Not the Marrying Kind (23 page)

“What about vegetables? Mama says vegetables
are a stomach’s best friend.”

“All right, fine. We’ve got lots of early
peas in the garden.”

“I’ll pay for everything we use, of
course.”

“Yes, of course.” Lucille handed Kat a
wooden bowl. “Go out and pick the peas. You do know how to shell
them, right?”

“I think I can manage.” Kat wrinkled her
nose. Peas were not her favorite, but she wanted to serve fresh
foods, not anything put-up from last year, and at this point in the
season, peas were about the only vegetable in the garden.

As she plucked the pods from the vines and
broke them open, she imagined the look of delight on Joshua’s
handsome face as he bit into a succulent chicken breast smothered
with gravy. The heady scents of sage and rosemary wafted from the
kitchen windows.

“Has Mr. Barron mentioned any plans for the
future?” Lucille asked when Kat brought the peas inside. The
dark-haired girl stood before the stove, sifting flour into a pan.
She sighed. “I know I was a little suspicious of him at first. He
was a stranger in these parts, after all, but now that I’ve gotten
to know him a little better, I have to say, he’s quite nice. And
quite handsome.”

A warning voice sounded in Kat’s head, its
message uncomfortably loud and clear. Lucille definitely had ideas
about Joshua Barron.

“Handsome?” Kat shrugged and stared down at
the peas. “Can’t say that he’s any better looking than any other
fellow around town. Maybe a mite taller, if that means
anything.”

“Are you crazy? More to the point, are you
blind?” Lucille displayed exaggerated shock. “You must be plumb out
of your mind,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I swear, I’ve never
seen a more handsome man, especially with that beard. It makes him
look so dark, so mysterious.” She actually quivered. She turned to
Kat and let out a breath. “And you say he’s no better looking
than—oh, never mind. After all, what would you know about men
anyway?” She tittered and waved her hand in the air, dismissing
both Kat and her opinions. “You’ve probably never even been
kissed.”

“Kissing isn’t all that great. Tom Henderson
smooched me a couple times last summer. At the barn dance.” It
wasn’t much of a kiss, actually. More like he’d slobbered on her.
She shuddered at the thought and quickly changed the subject. “By
the way, when is your sister coming?” The oldest of the McIntyre
clan had married and moved away a few years earlier. Matilda and
her husband made it a point to visit every summer.

“What? Who cares about Matilda? We’re
talking about Joshua Barron.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t
think it’s right to talk about a man behind his back. It seems
impolite or something.”

“That’s because you’re…” She hesitated.

“I’m what?”

“Well, inexperienced, to put it bluntly. You
never talk about the men in your life because there aren’t any.”
Lucille laughed and lifted her chin an inch or two higher. “Tom
Henderson doesn’t count,” she added. “He’s not a real man. He’s
just an overgrown boy.”

Always quick to recognize an opportunity
when she saw it, Kat leaned forward, putting her elbows on the
counter, and her chin in her hands. “Yes, well, about that. I mean,
me, you know, not being all that experienced. You’re right, of
course. I don’t know much about men, so I was thinking maybe you
could give me a little advice.” She saw Lucille’s eyes narrow. Time
to turn on the flattery. “After all, you’re the prettiest and most
popular girl in Sunset. If I’m going to learn how to be a woman and
how to please a man, you’d be the perfect one to teach me.”

Lucille stopped chopping potatoes and turned
to Kat. “Wait a minute. Just who is it you’re trying so hard to
please? And why? I thought your father had already given your hand
to Reverend Kendrick.”

“Yes and no.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Yes, Pa expects me to marry Reverend
Kendrick, but I’m not going to do it. I can’t marry that awful
man.” She moved away from the counter, pulled a chair over, and
plopped down into it in a most unladylike manner. Even when Lucille
frowned, Kat didn’t bother to sit up straight. “Anyway, why should
it matter, really, who I marry?” she rushed on. “I mean, all Pa
really wants is to know that I’ve got a good husband to take care
of me.” The thought of needing someone to provide security still
rankled her. “And, of course, Pa wants me to give him grandbabies.”
At once, she smiled, liking the thought of making babies with a
dangerously handsome man…like Joshua Barron. She might be
personally inexperienced, but she’d grown up on a ranch. She knew
exactly where babies came from and how they were made.

