Not the Marrying Kind (11 page)

“But what about love?” Kat sighed. “The
Bible talks about love,” she pointed out, hoping a religious
approach might work in her favor. “And Reverend Kendrick is always
preaching about it, too, so it must be important. It would be a sin
to marry for anything less than love.”

Mama jerked back on the reins and huffed out
a breath. “Katherine Phillips, you know better that to spout
nonsense like that. And don’t you dare go trying to use God’s word
and the holy book to twist things your way.” The scowl on her face
deepened. “I don’t know what to do with you, how to make you
understand.”

“I want to love the man I marry, that’s
all.”
If I ever marry
. “Is that so wrong, Mama?”

“No, love isn’t wrong.” Her mother’s
expression softened. “It’s just your interpretation of it that’s a
bit skewed. You don’t know what real love is.” Now, at last, the
scowl disappeared and a faint smile took its place. “You’ve got
things backward. You’re thinking you should fall in love first,
then get married, and that’s not how it goes.”

“Why not?”

“Because love takes time. It doesn’t happen
all at once except in those silly love stories you’ve been
reading.”

“They aren’t silly.”

“Of course they are.”

“How would you know? Have you read them,
too?”

Her mother’s face reddened. “I’ve glanced at
a few. Sometimes while I’m waiting for a baby to come…” She squared
her shoulders. “This conversation is not about me. I know about
love, Katherine. As I was explaining, it takes time to grow. The
proper way for love to happen is for a suitable man and woman to
marry, spend time together as husband and wife, and trust me, dear,
love will come between you and—”

“No, Mama, don’t say his name, please!” She
couldn’t bear to hear it. Not in the same breath as her own name.
Especially not in the same breath as words of
love
.

“Mrs. Phillips! Oh, I’m so glad I’ve found
you.” Roseanna Barlow rushed toward the wagon, her face screwed up
as if in pain. “My daughter-in-law is ready. Remember when you
called on her last week, you said that grandbaby of mine could come
any time, and now that time’s here, and she’s got no idea what to
do. I don’t know how to help her.”

“You can help best by staying calm.” Mama
quickly put on her most professional expression. “Having babies is
a natural act, you know. You’ve had several of them yourself.
Victoria’s going to be fine.” She turned to Kat. “You take that
soup on to the parsonage and see that the reverend knows it’s from
you. Be sure to tell him you made it yourself.”

“But, Mama I didn’t—”

“You stood right there beside me, watching
everything I did, and it was nothing more than chopping up chicken
and adding vegetables.”

“And noodles,” Kat pointed out.

“Don’t get smart with me. I’ve got to go
deliver a baby now, so you get on to the parsonage.”

“Are you coming back to get me?”

“I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back,
Kat. First babies usually take a while. I’ve told you that before.”
She shut her eyes, rubbed her brow, and nodded. All sure signs the
wheels were turning inside her head. “After you’ve given Reverend
Kendrick the soup, go to the mercantile. I’m sure the McIntyres
will be willing to carry you home.”

Careful not to tip the pot of soup, Kat
climbed down from the wagon. “All right.” She nodded then turned
toward Roseanna who was now clambering aboard. “I hope everything
goes well with Victoria and the baby.”

She’d known Victoria all her life. The
pretty little blonde-haired girl had always been crazy about Brody
Barlow. They married only a year ago, and now, here she was,
already giving him a baby.

Was being crazy about a fellow the same as
being in love? Kat felt sure it was. While her mother was a very
wise woman, in matters of the heart, she had it wrong. All
wrong.

“Kat?” her mother called from the driver’s
bench.

“Yes?”

“You’d best be on your way.” She directed a
stern look toward her daughter, probably guessing that Kat was
tempted to forego her visit. “Tell Mrs. Wilkes I’ll pick up the
soup pot at church on Sunday.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When Mrs. Wilkes opened the front door of
the parsonage, Kat greeted her with what she hoped might pass for a
sincere smile. It was anything but, to tell the truth. She didn’t
want to be there, and she sure didn’t want to bring a pot of her
mother’s soup to the ailing Reverend Kendrick and pretend she’d
made it herself. It was deceitful, to say the least. Wasn’t that
something akin to mocking God? Come to think of it, wasn’t there a
scripture about that? If so, Georgette Wilkes would be certain to
quote it.

