Книга - Eden

Eden
Carolyn Davidson


Something about the woman hit John Roper hard, right in the gut. She was frightened, her face bruised, yet her inner beauty and bravery were immediately apparent. And there was no way in hell he was leaving her alone to face a roomful of rowdy cowboys and whatever desperate circumstances had brought her there in the first place.But how he got from those first thoughts to making her his wife was something he was still wrestling with the next day…. He knew he'd put his life on the line to protect her. But would a man who knew nothing about being a husband ever be able to give Katie the happy ending she so deserved?









Praise for the novels of

CAROLYN DAVIDSON


“Carolyn Davidson creates such vivid images, you’d think she was using paints instead of words.”

—Bestselling author Pamela Morsi

“Davidson wonderfully captures gentleness in the midst of heart-wrenching challenges.”

—Publishers Weekly on Haven

“Readers are in for a treat.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on The Bride

“For romance centering on the joys and sorrows of married life, readers can’t do much better than Davidson…. This is a sweet and sensitive novel that fulfills an evening’s dreams.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Nightsong

“[An] unflinching inquiry into the serious issues of the day.”

—Booklist on Redemption

“Davidson’s touching western romance delivers what readers expect from a writer who strives to understand the deepest feeling and dreams of our hearts.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Haven




Carolyn Davidson

Eden










Dear Reader,

I love to write of days long ago when the world as we know it was a perfect place to live, filled with men and women of good character, children who thrived and flourished within the arms of family and friends, and homes where love and affection was widely disbursed among those who were fortunate enough to live there. Alas, there were also places, perhaps not too far from those happy families, where children were abused and sometimes brutalized, not given the opportunities to thrive as was their right.

Katie was such a child, and her story lived in my mind and heart for months before I sat down to write it. It made me look around me, perhaps seeking out children in my vicinity who face similar problems. For they are out there, and they are victims, as was Katie. My heroine was fortunate to find a man who would understand her and love her enough to face her fears with her. And so I offer you Eden, a place designated for love and happiness, with two lovers who deserve only the best that love can offer.







This story is dedicated to those victims of abuse by an adult in their lives. Such actions still remain as a painful memory in these men and women. Child abuse is not a thing of modern times, but has existed for centuries in our world. Today it is still an issue that must be faced and obliterated. May each of you find joy, as did Katie in my story.

And most of all, this book is dedicated, as is everything I accomplish, to the man in my life, Mr. Ed, who loves me.



Eden




CONTENTS


CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

EPILOGUE




CHAPTER ONE


Eden, The Dakota Territory

February, 1890

SURELY HER OWN MOTHER had not lived such a life. Through the window of the Dogleg Saloon, Katie watched the women who roamed the smoke-filled area, seeking out men upon which to try their skills. Hair upswept, makeup all too obvious and dresses too gaudy to be believed all added to their allure.

Or so they apparently believed. “How sad.” The words were but a whisper as the young woman watched the parade of females conduct their pursuit of the cowhands who worked on outlying ranches and farms and assorted married men from the town of Eden, in the Dakota Territory. That she could ever live in such a manner was something she would never have considered during the days of summer, when the warm weather protected her slender body from the cold winds. When she did not bear the shame of a mother who had once worked in this place. Or so she’d been told by the couple who’d raised her, reviling her with a tale of a woman gone bad, bearing an illegitimate child.

She’d found that the parents she’d thought were her own, were but unkind strangers who had taken her into their home as an act of charity. And if what they had done in the name of charity were known among the townspeople, they might not be able to hold up their heads in Eden.

But a young girl would not be believed when her word was placed next to an upstanding pair who posed as ideal parents of a girl who had turned out badly. And Katie was that girl, if her foster parents were to be believed.

In that same home dwelt a second child, a younger female, the abandoned daughter of a relative of Agnes Schrader, who had been given the privilege of schooling at the town’s one-room schoolhouse. But Katie was not so fortunate, for with a background so filled with disgrace and shame, she wasn’t considered worth the trouble to educate.

She had been whipped and treated as a slave for twelve years, was now approaching her eighteenth birthday, yet had done the work of a woman while still a child. Taking her courage in both hands, she’d left the farm where she’d lived in servitude and set out to find shelter. Shelter for a weary body and sanctuary for a mind confused by the perils life had dealt her. Most of them derived from the man who had become a threat to her on another level over the past weeks, for Jacob Schrader had attempted to crawl beneath her quilt on three occasions. She feared him more than she had thought possible.

Tonight, his words of sly entreaty had brought chills to her flesh, his looks of dark anger and the flashes of masculine power he’d brought to bear upon her were enough to find her running for her very life. The thought of his hands on her body was enough to force her to flee.

She’d walked for three miles, shivering in the ragged clothing she wore, wrapped in a shawl she’d taken without permission from a hook by the back door of the farmhouse, desperate for a safe place in which to hide. Any rude shelter would do, so long as it provided surcease from the north winds that promised snow, sweeping across the plains of Canada down to the fields of the Dakota Territory.

Summer had been bad enough, with long days spent in the fields, evenings in the farmhouse, where her work was never done. Now, in February, things were changed, the sun an infrequent visitor to the sky, replaced by snow clouds that threatened to spill their weight upon the surrounding countryside. The oncoming weather would be her worst enemy, unless she included that house she had just left.

She peered again into the saloon, its smoke-filled interior teeming with men seeking enjoyment, many of them half-drunk, the other half well on their way to that state. The smoke from their cigars and hand-rolled cigarettes rose to the ceiling and formed a haze guaranteed to make her cough and choke, should she linger long in its presence.

But, it seemed she might have no choice, for the saloon might indeed be the only haven available to a young woman without a job, or a place to live. Surely she could bring herself to serve drinks to men, smile at them and return their remarks. Even dance with one or two if the necessity arose, if she could but learn to sway to the music as did the other females in this place, curving their bodies closely to the men who held them.

For even now, two of the women inside the place were swaying to the raucous sounds of the piano, their chosen partners holding them close, moving between the tables in a parody of a dance. It didn’t hold a candle to the square dancing she’d seen on one never-to-be-forgotten evening, when she’d slipped away and observed couples dancing at the Grange Hall in Mason’s Creek, just two miles from the Schrader farm.

But then, those dances were attended by a different breed of men and women, and the dancing was a far cry from the suggestive gyrations that were taking place in the Dogleg Saloon this night.

The swinging door was pushed open and a drunken cowhand staggered out, his hat cockeyed upon his head, his shirttail free of his trousers, and bearing a disreputable appearance. His bleary eyes scanned the wooden sidewalk and he staggered to where an upright post provided a spot for him to halt, leaning his weight against it as he looked over the assortment of horses that lined the hitching rail.

Katie moved back a bit, into the shadows, lest he see her. But the motion of her feet apparently caught his eye for he lifted his head and turned his gaze in her direction.

“Well, looky here,” he muttered, attempting to move from his leaning post, his body not cooperating with his aim, as he began to move toward her. “You lookin’ for a man, sweetie?” His laugh was harsh, a raw sound that pierced her ears, and she turned from his reaching hands.

There was nowhere to go, for she was caught against the outer wall. As his dirty hand touched her arm, she stiffened, then spun in place and almost fell against the swinging door.

It gave way obligingly with her weight and she was inside the saloon. The door swung behind her, its weight nudging her farther into the room, and she cast a quick look around, seeking she knew not what. Perhaps a friendly face.

Of those there were a handful, most of them whiskered, several of them belonging to men who sat alone at tables meant for three or four. One rose, taking a step closer to her, his hands outstretched to touch her and she twitched to one side, lest his grimy hands leave their stain on her person.

“What’s the matter, honey? Ain’t I purty enough for you?” His drunken drawl brought a shudder of dread to her slender form, and she sidestepped away from him, only to brush against another man.

A long arm circled her waist and she was drawn close to another table. The man who held her sat on a chair, his hat tilted back, his head tipped upward as he took a survey of her form. His gaze rested for a long moment on the dark bruises apparent on her arms and face.

“You don’t belong in here,” he said, his words low and to the point. “Does your mother know you’re out on the town?” His lips twisted, lifting one corner of his mouth, as if he were unused to smiling and this was his best attempt.

“My mother?” Katie shook her head, fear touching her with chilly tendrils that brought gooseflesh to her arms. The man was another sort entirely than the two she’d already encountered in the past few minutes; his features were more finely sculpted, his hand at her waist was clean, and he wore dark clothing, with a holster against his leg.

Yet Katie exerted her strength against him, fearful of his hand trespassing beyond the place it had chosen to rest. But he would not relax his hold and she looked down at him, her tongue dampening sudden dry lips as she whispered pleading words. “Don’t touch me. Let me go…please.”

As if her polite words amused him, his mouth lifted into a genuine smile, whether his amusement was for her benefit, or he was merely entertained by her helplessness she could not discern, for she could not release herself from his hand. And he knew it. Knew that his grip was solid and firm, that she was helpless to move away from him.

“Sit down. Here.” He reached with his other hand, an awkward movement, and pulled another chair close to the one he occupied, and then pushed her onto its surface.

She blinked, aware that the attention of several other men had moved in her direction, and her head lowered quickly, not wanting to see their expressions as they evaluated the stranger in their midst. A mist appeared before her eyes and she fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

“Don’t be afraid,” her companion said quickly. “Lift your head and look at me. Nowhere else, just into my face.”

Surprised by the direct order, schooled to obey, she did as he told her, swallowing the bile that threatened to spill from her throat. His eyes were dark, his features harsh, but not unkind, and she felt a flare of relief as his hand left her body to grasp the cold fingers that lay in her lap.

She was obviously terrified, and John felt a jolt of sympathy as he watched the girl before him. And then he spoke, his voice stern, his words direct. “Sit up straight and act as if you’ve recognized me. The rest of them will leave you alone if they think I’m an acquaintance of yours.” He leaned back a bit in his chair, drawing her hand to his knee in a gesture he knew would send a message to the men watching. A message of familiarity, a gesture she was obviously accustomed to. She looked uncertain, as if she’d only just realized that she was the target of men’s looks, those lustful glances that were now being cast in her direction.

“I didn’t mean to come in here,” she said quietly, in an attempt to explain her abrupt entrance to the saloon.

“I didn’t think so. It’s no place for a young girl,” he agreed, reaching to scoot her chair closer to his own, loosening his grip on her hand to do so.

She retrieved her fingers and hugged them to her waist, meshing them with those of her other hand. “I’m not that young. I’m almost eighteen,” she said, speaking the word with dignity.

“Almost eighteen.” He smiled, his teeth white and even, and his face softening with the movement. “You’re a child. You don’t belong in a place like this. Where are your parents?”

She lifted her chin. “I don’t know. I take care of myself. I don’t need anyone else.”

“Well, you’ve apparently taken a wrong turn tonight, honey,” he said in a low whisper, leaning toward her a bit. “You’re shivering and you look like you haven’t had a good meal in a week. This is no place for you.”

Her glance was angry. “It’s warmer in here than out in front.”

He smiled again, in admiration for her spirit. “Well, there is that. But you’ll find there’s a price to pay for whatever warmth you find here.”

“A price?” Katie wondered at his words. Surely they wouldn’t charge her to sit in a chair and get warm, would they? And yet, from the corner of her eye, she saw the bartender giving her long looks of inquiry, as if wondering what her purpose was.

The man beside her spoke again in an undertone. “Do you need a bed for the night? They’ve got a whole hallway upstairs, lined with bedrooms. I’m sure there’d be any number of men willing to rent one for you, so long as you let them occupy it with you.” The words rolled off his tongue and settled around her ears, burning them with the threat he suggested might be her lot.

“I couldn’t sell myself, mister,” she said quickly, for she had heard of such a thing. “I just need to get warm.” And wasn’t that the truth, for her body felt like a chunk of ice in the midst of the creek in midwinter. A long shiver ran the length of her spine, and she felt the first thawing of her fingers as they knit together at her waist.

He lifted his other hand, the one not occupied with the back of her chair and one of the scantily dressed ladies approached, smiling at him, glancing with pity at Katie.

“Sadie, bring us a glass of whiskey, with lots of water.”

The woman laughed, sauntering to the bar. Then, within minutes, she reappeared with a glass containing a golden liquid and scooped up the coin the man offered in payment.

He picked it up and held it to his mouth, tasting the contents and frowning, then offered it to Katie. “Take a drink. It’ll warm you up, honey.”

