A Good Man for Katie (18 page)

Kathryne paced the confines of the building, warm now from the fire blazing in the forge. She paused several times to glance at the tools of his trade.

The sound of hooves thudding on the wooden floorboards made her turn around as Ephraim lead the big bay toward her. “How much do I owe you?”

A flush colored his cheeks. “It’s on the house. Any friend of Laurel’s is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.”

“Please, call me Ephraim.” He flashed a smile at her as he helped her gain her seat in the saddle and adjusted her skirts to cover her legs. “Do you mind if I ask where you’re going?”

“Willow Creek Ranch, if you’ll tell me how to get there.”

“Just head west as soon as you cross the bridge. Can’t miss the ranch. Big stone pillars hold up a sign.” His eyes squinted as they met hers, concern in their light brown depths. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are you going alone, Miss Kate?”

“Is there a reason why I shouldn’t?” she asked as she pulled a pair of thin white gloves from the reticule around her wrist and slipped them on. They weren’t the correct gloves for riding, but they’d still protect her hands from the leather reins as well as the cold.

He tilted his head and his mouth opened several times, but no words came forth. Clearly, he wanted to say something. Warn her, perhaps? Tell her it wasn’t proper for a woman to go riding off alone? “Just be careful,” he finally said as he handed her the reins. “The ranch hands at Willow Creek aren’t the nicest. Neither is the Widow Kinsbrough. And it looks like we might get snow.”

A long while later, Kathryne glanced at the sign supported by stone pillars, pulled on the reins and turned up the winding dirt drive, relieved she’d found the ranch. Several times, she’d been tempted to turn back, afraid she’d missed the entrance to Willow Creek.

The main house, built of wood and stone, loomed before her as Kathryne rode up the drive. Men rushed toward one of the outbuildings, answering the call of the dinner bell. The aroma of a hearty beef stew filled the air and mixed with the clean, fresh scent of snow yet to fall. No one stopped her nor did anyone offer a greeting or try to help her. Indeed, no one even looked at her.

She dismounted in front of the house and wrapped Old Blue’s reins around the post then took a deep breath. Doubts filled her. She shouldn’t have come.

“Can I help you?”

Kathryne glanced up to the porch to see a tall willowy blonde-haired woman. She wore a split leather skirt made of the softest suede and a pristine white shirt beneath a heavy coat, left unbuttoned. She was the most beautiful woman Kathryne had ever seen. She would have been even more beautiful if she smiled, but she didn’t. Instead, she stood with her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed, her lips pressed together in a thin line. Ephraim was right—not a hint of friendliness exuded from her.

“I’m looking for Mrs. Kinsbrough.”

“Well, you found her.”

Swallowing the sudden dryness in her throat, Kathryne climbed the porch steps and held out her hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Kathryne O’Rourke. I—”

“I know who you are.” She didn’t take the hand Kathryne offered. She didn’t move at all. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk to you about one of your men.”

If possible, the Widow Kinsbrough’s eyes narrowed even more, turning her pretty face into a mask of ugliness—ugliness that went further than skin deep. “What about?”

“Shep Turner is harassing me,” she blurted, trying to cover her nervousness in the face of such inhospitality. “Every time I turn around, he’s there, watching. He doesn’t seem to understand I just want to be left alone. As his employer, I thought perhaps you could speak with him. Perhaps give him extra duties so he isn’t in town as often.”

One eyebrow raised as Kathryne explained, but Mrs. Kinsbrough said nothing.

“You should also know that Mr. Turner and his friends accosted me one evening as I was walking home. I reported the incident to the sheriff, but ever since that night, Mr. Turner—”

“I’m not responsible for what my men do once they leave this ranch, Miss O’Rourke. It’s your problem. You need to handle it. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

The woman turned away and strode to the front door of her home. Kathryne had been dismissed. Rudely. Anger surged through her veins. She couldn’t help it. She’d wasted her breath as well as her time, but she couldn’t let it go. She took a few steps and blocked Mrs. Kinsbrough from the door. “I understand that you and I don’t know each other, Mrs. Kinsbrough, but I still insist you speak with Mr. Turner.”

