Loving Katherine

by Carolyn Davidson

He stopped long enough when the sun was overhead to tear a heel from the loaf of fresh bread Orv had given him. After cutting a thick slice of cheese from the chunk in his pack, he stowed the food securely and set out once more. There was no sense in stopping till near nightfall. He might even make it to the river by then.

  According to the map he’d carried about for over a year, Tucker Center was just a ways east of the big river, and once he reached the Mississippi, he’d be home free. He’d just follow it south, almost all the way to River Bend. Home. His eyes narrowed as he considered what awaited him there.

  “Might be nothin’ left for you, Devereaux,” he grumbled. “They probably won’t thank you for makin’ the trip. The damn horse’ll probably get a warmer welcome than me. Pa was always on the lookout for a good piece of horseflesh. He’ll appreciate Katherine’s mare.”

  Katherine. He shouldn’t have spoken the name. A dull ache beneath his breastbone nudged him. A vision of dark hair glimmering in the sunlight and blue eyes sparkling with intelligence filled his mind. He shook his head, willing the memory of her to vanish, but to no avail.

  “I did what I could,” he growled, as if her image accused him. “No woman is gonna tie me up in knots. She’s set for the winter, anyway. By spring, she’ll probably…”

  The angry face of Evan Gardner sprang before him. “What happens when you’re not here anymore, stranger?” As though he heard the question aloud, Roan swore, biting the words off savagely. “He’s a determined son of a gun,” Thurston Wellman’s voice echoed in his head.

  “She can face him down any day of the week,” Roan growled, nudging his mare into an easy lope, the stallion falling in behind. The thought was not the comfort he’d hoped for. Once fresh in his mind, the memories of Katherine would not be dislodged, and he turned over each glimpse of her as it appeared before him.

  Her stubborn chin, the creamy look of her skin where her throat met the collar of her dress. The strong, well-formed hands that were equally as capable whether she held a skillet or the lead rope of a yearling foal. His mind dwelt for a moment on the surprising softness of her mouth as it had opened beneath his own, and he tilted his head back to gaze at the cloudless sky.

  “Damn woman…I don’t need to be thinkin’ about you,” he snarled impotently His mind’s eye envisioned the bulky form of Evan Gardner, imagining the man’s mouth intruding where Roan’s had been the first to venture.

  “Never been kissed, Katherine?” He’d known when he asked, known that he’d been the first to taste the sweetness of her mouth. Damn. Evan Gardner’d better keep his hands to himself. Not to mention his slack-jawed…

  He pulled the mare to a halt, his hands tight on the reins. With a grim foretaste of disaster, he sensed Katherine’s vulnerability. The whole damn town was probably waitin’ for Gardner to move in on her, he thought glumly. They probably all thought it was the best thing for her, havin’ somebody to look after things there.

  He lifted his eyes once more to the brilliant blue sky, watching as a hawk circled and swooped beyond the next rise in the trail. Damn it all, Charlie. I can’t just ride off and leave her to fend for herself. I reckon I shoulda just ridden south from Ohio and stayed out of this mess.

  And never known Charlie’s Sparrowhawk? The thought pierced him with dreadful accuracy and he shook his head.

  He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he left her with things so unsettled. He cast another look at the sky, shaking his head glumly. “It’ll be full dark before we get there,” he said to the mare, his hand stroking her neck with a gentle touch. “Guess we’d better make tracks.”

  “I know you’re not gonna shoot me, Katherine,” Evan said cajolingly, sidling toward the porch. The setting sun cast his face in shadow beneath the wide brim of his hat, but she knew exactly how he looked. She knew the greedy expression his face wore as he considered her. For too long, she’d known he was only biding his time.

  “Should have realized you’d be back here as soon as Roan Devereaux left town,” she taunted him, leveling the barrel of her shotgun in his direction. “Too much of a coward to hang around while a man was staying here, weren’t you?”

  “I don’t take kindly to bein’ called a coward. I’m facin’ you down, ain’t I? And you with a gun aimed at my belly.” He reached the foot of the steps and tilted his head back to look up at her. “Let me come in and we’ll just talk, Katherine,” he wheedled softly, a smile turning his expression into a parody of friendly persuasion.

