil had pushed her back against him, the deepening blue of her eyes as they’d stood gaze to gaze, the touch of her lips yesterday—how could any man forget?
Lord, You made us male and female, but did You have to make the female so deadly?
John slung a leg over the log and perched beside Drew. “Courting, as I understand it, is supposed to make a man giddy, not grumpy. But then again, we are talking about you.”
Drew shook his head, lowering the ax. “I’m not grumpy, John, or if I am, it’s no more so than usual. I know what you all want me to do, but I’m still not convinced I can do it.”
John cocked his head, reddish hair falling against one cheek. “So you don’t actually care for Catherine.”
Drew’s hand tightened on the handle. “I never said that.”
“Ah, then you don’t think she cares about you.”
In truth, he’d doubted, but the way she’d reacted to being close to him said she wasn’t entirely adverse to his company. “I’m not certain.”
John cuffed him on the shoulder. “And that’s why you court! It’s an adventure. Enjoy it.”
Catherine hadn’t been keen on adventure yesterday. He couldn’t blame her.
“Cougars, poisoned springs and abductions, and you think I need more adventure in my life?” Drew challenged, though he felt himself smiling.
John stood. “Every man needs the right sort of adventure, Drew. You’re the one who has to decide whether that’s Catherine. You know what Pa used to say.”
“Pray about it before you talk about it,” Drew replied. “Maybe I should.”
“No maybes about it.” John bent and picked up Drew’s ax. “Why don’t I help Simon, and you sit and think? You aren’t much good to us right now anyway.” With a good-natured smile, he strolled off, ax slung over one shoulder.
Drew leaned back on the log. Thinking, he had a feeling, was only going to get him into more trouble. But he’d never been the sort to hear the Lord’s voice in answer to prayer. Then again, he’d never been one to pray overly much.
He had the notion he was supposed to close his eyes, but doing so in the middle of a busy logging group seemed foolhardy in the extreme. Instead, he raised his gaze heavenward, through the canopy of the forest, through the misty air.
Lord, I seem to remember a verse in the Bible about it being good if a man chose to stay unmarried. You know the work I have set before me. Won’t a wife just get in the way of that?
“Hey!” Simon shouted. “James! Fetch me that saw.”
Drew dropped his gaze to watch his younger brother trot across the cleared space with the tool Simon needed. They were a team.
A husband and wife could be a team.
It was an odd thought, yet he felt the truth of it. Certainly his mother and father were proof of the fact, and he’d seen how some of the wives in town were assets to their husbands.
But Catherine, Lord? She’s not a hardy woman like Ma. She was born and raised in the cit
y. She’s used to finer things. She has a calling. Could she be happy clear out here?
That question didn’t get answered until the evening. He and his brothers had finished the day’s work without the sound of a single shot. They had been picking up their tools when the rifle called. Drew tensed, but the second shot was almost immediate.
“Dinner is served,” James quipped, and they all headed back to the house.
Everything seemed to have gone well. Ma was helping Beth with dinner. Catherine had Levi’s leg propped up on pillows on the near bench of the table and was sitting beside him. Ma must have given her some of the scrap clothing, because she was cutting it into lengths and Levi was rolling them up.
“Bandages,” he said when Drew wandered closer. “She seems to think I might need them.”
Catherine smiled. “It never hurts to be prepared, Levi.”
“Except if you’re digging your own grave,” James said on his way to the door with the bucket for more water. “Someone might think you’re ready to go and happily oblige.”
That reminded Drew of a conversation he needed to have with Levi. He slung a leg over the bench and focused his gaze on his youngest brother.
“Do you expect to need more bandages any time soon, Levi?” he asked. “Are you planning to fall out of another tree?”
His brother busied himself winding up the strip of cloth. “No, siree. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be more careful in the future.”
“That’s the thing,” Drew said, leaning closer. “You’ve always been good up in the trees. It’s not like you to fall.”
Catherine was watching him, lips compressed as if determined to let Drew lead the conversation. Levi shrugged and kept winding.
“You did fall, didn’t you, Levi?” Drew pressed.
The bandage shook in his brother’s grip. “Of course I fell. You don’t think I’d break my own leg to get out of work, do you?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” James said, stopping beside them, water from the now-full bucket sloshing on the floor. “Either that, or you finally annoyed your friends sufficiently.”
Catherine met Drew’s gaze, but Levi shoved the bandage at her. “I have no friends.”
“What about Scout?” Beth asked, bringing a pile of plates to the table. “You’re always running off somewhere with him.”
“He was the one who pointed us to where you fell,” Drew told him.
Levi shifted on the bench as if he wanted to run off right then, but Drew knew his injury kept him from escaping their questions. “Scout Rankin is no friend of mine. He talks about being independent, being his own man, but he’s the first one to do whatever that pa of his wants, even if it’s...”
He swallowed and reached for the material Catherine still held in her hands. “Here, Miss Stanway. Let me tear that.”
“Even if he what, Levi?” she asked, holding on to the old shirt.
“Doesn’t matter,” Levi said, head once more down. “I’m getting tired. Are we eating soon?”
Drew would have liked to question him further, but Ma and Beth put dinner on the table then. It wasn’t until after the dishes had been cleared away and washed that Drew had a moment to talk, and then it was with Catherine.
Simon, James and John had headed to Simon’s cabin to finish some chores there. Levi and Beth were playing the chess game their father had carved. Levi had never enjoyed the pastime, so Drew guessed he was trying to fend off more questions. Ma sat in her chair, the family Bible open in her lap. Catherine knelt next to Drew and started to add a log to the fire.
