How…vile.
As she watched, he ducked behind the windbreak tree. She edged back behind her own cover, in case he turned where he could see her.
Noise of oncoming footsteps crunching through the underbrush held her attention. Coming from the direction of the homestead. She could only pray it wasn’t Pop.
“I can see your boots,” came Matty’s voice. He sounded casual, but there was an edge to his words.
“Deputy.” Ralph stood tall. He raised both hands in front of himself briefly. Maybe to show that he had no weapon. “Didn’t expect to see you still hanging around these parts.”
What did that mean? Then she remembered that Matty hadn’t revealed his injury to Ralph. If Ralph thought he was in good health, perhaps he’d expected the cowboy to have moved on by now.
“Thought we talked about you leaving Catherine alone,” the cowboy countered, voice dangerously low.
Then, without warning, Matty’s gaze traveled to her in a direct line, almost as if he’d sensed her here.
Ralph turned to follow Matty’s gaze, and by now it would be pointless to continue to hide, so Catherine stepped out from behind the tree.
Ralph’s eyes still had a hard light to them as his eyes followed her movements to join Matty. “Afternoon, Catherine.”
“You’re trespassing,” she said.
“I was simply checking on a neighbor.”
“Shouldn’t you be worrying about your own property?” She came even with Matty and he touched the back of her wrist. Just a simple touch, but knowing he stood with her helped calm the fear that had risen in her throat at seeing Ralph sneaking about and spying.
“I warned you to stay away from Catherine. I thought we understood each other.”
“You didn’t say nothing about checking on a neighbor,” Ralph said, that ugly sneer making an appearance. “You said not to propose to Catherine no more.” He shrugged, but there was nothing nonchalant about the movement. “Ain’t planning to do that again. Nope.”
But something behind his words sent a warning through her like the bolts of bright lightning that had accompanied the storm before.
He could still do her much harm without proposing marriage. He could force her physically. He could kill her.
Just how badly did he want her land?
Matty must have sensed the danger lurking behind Ralph’s words, because his hand closed over Catherine’s.
“I think you should head on home,” Matty said firmly. “You aren’t welcome on Catherine’s land, and you’d best stay away from her, as well.”
Ralph’s lips twisted. “You can’t stay here forever, deputy.” He drawled the title slowly. “When you got to go back home, back to your job, Catherine might take a little more kindly to the neighborly help I’m offering.”
“I will never need or want your help,” she said stiffly. “I’ve made that clear just about every way I know how.”
His eyes slid up and down her, making her feel slimy as if he’d touched her physically. “A woman runnin’ a place like this by yerself…you’ll need me. Mark my words.”
She stood stock-still, watching until he’d moved out of sight.
When Matty reached for her with a murmured, “Catherine…” she whirled away, stalking toward the soddy.
She couldn’t accept his comfort, though she’d let him near in front of Ralph in a show of solidarity.
Because Ralph was right. Matty was going to leave. Sometime soon. And when he was gone, all the responsibility for the homestead would return to her shoulders.
And she would be left to worry about fending off Ralph on her own.
*
That night, they’d cleared the supper table, but a soft rain had begun falling and Matty seemed in no hurry to head outdoors. He’d stayed close all afternoon after the confrontation with Ralph. He sat on the stool but reached down and picked up a rusted can Catherine hadn’t noticed before now, sitting near his boots.
“I finished my set of dominoes,” he said. He upended the can and dumped several into his palm, then placed them on the table. “Will y’all play a game with me?”
“I’ve got mending to do.” One of Catherine’s pairs of socks was more holes than fabric. She didn’t have time for games. And she was a little surprised that Matty wasn’t out patrolling or something. Maybe he thought Ralph wouldn’t return because of the rainy weather.
Or maybe he just wanted a break, didn’t want to have to worry all the time. Too bad she couldn’t escape it.
“Aw, Cath, you can spare time to play one game,” Pop wheedled.
She considered her grandfather, who had been so against their social visit to the Elliotts just yesterday. His moods were as changeable as the weather, and tonight he was full of cheer and wanted to play.
And Pop so rarely asked for anything. “I suppose you’re right.”
Matty’s face lit, like the lamp over his shoulder, and for a moment she found herself caught in the pleasure reflected there. All because she’d agreed to play a silly game?
Matty turned the dominoes facedown on the table and mixed them all around as he explained the rules and basic strategy. The dominoes clacked together, momentarily louder than the rain outside.
When Catherine and Pop had the gist of the game, they each drew several dominoes and began to play.
“I’ll go easy on y’all, since it’s your first time to play.” Matty grinned.
“I played before, in the war,” Pop said. “But I don’t remember the rules, only that the kid that taught me was the most competitive person I’d ever met.” He paused. “’Cept maybe for you,” he continued with a nod to Matty.
“I just like to play,” Matty argued.
Pop harrumphed, but his smile remained. Catherine loved seeing it—Pop didn’t smile often.
“You’ve got a liking for games, too, gal,” Pop said, and Catherine looked up from her dominoes in surprise.
“She used to pal around with this little neighbor girl,” Pop said to Matty.
“I don’t remember that,” Catherine put in.
