Coming Up Roses

by Catherine Anderson

  "A penny for them," he whispered next to her ear.

  "I was just thinking if I never get to come back home that this night has been so wonderful, I won't have any regrets."

  His embrace tightened. "Don't think that way, Katie. You'll come home, if for no other reason than I don't think I can live without you."

  "You'll have no choice. Because I'm leaving behind my reason for living. It's a sacred trust."

  He nuzzled her neck. "I'm not worried. I lay odds they throw the case out of court. You'll come home. And I'll spend the next fifty years preserving your dignity under your pillow while I shock you from the tips of your pink little toes right up to your blushing hairline when I make love to you."

  Kate grinned. "After last night, I'm well past being shocked."

  "That's what you think," he whispered huskily.

  Kate stirred to look over her shoulder into his twinkling hazel eyes. The knowing laughter she read there made her skin tingle. "You mean you left something out?"

  He bent his head and whispered to her of the things she hadn't yet experienced, his voice so thick with passion that her own rose in a hot tide within her.

  "You wouldn't!" she whispered.

  "I will," he promised with a chuckle.

  Kate's mind filled with shocking images, and she felt a blush rising up her neck. "I would never let you. That's scandalous."

  "Delicious."

  The blush turned scalding and flooded into her face. "I would never participate in something so—so base."

  "Heaven-sent," he corrected.

  "I don't want to talk about this."

  "You're right. I'd rather just do it. Come downstairs with me before Mandy wakes up. We'll lock the sickroom door, and I'll give you something to remember me by." He flicked the tip of his tongue against her nape, sending chills the length of her body. "Just like that, Katie girl. You'll think you've died and gone straight to heaven. I swear it."

  Her body felt heavy, her blood hot and thick. She settled back against him, seduced by the sultry promises he whispered in her ear, unable to resist the magnetism of him. "I'll think I've died of humiliation, that's what."

  "Never with me. Nothing I do to you will ever bring anything but beautiful feelings, sweetheart, because what's between us is blessed."

  "No. Maybe one day."

  He chuckled and bent to scoop her into his arms. "No woman should face a murder charge without that experience under her belt."

  "Zachariah!" she squeaked. "I'm not going to let you do something so—"

  He cut her off with a kiss that made her senses spin, a long, hypnotizing kiss that robbed her of everything, including her certainty that what he had suggested was shameful. Out the door, down the stairs. He stubbed his toe and cursed. Kate giggled and tried to pull down her chemise. He carried her into the sickroom, locked the door, proceeded toward the bed.

  As he lowered her onto the mattress, he pinioned her with a gaze that gleamed with equal parts tenderness and determination, and Kate knew she was lost.

  "I—I really can't contemplate doing something so improper," she tried one last time.

  He stretched out beside her and ran a heavy, thorough hand up her body, setting her skin afire. Bending his head to hers, he nibbled gently at her earlobes, her throat, her mouth. "I swear, I'll do it proper. And you won't be able to think, Katie girl, let alone contemplate."

  As it turned out, he was right in more ways than one. His technique was perfect. She didn't have a thought in her head. And before he was finished with her, she felt as though she had indeed died and gone straight to heaven.

  Chapter 22

  Kate remembered that one little taste of heaven for the remainder of the day. It got her through her last breakfast with her daughter, through the wagon ride to town, through the humiliating experience of going to the county jail and allowing herself to be locked inside a cell. It got her through that first endless day of imprisonment and that first lonely night of darkness and shadows, uncertainty her only bedmate. But most importantly, it helped her survive the memory of telling Miranda good-bye.

  "I love you, Ma."

  The words echoed in Kate's mind all night long. A hundred times she recalled how her daughter had felt in her arms, so small and helpless, so trusting and sweet. A hundred times she remembered the smell of her hair, the silken brush of her lips against her cheek, the clinging of her hands as Kate pried them away so she could leave.

  I'll guard her with my life, Katie . Zachariah's promise, Kate's only comfort. No matter what fate befell her, Miranda would be safe.