“Let me do that,” Drew said, taking the rough wood from her hands.
He’d meant to do her a service, but she immediately bristled. “I’m perfectly capable of adding fuel to the fire, sir. I can even walk and talk at the same time. Some women are that talented.”
Drew grimaced. He dropped the wood into the fire, and flames shot up the chimney. “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Catherine. It was only a courtesy.”
She sighed. “Is it a courtesy to do something someone could do for themselves?”
“Certainly.” He sat on the floor beside her and crossed his arms over his knees. “Why do men open doors for women, help them up into wagons? It’s a sign of respect.”
“A sign of respect or a sign of dependence?”
Drew frowned. “Respect. Who’d want a dependent woman?”
She cocked her head, eying him. “You are a singular gentleman, Drew Wallin. Do you know that?”
He must have sat too close to the fire, for his cheeks were getting hot. He shifted away. “I take it everything went well today.”
“No sign of the cougar, no noise from the barn and Levi is healing nicely,” she reported. “What did you think of his excuses before dinner?”
Drew glanced to where Beth was gloating as she took Levi’s queen. “They sounded like just that—excuses. It seems he and Scout Rankin had a falling-out.”
Catherine frowned. “To the point of a broken leg? Young Mr. Rankin hardly seems strong enough.”
Drew shook his head. “It was probably an accident. Either way, Scout has to know I won’t tolerate bullying.”
“So does Levi,” she said. “Perhaps he prefers to fight his own battles.”
There was that. He’d be the last to stop his brother from taking responsibility for his actions. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
She settled on the floor, skirts spread around her. “That shouldn’t be hard for the next few days. Can you fell that tree without him?”
He wasn’t about to admit his own lack of effort had kept them from finishing the job today. “We’re nearly there. We should have it to the ship tomorrow.”
“And when it’s down? What next?”
He hadn’t thought beyond the tree. “There will be more trees needed, for houses in Seattle, for businesses in San Francisco. There are always trees.”
“Until there aren’t,” she countered. “One day you’ll have this entire area cleared. What then, sir?”
He smiled. “Then we build Wallin Town, where men can turn timber into something more than log houses—ships and furniture and works of art.”
She returned his smile. “And I’m sure you’ll include a fine hospital, with a staff willing to help women and children. It is a sad fact that some doctors neglect their needs or fail to take them seriously.”
“Of course. And schools and churches and a civic hall for music and theatricals.”
She tapped her chin with one finger. “And a library for John.”
He chuckled. “For John and the rest of the community. Free for all.”
“A noble calling, Mr. Wallin,” she proclaimed. “I could see Wallin Town even eclipsing Seattle one day as the finest city in the Territory. You’ll have your work cut out for you, but my father always said it was wise to plan for the future.”
Perhaps that was his problem. He was so used to thinking about the present, counting heads, counting limbs, making sure everyone was fed and clothed and educated. His father’s dream had been a distant thing, urging him on.
Perhaps it was time he started planning his own future, with Catherine.
* * *
Catherine was thinking about the future as she came down the stairs the next morning. To her, it seemed clear that her work at Wallin Landing was ending. Mrs. Wallin was up doing chores, cooking and cleaning for her family, and though she still tired easily, the danger was obviously past. Levi, as Catherine had told Drew, would heal quickly. A day or two more to make sure there were no complications, and then she could return to Seattle.
What she didn’t expect was for Seattle to come to her.
Mrs. Wallin and Beth were tending the garden behind the house, Levi propped up on the porch with the rifle to keep watch. Catherin
e had insisted on helping them, bending and tugging out the vine-like weeds that seemed to flourish along with the carrots and peas. The day was still overcast, the sky a leaden gray above them. Birds called from the wood and swooped low over the lake.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, Catherine,” Beth said as she trained her peas up the lattice of sticks John had made for her. “Do the ladies really wear those big metal cages under their skirts like they show in Godey’s?”
“Silliest things I ever saw,” Mrs. Wallin said, pausing to adjust her sunbonnet. She’d given Beth and Catherine ones to wear as well, and Catherine was thankful for the long material at the back and sides that protected her neck from the little bugs she could see swarming down by the lake.
“I like them!” Beth protested, straightening. “I imagine they make you feel ever so graceful.”
“They do indeed,” Catherine replied, yanking out a weed from the rich, dark soil. “And they allow you to have the fullest skirts without the need for layers and layers of petticoats.”
Beth nodded as if vindicated.
“Of course, they make it frightfully difficult to go through doorways,” Catherine continued. “And sometimes, if you aren’t very careful, they flip up and show your underthings to the world.”
Beth look positively horrified. Mrs. Wallin laughed.
Levi climbed unsteadily to his feet. “Someone’s coming.” He aimed the rifle down the track leading south.
Rather inhospitable. Who did he think was heading this way? Then she remembered about the spring and the carcass behind the barn and took a step closer to Mrs. Wallin.
A wagon and team pulled into the clearing, tack jingling.
“There, are you seeing what I mean now, Mrs. Howard?” Maddie proclaimed from the back of the wagon. “Sure’n but she’s working much too hard.”
Catherine smiled as her friend Allegra raised a hand in greeting from the bench. In the lap of her fashionable full-skirted gray dress, her four-year-old daughter, Gillian, wiggled in her eagerness to be free, golden curls tumbled about her face.
Deputy McCormick jumped down and began unthreading the reins from the horses’ harnesses. “Mrs. Wallin, Miss Wallin, Miss Stanway,” he greeted with a tip of his black broad-brimmed hat. His eyes narrowed on the porch. “Levi.”