She shook her head, unwilling to put the foul-smelling stuff in her mouth, and his jaw hardened and he leaned closer, offering the glass, holding it to her lips.

“Take a swallow. Don’t argue with me or give me that high-toned look, honey. When it comes to booze, I know what a swallow of it will do for a gal like you. Your stomach could use a belt, and in a few minutes your system will lap it up and you’ll generate a little heat.”

“Please—” Katie turned to look him full in the face “—I don’t want to throw up, and if I taste that, I think I will. My stomach is hurting already, and putting whiskey into it isn’t going to help any.”

His gaze narrowed on her trembling lips and he bent closer, his voice a low whisper. “Are you hungry, girl?”

She swallowed her pride and nodded, just once, but it seemed to be enough to answer his query to his satisfaction, for he shot her a look of understanding, picked up the glass and downed the contents with two swallows.

“Come on.” He lifted her bodily from the chair and walked with her, his long arm circling her waist, to the back of the saloon, flicking a quick look at the bartender as they passed that stalwart gentleman. He opened a door that stood beneath the stairway, almost hidden in the gloom.

His hand on her back gave her no choice and she kept up with his long stride, almost skipping to keep up, fearful of the contact he forced upon her, yet thankful for the warmth of his body. Beyond the open door was a kitchen, and he ushered her over the threshold, closing the wooden portal behind them.

If the temperature had been close to freezing in the bar, it was nearer to the fires of Hades here in the kitchen, she decided, shivering at the blast of warm air that the big cookstove aimed in her direction. The woman who stood before it had opened the oven, and the heat from within made her back away from its intensity, but to Katie, it was a welcome shot of comfort and she did not evade it.

In fact, she took another step closer to the huge stove, warming the front of her body and shivering in reaction. The man next to her spoke, catching her attention and that of the woman who was dealing with the food atop the cooking range.

“Hey there, Molly. Anything left from supper? This little gal’s hungry.”

Why that should make Katie bristle so, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because the man acted as though she were a child to be fed. Or maybe because he looked at her from his greater height with a look of amusement, as though she were someone to be mocked.

“I’m not starving,” Katie said defensively. “I can wait till tomorrow to eat.”

“And where will you find breakfast?” the man asked, even as the woman he’d called Molly turned from the stove to shoot her a long assessing look.

“Land sakes, John Roper. Leave that little girl alone. Quit your pickin’ at her.”

With a swift step, she approached Katie, lifting a warm hand to touch her shoulder. “Come on over here, honey. That cowboy don’t know which end is up. Just ignore him, why don’t you. I’ve got a kettle of beans and spuds here that’s probably gonna be food for the pigs by morning if I can’t push it off on some hungry soul.”

Katie caught the glimpse of tenderness the woman tried to hide, her words almost curt, but her eyes warm with another emotion entirely. It was enough to coax her from her stiff resistance, and she stepped closer to the stove, to where a kettle sat on the back burner, steam rising from its depths.

“I’d eat some beans and potatoes, ma’am,” she said quietly. “I’m probably hungrier than the pigs, anyway.” Her mouth twisted in a smile, and as if she had gained a friend, Molly grinned back, drawing Katie nearer with a quick touch on her hand. A touch Katie fought to accept, sensing that Molly meant her no harm.

“Sit yourself down, honey. I’ll fetch a bowl and fix you something to warm your belly.” And if the invitation was not couched in genteel terms, Katie found it didn’t matter, for the look of kindness Molly wore more than made up for her blunt speech.

A chair appeared from beneath the edge of the table, and the man—hadn’t Molly called him John?—stood to one side, offering her a seat. Katie took it with a nod and then thought twice about the condition of her hands.

“Ma’am? Could I bother you for a dab of soap and some water to wash my hands?” She looked toward the back of the kitchen where a sink held a pitcher pump and a large basin beneath it, and Molly nodded.

“Of course. Come on over here and I’ll fix you up. I might have known a girl like you would need to tend to herself before she sat down to eat.” The plump form bustled across the room, one rounded arm reaching for the pump handle. Ensuring that a gush of water poured into the basin, she reached beneath the sink for a container of soap.

“Here you go, honey. Not French-milled, but good old lye soap, like I use for the dishes.” Molly looked quickly at the mottled flesh on Katie’s arms and her eyes sought those of the man who watched. A barely imperceptible nod caught Katie’s eye and she felt confusion overtake her.

Her voice quavered as she recognized that she was the object of an unspoken discussion. “That’ll do just fine,” she told Molly, thankful for the freely given offer. For the first time during the long hours of this evening, she began to breathe more easily, sensing a kindred soul in her vicinity. Not that the help of the man called John had gone unappreciated, but finding another woman who offered her a bit of sustenance was a bonus she had not looked for. And Katie was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The steaming offering of green beans swimming in a thick broth laced with bits of ham and braced by the addition of three small potatoes was mouthwatering and she bent over it, inhaling the aroma as she picked up the fork Molly offered. Her mouth burned from the first bite, but she was so hungry she barely noticed, shifting the bit of potato from one side of her cheek to the other as it cooled.

“How about a glass of milk, girl?” Molly made the offer even as she poured the glass full from a pitcher in the icebox.

Katie looked up and met her gaze, basking in the friendly smile she was given as if it were her due. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll have to admit I’m a little hungry.” And then proved her words by devouring the bowlful of food as if it might be removed from her presence at any time.

“Take your time there, girl. Molly won’t rush you any,” the man told her quietly.

She looked at the man named John now, a quiet figure who watched her from dark eyes and then darted a look at Molly as if asking for direction.

“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” Molly asked her, surprising her with the kind offer. “I’ve got a big bed upstairs and a spare nightgown you can use.”

Katie shivered, huddling in the chair, aware that her trembling was from a source within herself, not a result of the temperature in the room, for the stove gave off a comforting heat she was only too aware of. But the relief of finding sanctuary in this place threatened to bring quick tears to her eyes, and though she had long since abandoned tears as a form of expression, she found now that they burned just behind her eyelids.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be pleased to take you up on your offer,” she said quietly, scraping the bottom of the bowl and eating the last morsel. A fluffy biscuit appeared on a small plate beside her bowl and a container of butter was moved close to her glass of milk, accompanied by a table knife.

Such largesse was more than she had ever expected to find here, and Katie looked up at the woman and felt a tear fall from her eye, trailing slowly down her cheek and falling to her bodice.

“Come now, girl. Don’t waste time on cryin’. Just eat up and we’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.” With a quick look at John, she gave orders swiftly. “It might be good if no one knew that the girl was here with me, John. I’ll put her to bed and lock the door so she won’t be disturbed. There’s men in there—” she nodded at the saloon just beyond the kitchen door “—who’d be tickled to get their hands on her tonight, but I’ll see to it she’s safe and sound.”

“I’d appreciate it, Molly. And I’ll be back in the morning to settle with you, and take her off your hands.”

Molly snorted. There was no other word for it, Katie decided, for the inelegant sound was a combination of laughter and disdain. “And what will you do with a bit of a girl like this, John Roper? You gonna put her in the bunkhouse out there at the ranch with those cowhands you work with?”

He shook his head, his mind working rapidly. “No, I’ll put her in the cabin the boss gave me when he made me foreman of the ranch. He said it was for a married man, but he suspected I’d be taking on a wife before long, so he said I’d might as well move into it now. He’s got four or five cabins for his married hands. There’s room for this little gal in mine.”

“And then what will you do with her?” Molly pushed the issue with a harsh look that asked his intentions. “You got marriage on your mind?”

He shook his head. “No, I’ll just take care of her till she gets back on her feet. If the bruises I can see on her arms and her face are any indication of what she’s wearing under that dress, I’ll do a better job than whoever’s been looking after her.”

Molly nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but your boss is gonna be asking questions if you bring a woman there and move her in and she’s not your wife.”

John was silent for a moment and his gaze touched Katie with kindness. Then he spoke again and she knew that her future had been decided for her and she would not argue with the man, for he was far and away the best prospect for shelter she saw in her future.

“I need someone to keep things up for me, Molly. Let’s call her my new housekeeper and cook. I’ll bet she can do better on that cookstove than I can, and it’ll mean I won’t have to go to the big house for my meals if this little gal cooks for me.” He shot Katie a long look. “Can you put a meal together, girl?”

She nodded quickly. “I’ve been cookin’ and cleanin’ for a lot of years. The folks at the place I lived wasn’t much on keepin’ stuff up to par, but I learned how to cook a long time ago. I can make biscuits and bread and fix a meal from most anything.”

“You want a job working for me?” John asked bluntly. “Not much pay, but a place to hang your hat and a warm pallet in front of the stove at night, or else on my sofa. It’s not very long, but you’re not very tall, so it might work.”

“What kind of an offer is that for a young woman?” Molly asked sharply. “This girl don’t need to be in those sort of circumstances. She’ll have the folks around here talking a mile a minute about her, and you, too, John.”

“Sounds better to me than where she’s been living. And I’ll guarantee you I won’t be leaving any bruises on her like those she’s wearing tonight.” As if that were the final word on the subject, he looked directly at Katie and asked the question that would offer her a choice as to what might lie in her future.

“You interested in a job, girl? No strings attached, just cooking and cleaning and keeping my clothes up to snuff.”

Katie thought but a moment, measuring what little she knew about the man before her with the certainty of the peril that awaited her should she be returned to Jacob and Agnes Schrader. Her reply was quick, for she knew she was able to run again should this man not be as honest as he appeared.

“I’ll work for you, mister. Just give me a place to sleep and a warm spot to roost during the day. I can cook and clean all right, and I don’t need any money from you. Just food and a place to live.”




CHAPTER TWO


“SOUNDS LIKE I’VE GOT a new housekeeper,” John said to Molly, “if you’ll keep her for the night. I’ll come back in the morning to get her. I’ll need to talk to Bill Stanley before I bring her out to his ranch, make sure he understands the circumstances. I won’t make a move that will jeopardize my standing with him.”

Molly cast him a measuring look and then as if she found his words to be all that was truth and honesty on his part, she nodded. “I’ll keep her here tonight, safe in my bed, with my door locked. But you’d better be on the up and up, John Roper, or I’ll skin you. Understand?”

John nodded, meeting her gaze. He’d not put it past the woman to do just as she threatened. Molly was as honest as the day was long, even given that she worked in the kitchen of a saloon, she was known as a woman to be respected. That he bore the same reputation was knowledge he prized, for his honor was not questioned by any who knew him.

The girl would be safe with him, for he had no need of a woman in his bed, his masculine instincts long since subdued by the memory of the woman who had forever left him with anger as his companion. The wife he’d buried six years ago had been unfaithful, her acts of immorality documented by the men who had received her favors. Then she’d left him to run off with another man, and the disease she’d gained from her acquaintance with him had brought her to an early grave.

He’d taken care of her needs during the days of her illness, hiring a widowed lady to nurse her, a woman who had lived in the same room with Sadie, tending her until the day she breathed her last. And then, with her burial, a solitary moment he’d shared with no other person but the local undertaker, he’d cut his ties and traveled from home. Two years of wandering had brought him to the north country, and here in the Dakota Territory, he’d found work and a place in which to bury his past.

No, an attachment to any women was the last thing he wanted, and only the basic goodness of his upbringing had prompted him to offer this fragile child a place to live. His mama would roll over in her grave if she thought that a son of hers would turn his back on someone in need.

John Roper was known as an honest man, a good man with a horse and handy with a gun. There was little about him that could be considered soft, for he stood tall, broad-shouldered and yet lean. With dark hair and eyes, he knew he presented a picture of masculinity that appealed to women, and yet he felt little need of them, only an occasional visit to a widow who had been more than welcoming when he deigned to visit her.

So now he settled his hat on his head and made ready to take his leave from the kitchen where Molly reigned, cook and general overseer of the women who lived and worked under the roof of Tom Loftin’s saloon. A woman who watched him now with eyes that questioned his motives.

“You’ll be back in the morning? And you’ll guarantee this girl a safe place to live?”

“That’s what I said, Molly. You’d ought to know enough about me to know that I don’t tell lies or make promises I can’t keep. I’ve been around these parts for a while, and you won’t find anybody to point a finger at me.”

She shrugged. “You’re right there, John. And it don’t look to me like this child has much choice. Not for now anyway.”

