Mackinnons #02 For All the Right Reasons (26 page)

And they did. But the brothers soon found they were unable to settle the matter in a civilized way either. As their arguments always had, this one grew in proportion to the amount of liquor consumed, until a free-for-all erupted. Alex had a slight handicap to begin with because his mind was more concerned with thoughts of Karin than it was on discussing business. Adrian found this distracting preoccupation of his twin’s mind infuriating. It wasn’t any fun having a discussion with a man whose mind and heart weren’t set on arguing. Adrian wanted to discuss another mill. Alex wanted to stare dreamy eyed at the whiskey bottle and talk about Karin Simon. Always more of a peacemaker than Adrian, who was at times a bit hotheaded, Alex responded to Adrian’s badgering in his good-natured, humorous way, and this angered Adrian further. Drowning his fury in whiskey and consuming far more than his half of it, Adrian had had enough and as a result, Alex found himself sprawled in the dirt. Adrian had the advantage at first, but soon found himself outstepped, outmaneuvered, outsmarted, and outdone by the less-drunk Alex.

The fight, which lasted over an hour, was finally broken up by M.P. who knocked Adrian out with one pop beside the head with a stick of kindling big enough to fell a grizzly—just about the time Alex was getting the best of him. Alex, bleeding from a dozen wounds, one of which was on his forehead and flowing like a river into his face, couldn’t see too well. When Adrian went down, he looked at the large, shadowy form standing over his brother’s still body trying to figure out just who had the audacity to break up one of their fights—something that had never happened before. Wiping the blood from his face with his sleeve and squeezing his eyes shut, Alex staggered around for a moment or two, trying to clear his vision. When he opened his eyes, they focused on M.P.’s massive volume, resting on the stick of kindling still in her hand.

“M.P., what in the hell did you do that for?” Alex asked. “I was winning. I didn’t need your help.”

“Because I’m trying to get some shut-eye, and on top of that, it was time for this nonsense to come to an end before you two fools fought all night.”

Alex looked at his brother who was coming to and trying to figure out what hit him. He tried to raise himself to his feet. After three unsuccessful tries, Adrian collapsed like a closed umbrella and sat looking at M.P. “Why didn’t you hit him?” he asked.

“Because you were drunk.”

“So was he,” Adrian said, pointing at Alex.

“You were further along, so you were easier, and since you were about to pass out anyway, I figured it was more fair.”

“
Fair
!” shouted Adrian, staggering to his feet. “If you wanted to be fair, you should have knocked us both out.”

“That would’ve been a fool thing to do. I only needed one of you out to stop the fight.”

Alex looked at M.P. He looked at Adrian. They opposed each other like two pieces of granite, and Alex figured they might be here for a spell, so he picked up the bottle of whiskey and started walking off.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Adrian called after him.

Without stopping, or even looking back, Alex said, “Adrian, I feel as sore as a boil and I’m going to get drunk.”

Alex went to his room. By the time the bottle was finished, he wasn’t feeling any pain. In fact, he wasn’t feeling much of anything. For a while he sat on his bed thinking about Karin, and reflecting on the past. A vision of Karin rose before him—Karin the way she had looked that day at the creek when he’d spied on her. Karin, wet and naked and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Drunker than a skunk and barely able to stand, Alex staggered around his room, bumping into things that were stationary, and knocking over things that weren’t. At last, he made it to his desk and managed to sit down. After much effort and numerous attempts, he located the drawers, opening them one at a time and rummaging through the contents until he had placed paper, ink, pen, and envelope on top of the desk. For a moment or two, he sat staring at the objects that appeared to be swimming before him.

“Who cares,” he said. “I could ask Karin to marry me if I was blindfolded.”

Alex picked up the pen and dipped it into the bottle of ink before he made a few circular swings over the top of the paper. At last, he located the top of the page and managed to stop there, his pen scratching out two words.

My Dearest

He blinked once or twice and looked at the paper again.
My Dearest
. Dearest what? He laid the pen aside and sat back in the chair, his eyes on the paper until he remembered and a smile crossed his face. He picked the pen up, dipped it again, and wrote in earnest, four sentences.