“Folks lived where the Chestertons are now. Moved on when you must’a been about six.”
Catherine searched her memories but couldn’t picture such a friend.
“The two of you were as thick as thieves, running the property, playing games and dollies.”
Why couldn’t she remember? And worse, why did her heart pang at the thought of having a friend?
Pop bowed out of the second game, but Catherine found herself agreeing to play again.
“You and Michaela seemed to get along,” Matty said.
Was that what it had seemed like? Michaela had barely tolerated her presence. Had poked fun at her hair, though she wasn’t meant to have heard.
“Did you ask Mr. Elliott to send word home as to your whereabouts?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He stared down at the dominoes as he pushed them around the table, mixing them up. His concentration on the simple act seemed out of proportion. Or perhaps she was imagining his discomfort in light of her own conflicted feelings about him returning home.
“I’m getting stronger, but I’d like to settle this issue with the…with the neighbors before I go.” He glanced at Pop.
He cared.
She squelched that thought. Couldn’t afford to depend on Matty.
“It’s not your responsibility,” she said stiffly.
“I told you I would be your friend, and I aim to keep my word.”
She’d never had a friend, and later, after he’d excused himself to the barn, she stared into the dark, unable to sleep.
A friend.
After the visit yesterday and Michaela’s disdain…and in the face of Matty’s constant support, Catherine realized she was starting to think of him that way.
She had a friend.
If only she knew what to do with him.
Chapter Fourteen
Matty woke from where he’d dozed
off, rolled in a quilt just inside the barn’s outer wall.
What was that?
The smell of cow was pungent, the soft coos of the chickens the only sound.
And then more noise came, a loud banging. From the cabin.
Matty took off at a dead run, ignoring the protesting pain across his chest. He’d spent the past two nights in the barn instead of closer to the house, not wanting anyone watching them to figure out where he was watching from.
Had someone gone into the soddy and attacked Catherine and Pop? He reached for the gun belted at his side even as he burst into the cabin.
Catherine was tangled in a quilt on the floor, caught between the cot and a table leg.
But the man who pinned her down wasn’t a stranger. It was Pop. His hair was disheveled, but from the back Matty couldn’t get a look at his face or see Catherine, other than her feet that kicked from beneath Pop. Then Pop raised his hand as if he would strike Catherine.
“Stop!” Matty cried. He couldn’t pull his gun on the older man, not knowing what he did about Pop’s mental state.
Pop looked over his shoulder. His eyes were wild.
“You don’t wanna hit Catherine, Pop.”
Matty eased in the door. Another step or two and he could get his arms around Pop and pull the man off Catherine.
“Don’t know no Catherine,” Pop spat. “This here yella-bellied Grayback snuck up on me, tried to smother me in my sleep. And you—”
Matty stepped forward in time to take Pop’s wildly swung fist on his chin. His head knocked back, but he got his hand on Pop’s shoulder.
“Catherine—”
Another fist to his midsection cut off Matty’s words, but Catherine was already struggling out from beneath the blanket, pushing up against the cot. “Pop!”
Pop reached for Matty’s gun, but Matty twisted to the side and got both his arms around Pop’s shoulders.
“Stop struggling,” Matty said in the older man’s ear. “You’re safe in your dugout. On the homestead where you’ve lived for thirty years.”
Pop still fought.
“Calm down!”
“Geoffrey,” Catherine said sharply.
She stood directly in front of him, and Pop went still in Matty’s arms. Matty could see only the side of Pop’s face, but it had gone pale and Pop went limp, leaving Matty to catch him.
His collarbone twinged as he took the unexpected weight. Burned from the unaccustomed movements while grabbing Pop that couldn’t be helped.
“Cath?” His voice emerged weak.
“Is he—” Matty asked.
“Pop!” The alarm in Catherine’s voice changed. She took the older man’s arm.
Pop took a panting breath, and Matty helped wrangle him over to the cot, where he perched gingerly on the edge.
“You back with us?” Matty asked.
Catherine knelt before the older man. “Take it easy, Pop.”
Matty went for the coffeepot, but it looked as if Catherine hadn’t gotten the day started at all. Had Pop woken in a terror and surprised her?
He poured water from a pitcher into the coffeepot and put it on the stove to warm. Then thought again and knelt to open the stove door and stirred the coals, then added some wood chunks.
“I’m sorry, Catherine.” Pop’s voice was hoarse and low.
“I’m all right. Are you okay?”
From behind, Matty could see how Catherine’s hands were shaking. She was putting off a calm demeanor, but she must be shaken up.
“Yep.” But even as he answered, Pop looked frail and shaken himself.
Matty poured the now-steaming coffee into a tin mug and brought it to the older man.
“Thank ya.”
*
“I think we’ll all feel better when we’ve had some breakfast.” Catherine couldn’t stop shaking. She turned away so Pop wouldn’t see the sheen of tears in her eyes, but the cowboy was right there and she completed a circle as she attempted to stay her composure.
She pressed a shaking hand beneath her chin and drew in what was supposed to be a steadying breath. “Let me milk Elsie and gather some eggs and I’ll whip up something. Pop, you should lie back down…”
She pushed out the door without waiting for permission, letting her voice trail off over her shoulder.