His gaze scanned Katie’s face once more and his words were kindly. “Do I need to know anything more about you, Katie? Is there anything that would stand in the way of you working for me. I don’t even know where you’re from, now that I think about it. I’m not about to do anything illegal here, so if there’s anybody with any ties on you, speak up.”

“I can tell you where she’s from,” Molly said. “I knew when I saw her that she was familiar, and after watching her for a few minutes, I figured it out. She’s been livin’ at the Schrader place outside of town for a dozen years or so. Ain’t that right, girl?”

Katie nodded, her eyes wide as Molly spoke words that amazed her. How the woman knew anything about her was some sort of miracle, she thought, and she waited silently to hear more.

“She looks like her mama,” Molly said. And Katie closed her eyes, her mind turning back to the days before she had gone to live with the Schraders. In just such a kitchen as this she had eaten meals and spoken with women around a table such as this one.

“Have I been here before?” she asked, her voice soft, her heart pounding in a rhythm that threatened to choke her.

“Just think about it a minute and you’ll remember. You’ll know you have, girl,” Molly said. “You’re old enough to remember the days when you lived upstairs with your mama.”

Her mind flooded with almost-forgotten thoughts, Katie sat at the table, stunned by the words Molly spoke. “I was a little girl, wasn’t I? Surely not more than five or six. But I remember you, I think.” And the vision of a younger Molly filled her mind, a kindly woman who had fed her and held her in her ample lap.

“Why would she have lived here?” John asked, his tone dubious, his look skeptical. “And why was she sent to live elsewhere?”

“This was no place for a young’un, and when her mama died, the boss looked for a couple to take her and give her a home.” Molly was silent a moment and her eyes touched Katie’s face, perhaps noting the swelling on one cheek, the bruise that bloomed in purple splendor on her jaw. “It looks to me like he chose the wrong place for a child.”

The door leading into the saloon opened and the bartender stood in the entry. “What’s goin’ on back here, Molly? John? What’s this gal doing here? Is she lookin’ for a job? We don’t take on kids, Molly and well you know it.”

“She’s not lookin’ for a job, Tom. Just a place to sleep for the night, and I’ve already offered the other half of my bed. She’s just hungry and John brought her back for a meal.”

The man, Tom, looked at Katie with awareness dawning in his eyes. “Who is she?” His tone was strident, his words harsh.

“Just who do you think she is?” Molly asked, her chin tilted up as if she offered it as a target. “You know damn well who she is. One look at that face oughta tell you.”

“What’s she doing here?” Tom’s face reddened, his eyes sparking fire as he stepped into the kitchen and closed the door behind himself. “She don’t belong here.”

“I already told you,” Molly said. “She was hungry and John brought her in for a meal.”

“You know what I mean,” Tom said harshly. “She don’t belong here,” he repeated, more sternly this time. “Where’s your folks, girl?”

“I don’t have any folks,” Katie told him staunchly. “I lived with the Schraders outside of town for a lot of years, but they’re not my folks.”

“Well, they’re all the folks you’ve got,” Tom said, stalking across the kitchen, his eyes never leaving Katie’s bruised face. “How’d you get here?”

“I walked. I didn’t intend to come in here, but a man frightened me out in front and I got pushed through the door into the saloon and this gentleman offered me a chair.”

The gentleman in question shot a grin at Tom. “She looked hungry and frightened, and you know what a gentleman I am, don’t you, Tom?”

“You’re a cowhand, is what you are, John. And what are you plannin’ to do with a young girl like this?”

“Maybe you’d better sit down while I tell you about that,” Molly said with a look of warning. “You’d might as well know, Tom.”

“All right. I’m sitting.” Tom pulled out a chair and sat in it, his eyes never leaving the girl across the table from him. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

“This little gal is gonna go to work for John Roper tomorrow. John here said he’s got a cabin out at the Bar-S ranch. Bill Stanley gave it to him as part of his wages out there. So he’s gonna take Katie home with him tomorrow morning and make her his cook and housekeeper.”

“Katie? Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Tom examined her minutely, her face and slender form, the rough, tattered homespun of her dress, the dark hair that hung down her back in a ragged braid. And then he turned to John with a shake of his head and words that growled with anger. “She don’t look old enough to know much about keeping house, John. You sure you know what you’re doin’?”

“No.” John laughed softly. “I probably don’t, but I’m gonna do it anyway. I can’t see sending her back to where she came from, Tom. It don’t look like the folks who were responsible for her have taken very good care of their obligation, does it?”

“No, I can’t say that it does,” Tom agreed, his eyes dark. And then he eyed John again. “What will Bill Stanley say when you bring her home with you and put her in your cabin? Won’t he wonder—”

“Maybe,” John said quickly, before Tom could finish his query. “But I’ll explain things to him. There won’t be a problem.”

Katie felt her head swimming, her attention splintered between the three people who seemed to be settling her future for her, her eyelids drooping as the heat of the cookstove penetrated her clothing and the food she had eaten weighed heavy in her stomach. She drank the last of her milk and set the glass down on the table.

“Could I go to bed now, ma’am?” she asked Molly quietly. “I’m pretty tired.”

“I’ll take her up,” Molly said, motioning toward the open staircase that led upward to the rooms overhead. “I’ll see you in the morning, John. Unless you change your mind.”

He shook his head, lifting Katie from her chair, his eyes widening at her flinch as his fingers clasped her wrist. One big hand under her elbow, his head bent to speak softly into her ear. “I won’t change my mind, little girl. I’ll be here in the morning. I promise you won’t be abused again, by anyone. Can you trust me? Will you go with me?”

She looked up at him, at the strong features, the dark hair, the sharp eyes that seemed to see within her, that offered kindness she had not thought to find here tonight.

“I’ll go with you,” she said quietly. “I’ll do anything you want me to.”



HOW HE’D GOTTEN INTO this fix was a conundrum, John thought, his mind filled with plans for the morning to come. But there was no way in hell he’d leave that bit of a child in the hands of whoever had dealt her blows that left bruises. No one deserved treatment of that sort, and certainly not a young woman. And for a moment he wondered at what her clothing must conceal. No doubt more of the same, and that thought only served to make him even more certain that he’d decided to do the right thing.

His mama would roll over in her wooden casket should he turn his back on a woman in peril, especially one so vulnerable and in need of the simplest of human care.

And if he found that the Schrader fella had abused her in another way, he’d be looking him up and handling it for himself. The memory of her reaction to the touch of his hand on her arm thinned his mouth, and he wondered what sort of peril she had faced in her years with that family.

If it took putting his life on the line, he’d see to it that she was tended to and cared for as a young woman should be. He didn’t know much about girls of her age, only the memory of his younger sister, a much-cherished and loved child. More than once he’d been cast in the position of protecting her from harm, whether from a balky horse or young boys intent on teasing, as boys would.

His scant knowledge of women had come later on, when as a husband he’d faced the knowledge that the woman he trusted had abused that trust and found pleasure with other men. Perhaps he’d been molded by that, for he’d held himself aloof from females, from those who cast their eyes upon him and offered themselves. He wasn’t husband material, apparently, if his past could be relied on as a record of his skills in the art of marriage.

But he’d guarantee he could do a better job of looking after this female, this small waif without anyone to look after her and protect her, than her erstwhile guardians had done. And there was something about her that had hit him hard, right where a man was most vulnerable.

She was frightened, her face bruised, her body no doubt skinny from lack of a decent diet, and yet she had a beauty that appealed to him. Maybe not just her beauty, but the valiant effort she had made not to cry, not to show how frightened she was. He’d caught a glimpse of his younger sister in Katie, had experienced a backward look at the girl he’d once felt deserved his protection. He’d known in those first few moments that Katie was worth his attention, as his own sister had been, and now he was in this over his head, for he’d committed himself to looking after her.

And that, he decided with a grin, wasn’t all bad. For he suspected that she held the ingredients of a house keeper within that slender form. And that was what he needed. And when she was healed and whole again, she might be willing to consider something other than what he could offer, perhaps a marriage with one of the other men who worked the ranch, or a position in town with a decent family.

Now he rode up to the small cabin Bill Stanley had allotted him as a part of his salary and looked at it in the moonlight with eyes that saw the sagging porch, the bare windows. He knew that the interior wasn’t much better than what anyone passing by could see. The front door swung open beneath his hand and he stood in the darkness, smelling the musty scent of field mice and the odor of wood smoke from the fireplace.

He’d might as well settle in for the night, he decided, ignoring his own empty stomach as he found his bed in the back room. The blankets that covered his bed were warm, the mattress was wide and the room was as clean as a broom and mop could make it under his hands. He wasn’t much of a housekeeper, but he’d quickly managed to clean it up enough to take possession of it as a resting place at night. Preferable to the bunkhouse where an assortment of cowhands slept and ate.

Now he thought of bringing a girl here, a woman really, for most females her age were either already married or planning a wedding. Marriage had probably not entered her head, for she had not likely seen much of an example of happiness between a man and wife out there on the Schrader farm.

Maybe, someday, when she had healed, both in body and soul, and felt ready to be on her own, he’d talk to her about the years to come, help her to face a future that would in all certainty be better than the past she’d left behind.

His eyes closed as he tugged the blanket over his shoulder, and he wondered if his little waif was asleep yet. He tried to imagine her in Molly’s bed, and laughed aloud as he visualized her in the cook’s nightgown. She’d swim in it, her slender form lost in the enveloping folds. He’d have to buy the child a nightgown of her own tomorrow, he thought sleepily as the weariness of hard work claimed him for the night.



“I’LL BE BRINGING BACK a woman today, Bill, and moving her into the cabin. I’m thinking I need a cook and housekeeper, and I’ve found a girl who needs a place to live and a warm spot to land for a while.” As news went, it was an eye-opener, he thought, as Bill Stanley shot him a look of doubt.

“What are you talking about, John? You can hire one of the men’s wives to keep your place clean. There’s always one or another looking for bit of income if that’s what you need. I can’t imagine you getting a woman to move into your place, doesn’t sound like something you’d do.”

John laughed shortly. “It’s not, come to think of it. But this girl is down on her luck, and she’s been abused by the folks she was living with. Once I get her something decent to wear, I’m gonna bring her back here and turn her into a housekeeper.”

“Who is she?” Bill asked, obviously dubious of the proposal John had made.

“Her name’s Katie. Don’t know if she has a last name or not, but she ran off from the Schrader place outside of town, to tell you the truth. From what I understand from Molly down at the saloon and what the girl herself told me, she was given to the Schraders a dozen or so years ago, and they’ve been using her as a servant ever since. She showed up at the Dogleg saloon last night. Molly, the cook there is taking care of her for me until I can get into town this morning and pick her up. I’m gonna bring her here to live in the cabin you gave me.”

His jaw firmed as he faced his employer, aware that Bill was a man of principle, and the plan for Katie’s welfare might not hit him well. As if he expected a harsh rebuttal, John stiffened his neck and waited for what Bill Stanley had to say. The man was fair, a good man with a prosperous ranch, and his choice of John as his new foreman had been a surprise. John was only thirty years old, but most men would have thought twice before taking a chance on a man so young to run his operation.

But Bill Stanley had a reputation for being smart, and apparently he’d found something in the man standing before him that merited his approval, for he’d not hesitated when the last foreman left to buy his own place and set up business in the next county. Now he tucked his hands into his trouser pockets.

“If you’re sure of your ground you’re welcome to bring her here, John. It’s time and past for you to settle down.”

John laughed and shook his head. “I’m not marrying the girl, Bill. I’m hiring her. Don’t get the wrong idea here. I’ve got no need for a wife, but having somebody to keep my place clean and cooking decent meals for me sounds like an idea I can handle.”

Bill nodded, but his look was still cautious. “Well, if you’re sure this is a good idea, we’ll just have to see how it works out. And it sounds to me like she’d be tickled to death to have a spot of her own to claim.”

John nodded his agreement. “I just wanted you to know what’s going on, Bill. I didn’t want you surprised when I show up later on today with a woman. This way you know right up front what my plans are. I hadn’t planned on moving anyone into the cabin with me right off, but maybe Katie can make it more of a home than it is now. I’ll have to think about adding on a room, though. I’ll need to give her a place of her own.”

“There’s plenty of lumber in the barn, and I’d think the men could lend a hand if you start with a building project. We’ll see how it goes,” Bill said. “I’ve never known you to be devious, John, so I’ll trust you on this.”

John turned and mounted his gelding, taking up the reins and swinging his mount in a half circle. “I need to be in town early on. Molly will be thinking I’ve abandoned the girl if I don’t move along.” he said, tipping his hat brim in a small salute as he rode from the ranch house.