“How’s Reverend Kendrick feeling today?” Kat
inquired, her gaze moving shiftily about. She caught sight of a
small table with a frilly doily atop it and a vase of wilting
flowers. Were those the same bright daisies that had adorned the
pulpit last Sunday? Well, probably nothing wrong with the pastor
bringing them home. They certainly did brighten up the room.

“He’s still doing poorly, Miss Phillips.”
The woman reached for the soup. “I’ll tell him you called.”

“Yes, well, thank you.”

“Was there something more you needed?” Mrs.
Wilkes scrutinized her with heavy-lidded hazel eyes.

“Actually, I’d like to speak with Reverend
Kendrick, if I may?” She wasn’t quite sure what to do with her
hands now that she no longer carried the pot of chicken soup.
Feeling awkward, she clasped them together. Maybe she should bow
her head and say a prayer while she was at it.

The squat-shaped woman made that clucking
noise she so often did. Kat had heard it often enough at church to
know what was coming next. A verse of scripture would quickly
follow.

“Wherefore now let the fear of the Lord be
upon you; take heed and do it: for there is no iniquity with the
Lord our God, nor respect of persons, nor taking
of gifts.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wilkes, I don’t really
understand what you mean.”

She clucked again. “See, now? That’s the
trouble with you girls these days. It’s shameful the way you chase
after men, especially good men like Reverend Kendrick.”

“I’m not chasing—”

“And you don’t even know your scriptures.
The verse means just what it says. Let the fear of God be upon
you.” She wagged a finger in Kat’s face.

There it was again. That admonition to fear
God. She’d heard it all her life, and it had always puzzled her.
Her father spoke a lot about God-fearing Christians, and Kat knew
she was supposed to be among them, but it didn’t seem right to be
afraid of God. But it was supposed to mean more like being in awe
of Him and His powers. Wasn’t that the way her father had explained
it?

“I-well, that is—” Red-faced, she wasn’t
sure what to say. Not that it mattered. Mrs. Wilkes had words
enough to go around with a few left over.

The woman wagged her finger again.

“He knows what you’re up to, young lady, and
believe me, there is no iniquity with the Lord, and He most
certainly doesn’t need gifts given under false pretenses.”

“Reverend Kendrick? Or God?” Kat scratched
at her neck.

“Don’t get smart with me. And don’t think
that just because you’re acting kind and charitable and bringing a
pot of soup that I’ll let you go gallivanting right into the
reverend’s bedroom. Oh, no, it doesn’t work like that around here.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”

Kat’s cheeks heated. “I thought perhaps he
was well enough to sit in the parlor, Mrs. Wilkes. No, I certainly
would not want to set foot into his…” She hesitated long enough for
a shudder to pass through her, then finished the thought in a bare
whisper. “His bedroom.” In the first place, she hadn’t wanted to
come calling, but she was in no mood to argue with the man’s
housekeeper. She was worried that Mama might inquire at church the
next day, and if the reverend said he hadn’t seen Kat…well, at
least Mrs. Wilkes knew she’d done her duty.

“I don't think he's well enough to be on his
feet. In my opinion, he ought to remain abed for several more days,
but he insists he'll be up and about with a sermon prepared for
tomorrow. You can see him then. Now, good day, Miss Phillips.” She
all but shoved her out and slammed the door behind her.

Good day, indeed. Kat turned away from the
door, bearing a strange mixture of disappointment and relief within
herself. She hadn’t truly wanted to spend time with the minister,
although she did feel she should speak to him and discuss her
feelings—but would it do any good?

If he had his mind set on marrying
her—although only God knew why—a few simple words would probably
not deter him. Despite his practical godliness, Virgil Kendrick
didn’t strike her as the sort of man who’d be too apt to listen to
a woman, and even less likely to actually give any consideration to
what she said. He lived too much by the Bible and its old-fashioned
ideals. Women should be submissive to men. Of course, there were
passages instructing men on how to honor their wives, but people
like Virgil Kendrick chose to concentrate on the chapters and
verses that expressed their personal points of view. They ignored
the rest.