  “Get out of here, Evan,” she told him wearily. “I don’t have time to argue with you.” The barrel of the shotgun sagged just a bit, its weight heavy.

  He halted and peered at her. “I can wait, Katherine. I’m a patient man.” With little grace and much muttering, he made his way to where he’d tied his horse, mounting and riding from the yard.

  It was only a whisper of sound, there outside her bedroom window. Almost asleep, she wakened with a start, her heart pounding with a breathtaking cadence. Framed against the opening, his shoulders already inside, was a shadowed figure. Katherine’s mind was muddled, the edges of sleep making her movements slow as she swung her feet to the floor.

  “Who is it?” she whispered into the darkness, aware even as she spoke the query that the familiar bulk belonged to Evan Gardner.

  “I told you I was patient,” he said with a chuckle. “I been waitin’ out yonder for better than two hours, Katherine. Thought you’d be asleep by now, though.”

  “What do you want?” she said, her voice raspy as she struggled to her feet, dread clutching at her throat. Without a gun as an equalizer, she was no match for Evan’s weight and she knew it. The thought of those thick fingers against her flesh made her shudder, and she feinted to evade his touch. To no avail. He was upon her before she could take a step, his body slamming into her with no regard for her woman’s vulnerabilities.

  She lost her breath as he bore her down into the feather tick, his heavy torso solid against her slender form. One hand found its way into her hair and he twisted a handful about his fist, anchoring her against the sheet while he sought to rub his mouth over her face. His lips were open, loose and wet, and she shuddered, reaching with both hands to pound against him.

  It was futile. Before she regained her breath, gasping for air to fill her lungs, she knew she was in way over her head. Her gun was beside the bed, too far for her to reach, and the nearest help was down the road, almost a mile away. Tears flooded her eyes. Tears of resentment that because she was a woman, smaller and more easily bested, he could come into her home and wrestle from her what she was unwilling to give.

  “Evan, no…” Her voice was muffled beneath his weight. His free hand was busy at the front of her nightgown, tugging at the buttons, his mouth vainly attempting to capture hers as she endured the pain of his fist clenched in her hair.

  “You wouldn’t be nice about it, would you,” he snarled against her cheek. “I wanted to do this nice and easy, Katherine, but you wouldn’t let me.” His fingers grew impatient; he tore at the worn fabric of her gown, the material ripping with a ragged sound.

  “Please, no. Don’t do this, Evan,” she sobbed, aghast as she felt the helpless tears flood her eyes and overflow.

  “Aw, come on, Katherine. I’ll make you happy,” he wheezed, his hand fumbling beneath her bodice, fingers grasping for a hold against her flesh.

  She felt the brush of a fingernail across the crest of her breast and gasped for air, only to release it in a scream of sheer terror. And once started, she could not be silenced.

  “Listen to me, you stupid woman,” he growled, both hands on her shoulders now as he sought to hold her firmly, aware only of her thrashing body beneath him. “Damn it, Katherine, I’m willing to marry you!”

  “Nooo…” It was a cry of anguish, followed by a sobbing, mournful wail that reached the ears of the lone rider who approached over the rise east of the garden patch.

  “I’ll show you what a good husband I’ll be, Katherine,�
�� Evan told her loudly, attempting to make himself heard over her muffled cries. He fought for a space between her flailing legs, his hands shifting to grasp wherever he could, ducking her fists, which aimed in his direction, more often than not landing sharp jabs.

  She screamed again, the sound shrill in his ear. He straightened over her, his hand open and hurting as it met the side of her face, cracking loudly in the darkness.

  “Shut up and listen to me, Katherine,” he shouted angrily. “You’re gonna marry me, one way or another, and I don’t mind takin’ my wedding night a day early.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that.” The voice from the window was quiet. The sound of a revolver’s hammer being cocked was unmistakable, and the form of the man who climbed silently through the window was familiar.