  Morning came. There were times during that first night when Kate doubted it would. But despite the fact that her world was upended, daylight followed darkness, and the town awoke to go about its business. The delicious smells of perking coffee and frying bacon wafted from the houses perched on the nearby hillside. Occasionally she heard the hinges of a door creak. Dogs barked to herald the new day. Roosters late in rising crowed halfheartedly at the sunlight. The deputy, a lanky, sandy-haired fellow named Russell, brought Kate her breakfast of eggs, toast, blackberries, and milk.

  The outside window of Kate's cell looked onto an empty yard. After forcing down as much of her meal as she could, she stood with her fists knotted around the bars, her face pressed to an opening between them. She breathed deeply of the fresh air, determined not to think about the bare gray walls that closed in around her. The reality of it made her panicky and breathless, knowing she was locked in, that she wasn't free to leave, that her world had been condensed to nothing but a cot, a small table, and a chamber pot. Her clothing felt suddenly tight, and the friction of the cloth against her skin raised goose flesh. She couldn't leave here. If a fire broke out, her fate depended upon someone else's remembering to release her. She was trapped.

  Don't dwell on it, she commanded herself. A fire wasn't likely to break out. It was foolish to conjure horrible images and be frightened of what might never occur.

  She could see a horse-drawn buggy parked behind the courthouse next door. Scattered houses dotted the hillside behind the jailhouse, most painted pristine white with matching picket fences bordering the yards. When she listened closely, she could hear voices coming from the street out front, and she imagined ladies pausing to chat on the sidewalks as they went from store to store to do their shopping. In the distance, she saw a woman out hanging laundry on her line. Kate wished she were at home doing wash. Doing anything.

  She spent the morning sitting on her cot, back rigid, hands folded in her lap, ears strained to catch the voices that filtered in to her from the sheriff's adjoining office. Zachariah had promised to see the judge first thing this morning about hurrying lawful procedure. Afterward, he was supposed to come by the jail to let her know how things had gone. Kate waited, and she waited. Every minute seemed a year long. Her only solace came from the knowledge that Zachariah had never broken a promise to her yet. He would come.

  The noon meal came and went. Kate couldn't eat. One o'clock rolled around. She knew because she asked the time whenever she glimpsed the sheriff or deputy through the little barred window of the cell block door. Two o'clock . Three. Dusk finally fell. And Zachariah still hadn't come. Kate didn't touch her evening meal. After it was taken away, she lay in the waning light, dreading the darkness, wondering where Zachariah was and why he had failed to visit her as he had promised.

  A dozen possibilities ricocheted through her mind, all of them horrible, for only something catastrophic would keep him from coming, she knew. He had been hurt. Miranda was sick. The house had burned down. Ryan had caused trouble. The list seemed endless, and each item on it made Kate tremble with dread.

  Darkness fell. The moon came up. And Kate wept. She knew it was weak to lose her grip so completely, but all the things in her life that had given her strength had been stripped from her. She wept until her eyes burned dry, until it felt as if her lids were stuck open, until her throat felt raw, until her h
ead pounded with pain. And then she just lay there on her cot in a huddle of misery, still tortured with worry.

  "Katie?"

  The husky whisper sent a shock of joy through Kate, and she jackknifed to a sitting position to peer into the shadows.

  "Katie, love. Over here."

  Kate glanced up and saw a broad-shouldered silhouette at the outside window of her cell. She threw herself from the bed. "Zachariah! Oh, Zachariah, where have you been?"

  She grabbed the bars, dug a toe into the wall, and hoisted herself up to meet his urgent, hungry mouth with her own. He shoved his arms between the bars until they wedged at the biceps. His hands clutched almost frantically at her. His kiss told her how much he loved her. Kate sobbed with relief and wanted to melt through the wall so she could feel the strength of his body pressed against her own.

  "Miranda?"

  "She's fine," he said between frenzied kisses.

  "You?"