He wondered at his own actions as he rode, thinking back to the night before, the sight of the small female who had burst through the saloon door with fear lighting her features. He knew that his intentions were at least aboveboard, and not those of the men who looked for a fast and furious joining with a woman there in the Dogleg Saloon.

As he thought of the young girl who awaited him in town this morning, John nudged his gelding into a faster pace. It was past breakfast time already, and Katie would begin to wonder if he was a man of his word, or perhaps she’d hope for the opposite. Maybe she’d changed her mind by this morning, and wouldn’t be willing to fulfill her part of the bargain they’d made.

John Roper had lived a lot of years with only his own company, and now he was about to change all that and take on the responsibility of a woman in his house. The thought was a bit daunting, he thought, but not without merit. It would be good to come in at night from the range and find a hot meal waiting for him.

He pushed aside the memory of big eyes, of long hair and a slender form. “I’m looking for a housekeeper,” he reminded himself. “I’ll treat her as I would my little sister.”




CHAPTER THREE


THE SALOON WAS QUIET when he approached the front door and he heard only the tinny sound of the piano as the man who tickled the ivories, as he called it, practiced for the night to come. John pushed his way into the barroom and nodded at the man behind the long bar.

“Tom.” It was a single word of greeting, and Tom’s brief nod was all the reply he had expected. His long strides brought him to the kitchen door and he pushed his way within the room, his nose pleased at the fresh aroma of coffee and of bacon frying on the stove.

“Morning, Molly,” he said by way of greeting, and was not surprised at the smile he was offered by the cook. “Is my new housekeeper up and ready to travel?”

“She’s washing up now. I gave her something else to wear. That dress she had on wasn’t fit for wearin’. It was clean, but that was about all you could say for it. And what she had on underneath it was pretty pathetic. Especially the bruises that had her all colors.” Her gaze was sad as she faced John. “She’s just a girl, John. She’s been abused and misused, and it hurts me to see such a thing. I’m hoping your good sense will recognize that she needs help, not the attentions of a man.”

His lips thinned and he clenched his hands as she spoke. Knowing that he had been right in his estimation of facts didn’t do much to improve his mood. He’d like to take Schrader out behind a barn and show him how it felt to wear bruises. There was nothing meaner than a man who’d hit a woman, and if he ever got the chance, he’d show the man how it felt to get back a little of his own.

“I’m not looking for a woman thataway, Molly. She’ll be safe with me.”

A look that might have been relief touched Molly’s countenance. “Sit yourself down and have some coffee while you wait, John,” she said, pouring him a cup from the big pot on the stove. “You have breakfast already? Or did you skedaddle out of there before the cook fed you?”

“I was in a hurry, Molly. I haven’t eaten.”

“Well, neither has Katie, so you can take a few minutes and eat with her. The ladies have all finished their breakfast, but I’d thought to share mine with the girl. I don’t mind including you.”

“Thanks.” He sat and picked up the cup she’d placed before him. It steamed and the scent was pure ambrosia to his senses. Nothing like a cup of coffee in the morning to get a man ready for the day. And then he heard footsteps on the back stairway and his gaze shot to where Katie’s slender form descended the steps, heading in his direction, her steps hesitant, her limp not pronounced, but apparent.

She looked at him, a flush touching her cheeks, as if she had been thinking of him, and now the reality of his presence had startled her. “Good morning,” she said, crossing to the table where he waited. The dress she wore was clean, but ill-fitting, and he hid a grin at the sight of her slim form wrapped in an old dress from Molly’s closet.

“Sit yourself down,” Molly said, and Katie did as she was told. Probably used to being given orders, John thought.

“Haven’t changed your mind, have you?” he asked her quietly, and was almost relieved when her head shook once, back and forth, letting him know that she was still of a mind to go home with him. “I’ll take you to the general store and find you some clothes before we go out to the ranch,” he said and was stunned at the tears that appeared in her eyes.

“What did I say? I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he said quickly.

“No. It’s not that,” she said, wiping at her cheeks with a bit of white fabric she had apparently been given to use as a kerchief. “I just didn’t expect to have anything new to wear. Molly gave me this dress and I’d thought it would be fine, long as I can find a needle and thread to take it up so’s it’ll fit me better.”

Molly snorted. “That dress is about ready to use for dust cloths and scrubbing rags,” she said firmly. “Once you take it off, you’d as well rip it up and make better use of it, child.”

John nodded his agreement, for surely he could buy her something that would fit her. “You’re gonna be working in my house, Katie. You’ll wear decent clothing and shoes, not heavy boots. You can pick out what you need at the store and I’ll buy it for you.”

“I knew you had a good heart, John.” Molly turned from the stove and nodded at him approvingly, carrying a plate to place it before him as she spoke. “This little gal hasn’t got much of anything to her name it seems. A new coat will be little enough to pay for somebody keeping your place up, and fixing meals for you. I’m gonna let her use mine this morning, but she’ll need one of her own.”

John sent Molly a grateful look, and added another black mark to the Schrader family name as he looked back at the girl he’d decided to take home with him. “Just be thinking of what you need, Katie, and we’ll take care of it right after breakfast,” he told her and she only nodded, as if she could not find words to speak.

Another plate of food was settled in front of her and with an admonition from Molly to get busy and eat, Katie picked up a fork and dug into the steaming food. From the corner of his eye John watched her, watched the furtive looks she cast toward the door as if she feared someone would enter the room and take her plate from her.

“It’s all yours, Katie girl,” he said quietly. “No one’s gonna take your food away from you. Just take your time and finish your breakfast. It’s gonna be a long time till dinner, and we’ve got a lot to accomplish this morning.”

With a grateful look in his direction, she did as he said and tackled the eggs and bacon Molly had prepared. A thick slice of bread, buttered and spread with jam was placed on another plate and pushed in her direction as Molly sat down across the table.

“You need some weight on those bones, Katie. I’ll warrant that John here will make sure you have enough to eat from now on.”

“You’re right, Molly.” He agreed with her, his nod determined, thinking that the child looked as though she hadn’t had a decent meal in months. Her arms were thin, her cheeks hollow and she wore the frightened look of a baby bird, just being shoved out of the nest for the first time.

“You won’t be overworked, Katie. There’s just me to look after, and Berta, the cook at the big house, will lend a hand if you need anything.”

“Thank you, John. I could hardly sleep last night, thinking about what will happen today, what with you taking me home with you. I’m not sure just what you expect of me, but whatever it is and wherever you take me, I want you to know that I’ll do the best I can.”

“That’s easy enough, Katie. Like I told you last night, I’ll give you a place to stay and something decent to wear and you’ll keep up my place and tend to my clothes and keeping me fed.” He frowned then and his thoughts became words. “You said you know how to cook, didn’t you?”

She nodded quickly. “I did most of the cooking at the Schrader house. I learned a long time ago how to bake and churn butter and make biscuits. I can tend a garden and can the vegetables and cut up the meat when it’s been butchered.”

She was not yet eighteen years old and already had done the work of a woman full grown. John shook his head, unable to believe that she had been so used, that the family who should have cared for her as a child had instead made a servant of her.

“Well, just cooking for me won’t be too big a load for you then,” he said cheerfully, not willing to let her see his shock at her former circumstances. “Can you keep my clothes clean for me? Do you know how to wash and iron?”

She laughed. Joyously and without restraint, as if she had been given permission to express her happiness. “If you have sad irons, I can use them. If you don’t, you’ll have to buy a pair of them and a handle. I can iron on a kitchen table if need be. I’ll keep your house clean and when spring comes I’ll plant a garden.”

“Looks like you’ve got things all lined up, John,” Molly said with a laugh. “This little gal will make your life a whole lot easier, I’d say. You mind my words.”

“I have to agree with you, Molly.” He met the woman’s look with a nod of approval. “I’m happy with my decision. Katie will be safe at Bill Stanley’s place.”

“I never thought such a thing would happen to me,” Katie said softly, her hands in her lap, her eyes wide as she considered the future ahead. “I’d thought to spend my whole life out there on that farm, just working and trying to please the Schraders. And there wasn’t any pleasing them, let me tell you. They’re a pair of nasty folk, they are.”

“You won’t have to worry about them anymore,” John said forcefully. “I’ll be sure you’re taken care of from now on.” Molly’s coat hung on a hook by the back door of the saloon’s kitchen and in moments it was wrapped around Katie’s slender form, covering her from neck to toe in warmth.



THE GENERAL STORE WAS LIKE a wonderland to the girl who walked in the door beside John Roper fifteen minutes later. She stood behind him as he approached the long counter and only his long arm reaching for her brought her in sight of the proprietor, Shandy Peterson. That gentleman cast her a long glance, then looked back at John.

“You got yourself a girl, John?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve got myself a housekeeper and cook here, Shandy. Katie’s gonna keep house for me. Just as soon as she picks out some things to wear. She needs a new dress or two and whatever else you think is appropriate. Molly said she needs a warm coat, too.”

“Molly? The woman over at the saloon? What’s she got to do with this?” He looked over his glasses at Katie and his brow furrowed. “I don’t believe I know the young lady. You from around these parts, honey?”

“Yes sir,” she said politely.

Apparently she had decided not to elaborate on her background, and John spoke for her. “Katie needs a place to live and Bill Stanley gave me a good-sized cabin to live in when he made me his new foreman. I figured there was room for her in it with me. I’m needing a housekeeper and she looks to be qualified for the job. We’ll head out there as soon as we find some things for Katie to wear.”

“Well, John, looks to me like you’ve made up your mind. Hope it all goes well for you.” And if Shandy Peterson wondered at the woman John had chosen to move into his home, and had any questions as to her background, he kept them to himself. It didn’t pay to be too inquisitive, was the general consensus in this part of the country.

Katie looked over the counter at the glass bins of clothing that lined the wall, her eyes widening as she considered the varicolored bits and pieces therein. Her eyes opened even wider as Shandy brought two bins to rest in front of her.

“These are dresses, miss. Let’s see what we have in your size.”

John lifted Molly’s coat from Katie’s shoulders, readying her for the shopping ahead, then waited for Shandy to show them his wares. With a long look at the girl before him, Shandy picked up several of the dresses from the glass bin, held them up and then refolded them and placed them aside as being the wrong choices, whether by size or by John’s discerning eye, Katie couldn’t tell.

And then, with a flourish, the shopkeeper lifted a blue flowered dress from the bin before him and shook it out, holding it up for her approval.

“That’s a pretty one, Katie,” John said softly. “Do you like it? It looks like it would about fit you, doesn’t it?”

She nodded, reaching to touch the fine percale fabric. “It’s lovely, John. Prettier than anything I’ve ever had. And with the sash to tie in back, it ought to fit me.”

“If it does we’ll take that one, Shandy, and Katie can go into your stockroom if she needs to, to make sure it fits,” John decided. “Now find something else for her. She’ll need another dress and she can choose what she needs to wear under them.”

“I don’t know…” Katie looked up at the man beside her, confusion at the thought of decision making causing her stomach to churn. “I’ve never picked out anything for myself before, just wore whatever they gave me. I won’t know what to get.”

Shandy Peterson looked stunned by her words, but recovered quickly. “My girl, Jessica, is right here in the back room. Let’s have her come out and help this little gal choose what she needs. All right, miss?”

“Yes, of course.” Katie was willing to do whatever she was bid, and waited as the storekeeper called his daughter to come and lend a hand. The girl was pretty, slim and dark-haired, and had definite ideas about what Katie needed for undergarments. Quickly, she pulled bins down and sorted through the contents, piling an assortment of petticoats and drawers, along with two filmy chemises on the counter. Then several pairs of stockings were added to the chosen items, and Jessica Peterson nodded in approval of her choices.

“That ought to do it, Papa. Except for a coat that fits, and maybe she’ll need new shoes, but I don’t know. I can’t see them from here.”

“She needs shoes,” John said firmly. “Pick out something for her, Jessica.”

With a quick grin, the girl walked across the store to where boxes of shoes were on display, choosing several pairs and bringing them back. “Come sit down and try these on. One of them should fit you,” she said coaxingly. “If not, I’ll pick out some more.”

Katie was overwhelmed. Never had she been offered such choices, and the shoes that Jessica held ready for her approval were light and made of soft leather. Unlike the heavy boots she was used to wearing, they felt like feathers on her feet. Between them, the two girls decided on the pair she held now, her fingers touching the black leather as if she could not imagine owning such footwear.