She walked along Main Street, tramping out
her angry thoughts with determined strides. And to think, she’d
actually taken the time to
dress up
before calling at the
parsonage. Well, never again. She was tired of kowtowing to
menfolk, fed up with trying to get them to listen to her, and above
all, she’d had enough of bending over backward to please them.

Yes, she still loved her father, and she’d
still do her best to honor him—it was her Christian duty, after
all—but she wasn’t going to worry herself sick over any man.

Not even Joshua Barron
.

At the mere thought of the tall, sinfully
handsome ranch foreman, Kat’s heartbeat skipped erratically. A
smile appeared, unbidden, on her face. She couldn’t erase it.

Lucille would wonder, of course, what had
put that smile upon her face. Kat enjoyed the idea of having a
delicious little secret she could keep to herself. Oh, in time,
she’d share it with her best friend, tell her all about Mr. Barron,
maybe even giggle a bit over the way he made her feel…all giddy,
crazy, and mixed-up inside.

He makes you feel like a woman
.

Kat stopped, surprised by the sudden
realization and shocked by the suggestive images creeping into her
head. She wanted to see him naked. She wanted to touch him. She
wanted
him
to touch
her.
Her throat went dry. Heat
slithered through her body, stealing into even her most private
places. With her cheeks afire, she glanced around, certain that
anyone who saw her would immediately be aware of her aroused state.
Thankfully, no one took notice of her. She waved a hand in front of
her face, fanning away her erotic thoughts. Maybe she had been
reading too many of those love stories.

Quickly, she marched on toward the
mercantile. Closing time at the store was fast approaching, and if
she wanted to catch a ride back to the ranch with the McIntyre
family, she’d better get a move on. But first, she had to put aside
those heated images of Joshua Barron which were still searing holes
inside her brain and setting off delicious but dangerous sensations
in her body.

Behind her, a wagon clattered along the
street. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, Kat stepped to the side to
allow the wagon room enough to pass. Instead, as the wagon drew
level with her, the driver slowed.

“Well, well, what a coincidence, Miss Kat,
meeting up with you here in town.”

The devil himself couldn’t have caused Kat
to jump higher or shriek louder. When her feet finally landed back
on solid ground, she whirled around.

“Joshua Barron, you gave me a fright! You
ought to watch where you’re going.”

A ridiculous thing to say. But it was all
she could manage, and barely that!

“Now, excuse me, Miss Kat, but seems like
you were the one who wasn’t watching. Had your head turned and that
cute little nose of yours stuck up in the—”

“I did not! I don’t go around putting on
airs. And I most certainly was watching where I was going. You came
up behind me.”

“I didn’t run you down,” he pointed out.
“Not even close. And I was just trying to be sociable.” He’d
stopped the wagon. Now he grinned and pushed his hat back. “My, but
you do look nice this afternoon. Not often I get to see you all
fancied up in ruffled skirts.”

Kat nearly spat out a nasty retort to tell
him exactly what she thought about skirts—ruffled or otherwise—but
she bit her tongue and held back the remark. The man had just paid
her a compliment. Acting appreciative would be the proper
response.

But damned if she knew how to do all those
proper things, those
womanly
things. If only she could flirt
easily and effortlessly, could banter words about with a clever
turn, could master all those little tricks other women were born
with—batting her eyelashes coyly, tilting her chin at a precise
angle, sighing at just the right moments. She didn’t have a single
one of those talents and never would. She’d actually tried
practicing a few times, after first making sure Emily Sue was
nowhere around. If she batted her eyelashes, it just looked like
she had something in her eye. Tilting her chin made everything look
cock-eyed to her and left her dizzy. But sighing…ah, yes. That, she
could do.

She did it now, letting loose of a long,
languorous, drawn-out sigh that would have rivaled that of any
real
woman. Joshua didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he
obviously wasn’t too impressed by it.

“You need a ride home?” he asked. “I came
into town to pick up a few supplies. I’m all done now, ready to
head back to Cody’s. Wouldn’t be a bit of trouble to drop you off
at the ranch.”