Can’t wait any longer to ask you to marry me. Will arrange passage to San Francisco and meet you there. Please don’t disappoint me.

I’ve come to my senses at last.

Alex

Chapter Twelve

The cow kicked over the milk bucket.

She had done that three times already. But with iron-willed resolve, Katherine slapped the cow on the rump and righted the bucket. “Try that again and I’ll tie your tail in a knot. See if I don’t.” She began milking again.

Apparently, the threat worked, for Katherine finished milking and carried the bucket into the house. Fanny Bright was stitching down the ragged edge of her best straw hat, the one she wore to church each Sunday. Last Sunday it must have looked particularly appealing to Clovis, for he had taken a couple of chomps at it while Fanny’s attention was given to a circle of ladies who were sharing the latest gossip about Mabel Price, who was seen picnicking with Horace Stillwood, who was old enough to be her grandfather.

Katherine put the pail down and looked at Fanny. Dear, blessed Fanny. She shuddered, thinking what might have become of them if it hadn’t been for Fanny. She thought about the food they had on the table, the crops that had been replanted, the new cow in the barn, and gave a brief prayer of thanks. God did indeed move in mysterious ways. How else could they explain the apologetic way the mortgage clerk at the bank showed up at their front door with a bank draft in his hand.

“What’s this for?” Fanny had asked.

“Ben Witherspoon bought your old place, lock, stock, and barrel. It brought more than was owed on at the bank, so this is yours.” He handed her the draft.

Fanny looked at it. “Well, I declare,” she had said. “If this don’t beat all.”

After that, Fanny had insisted they use the money to replenish their stock and replant the ruined crops. Katherine and Karin felt badly about Fanny using her money for their benefit, but Fanny wouldn’t have it any other way. “You gave me a home when I had no place to go,” she said. “Besides, I like living here. It’s like home.” She had laughed then. “It saves me from having to come over here all the time.”

Things had flourished after that. They weren’t rich, by any stretch of the imagination, but they were comfortable.

Dear, sweet Fanny
, Katherine thought again.
God bless her.

Katherine looked at the ragged edge of Fanny’s Sunday-go-to-meetin’ hat. “I’m sorry about the hat,” she said. “Sometimes I think I’d be better off to shoot that blasted mule.”

“Clovis is more important to us than any silly old hat,” Fanny replied. Then without looking up, she said, “There’s a letter on the mantle.”

Katherine’s eyes grew wide with delight. “A letter? From California?”

“I reckon it is, seeing as how you don’t get letters from anyplace else.”

Katherine hurried into the parlor, spying the letter and rushing to where it lay propped against the mantle clock.
Alex
. She recognized the handwriting immediately.

Miss K. Simon, Groesbeck, Texas
.

Alex always addressed his letters like this. Katherine guessed he did so in the beginning because he was writing to both of them, with a personal note included for Karin. Gradually the notes to Karin had gotten smaller and smaller, which was understandable, since Karin never wrote to him. Alex had noticed that, saying once or twice: “I guess Karin is still angry, since I haven’t heard from her. Ask her to write.”

After a while, Alex stopped saying that.

Katherine guessed that was because Karin hadn’t written. When Katherine read those parts of the letter where he had asked her to, Karin had said, “Alex and I are finished. You write him.”

Katherine did. From that moment on she continued to write him. Faithfully. Often, she sent five or six letters to his one or two, and in time, Katherine had grown to feel she had become a much bigger part of his life. In his last letter, Alex had gone so far as to say, “Katherine, the land here is like something you’ve never seen. I wish you could see it. I know you’d love it as much as I do.”

Katherine knew she would too.

She had carried that letter around for days, reading and rereading it, enchanted with the knowledge that Alex had not only thought of her, but had thought of her in terms of the land, something he loved as much as she did.
He’s coming to his senses at last,
she heard herself saying.
I was always better suited to him than Karin was
. And Katherine believed that with all her heart. There was one other thing she believed with all her heart and had never mentioned to a living soul. Karin was much better suited to Adrian than she ever was to Alex, and vice versa.