While Katie was still swimming in a sea of uncertainty at the clothing that was to be hers, John approached her, holding a black cloak in his hands.

“Let’s see how this looks, Katie,” he said and draped it over her shoulders, then lifted the attached hood and settled it on her hair. He took out his leather wallet and led her back to the counter.

Katie was sent to the storeroom in the back of the store, Jessica carrying the clothing she would try on, and the rest of their choices were bundled up, a nightgown being added to the pile at the last minute.

His purchases were wrapped in brown paper tied firmly with a length of cord. John reeled off a list of foodstuffs that he wanted and Shandy Peterson sought and found all he’d listed in a matter of minutes. Jessica appeared then, leading Katie back to the man who watched her closely.

Shandy’s daughter spoke softly to John, then added a few things he hadn’t thought of to the pile on the counter; tins of peaches and pears from the shelf, a round of yellow cheese from the big wheel on the counter and several other items that Katie peered at with wide eyes.

Overwhelmed by the bounty before her, Katie was silent, almost aghast at the amount of money John was spending, most of it on her behalf. Surely she was not worth so much to him, that he should lay out the contents of his wallet on the counter without hesitation, only smiling at her when she tugged at his sleeve and whispered her words of doubt.

“It’s too much, John. I don’t need all of that. I won’t know how to act with all these things to wear. And that cloak must cost a fortune.”

He grinned widely and his hand touched her shoulder lightly. “You’ll get used to it, Katie girl. I want you to have enough clothing to wear.”

His method of thinking was beyond her, but she only smiled and stood beside him, relishing the warmth of his hands as he spread her new cloak across her shoulders, feeling as though Heaven had opened, showering her with more blessings than she could contain.

In but a few minutes, John had arranged with Shandy for a wagon to be used to transport his purchases back to the ranch.

“I’ll get all this stuff loaded up for you, John,” Shandy said easily, obviously pleased at the size of the order John had paid for. “You can tie your gelding on the rear of the wagon. Bring it back when you come into town next. I don’t use it much anyway, and I don’t mind lending it to you for a few days.”

With his assurances ringing in their ears, John and Katie left the store and walked to where Shandy’s wagon stood in the open area behind the store.

Jessica came out the back door and watched as John lifted Katie to the wagon seat. “Come back to see me again,” she said brightly. “Maybe I can drive out to the Stanley ranch and visit some day.”

“I’d like that,” Katie told her, hoping she might have made a friend today.

With a hasty farewell, they left, John’s hand firm on the reins. After a quick stop to return Molly’s coat to her, he guided the team of horses to the main road leading out of town. Beside him, Katie wrapped her new cloak about herself, her hand brushing the fabric carefully.

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked with a grin. He thought she looked frightened and he would not have it. His hand touched hers briefly, and then he took up the reins and snapped them briskly over the team’s backs, and the wagon rolled down the road. They went past the bank and post office, the wheels turning more rapidly as they neared the hotel and the barbershop. Then finally the team broke into a trot as they traveled past the boardinghouses that edged the town on the west.

“We’re on our way home, Katie,” he said, looking down at the girl who was rigid on the seat beside him. “Are you all right? You look kinda peaked, like you’re not feeling up to snuff.” And little wonder, he thought, what with the enormous changes in her life over the past hours.

“I’m just feeling like I’m in the midst of a dream,” she told him, and he thought her words were almost like poetry, so softly did they fall on his ear. “The air is so clear, the sun is so bright and the birds are singing. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m beginning a new life, John. I don’t know what to say to you. You’ve changed everything for me, and I haven’t been able to figure out why you should care what happens to me. I don’t even know you, and you’ve made my best dreams come true.”

“If this is all it takes to make you happy, I’m a lucky man, Katie girl. I’m getting a cook and a washer lady and a housekeeper all in one, and all it cost me was a couple of dollars for your clothes. What more could I ask?” His laughter rang out and Katie responded with a soft giggle that pleased him.

He’d not heard her laugh, and this bit of girlish glee touched him as nothing else could have. For the first time, she had responded as a young girl might and he was pleased. At eighteen, she was far too young for him to consider in any other way than as a younger sister, perhaps. For at thirty, a man who had known love and found it to be wanting, he was not in the market for anything other than exactly what he had promised Katie.

If there were looks of doubt from the men on the ranch, if they cast aspersions on her virtue, he would defend the girl. Somehow, some way, he would make up for the cruel life she had fled. He would provide her with a home, and perhaps offer to her the opportunity for a new beginning.




CHAPTER FOUR


THE CABIN LOOKED LIKE a dream come true as the horses pulled the wagon up in front of it. Katie knew her eyes were wide and her mouth couldn’t seem to close properly as she climbed down hastily from the seat to walk to the narrow porch. She ran a hand over the railing and jolted when John admonished her.

“Be careful, Katie. That thing isn’t too sturdy. I haven’t had much of a chance to work on things yet, and I need to nail it in place a bit better. This cabin needs a lot of fixing to make it fit for you to live in, I’m afraid.”

“It’s wonderful, just as it is,” she said determinedly. “It’s beautiful, John. I can’t believe you’re apologizing for it. Not to me, anyway. If you could see where I come from you’d know what I’m talking about.”

“I’ve heard that those folks weren’t anything to brag about, Katie. I didn’t know about you living there, but they don’t have much of a reputation for good. Least-ways not that I’ve heard. I think you’re well rid of them.”

She nodded, agreeing with his words, then turned and opened the door. Stepping inside the room, she halted, hugging herself as she looked around the four walls. A fireplace built of stone filled the back wall, with a wide hearth that invited her to come nearer. She stepped across the room, her hand touching the back of a chair beside the hearth, as if she could feel the warmth of John’s head there. For surely he must have sat in that very place of an evening, watching the fire.

She paused, then stooped beside the open fire pit, reaching to place several logs inside from the pile he’d left on the edge of the hearth, and looked back at him.

“Can we have a fire here tonight? Will it be cool enough outdoors to warrant wasting the wood?”

He grinned at her, delighted that she approved of the home he had offered. “We can do anything you want, Katie. If a fire will make you happy, I’ll be sure there’s enough wood to build a dandy blaze.”

She rose and her cheeks turned rosy, as if she were embarrassed, and he stepped closer. “What is it, Katie? Is something wrong?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m just having a hard time believing that this is all real. That I’m truly here, and I’m going to work for you, John. I don’t deserve this and I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for being so good to me.”

He walked across the room toward her and thought she shrank from him as he neared. He halted a few feet from her and softened his voice as he spoke words of comfort and assurance. “Don’t ever be afraid of me, Katie. I don’t ever want you to worry that I’ll hurt you in any way. I’m not angry with you, not now, not ever. Don’t forget that. Don’t ever feel that you have anything to fear from me.”

She nodded, her eyes wide, her stance uneasy as he took her hand in his. “You’re a woman, almost full grown, Katie. You have my respect and my consideration in all things. Can you understand that?”

She nodded slowly. “I think so, John. It’s just so hard to know what to expect. When you turned so quick like and came toward me, it made me think you had cause to be angry with me. I didn’t know if I’d done something to make you upset with me. Sometimes it didn’t take much for those folks I lived with to get mad and sail into me.”

Sensing she needed reassurance, he spoke quietly, his heart aching as he felt the pain of her fear of him. “I won’t hurt you, Katie. I promise not to cause you harm in any way. If we have differences and if you get angry with me, you can speak your mind and I’ll do the same, but we won’t ever be mean or hurt each other. Is that agreed? I want us to be friends, not just a boss and his housekeeper. I may be bigger than you, and yes, stronger, but I’ll not use my strength against you, Katie.”

She sat quietly, then looked up to where he stood, and he recognized the trembling of her body as something instilled by her experiences in the past. He knew that she feared him.

He crouched down before her. “Your heart is pounding so hard, it’s a wonder it doesn’t thump right out of your chest,” he said quietly. “I can’t stand it for you to be afraid of me.”

She looked past him, at the wall behind him, and he recognized that she was unable to meet his gaze. He stood then, stepping back, unwilling to make her feel trapped by his greater build, by the size and shape of him, and his mind sought for a way to bring peace to dwell between them.

“Do you suppose we can sort out the foodstuffs we bought now? Maybe put together a meal of some sort?” His words were calm and slow, his intent being to steady her and make her more comfortable with him.

And in that he succeeded, for she rose from the chair with haste, turning to open the packages they’d brought in, sorting through the boxes of groceries and finding places to put all the supplies he’d ordered. Her hands were quick as she stacked the canned goods in the pantry and made order from the assortment of dry goods he’d purchased.

“I’m going out to tend to the wagon and put the horses in the barn,” he told her, watching as she worked.

She nodded, turning to watch him leave the cabin, then went on with the work that was familiar to her. The small pantry just next to the cookstove held most everything, with shelves on either side of the door. It was about six feet deep, and had four shelves on either wall, enough room to hold canned goods and anything they might need from town with which to prepare meals.

The lower shelf held an odd assortment of kettles, with iron skillets stacked neatly. Katie stooped before the clutter of pots and pans and pulled forth a medium sized kettle, then the smallest of the iron skillets. “These will work for dinner,” she murmured to herself, carrying them out to the kitchen and across to the sink, where she pumped water into a dishpan there.

The reservoir yielded hot water from the stove and she added soap to the pan from a bottle beneath the sink, then set about washing the kettle in preparation for cooking his meal. As she was wiping out the skillet with a piece of brown paper, John came back in the cabin and hung up his outdoor clothing, taking off his boots by the door.

Katie dabbed a bit of paper into the lard from the pail in the pantry and returned to the skillet she’d wiped clean, using the lard to coat it. “You don’t wash your iron skillets, do you, John? You’re not supposed to, you know, only wipe them out. Water’s not good for them.”

John thought she sounded worried and in response, he only nodded his agreement, unwilling to confess that he had washed that very skillet only yesterday after frying eggs in it.

She put the vessels on the stove and found a small slab of bacon in the store of supplies John already had in the pantry, located a knife and sliced through it, forming six thick pieces for their meal. The remaining bacon was wrapped in cheesecloth and put away for another time and the skillet was placed on the stove, where the remains of last night’s fire kept the stovetop warm.

“I’ll have to build up the fire a bit before you can cook anything much,” he told her and she stepped back, giving him room.

“I can do it, John, if you have chores to tend to. I know how to make a fire.”

He grinned up at her, as he crouched before the wood box. “I’m sure you do, but for tonight you don’t have to. Bill gave me the day off, and the men don’t expect to see me till morning.”

In less than ten minutes, he had a fire worthy of its name glowing in the depths of the stove, and she was busily turning bacon and thinking of what next she could do to make a meal.

“There’s beans and such in the cupboard beside the sink,” he told her. “Berta works in the big house and she brought out a supply of canned good for you to use. She heard from Bill that you’d be here, and she said she’d leave some stuff for you in that white cabinet.”

He opened the doors and revealed rows of home-canned produce on the three shelves, both pints and quarts, all of them full of colorful vegetables and fruits.

“My word,” Katie murmured. “I never saw so much good food in one place.”

“Didn’t the Schraders have a kitchen garden?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. But we had to sell a good bit of it to make money. Mr. Schrader took it to town to sell at the general store, and we canned the leftovers. I made applesauce from the windfalls, and he picked the good apples to sell. He didn’t believe in wasting the best of the crops on his family.”

John merely shook his head, aghast at yet another example of the stinginess she had lived with for so long. “You don’t have to worry about such a thing here, Katie,” he told her. And meant the words with every bit of his heart, for she had lived a life of frugality such as he had not thought possible. Yet had survived with her spirit intact. She was a bright shining flame of womanhood, glowing with a beauty he had seldom seen in his life.

Pushing that thought to the back of his mind, he settled instead on the plans he had set in motion. And decided that he needed to make his thoughts clear to the girl who would be living in his house.

“Katie, I need to tell you something, and I don’t know how you’re going to take this.”

She turned her head and her eyes were calm, as if she were ready to be agreeable, no matter what he had to say.

“I’m not a marrying man, Katie. I just want you to know that there isn’t much of a chance that I’ll ever be bringing a bride home to this house. You don’t have to worry about me pushing you out the door to make room for another woman. So long as we can get along and things go well here, I’m planning on you staying here until you decide on something else for your life. I’ve already talked to Bill about you and—”

“I don’t plan on making any changes in a hurry, John,” she said quickly. “I’ve barely had time to settle in here. Don’t be planning on me moving on any time soon.”