  "I came as soon as I could." He pressed light lips to her swollen eyelids. "Oh, honey, you've been crying. Are you all right?"

  "I am now. I was so worried, Zachariah. You said you'd come this morning."

  "Everything took longer than I thought." He moved his feet, and she heard paper rustle. "And then I went shopping for some things to bring you. By the time I got done with that, I had to go back home to eat dinner with Mandy and tuck her into bed. I didn't think it'd be good for her to be without either one of us tonight. She's more upset than she's letting on. It took five stories to get her to sleep."

  Kate laughed with relief. "You knew five, I hope?"

  "Hell, no. I made them up. With her help. She's a fussy little minx when it comes to her stories. If I said a gray kitten, it had to be black with spots in designated places, which seemed to take hours for her to choose. I was ready to wring her neck by the time she drifted off."

  Kate pressed her forehead against the bars and closed her eyes, serenity slowly eating away the panic, her senses lulled by the sound of his voice. "Did you finally get the spots right?"

  Curling a hand over her nape, he pressed his mouth to her cheek. "Exactly right. The entire time knowing you were probably wild with worry. I'm sorry, Katie love. Fatherhood is a trial sometimes. My only consolation was that I knew you'd want me right where I was, choosing kitty spots."

  Kate giggled. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

  "I'd like to be in there."

  Kate seconded that, but only in her thoughts. Zachariah had burdens aplenty without her woes being added to the list. "Any news?"

  "It goes before the grand jury next Monday. That's the quickest. Notices have to be sent out, a jury selected."

  Six endless days. Kate swallowed down a protest and forced herself to look on the bright side. He could easily have said six weeks or six months. Practically speaking, he had worked a miracle by getting things rolling so quickly. "So soon? Oh, Zachariah, how on earth did you convince him of that?"

  "I lied and said you were pregnant."

  "What?"

  He pushed one arm farther between the bars and curled it around her. "You could be. It's not that big a lie, Katie.

  Then I went into a big explanation about Mandy and how difficult this was for her. By the time I got done with him, the poor bastard was as anxious to get you out of here as I am. For some reason, he was reluctant to set bail, but he did recommend a defense lawyer, and I've got him on retainer."

  Kate sensed there was something he had left unsaid, and the worried look in his eyes bore that out. She knew from bitter past experience how successful Joseph had been in swaying public opinion against her. Not quite right, people whispered behind cupped hands. Unpredictable when those spells come over her. It made her feel sick to think Zachariah might have been told all those horrible lies. It made her feel even sicker to think she might be kept in jail because of the fear of her that Joseph had planted in people's minds.

  A danger to Miranda and possibly to others? If that was why Zachariah looked so stricken, if that was why the judge seemed reluctant to set bail, Kate couldn't deal with it. Not right now.

  "How much did retaining a lawyer cost?" Kate hadn't thought of the expense until now but she was eager for anything that might distract her. "Was it dreadful?"

  "How much doesn't matter. Jesus, Kate, I'd sell my place to get you out of here. My place and yours. Not that I'll have to. I've got savings."

  "I don't want you to squander it all on me!"

  "What else should I spend it on? You're a good investment."

  "And then you went shopping?" she scolded. "What on earth was so important that you'd go spend more money?

  Zachariah, you must have a care. You've already spent a small fortune on that catalog order. There's nothing I need so desperately that you must buy it now."

  "Will you let me be the judge of—" He broke off and tugged on his arm. "Son of a bitch! I'm stuck."

  Kate tried to help him dislodge his arm. "Oh, my, Zachariah, you are stuck." She giggled again, vaguely aware that there was a note of hysteria in the laughter. "Now I've got you where I want you."

  He curled the imprisoned arm back around her. "I don't give a tinker's damn. This is where I want to be anyway."

  And with that, he kissed her, a long, soul-searching kiss that made Kate forget where she was. "I love you, Katie," he whispered as their mouths parted. "Do you have any idea how much?"

  Shakily she replied, "I'm beginning to get an inkling."