Katherine looked at the letter again. It was the first one that had come since Karin had moved to Waco. For a brief minute she pondered whether she should open it now, or wait for Karin.
After all, it’s Karin who Alex loves
.

The changes Katherine had seen in Alex’s letters, the way he mentioned her name more and more in reference to one thing or the other, made Katherine wonder if maybe—just maybe Alex’s love for Karin had cooled a bit. Karin’s affections for Alex certainly had. Katherine doubted Karin would ever be interested in hearing what Alex had to say, because Karin could take one look at that letter and leave it on the mantle without a flicker of curiosity, and Karin was a
very
curious person. Then again, why would she be curious about a letter from Alex? She was knee-deep in courtship with Will Burnett, who was reported to be richer than Ben Gump—whoever Ben Gump was.

In the end, Katherine decided to wait. Karin was coming next week, and she could tell her about the letter, then announce her intention to read all future letters whenever they came, instead of waiting for Karin.

Karin came the next week. It was the sunniest of Sundays the afternoon Will Burnett drove a brand, spanking new black rig into the front yard and helped Karin down from the shiniest red leather seats anybody had a right to see. Karin made what Fanny termed “a benevolent trip”, making the jaunt from Waco to the Simon place to see them every so often, since Fanny and Katherine had no way to get to Waco, save a rickety wagon drawn by an ornery old mule.

Katherine and Fanny took an immediate liking to Will. Fanny amazed them all when after Sunday dinner she asked Will if he would mind taking a look-see at Clovis who was acting a little colicky.

“There isn’t anything wrong with that mule that a good board up beside the head wouldn’t cure, or a shot between the eyes,” Karin said while pulling on her spotless white gloves. “Honestly, I don’t know why you two fret over him so.”

“
We fret
primarily because neither me nor Katherine has an itching to pull a plow,” Fanny answered as she walked from the room.

Karin watched Will amble out behind her, then turned to Katherine. “I don’t know how you put up with that mouth of hers. She’s got more gall than a government mule and she’s as opinionated as they come, not to mention that tongue of hers. Louder than a bell clapper.”

“Every tree bears some fruit,” Katherine said. “Besides, I like Fanny; I like having her here. She’s a lot of company to me and we get on well. Don’t forget either, that if it hadn’t been for Fanny, we wouldn’t even have a farm.”

“I know she’s a kind and generous soul. I’m simply saying
I
couldn’t put up with her underfoot for five minutes. I don’t know why you won’t come to Waco and live with me. I could get you a room in the boardinghouse and a job.”

“I can’t picture myself living in one little room. I’d go crazy. And who would look after things around here?”

“Fanny could.”

“Yes, she could, but I probably won’t ever ask her. I’ve lived here all my life. Why should I change? I’m happy here.”

“Katherine, you’re being foolish. Will is a very prominent man with influential friends. Wealthy friends. Wealthy,
men
friends.”

Katherine caught herself in the nick of time. She had been about to say she didn’t want another man, only Alex. “Maybe I am foolish, but I prefer to stay here. I guess it’s a doggone shame we can’t all be like you. Unfortunately, some of us are too soon old and too late smart.”

Karin’s look softened and her hand came out to touch Katherine’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. It seems I always have good intentions when I come, and then when I get here, all I do is find fault with you and the way you live.”

“You just need to realize I’m not you, Karin. I don’t see things through your eyes.”

“I should know that by now,” she said, smiling. “You’re just like Ma when it comes to stubborn independence.” She reached into her drawstring reticule. “At least let me leave you a little money.”

“You don’t need to, really. We’re getting on fine since Fanny got that money from the bank.”

Karin dropped the coins back into her reticule with a
clink
and drew the strings together, looping them over her arm. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I will.”

Karin folded her hands together. “Well, I guess I’ll locate Will.”

Katherine followed her through the parlor, seeing the letter on the mantle. “Oh, wait a minute! I almost forgot to tell you about the letter that came.” Katherine hurried to the fireplace, taking Alex’s letter down from the mantel.

“You haven’t read it yet?”