He laughed. “Just so we understand each other, Katie. I don’t want you to think that I’ll be pushing you to sleep in my bed or be anything other than an employee here.”

“I can sleep right here on the floor in front of the cookstove, John,” she said quickly. “It’ll be warm and if you’ve got a quilt I can wrap up in, I’ll be happy. I used to sleep with my sister, Jane, when we were young’uns. But lately…”

What she was thinking as her gaze sought the floor was not apparent, and John did not poke into her silence, but watched, even as he wondered at the mention of Katie having a sister. Something he’d not heard of before.

And so he spoke of what was more important right now. “I’ll be making a room for you in the near future, Katie. For I have but one bed, and one bedroom. You can sleep on the floor if you like, but there’s a sofa there in front of the fireplace, and it should be long enough for you. I want you to be secure here, and know that nothing will harm you, least of all me.”

Her eyes darkened at his words, and she drew in a shuddering breath. “John, I’m fearful of a man’s hands on me. I don’t know any other way to say it than that, but I’m hoping you’ll know what I mean. Jacob Schrader seemed bent on slidin’ into my bed more than once, and he gave me the shivers, just lookin’ at him, let alone how I’d have felt if he’d laid his hand on my—” Her voice broke off as she groped for words, and John knew a moment of pure rage as he thought of the man who had so frightened this girl.

He considered all he had to say to her and wondered if it might be better to call a halt to his ramblings, lest he frighten her off. There was no point in upsetting the girl.

She swallowed, a visible effort and her eyes veered from contact with his, as if she had not the courage to look into his gaze. “I appreciate you being kind to me, John. I just feel sort of uneasy right now.” She threw up her hands as an expression of frustration, unable to verbalize her thoughts and he took pity.

He took her hands in his, feeling her draw away, but determined to make this small contact. Holding her before himself, he grinned. “Don’t worry about it, Katie girl. It will all work out and we’ll do well together. For tonight, just cook us a meal and we’ll eat and talk about what has to be done to make this place more comfortable for you.”

She looked about her, her eyes touching the curtainless windows, the bare floor and the table without the adornment of any covering, and then she smiled. “This is perfect, John. I can’t ask for anything more. Everything I need is right here. I’ll have a place of my own and I can fix it up as I go along. But for now, I’m happy to be here, in your home, with you.”

An emotion he hadn’t expected flooded his heart as he looked down at the girl he’d brought home with him. An impulsive move on his part, but perhaps the smartest thing he’d ever done. If anyone had told him just yesterday that he would have a housekeeper here, he’d not have believed it. But it was true, and for some strange reason he felt that he might have made a good choice, that his life would be easier from now on.



THEY ATE AT THE SMALL table, their knees almost touching beneath, their eyes tangling several times, as if words should be said between them, but for some reason the silence that filled the room did not lend itself to small talk. Katie was edgy, her hands trembling as she dealt with her knife and fork, her plate seeming heavy as she lifted it to carry it to the sink. It slid from her fingers into the dishwater she had prepared. She turned back to the table to retrieve John’s plate as he cleaned up the final bite of his beans, scooping them onto his biscuit and carrying the bite to his mouth.

His hand covered hers as she fit her fingers around his silverware, the warmth of his skin comforting, and she looked into his eyes, wishing she didn’t feel such a dolt, so unable to speak. But it seemed her words were like dust in her mouth, and she could not form them upon her lips.

Hot tears sprang to her eyes and she turned quickly from him, carrying his eating utensils and plate to the sink where she added them to the dishpan.

“Katie.” He spoke her name softly and waited. Apparently he expected her to turn around and face him and she couldn’t find the strength in her legs to do that simple thing. Added to which, the tears that slid down her cheeks made her feel foolish and she would not allow him to know the fear that lay just beneath the surface of her mind.

“Katie, come here. Please.”

Had it not been for his final word, the simple plea he uttered, she might have remained apart from him. But she could not resist his softness. Perhaps she could have tilted her head and walked from the room had he simply ordered her to obey his whim, but John Roper apparently was wiser than that.

She bowed her head and shook it carefully, not willing to turn toward him, yet unable to ignore him. His chair scraped across the wooden floor and she sensed his presence behind her as he moved to where she stood, her hands clutching the edge of the sink.

His wide palm covered her shoulder and she knew a moment of fear, for he was more than capable of forcing her to his will and she was only too aware of the power of a man’s hands. That John would raise his to her in anger seemed not to be an issue, for she had sensed a careful control that reinforced his promise to her. That he would not harm her, that she would suffer no injury at his hand.

“Look at me, Katie.” He could have forced her to turn on her heel and face him, and indeed, she expected him to. But instead he only waited. And then his second hand touched her arm, a presence so gentle she could not move from it. She released the hold she had on the sink and moved to obey him.

“Relax, Katie,” he whispered. “I only want to talk to you about our living arrangements. And since I seem to be in charge tonight, I’ll make the decisions and tomorrow you can let me know if you see things differently than I. Will that suit you?”

She blinked furiously in an attempt to halt the tears that ran unimpeded down her cheeks and he smiled, then bent and pressed his lips against her forehead. A relief she had not thought to feel swept over her then and she recognized that he was being most patient with her emotional state. Her forehead felt the impression of his mouth, there where his lips had touched her so briefly, and she searched her memory for such a thing happening in her life.

“No one’s ever kissed me before, John. Like you just did, I mean. Maybe when I was little, for I think I remember a lady who held me on her lap, but not in a lot of years.”

His mouth opened as if he searched for words to speak and then he shook his head, telling her of what would happen. “I’ve taken your new clothes in the bedroom, Katie. The bundle is on the floor, but I put your nightgown on the end of the bed. I want you to get undressed and wrap yourself in the quilt that’s on my bed, and then come back out here. All right?” He waited then, his patience seemingly unending and his lips curved again, his eyes kind as he watched her for her response.

“Yes, all right.” It was all she could manage, but it seemed to satisfy him. He nodded and released her, turning her toward the other room, where the bed lay in shadow. She stepped over the threshold slowly, and then stiffened her spine. John had been clear on this matter, and all she must do was as he asked. Get undressed and wrapped in the quilt he’d offered.

The man had told her the lay of the land and she might as well do as she’d been told. After all, she didn’t see that she had much choice anyway. And if he’d wanted to hurt her, he could have already done so. For there was within her a fear of anything masculine, and if nothing else, John Roper was just that. A man. A man who was capable of bringing harm to her if he so chose.

Her chin lifted, her pride coming to the forefront and she sat on the edge of the bed, easing her heavy shoes from her feet. Then she bent and slid her stockings off, unwilling to wear the heavy things another minute. Tomorrow would be time enough to wash her underclothing. Perhaps the man had a washtub and some soap. And it would be none too soon, for her underclothing was the same she had put on three days ago, the Schrader family not being much on clean clothes or bodies.

Her mind traveled rapidly to the new clothing he’d bought for her and she smiled with a quick lightening of her spirits. She’d have new underthings to wear tomorrow, those soft leather shoes and even brand-new stockings. Her old things could be washed up and put aside for an emergency, but tomorrow she would wear soft new undergarments next to her body and dress as a lady.

It had been a bone of contention during the years of her life that Katie had taken every opportunity to wash herself and her belongings, and had taken much abuse because of her high-falutin’ ways, as Mrs. Schrader had said. Now, perhaps she would have hot water and soap available on a regular basis and her body would be as clean as a scrub rag could make it. That thought alone was enough to cheer her and she smiled.

Glancing up at the kitchen as she rose from the mattress she caught sight of John as he locked the back door, then turned down the oil lamp over the table. The glow from the wood-burning stove gave substance to his form as he crossed to the bedroom door.

“Shall I light a candle? Or can you make out what you’re doing in there?” He halted, hesitating in the doorway and she paused in the unbuttoning she had begun, her dress open down the front, her chemise exposed.

“I’ve undressed in the dark my whole life, John Roper. There’s enough light from the window and that fireplace out there to see what I’m doing, and I suspect there’s a slop jar in the corner where the washstand is.”

“You’re right on both counts, Katie. There’s towels and washrags over there in the drawer beneath the bowl and pitcher. Help yourself.” He went to the kitchen sink then, pumping water easily, filling a cup and drinking from it as he waited for her to make ready for the night.

The washrag smelled clean and she poured some water into the bowl provided and sloshed the rag in it, then rubbed his bar of soap on it, wrung it out and used it on her face and reaching beneath the bodice of her dress, used it beneath her arms, not willing to carry the scent of her perspiration into bed with her. A matter of pride she supposed, but she’d smelled the odor of unwashed bodies for years and if it was in her power, she would not allow her own to be of that ilk.

In moments, she had rinsed the cloth in the water and repeated the journey it had taken over her face and arms, removing the soap readily. The towel was rough, but she was used to such things and it took only moments to prepare for bed. Using the slop jar was beyond her right now, for there was no screen or any way to hide her doings from him and she could not bring herself to be so familiar.

“Can I use the outhouse?” It was the most difficult thing she’d ever had to request, but he didn’t appear to be shocked, only murmured a different solution.

“I’ll stay out in the kitchen a little longer and close the bedroom door. You can use the facilities over in the corner. I’d just as soon not send you outside again tonight, but you’re welcome to your privacy, Katie.”

He was as good as his word and did as he’d suggested, leaving her to tend to her duties hastily before he should return, the few minutes long enough for her to don the nightgown he’d bought for her. She’d barely pulled it down over her body, admiring the soft fabric and the small pearl buttons marching down the front placket, when he rapped on the door and then opened it, making a small production of entering the room, as if he would give her warning of his coming.

She grasped the quilt he’d offered and wrapped it around herself, then walked past him into the other room, heading for the couch he’d offered for her use. She slid quickly atop the firm surface, forming a cocoon of the quilt.

“All set?” He stood in the doorway between the two rooms, and asked the question softly. “There’s a pillow here for you to use, Katie,” he offered and approached carefully, tossing the pillow to where she lay.

“Thank you. I appreciate that,” she told him, watching as he went back into his bedroom, listening as she heard the bed creak beneath his weight. Whether he undressed or not, she did not know, for she turned her face to the back of the couch, her head on the pillow he’d given her, and closed her eyes.

“I’ve never had so nice a pillow.” The words came from her lips before she thought twice and she grimaced as she thought of how foolish she must sound. As if a pillow was a thing of great importance. Yet it was true. The feathers that filled the pillow beneath her head provided a luxurious place to rest and she was grateful.

From the bedroom, John’s laugh was soft, and she was aghast at her own words. He must think her foolish.

But apparently he was not surprised by her words for he spoke readily. “Berta, the housekeeper in the big house made me the set when I moved into this cabin, just the other day,” he said. “She dug up the towels and quilts for me, too, and the canned things you saw in the kitchen cabinet.”

His voice carried to her and she turned over on the couch, forming an answer. “She must be a nice lady.”

John chuckled. “She is, but no one would dare to call her nice to her face. She puts on a big front, snapping and snarling at the men when they come in for meals. Her biggest gripe is dirt on the floor, and woe betide the man who comes to the table with his hat on. She’s a great one for manners, Berta is, for all that she’s gruff and picky.”

“She sounds like someone I could like,” Katie said, realizing that her words were slurring just a bit. Her eyes were fighting to stay open and she felt the weariness in her bones sweep through her whole body.

“Go to sleep, Katie,” John said from his bed. And then, almost as an afterthought, he spoke again. “Are you comfortable?”

She nodded, aware that he couldn’t see from his bed, with her in the dark, the only light in the room the faint glow of the fireplace. She was sleepy, and strangely, felt safe here in this place, even though a man would sleep only a few feet from her. “I’m fine,” she said softly, and realized that the words were true, that she felt safe and secure for the first time in longer than she could remember.



WHEN KATIE AWOKE IT WAS with a start as she heard a rooster crowing outside the cabin. And then she inhaled sharply as she sensed eyes upon her, and sat up quickly, unable to think for a moment where she was.

“You awake, Katie?” John’s voice sounded like a saw cutting through a length of wood, rough and rusty, but she knew no fear, only a sense of rightness that she could not explain.

“I’m awake.” She opened her eyes, saw John at the sink, watched as he bent his head and doused it with water and then picked up the towel there and roughly dried his hair, then his hands. He looked over at her and grinned.