“Miss O’Rourke, as I stated, I am not responsible for what my men do once they leave this ranch. I am not their mother. I pay them to work for me. That is all.” She smiled finally, but Kathryne wished she hadn’t. Instead of warmth lighting her face with her smile, the opposite was true and coldness radiated from her. “Perhaps, if you hadn’t enticed Mr. Turner, he wouldn’t be bothering you.”

Kathryne stilled beneath the woman’s accusation. Heat rose to her face and her hands balled into fists at her side. “I did no such thing. He attacked me.”

“That’s not what I’ve heard, nor is it what I’ve seen. Chase Hunter’s been sniffing around your skirts, too.” Her eyes, a lovely pale blue, darkened as the ugly smile faded. “Now, if you don’t leave my ranch of your own accord, I will have you escorted off.”

“Everything all right, Miz Kinsbrough?”

Beau Canady stepped up on the porch, the spurs on his boot heels jingling. The skin around his missing eye puckered as he grinned at her. The mere sight of him and the memory of the night he tried to push her into the alley made Kathryne’s stomach knot. Her breath wheezed out of her lungs. His eyes were black as coal and glittered with dangerous intent. Like Shep’s. Like Townsend’s. Kathryne took an involuntary step back.

“Miss O’Rourke was just leaving, Beau,” Mrs. Kinsbrough announced as a satisfied smile crossed her face. Whatever beauty the woman possessed disappeared. “Show her the way so she doesn’t get lost.”

The tone of her voice left no doubt in Kathryne’s mind. If she didn’t leave by her own accord, Beau would “help” her. She didn’t want that. “That won’t be necessary. Have a lovely evening.”

She stepped from the porch, her entire body quaking, unwrapped Old Blue’s reins from the post and struggled to climb into the saddle—with no assistance, not that she wanted Beau to touch her again—once had been more than enough.

She kicked at Old Blue’s sides and raced down the drive, heading for the road into Crystal Springs, her ears attuned to any sound, particularly that of another set of horse’s hooves if Mrs. Kinsbrough made good her threat to have her escorted from Willow Creek. Every muscle in her body tensed, every nerve alive as she turned and glanced behind her. No one followed.

She passed between the stone pillars at a high gallop, her hands tight on the reins. Despite the cold, sweat beaded on her forehead and dampened her back.

Shadows closed in around her as twilight descended. Hard. With no moon and only the eerie glow from the snow-laden clouds, Kathryne could barely see. She trusted Old Blue knew the way to his warm stall.

“You’re a fool, Kate,” she whispered, berating herself for her present circumstances. “When will you learn?”

Something crossed her path ahead, lumbering out from the shadows of the trees to her right. Kathryne squinted behind her glasses but could only make out a shape. A man? A small bear rising up on its hind legs? Shouldn’t bears be hibernating now? Startled, she jerked on the reins. Old Blue reared, his front legs pawing air as the shape crossed the road and disappeared into the trees.

One moment, she was seated in the saddle. The next, she was on the ground, the breath knocked out of her and Old Blue continued his race up the thin ribbon of road. Without her.

Nothing hurt except her pride, but she wouldn’t go back to the ranch and beg for help. She doubted the Widow Kinsbrough would extend a hand, even if it were to her benefit. Kathryne crawled to her hands and knees then stood and tightened the shawl around her shoulders. She peered into the shadows of the trees, looking for the shape that had startled both her and Old Blue, but saw nothing.

As she began to walk toward Crystal Springs and the safety of her cozy cottage, the first flurries from the snow-laden clouds floated to ground. She looked up at the sky and sighed.

Chapter Twelve

“Well, there’s your problem.” Ephraim pointed to a small stone stuck between Champion’s hoof and his shoe. “Got to be uncomfortable as hell.” He pulled a hoof pick from the pocket of his leather apron and pried the stone loose then inspected his handiwork. “Good as new.”

“How much do I owe you?” Chase asked.

Ephraim quoted a price as he released his grip around Champion’s forelock. Chase dug the proper coins from his pocket. He would have paid more if asked as he placed Champion’s well-being above his own. The horse had been a good and faithful companion and deserved nothing less. “Thanks, Ephraim.”

The blacksmith grinned and stuck out his hand, one of the few people in town who held no malice or suspicion or hatred toward him. He’d once told Chase he didn’t care who or what a person was, as long as he or she took good care of their horses. “My pleasure, Chase.” They shook before Ephraim patted Champion’s shoulder.