  Evan rolled from the bed, exposing Katherine’s pale flesh to full view. Her gown was tangled about her thighs, the bodice torn and shredded, one breast exposed in the moonlight.

  Roan stood to one side of the window, his eyes searching the darkness beyond her bed, narrowing as he spied movement. A form was edging across the floor, making an attempt to reach the door.

  “Gardner, stand up where you are,” Roan snarled. “Don’t make me shoot you in the back.”

  “Roan?” Katherine moaned beneath her breath, her hands futile in their efforts to tug her gown into place over her breast.

  “I’m here, Kate,” he answered, his attention focusing on her, attuned to her distress.

  It was all Evan needed, that moment of distraction Katherine had afforded him. He bolted through the open doorway and across the kitchen to the door of the house, crouching low as he leapt from the porch.

  With a snarl of disgust, Roan turned back to the window and was gone, landing on the ground with one leap and moving around the house to the front.

  “Gardner!” he shouted, stopping and taking aim at the fleeing figure. “Damn fool knows I won’t shoot him in the back,” he growled. Lowering his aim, he steadied his arm and pressed the trigger. The shot was true. Evan hit the ground, rolling to clutch at his leg and shouting his anger.

  “Shoot me in the back, would you?”

  Roan covered the ground between them rapidly, his eyes intent on the man who was attempting to struggle to his feet. “If I wanted to shoot you in the back, I’d have aimed higher,” Roan snarled in disgust.

  “You’ve broke my leg,” Evan cried, stumbling as he put weight on the injured member.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you,” Roan told him harshly. “Get on that horse of yours and get out of here before I finish the job.”

  Evan crawled across the ground to where his horse was tied to a tree near the barn. “You’ll pay for this, Devereaux. I’ll have the sheriff out here after you.”

  “You just do that,” Roan said. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Turning his back, he shoved his gun into its holster, aware of the unaccustomed weight of it against his leg. It had been a long time since he’d worn it there. But tonight he’d sensed the need for the familiar revolver close at hand.

  His steps were light as he ran back to the house, in the door and across the kitchen to where the opening to Katherine’s bedroom showed as a pale rectangle. She lay unmoving on the bed, outlined in the moonlight from the window. Her eyes were closed, arms clutched across her breasts. His heart thumped against the wall of his chest as he neared the bed.

  “I’m so glad you came back,” she whispered. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”

  “No, he’s just got a hole in his leg. Man deserves to hang,” he growled, kneeling by the side of the bed. His hand hovered over her, hesitant to frighten her, sensing her tightly held emotions.

  “I don’t want anyone to know.” Her whisper was forlorn. “Roan, I’m glad you…I thought you’d gone….”

  “Hush. I’m here, Katherine.” His hand settled finally on tugging her gown down to cover her thighs and calves, loosening the folds where the material had been forced up by the weight of Evan Gardner’s legs.

  She clutched at herself more tightly, her hands against the bare flesh of her breasts. “Please pull the sheet over me.”

  “I’m gonna light the lamp, Katherine,” he told her. “I wanna make sure you’re all right.” With one quick twist of his wrist, he settled the white muslin sheet over her body. Then, turning to where the oil lamp rested in the darkness on the table next to the bed, he fumbled for the matches that lay there. Muttering darkly as his fingers groped, he grasped one, and struck it against the side of the box, his eyes narrowing against the glow as it caught fire.

  “Don’t look at me,” she begged, and the words cut him to the quick. So unlike the spunky, vibrant woman he knew, the small creature lying before him tore at his heart.

  He lifted the globe and lit the wick, lowering it until the lamp’s glow was subdued. His hands were warm as they touched her, one brushing the hair back from her forehead, the other clasping her shoulder. His eyes found the red welts that measured the handprint of Evan Gardner against her cheek, and his mouth tightened.

  “I should have aimed higher,” he growled, his fingers gently touching the bruising flesh. He scanned her shoulders, bare beneath the shredded gown, and he brushed against the small marks, which would be purple by daylight. Deliberately, he lowered the sheet a few inches, drawing back the fabric she’d attempted to pull into place, exposing the pale rise of her breasts. His eyes were hard as he saw the results of harsh fingers, the reddened places where Evan’s nails had scraped her tender flesh.