“How was your first night as a housekeeper?”

“I don’t know. I don’t feel much like one yet,” she told him. “Ask me tomorrow.”

As she spoke the sound of men’s voices came to her from outdoors, through the cabin’s walls, laughter pealing forth as one of them apparently found something humorous to brighten his morning.

John crossed to the front door and opened it, then looked back at her. “I’ll be back in a short while. I’m just going to talk to the men and get things sorted out. Will you make breakfast, or shall I go to the big house to eat this morning?”

Her stomach growled as he spoke, as if the thought of food had brought hunger to the surface. “I’ll cook you breakfast,” she said quickly, sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the couch, careful to keep the quilt around herself.

He was gone then, the door closing behind him and she went into the bedroom, seeking out the clothing she’d taken off the night before, and then changed her mind, recalling the new things John had purchased. The thought of the items inside the plain wrapping sent a quick thrill through her and she fought with her instincts that begged to wear new clothing.

Cooking breakfast for John did not require wearing a new dress, and she’d do well to locate her old things and get busy. But a quick look around assured her that the things she had discarded last evening in this room were here no longer. As though they had never existed, the worn, shabby dress Molly had given her and the dingy petticoat she’d stripped from before she donned her new nightgown were nowhere in sight.

It was there that John found her, just moments later, sitting on the edge of his bed, looking around her in dismay, wrapped tightly in the quilt. She looked up as he stood in the doorway.

“I don’t know where my things are from yesterday. I wanted to get dressed but—” She spread her hands in a gesture of defeat, and chagrin reigned on her mobile features.

John spoke softly, aware of her confusion and unwilling to upset her further. “You don’t need those old things, Katie. You’ve got a whole bundle of new clothes to wear.”

All Katie saw, all she could take note of was the expression on his face. That and his rapid movements across the room to where she sat on the edge of the bed.

She moved quickly, attempting to rise even as she spoke an apology. “I’m sorry, John. I should have already started your breakfast, but I thought to get dressed first and—”

“Not to worry,” he cut in swiftly. “Just get dressed and come out to the kitchen.” He stood before her and his hand lifted, his index fingers pointing to the stacks of clothing on the dresser, where he’d placed them early this morning. He turned then to face her and his voice took on a teasing growl.

“I’m hungry, girl. It’s past time for breakfast. There’s work to be done, and time’s a’wastin’.”




CHAPTER FIVE


THE SIGHT OF THAT WIDE palm extended to her sent a chill of unwarranted fear through Katie and she hovered, drawing her legs up, bending her head to shelter it on her knees, making herself as small a target as possible. Even as she heard his exclamation of consternation, the words that resounded from the walls, she knew that she had cowered for no reason. She knew in her heart that he had only offered kindness, yet his voice sounded harsh in her ears.

“What is wrong with you, girl? You act like you’re scared to death of me. I just brought you a cup of coffee from Berta’s kitchen to give you a head start on the morning. I left it on the table.” The look he bent on her was full of concern and when he knelt before her, his hands trembled as he held them aloft. “I wouldn’t strike you, Katie. I told you last night—”

“I know, John. I just…” She could not speak the words that would tell him of the fear she carried within her soul, that the sight of a man’s big hands struck her to the core with panic, that she had thought, just for a moment, that he would use his fists against her softer flesh.

“Ah…damn, Katie.” He touched her knee, then her hand where it lay, fisted tightly there on her thigh. With gentle care, his fingertips touching the flesh as if he handled something precious, he looked into her face. “I’m sorry I scared you thataway, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to come at you so quick. I was just going to suggest that you might wear a flannel shirt of mine so’s you’d be warm enough to come out to the table and drink the coffee I brought. I’m sorry, Katie.”

Hot tears could not be held back and she shed them without any attempt at hiding the evidence of her shame. “Don’t feel you need to say that to me, John. I was still half-asleep, and I was already scolding myself because I hadn’t gotten up early, when I told you I’d cook for you and keep your house. And then I got in here and couldn’t find my things and I was—”

“There’s time enough to eat, Katie. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, his grin appearing as if he recognized that he must lighten her mood somehow.

He stepped back to the kitchen, retrieving the coffee cup from the table, then returned to where she sat and knelt at her feet, offering her the hot brew he’d brought for her.

“Take a sip, honey. Don’t burn your tongue, now. Just sip it a little. That’s the way,” he said softly as she held the cup with her fingers enclosing his, tilting the cup toward her mouth and taking the hot coffee into her mouth.

“Thank you, John.” She tried to smile, tried to reassure him, but her voice broke on the words and she felt shame that she had started off this day on such a sour note.

He waited until she had taken hold of the cup fully, then rose and reached for a hook on the wall where he’d hung a clean shirt, bringing it to her and holding it before her. “Stand up, Katie. I’ll help you put this on to keep you warm.”

She did as he asked, taking a last sip of coffee before she put the cup on the table and rose to stand before him. She dropped the quilt to the bed, feeling almost naked in the all-enveloping nightgown she wore and knew a moment of thanksgiving as he helped her don the shirt, as if he understood that she was not at ease before him with only her nightwear covering her.

He pulled the collar together, straightening the yoke over her shoulders, and his hands remained there at her throat, his gaze sweeping her length, from where her pink toes curled against the braided rug beside the bed, to the flush that rode her cheeks as she suffered his appraisal.

He bent a bit, touching his lips against her forehead. “There now. Let’s go into the kitchen. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable there. I’ve built a good fire in the cookstove and it’s nice and warm.”

She walked beside him, her hands full with the coffee cup, unwilling to mention the casual gesture he’d made. She’d received two kisses from this man in less than a day, and her mind boggled at the thought.

His shirt hung to her knees and she was thankful for its protection, even though she wore a full-length gown beneath it. She pulled it together in the front before she sat in the kitchen chair, covering her legs with the fullness.

“You surely wear big shirts, John,” she said, her fingers smoothing a wrinkle as she looked down at the plaid garment.

“I’m a big man. My mama said I’d have to be to grow into my feet when I was just a young’un. I always had the biggest shoes of all my brothers, and they teased me about it, till she told them that I’d be the tallest of the bunch when we were full grown.”

“And are you? The tallest, I mean?”

“Yeah. And I’ve still got big feet, but so long as they make boots in my size, I figure I’ll be all right.” He looked down to where she had wound her feet around the chair legs. “Yours are bitty little things, girl. But then, you’re not much bigger than a minute yourself. I guess it all works out, doesn’t it?”

She had begun to relax, John realized, her smile brighter, almost as if she were comfortable with him, he thought, and for that he was grateful. That this girl feared him was not to be borne. He’d thought his assurances to her last night would be enough to soothe her fears, but perhaps the terror she’d suffered and the pain she feared ran too deep, and only time would give her the confidence she needed to deal with him. And God only knew what Schrader had done to put the fear in her eyes. Another question he would need to find an answer to.

“Drink your coffee, honey. I’ve got to go out to the barn and get things under way for the day. Those men are working on the stalls and taking care of the livestock, but there’s fencing to be mended and cattle to be checked on today. It’s been pretty cold out there for well over a week. ’Bout time for another thaw, but we still had ice on the watering trough this morning.

“There’s hay to deliver to the steers in the south pasture, and we need to be watching the cows that are getting ready to drop their calves soon. But I’ll send the men out to handle that. I’ll be working in the barn for today, close enough to hear you if you call me.”

It was the longest speech he’d made in a month of Sundays, he thought as he fed her all the information he thought she might need to get her through the morning. He wanted her to know his routine, wanted to assure her that he would be nearby if she needed him.

She looked beyond him, out the window, where the morning sky was overcast, but the promise of sunshine hovered just beyond the clouds. “Looks like we’re going to have a nice day anyway,” she said, her mind working rapidly as she made her own plans. “I’ll cook up some eggs for you right quick. And later on, at noontime, I’ll have dinner ready for you. Will that be all right?”

“Sounds good to me. Get those eggs cooking. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

He let himself out the back door and she made haste to locate a skillet, then found a crock of eggs in the pantry. A bit of butter sizzled in the skillet and she whipped eggs to a froth in a small bowl, pouring them into the skillet quickly.

The room was quiet, his deep, masculine tones but a memory, and Katie went to the window to watch as he strode toward the barn. Two men stepped out from the wide, double doors and waved at him, calling words she couldn’t hear, and then she caught the drift of their laughter as they slapped John on the back and went with him into the big building.

In just a few minutes, he was back and she slid his scrambled eggs onto a plate and found a loaf of bread in the pantry, slicing it quickly and locating the butter for his use. He ate quickly, intent on heading out to work, and she was silent, watching him and buttering a slice of bread for herself.

“I don’t want you working too hard today, Katie,” he admonished her as he rose from the table. “I think there’s plenty to cook in the pantry, and I’d like you to just settle in this morning. All right?”

She nodded, watching as he left the cabin and then made tracks for the bedroom. Her own clothing wasn’t nearly as warm as John’s shirt, but she sought out the plainest of the new dresses he’d bought for her and slipped it over her head, carefully buttoning the bodice and sliding a new petticoat and a pair of drawers beneath it. Back in the kitchen once more, she washed in warm water from the reservoir on the stove, thankful for the fire he’d built for her comfort.

While getting dressed, she’d noted a basket in the bedroom where he’d apparently tossed his soiled clothing for the past several days, and she sought out a container now to use as a washtub. In the small entryway hung a galvanized bucket, larger than a milk pail, not as big as a bathing tub, but a good size nevertheless.

In moments she had scooped warm water from the reservoir on the side of the big cookstove into it, then added soap from under the sink to make suds. His small clothes and shirts were readily doused in it, and she allowed them to soak while she made the bed and washed up the dishes.

The corner posts on the back porch were a handy place for a short line to hang clothes on, she decided, and searched out a length of rope from the pantry, stretching it from one end of the porch to the other, tying it as high as she could reach on the square posts that held up the porch roof.

Hanging on a nail in the pantry, she found a small scrub board, and she brought it to the washtub, using it to good purpose on his clothing. In an hour, the line she’d strung held John’s clothing, his trousers and shirts and the bits and pieces of his underwear. Her own drawers she washed and hung behind the stove on the back of a chair, unwilling to allow them to flutter in the breeze where any passing ranch hand might see them.

A dresser stood against the outside wall in the bedroom and she sorted out the clothing she found there; John’s supply of drawers and denim trousers were folded neatly and stacked closely. Emptying one drawer to make room for her own sparse assortment, she took time to brush all the wrinkles out of the things John had purchased yesterday at the general store, her hands careful as she handled the fine fabric of the chemises he’d chosen for her.

“I feel like a real housewife,” she whispered softly to herself, aware that the sweeping and cleaning, scrubbing and folding that occupied her morning were enjoyable because of where she was, and who she was tending. John was a kind man, still a man, but with qualities she had not seen before in the one man who had made up her limited experience.

John would be easy to do for, and she sensed that he would appreciate her work on his behalf. Returning to the kitchen, she found a broom in the pantry and set to work on the dust that hid in the corners. A bit of cardboard served as a dustpan and she dumped the residue into the fireplace, noting that John had built up the fire for her comfort before he’d left the cabin.

A sharp rap from somewhere near the back door brought her out of her daydreams and she looked up to find a middle-aged lady watching her through the window. With a quick smile, Katie opened the door and faced her visitor.

“I’ll bet you’re Berta,” she said quickly, opening the door wide, so that her welcome would be evident.

“I sure am, honey. And you’re John Roper’s hired help or I miss my guess.”

“I’m Katie,” she said, pulling a chair from the table and offering Berta a seat. “I can make some coffee right quick, if you’d like, ma’am. After all, you sent me a cup this morning, early on.”

“I figured you could use a bit of a lay-in your first day here,” Berta said. “I make a big breakfast for those men, and there’s always enough to go around.” She’d carried in a burlap bag with her and now she bent to open it and began removing its contents. “Here’s some potatoes and carrots for you and a sack of onions, too. I figured John might not think of getting them from the general store, and I’ve got bushels full in the fruit cellar under the house. I expect you’ve already found the food from the kitchen garden I put up last fall. I brought a few jars over and put them in the cupboard for you, along with that crock of eggs in the pantry.

“And here’s a couple of jars of beef I cooked up and canned when we butchered last fall,” she said, bending low to pull more from the burlap sack. “There’s pork in the smokehouse and fresh ham in the lard barrel in the cellar, but beef don’t keep good thataway. I just can it up every year, and in between butcherings I have plenty to cook with.”