Outside, the sun glowed just over the horizon. How had things gone so wrong so early in the day?
“Catherine, wait—”
Matty’s voice rang out behind her, but she sped her steps toward the barn. If she could just make it inside, she could huddle up next to Elsie and hide her tears and shaky hands.
It was not to be. His hand clasped her elbow and he halted her with a tug.
“I just need to—” A sob hiccuped out, interrupting what she would’ve said. Be alone?
How had that helped her this morning?
Without her permission, Matty hauled her in close.
And for once, she couldn’t resist the comfort of his embrace. Her arms came around his neck. His hands rested lightly at her waist as she couldn’t stem the tears. She cried against his chest, taking comfort from not being alone. From breathing in the faint scent of horses and stronger smell of man. From his steady breaths, his chest rising against her cheek.
“He w-was calling out in his s-sleep,” she said, voice wobbling.
The cowboy’s hands squeezed her waist gently. He was listening.
“And I th-thought to wake him before it got w-worse.”
His chin rested on the crown of her head for a brief moment, and she allowed herself to feel safe and protected.
And then he ruined it all by saying, “It’s all right.”
She pushed away from him. His hold loosened, but he didn’t let her go all the way.
“How is it going to be all right?”
His gaze didn’t waver. She feared seeing pity there, but in his eyes there was only compassion. A brisk breeze whipped her hair into her eyes, and she pushed it away even as she glared at the cowboy.
“Then maybe it should be, it’s all right to lean on someone every once in a while.”
His words hung in the space between them. A statement that seemed impossible, but almost an…invitation. To lean on him. To depend on him.
But how could she, when he was going to leave again? And when he didn’t know the truth about her parentage?
She couldn’t hold his gaze and let her eyes fall to the grass at their feet.
He nudged her chin higher with his knuckle, his eyes flickering to the bruise she knew must be forming on her jaw. It still throbbed.
“He hit you?” This time his gaze went dark.
Now she pulled completely away from the cowboy with his too-knowing gaze. Of its own volition, her hand came up to cover the tender place on her jaw. “He didn’t mean it.”
“He might not have meant to hit you, but he didn’t know the difference, did he?”
His words were like hurled rocks, even though his voice was gentle.
“You can’t keep staying in that soddy with him.”
She shook her head against his words—maybe against the reality that loomed.
“I have to—” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, toward the barn. She didn’t wait for the cowboy’s acknowledgment but stalked away.
On the milking stool next to Elsie, she let more tears fall with her face pressed against the cow’s side.
Pop had been her only support after Mama had died. He’d worked hard to keep the homestead running. With his mind going and the paranoia getting worse, how could she ask him to move closer to town? Even if she ignored her own discomfort with the idea and worries that she would be ostracized, what if Pop attacked someone, thinking they were his enemy from a war that had been over for decades? He could be jailed, or even sent to a sanatorium.
And he didn’t deserve that, not after everything he’d done for her.
And besides that, how could she ask him to leave behind the land he’d worked since before
she was born? They’d cultivated this property. She had the blackberry bushes they shared with the mockingbird down near the creek. The maple that provided sap for syrup for the season. How could they leave behind those years of memories spent with her mama?
But…there was a small part of her that wanted what the cowboy offered. The chance not to have to be alone. Not to have to bear this burden by herself as Pop aged.
Maybe to have…a friend.
Doubts crushed the small seed of desire. If she hadn’t been able to make friends as a schoolgirl, why should she think she would fit in now as an adult? Especially with the secret she carried?
The cowboy seemed friendly enough, but he was stuck here and needed her help. She couldn’t ignore what had happened in the past.
She would have to figure out a way to prevent what had happened this morning from happening again. Some way to ensure Pop couldn’t surprise her.
Chapter Fifteen
Two days after the scuffle with Pop, and Matty felt the distance Catherine had put between them keenly. Did she hate him seeing her vulnerable that much? He’d tried to draw her out with games of dominoes in the evenings, but she’d pled exhaustion.
She and that mule had spent long days finishing clearing the wheat field and he didn’t doubt it.
The fist-sized bruise on the side of her face made his gut twist every time he saw it. How could he help her if she wouldn’t open up?
And he was running out of time. His brothers would come for him in another two days. He wanted to see his family and he couldn’t leave the sheriff without a deputy for any longer.
Pop had spent the past two days wandering the homestead looking frail and lost. Matty’d split his time between watching for an intruder and watching the old man, half afraid he was going to get lost in his memories again and hurt Catherine.
Why couldn’t she see that it was dangerous to stay out here alone with him? Why was she so determined to make the homestead work when it was backbreaking labor with such little reward?
Tonight, she’d put the mule up for the evening and washed up with a bit of time before the sun went down. Clouds littered the horizon. Maybe a storm moving in.
She’d given him a brief wave where he’d been near the barn still working with the tools she’d asked him to repair. He wasn’t any good at it, not as his brother Ricky was, and had spent most of the day frustrated.
Love Inspired Historical October 2015 Box Set Page 13