  “I should have killed him.” He swore again beneath his breath as he pulled the sheet up and over the fullness of her bosom once more.

  “I need to get up and wash,” she whispered, her eyes opening as she clasped the covering in place, struggling to sit up. He lifted her against him, holding her head to his shoulder and clasping her waist as he turned her to sit on his lap. He’d managed to find his way onto the bed, and she welcomed the warmth of his big body as he shielded her with the comfort of his arms.

  “I’ll help you in just a minute or two,” he told her, sharing the heat of his body with the chill that held her in its shuddering grasp. She shivered against him and he tightened his grip, pulling the sheet around her, wrapping her in its folds. With a rocking movement, he comforted her, his arms cradling her securely, his dark head bent low as he rested his cheek against her forehead.

  Breathing deeply, he inhaled her scent, the clean aroma that followed her like a breath of spring. “Ah, Katherine, what am I gonna do with you?” he muttered against her skin.

  “I’ll be all right.” Her voice wavered only a little. “I’ll be fine in the morning.”

  “Yeah.” His tone was unbelieving, and his mouth twisted with anger as he held her. “Yeah, you’ll be fine.”

  Chapter Six

  “I’m not leavin’ you here alone.” For the third time he

  spoke the words, and for the third time she glared her refusal of the ultimatum he offered.

  Her face was swollen, the bruise fully developed. His eyes traveled over the evidence of brutality and beyond, assessing the puffiness of her mouth, where harsh treatment had damaged the tender tissue. He knew what the tightly buttoned dress hid beneath its somber layer of cotton. His eyes had seen the marks of uncaring hands, frantic to grasp at her softness. He swallowed hard, feeling the bile of disgust rise within him.

  “I can’t stay, Katherine, or I would. I have to go home.” How to explain the need for this journey. How to make her understand the necessity of closing this chapter of his life so that he could continue the act of living. With no more questions, no more regrets.

  “I understand…I know you’re going to Louisiana,” she said quietly, her eyes telegraphing the determination that existed within her as a living, breathing entity. “What you don’t understand is my need to finish what I’ve begun, right here. It will be another two years before I have my yearlings ready to sell. I can’t let them go before then.”

 
“Is this some kinda vow you’ve made to Charlie?” he asked bluntly. “‘Cause if it is, he wouldn’t hold you to it, Katherine.”

  She bowed her head. It was far from a sign of defeat, he knew instinctively. Whether she hid the sadness that darkened her eyes when she thought about her father, or sought to keep from his sight the resolve that drove her, he would not have it.

  Leaning across the table, he grasped her chin and forced her face into view. Lips pressed tightly together, eyes swimming with tears, she glared at him.

  “Aw, Katherine,” he sighed.

  “Leave me be.” Her forehead wrinkling in a scowl, she squeezed her eyes shut. The pressure forced a single tear to make its way from beneath each eyelid and begin a trail down her cheek.

  The sight of those drops of sorrow against her bruised and battered flesh was his downfall.

  He released his hold on her and rose, reaching her side in three quick steps. His hands were gentle as he scooped her into his arms and lifted her from the chair, ignoring the protest she cried against his chest. He turned around, seeking a place to suit his purpose, his gaze moving to the open door of her bedroom. The quilt was smooth across the plump surface of her feather mattress, the pillows fluffed and perched against the rough headboard. It was there he headed.

  She wiggled and twisted in his arms when she sensed the direction he took, her mutterings muffled against his shirt as he gathered her tightly against himself.

  “Hush, Katherine.” He spoke it as an order, not coaxing or entreating her, but issuing the edict with no expectation of refusal.

  The bed beckoned him. He turned around to sit down, his arms full of obstinate woman, his mind swimming with confusion. The only solid thought penetrating the mass of broken images in his head was to persuade this fool woman of the folly implicit in her intentions.

  There was absolutely no way in hell she could stay here alone now. Not for one day would he leave her by herself with only that damn shotgun for protection.