“So, you’re thinking of finding a husband on
your own,” Lucille said. She began chopping again.

“Right.”

Lucille stopped chopping again and set the
knife aside. “Well, I can certainly give you a few pointers on
flirting and catching a man’s attention.” She smiled and patted her
fashionably-plaited hair. Her expression softened, becoming one
that looked mighty close to pity. “Just don’t aim too high, Kat,
all right?” She bit her lip. Yep, the expression on her face
definitely had
pity
written all over it. “I do hope you’re
not setting your sights on Mr. Barron. That’s not what this is
about, is it?” She gestured toward the meal preparations.

“No, not at all. I’m just being kind.” She
felt her cheeks grow warm. “I lost my temper with him earlier
today. The meal is sort of a peace offering.”

“A man like Mr. Barron would never take any
interest in you, Kat. You do know that, don’t you?” Lucille picked
up the knife and held it poised in the air. “I’d hate to see you
get hurt.”

How little you know
.

Kat did her best to wipe the smug smile from
her face.

“No matter who I marry, even if worst comes
to worst, and it’s Reverend Kendrick,” she said, “I’ll have to
learn to cook.” Kat got to her feet, wishing her movements could be
graceful and fluid instead of clumsy and awkward. “Will you teach
me, Lucille? Please?”

“All right. I’ve already got the fire going
in the oven.” She gestured toward the woodstove in the corner. “You
can make the biscuits. I’ll tell you what to do, step by step.”

Kat nodded and took her place at the
counter. Heat poured from the oven, and she grabbed a rag to wipe
the sweat beading on her brow. How did women do this day after day?
She glanced toward the window, yearning to be outdoors where she
could feel the cool mountain breezes and breathe in the fresh,
clean air.

“You’re not paying any attention, Kat.”
Lucille’s frustration was evident. “How do you expect to learn if
you’re always day-dreaming?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t seem to
concentrate.”

Lucille set a sack of flour on the counter.
“Are you thinking about him again?”

“Who? Mr. Barron? No, of course not.”

“Forget him, Kat. Now, measure out two cups
of flour.” Lucille’s voice droned on, and Kat did her best to keep
up with the instructions. Finally, she turned the dough out onto a
pastry cloth and picked up a rolling pin.

Joshua probably had a hearty appetite, and
if she were to have any chance of winning his heart, she’d first
have to know how to fill his belly. Could she really learn to do it
all? How to bake bread? How to fix a decent cup of coffee? Could
she roll out a light, flaky pie crust, fry up a chicken, glaze a
ham, stir up a pan of perfect gravy, and do the hundred and one
other things required of a decent cook?

A wave of despair swept over her.

“It’s not possible,” she said. “It’s too
much to learn, too much to remember.”

“Oh, stop whining. It’s not that hard, Kat.”
Lucille took the rolling pin from Kat’s hands. “Just watch. I’ll
show you how to do it.”

“No, let me. I want to do it myself.” She
reached for the rolling pin and clutched it with both hands. “Just
tell me what I’m supposed to do.”

Lucille nodded, sighed, and let go. “First,
dip your hand in the flour, then rub a bit on the pin.”

“Thank you.” Suddenly Kat’s emotions got the
best of her. Tears—real tears—welled in her eyes. She was glad for
Lucille’s friendship and truly grateful for her help.

“Do you want me to go with you when you
deliver this?”

Kat shook her head. She took the round
biscuit cutter Lucille held out and pressed it into the dough. “No,
but thanks.” She cut another biscuit.

“I really don’t mind.”

“That’s all right.” One by one, she placed
her biscuits in the pan, pleased at how perfectly shaped they were.
So much nicer in appearance than the clumpy drop biscuits she’d
made in the past.

“You shouldn’t go alone, Kat,” Lucille
warned, pulling off her apron. “I insist on going with you.”

“Actually I don’t think either of us should
go out to that cabin, alone or together.”

“Is Mr. Barron going to pick up his
meal?”

Kat shook her head. “I’ll have Benjamin make
the delivery.” She studied Lucille’s face closely, hoping the girl
would believe her. Of course she would deliver the meal herself.
Why else would she have gotten fancied up in the finest dress she
owned? Pa’s rules about looking like a lady didn’t require ruffled
skirts and three petticoats. At least she didn’t need a bustle.