Katie was awed by the generosity before her. “I never saw so much good food in one place in my life,” she said, her eyes lighting with glee. “I can fix John some dandy meals out of all that.”

“He told me this morning that you could cook and clean, but I knew there wasn’t much here in the way of stuff to fix for dinner today, so I raided the fruit cellar and brought a few things I figured you could use. There’s always more eggs in the henhouse and milk in the pantry, or the milk house out back. Or else fresh from the barn if you know how to milk a cow. But the men keep the new Guernsey milked morning and night for the house, so you can just have them bring you some ever couple of days.

“Oh, and here’s some butter, too,” she said quickly, searching the bottom of the sack. “It got a little flattened, but it’s wrapped up good. I must have set a jar of beef on it.”

Katie looked at the bounty Berta had arranged on the kitchen table and felt her throat tighten, even as her head swam with the generosity of the woman who was prepared to welcome her without question. “I’ve never had anybody do for me this way,” she said, fighting to hold back the tears that begged to be shed.

“Well, for goodness’ sake, girl. Don’t make a fuss about it, and sure enough, I don’t want you to be crying. I came over to welcome you, not make you feel bad.”

“Oh, I’m not feeling bad, just pleased that you’re being so nice to me.”

“Well, let’s get this put away and set your kitchen to rights. I’ve probably got enough here to do you for a week or so anyway, along with whatever you can find in the smokehouse.”

“John had a good piece of bacon in the pantry and I fried some up last night when we got in from town. Made him a sandwich out of it and opened a can of beans, so he wouldn’t starve to death before morning.”

Berta dug in her apron pocket and found a small tin of tea leaves, announcing that a cup of tea was just the thing for midmorning, sending Katie to the stove where she slid the big covered teakettle over the hottest spot. In a few minutes they were sharing the tea, Berta declaring that next time she’d bring along some milk to put in it, Katie happy just to have the treat of tea, something that was a rare delight at the Schrader farmhouse.

Before long, Berta had taken her leave and looking up to where the sun hung behind a cloud, bringing its glow to the eastern sky a bit, Katie decided it was more than time to begin John’s dinner. One of the Mason jars of beef made up the base of her preparations, and she added three potatoes from the bag Berta had brought, a big onion from the mesh bag, and then a handful of carrots that Berta had said were but a drop in the bucket when compared to the bushels in her fruit cellar.

When the dinner bell rang loudly from the back porch of the big house, Katie was on her hands and knees, washing up the final square of the kitchen floor, the rest of it drying rapidly in the heat from the stove. John came in the door, and she lifted herself to kneel upright as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Berta called the men in for dinner, Katie, so I thought I’d see if you were ready with mine.”

“Watch the wet floor, John. Don’t slip. It’s not quite dry over there by the door yet. Wait a minute and I’ll wipe it with a towel and then I’ll be done here.”

“What are you up to, Katie?” He leaned past the table to see her, frowning as he caught sight of her kneeling near the stove. “It looks to me like you’ve been busy, girl. My trousers are almost dry out there on the line, and unless I’m dreaming, I can smell something mighty good on that stove.”

She couldn’t help the surge of pride that rose to the surface at his words. “It’s your dinner, John. I made you beef stew.”

His grin was wide and approving as he swept his gaze over her. “Well, doggone. This getting hired help is gonna work out just fine, Katie.” He sat on a chair near the door and pulled his boots off, careful to set them to dry on a bit of carpet he kept there.

He hung his coat and hat on the hook and then headed for the sink to wash up. Katie carried her bucket of wash water to the back door and dumped it over the railing as he scrubbed his face and rolled his sleeves up to wash his arms. When she closed the door after hanging the bucket on a nail in the entryway, he was drying off with a towel, watching her as she moved across the floor to the stove.

“I don’t want you working so hard, Katie. Doing the wash today was enough to wear you out, you didn’t have to scrub the floor, too.”

She stepped toward him and lifted her face to look at him squarely. “You don’t need to worry about me, John. I’m strong and well able to do anything that needs to be done in this house. What I do here is because I want to.”

John would have put his hands on her, would have held her close, but she’d already turned in a half circle and was reaching for the cupboard, lifting down plates and then searching out silverware in the drawer that held it.

And he thought better of his first instinct, that of touching the girl who had worked on his behalf all morning. She was not ready yet for a man’s hands to spread wide on her back, for a man’s lips to touch hers. And might not be for a long time to come. He’d do well to stifle his instincts and let the girl alone.

On the stove sat the coffeepot, the tempting smell of the fresh brew wafting to his nostrils, and he reached over her head to snatch up two cups, depositing them on the table next to the plates.

Katie folded her hands and tilted her head, as if she judged her meal ready to be served. “All right, John. Just sit down and I’ll fix your plate,” she said, locating a large spoon she’d put atop the warming oven. She stretched up on her tiptoes to reach it, and John’s breath caught as he watched her. Her arms lifted high, outlining her breasts against the bodice of her dress, the hem lifting to expose slim ankles and narrow feet.

He frowned as he caught sight of bare skin. “Where’s your shoes, Katie? You’ll catch cold that way. And you even went out on the porch barefoot. I don’t want you coming down with pneumonia, girl.”

She looked down quickly, as if she’d forgotten that her feet were bare of covering and then glanced at him, her reply coming quickly. “I took my shoes off when I washed the floor, and besides, I’m used to going barefoot. It saves on shoe leather.”

“Well, you can go without shoes if you want to, but not because you have to save on shoe leather,” he told her. “There’s plenty more shoes where yours came from. When they wear out we’ll get you new ones. In fact, they sell house shoes at the store, with soft soles you can slip on in the house.” His look in her direction was one that expressed his feelings, a smile that warmed her.

“You can have anything you need, Katie. I don’t want you ever going without food or clothing or whatever makes you happy. Understand?”

She nodded quickly. “I don’t need things, John. I’m happy just as I am, with what I already have. I don’t mean to argue with you, but—”

Her words broke off as he stepped closer and she lifted wide eyes to him, as if seeking out his thoughts. She was warm, smelling like soap and beef stew and woman, a combination he found irresistible. All of his good intentions fled as his head bent and his lips touched her cheek.

“Thanks for making my dinner and washing my clothes, honey. You’re satisfied with so little, I forget sometimes that your needs are easily met. But, know one thing, sweetheart. You don’t have to work so hard. I don’t want to see calluses on those pretty little hands.”

She watched his face as he spoke, and then drew her hands up between them to look at her palms, a frown on her face.

“I don’t have pretty hands, John. I’m used to hard work, and I know my hands show it, but that’s all right. I just want to do what I’m doing. I’m happy here with you.”

He took her palms in his, moving her back from him so that he could better see the small fingers and the roughened flesh he held.

“You’ve worked too hard during your life, Katie. I can see that by looking at you. And that’s all well and good, but it’s in the past. From now on you don’t have to work yourself to a frazzle. Just so long as you take good care of me, and keep my house clean and my meals cooked, I’ll be one happy man,” he said.

She looked puzzled at that and he relented, smiling a bit as he touched the end of her nose with his index fingertip. “You’ve got lots of years ahead of you to learn how to look after me, Katie. I’m planning on keeping you here for a long time, at least until you find yourself a good man and set up housekeeping in a place of your own.”

She shivered, her skin pale and her words put a lie to his prediction. “I don’t intend to ever get married, John. I didn’t see anything in my years out there at the Schrader farm to make me yearn for that sort of life. I’ll be happy to work for my keep and stay unmarried for the rest of my life.”

He sat down at the table and watched her as she readied his meal. “Haven’t you ever thought of having a family of your own, Katie? Children, maybe, and a husband to take care of you?”

The look she shot his way was dark. “I can take care of myself. And from what I’ve heard, it takes a man to help make babies, and that doesn’t seem like a good idea to me. I’ll stay as I am, thank you.”

If she wondered at the sassy grin he offered her, she did not question it or the words he uttered. “One day, you may change your mind.”

And thus she missed the measuring look he aimed at her as he spoke and the laughter that he muffled for her benefit.




CHAPTER SIX


THE NEXT FOUR DAYS passed quickly for Katie, bound up in the discoveries she made in John’s cabin. An extra sheet from his closet was cut up and hemmed to make curtains for the bedroom window, and she begged thread, a needle and pins from Berta to accomplish her goal. Her stitches were fine, her skills honed by years of darning stockings and mending trousers, not to mention the few items of clothing she’d made for herself to wear over the past couple of years.

Mrs. Schrader had not been enthused about the art of sewing and by dint of hard work and much stitching and then tearing out and redoing, Katie had learned how to put together two pieces of fabric and sew a fine seam. Curtains were a joy to make, she decided, especially when she knew John would be pleased with her efforts.

Berta contributed a dowel rod and together she and Katie tacked it into place over the window and the curtains were duly admired over a cup of tea, Berta’s praise for Katie’s skills falling on grateful ears.

John’s thoughts on the subject were more than she’d expected, for he told her that they would find a bolt of material in the general store that she could use for the kitchen, where curtains were sorely needed. She agreed with enthusiasm and made her plans accordingly, mentioning to John that a piece of oilcloth would look well on the kitchen table. A suggestion he agreed with, his pleasure in her plans for his cabin obvious.

She looked forward to the evenings spent before the fireplace, when John spoke to her of the cattle and horses, of the men who worked with him, and occasionally of his past. He came from a big family, his father still alive, although his mother had been buried several years ago. He had several brothers and a younger sister, he told her, all of them miles away, but close to his heart.

She envied him, a quiet sort of emotion that took nothing from his joy in his family, but a yearning for someone to call her own. John was fast becoming her friend, she thought, but she yearned to know that someone, somewhere might think of her as their family, perhaps the way John cared for his father and the brothers and sister he’d left behind. And yet, there was in her relationship with John, more than mere friendship, for she found herself yearning, on occasion, for a touch from him, perhaps his hand on her shoulder or his lips against her forehead, something he seemed to find pleasurable.

His touch was a comfort, his arm resting across her shoulders sometimes before he left the cabin in the morning to work in the barn or out in the pastures. But better yet were the infrequent times that he smiled at her and his gaze touched her with a heated warmth that went beyond his other gestures of tenderness. He’d placed his lips against her temple or cheek more than once, as a gesture of affection, and she cherished those small touches, aware that her presence in his home pleased him.

Today, after ironing his clothes and straightening his dresser drawers for the third time, she’d cooked a light meal for their supper, knowing he’d rather eat more heavily at noontime. And after the third trip to the window to look out into the twilight, she began to wonder where he could be. He’d told her he could usually be counted on to come in for his supper before darkness fell. And the sun had set already, making it necessary to light the lamp over the table.

She’d begun to fret, unable to think of what might have happened to make him so late, hearing the sounds of men walking to the house, their voices calling back and forth. And still, John was not to be seen.

Until, like a silent spirit in the night, he was behind her in the kitchen. She’d just turned back to the stove, rescuing the beans cooked with bits of ham before they burned, stirring the creamed potatoes one last time, deciding to give up and slide the whole meal into the oven to stay warm.

His hand was on her shoulder, his voice a whisper in her ear and she dropped her spoon on the floor with a clatter, turning to him, a cry of surprise and relief on her lips.

“John. Where have you been? I didn’t hear you come in. I’ve been worried. When it got dark and you weren’t home yet, I thought something had happened to you.”

Her words spun a web of caring about him and John drew her into his arms, not caring that he might be pushing her in the wrong direction, unable to halt his movements as he lifted her chin with one forefinger and pressed his lips to hers. For the first time yielding to the temptation she so unwittingly offered. For up until now he’d eased his growing need for her with tender, brief kisses against her temple, her cheek.

And yet, there was a boundary over which he would not cross, would not make Katie think he thought of her as more than a friend. She was a woman, and though her behavior was that of an innocent, he knew only too well how a woman could lure a man into her web. And the thought of ever again being enthralled by a female was not one he harbored for a moment of time.

That Katie was of the same ilk as Sadie had been, he didn’t believe, yet she was a female, a woman with the duplicity of her gender, no doubt. Hadn’t she already brought him to a state of arousal on more than one occasion, merely by smiling at him, or by providing him with the comforts a man could expect from a woman. That she would no doubt withhold her kisses, should he venture to claim those lips was a given, for Katie harbored within her a fear he could sense.





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