Chase took Champion’s reins and led him toward the open doors of the livery. Darkness had fallen and with it, a frigid bite to the air, which nearly stole his breath. Snow fell softly, bringing with it an eerie silence. Coldness sunk deep into Chase’s bones and thoughts of sitting before the roaring flames of a fire warmed him. Sharing that fire with someone—Katie came to mind—warmed him even more.

“What the—” Chase jumped out of the way as a big bay thundered into the building. Sweat gleamed on his coat and his sides heaved with each breath. Puffs of steam issued from his nostrils.

“Something must have happened.” Ephraim grabbed Old Blue’s reins and did his best to calm the horse.

“What do you mean? You know this horse?”

Ephraim nodded. “He’s one of my best. Miss Kate rented him earlier today. Strange he should come back without her.”

“Where did she go?”

“Willow Creek.”

“Hell!” Chase cursed as Ephraim revealed Kathryne’s destination.
Willow Creek
. Just the name was enough to make his heart pound a little harder in his chest. His hand tightened on Champion’s reins. “Now why would she go there?” he asked, though he didn’t expect an answer from the blacksmith. He already knew. The woman, without a doubt, had a penchant for finding trouble. Or rather, trouble found her.

Without another word, Chase climbed into the saddle, nodded toward Ephraim and raced through town toward Kathryne’s cottage. No lights flickered behind the window. The house was empty and silent, except for Sarge, pacing and whining behind the gate. Another curse escaped him. She hadn’t taken the dog and she hadn’t come home.

Chase dismounted and released the latch, swinging the gate open. The dog burst through, the odd growl-groan loud in the silence. “You were supposed to protect her,” he said as Sarge danced around his legs, pushing his nose into Chase’s hand for a pet. Chase obliged, but only for a moment, his fingers scratching the dog behind the ears. “Let’s go find your mistress.”

He climbed into the saddle and patted his thigh, drawing the dog’s attention then gently exerted pressure on Champion’s sides with his knees. In moments, man, horse and dog were racing over the bridge at the edge of town and heading toward Willow Creek.

The further from town he traveled, the harder his heart thundered in his chest. The storm had grown worse. Borne by a frigid wind, the frozen granules now stung his face and he could barely see ten feet in front of him as the snow no longer came straight down, but slanted sideways, building drifts along the side of the road. Sarge became a shadow beside him, the trees and bushes beyond him dark shapes that creaked and moaned beneath the weight of the snow.

He wrapped Champion’s reins around the pommel on his saddle, freeing his hands so he could button his lambs’ wool-lined coat, then adjusted the collar around his neck. He tilted his hat lower to protect his eyes from the stinging snow then unwrapped the reins from the pommel, gripping them tight in his gloved hands.

“Katie!” he shouted, but the wind drove the words right back to him and he shivered in the depths of his soul. Worry for Kathryne made him kick Champion’s sides a little harder. Without being able to see in front of her, she could amble off the relative safety of the road and become lost in the woods. He’d heard stories of such things happening. None of them had had a happy ending.

He nudged Champion a little faster and kept calling her name. Suddenly, Sarge barked then ran ahead, disappearing into what seemed like solid white as the snow pelted the ground.

Chase squinted and saw a dark shape take form. Coming closer. And the dark blur which he assumed was Sarge racing to meet it. “Katie!”

The shape stopped and stood utterly still. “Sarge!” He heard her yell as the dog jumped at her, almost knocking her down. “Chase?”

Relief surged through him, making him curse beneath his breath. She was safe. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move,” he yelled above the wind, but wasn’t surprised as she picked up her pace and started running toward him, the dog prancing in circles around her.

Chase brought Champion to a stop and slid from the saddle. Within seconds, he had his arms around her, holding her up as her knees buckled.

“You found me,” she whispered though her teeth chattered so hard, she could barely get the words out.

“Thank God.” He tightened his embrace. “Let’s get you home.” He helped her into the saddle then climbed up behind her, making quick work of unbuttoning his coat then pulling the edges around them both. “Keep this closed,” he instructed.

She drew the edges closer, tightening the suede around his back and shoulders. She snuggled closer to his body, the first touch of her cold back on his shirt-clad stomach making him wince. Now that she was safe within the circle of his arms, anger surged through him.