“Oh.” Lucille looked crestfallen. “Probably
a good idea,” she conceded. “You wouldn’t want people to get the
wrong idea. I just wish I could be there to see the look on his
face when he tastes my chicken.” Suddenly her dark eyes narrowed.
“You are going to tell him that I fixed this dinner, aren’t
you?”

Kat looked away. She grabbed the biscuits
and turned toward the stove. “It’s time to put these in, isn’t
it?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Ignoring her friend, Kat opened the oven and
shoved the pan of biscuits inside.

“You want him to think that
you
did
all of this.” Lucille let out a long, slow breath, and shook her
head. “Kat, you’re wasting your time. The sooner you realize that,
the better.”

“Probably so.” Kat leaned against the
stove.

“Truly, I hate to see you get hurt, so don’t
get your hopes up.”

Kat’s face heated. Just thinking about
Joshua Barron always left her feeling warm inside and out.

“Joshua Barron is a fine-looking man,”
Lucille pointed out. “He could have his choice of women. To be
blunt, Kat, he’d never pick somebody like you.”

Her chin came up. “I do have some redeeming
qualities.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve got a good heart. I’m an excellent
listener, and according to Pa, men really do appreciate that.” She
sniffed. What was that peculiar burning smell? Had she left the
biscuits in too long?

“Kat! You’re on fire.” With a shriek,
Lucille rushed at her, pushing her away from the wood stove and
knocking her to the floor.

Flames crawled along the back of her skirts
leaving a charred trail of ruined ruffles in its wake. Kat grabbed
for a dish towel hanging nearby and patted at the flames, but her
efforts only fanned the sparks.

Fortunately, Lucille knew the dangers posed
by a burning wood stove. She believed in being prepared and always
kept a bucket of water close at hand whenever she cooked. Hefting
it up, she doused Kat with its contents. “I swear, Kat Phillips,
this is an omen.”

Kat sputtered, then scrambled to her feet,
grateful for Lucille’s quick intervention, yet shaken from her
brush with disaster.

“An omen?” She frowned as she inspected the
wet, scorched fabric. The dress was ruined, of course. So were the
lovely curls she’d artfully arranged atop her head. Kat didn’t want
to cry, but tears welled in her eyes. No way could she let Joshua
see her looking like this. She sank into a chair, her hopes
collapsing around her. Now, she’d have no choice but to send
Benjamin to deliver the meal. He should be back from the trip to
Denver by the time she got to the ranch. “What are you talking
about?”

“Catching yourself on fire is a warning,
Kat. It’s a clear sign from God. He’s telling you that you’ll go to
hell if you keep lying.”

“Yeah, well, I imagine I’ll have lots of
company there.” Kat shrugged. She didn’t like all the emotions
churning inside her, all those crazy, mixed-up feelings she didn’t
understand and didn’t know what to do with. She wanted to simply be
herself again. She sniffed and resolved not to shed another tear.
“Probably most of the folks I know,” she added. She got to her
feet, surveyed the damage to her skirts once again, and let out a
long, slow breath, ending on a shaky laugh. “What a sight I must
look!” Pushing a wet strand of hair away from her cheek, she turned
toward the oven. “Those biscuits about ready now, you think?”

The two girls resumed their work, and
finally—without further mishap—the cooking was done. Lucille found
containers for the gravy and for the peas, then wrapped the chicken
and biscuits in newspaper and tied the bundles with string. She
placed everything inside two large boxes and helped Kat carry them
outside.

“Now, be sure Joshua knows who fixed the
meal, all right?”

“I made the biscuits,” Kat countered. She
sighed. “Oh, all right, yes, of course, I’ll make sure he knows.”
Like hell she would!

With a smile and a wave, she climbed into
her buggy, then slapped the reins over the horse’s back. Dinner
preparations had taken far longer than she’d expected. Of course,
setting herself on fire hadn’t helped matters. She’d be lucky to
make it home before sundown.

When she arrived at the ranch, she noticed
Benjamin standing near the corral. Thank goodness! With no time to
waste, Kat called out to the boy as she flew up the drive. Reaching
the house, she pulled back on the reins, bringing the horse and
buggy to a shuddering halt.