  He went back to trying to dislodge his arm. Finally, with a mighty heave, he broke free, nearly losing his balance in the process. Then he began shoving packages to her through the bars.

  "What on earth is all this?"

  "Christmas in July. Decent clothing. Books. Lots of books because I wasn't sure what you'd like to read. And sewing stuff galore so you won't go mad in here. And a little something special to remember me by when you get to feeling lonesome."

  Despite her concerns about his spending money too freely, Kate couldn't squelch a wave of curiosity. "Something special? What, Zachariah?"

  "Wait until daylight and see. It's a surprise. Just be sure to read the inscription."

  Kate tugged the last package through the bars. Then she curled her hands over his where they gripped the steel. "I wish you could stay."

  "If wishes were rainbows, Katie girl, I'd do just that. But there's another little lady in my life, and she comes first."

  Tears filled Kate's eyes, and she nodded, unable to speak. She wouldn't have had him feel any other way.

  "She might wake up," he said hoarsely. "I need to be there in case she does."

  Kate kissed his calloused knuckles. "I can almost see the two of you all cuddled up together."

  "Three. Don't forget Nosy."

  She smiled and caressed her cheek on the back of his hand, then breathed deeply of the scents that clung there, loving every one. Horses, and leather, hay, and earth. A man as elemental as the soil he cultivated. She loved every rugged inch of him.

  "We'll all three miss you," he whispered. "The bed'll feel downright empty."

  "My place?"

  "I figured that was best. I moved Ching Lee over. I swear, he's got a hundred pots, and he won't cook without every single one at his disposal. I carted a wagonload of stuff to your place. After all that, he discovered he didn't have a dutch oven. I had to make a trip back to my house to get the damned thing. But now he's all set up, and Marcus is sleeping in the sickroom, so he's there to take care of Mandy until I get back."

  "It would have been simpler to take Mandy to your place."

  "She's going through changes aplenty without adding to them. It'll be jarring enough for her to hear Ching Lee yelling, and to make matters more hair-raising, he hammers on a pot while he's at it. I told him I'd castrate him if he scared Mandy with his pot banging, but he's so set in his ways, I might as well talk to a wall."

  "She won't be frightened if she's with you."
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  "You haven't heard him calling us to breakfast."

  Kate burst out laughing. "Oh, Zachariah, I do love you. Somehow, you can always make me smile, and tonight, that's an accomplishment."

  "That's my goal in life, Katie girl, to make you smile."

  With that promise to bolster her, he pressed a fleeting kiss to her mouth and disappeared into the darkness. For a long while after, Kate clung to the bars and gazed at the moon. Oddly enough, she no longer felt so alone.

  * * *

  At dawn, Kate opened the packages Zachariah had left with her. Two changes of clothing, from the skin out. She could only smile at the colors of the gowns, one a vivid blue, the other a brilliant russet, both embellished with lace and ruffles. The petticoats even had flounces of lace. And bright red garters? Kate blushed when she saw those. When she opened the next box, her expression turned almost reverent. New shoes. Not high-top boots like she'd always worn, but shoes—beautiful patent leather, low-cut opera pumps. In the next box, she found a vial of rose cologne, a bar of scented soap, a hand mirror and brush, a toothbrush, a tin of saleratus, and a packet of hairpins. As far as the necessities went, he had thought of everything.

  When Kate turned her attention to the luxury items, tears of happiness filled her eyes. Books, he'd said? He'd bought her a blooming library. Three volumes of poetry, two recipe books. Her hand froze over the next. The Scandalous Mistress Novak.

  Fascinated, she flipped it open and began to leaf through. It wasn't long before she came to a section that lived up to the book's title. Her eyes widened, and she snapped the cover closed. Heat flared to her cheeks. Zachariah McGovern was a caution, and that was a fact. She inched the book open again and read a few more lines. Then a few more. Absorbed, she scooted back to brace her shoulders against the wall. Mistress Novak had indeed been scandalous!