Tainted Dreams

by Christi Corbett

  "Animal!"

  Jake's eyes widened. He knew that voice!

  He pushed his way into the center of the circle, arriving just in time to see a tiny blur of fury wearing a maroon dress leap into the air and box Cyrus on the ears. Cyrus doubled over, shouting curses and threats between howls of pain. Judging by the way Murray lay sweating and squirming in the dirt, he hadn't fared much better.

  Jake took quick note of Kate's disheveled hair, clenched fists, and flushed cheeks and had a fairly good idea of what happened. Or rather, judging by the appearance of Kate's dress—wrinkled and streaked with dirt, but still intact—what had almost happened.

  He rushed to her, his arms open and eager to cradle her against his chest. The sight of fresh scratches marring the soft skin along her upper arms convinced him otherwise. Worried his hands would hurt her further, he opted instead to bend before her until they were face to face.

  "What happened?" he asked quietly, ignoring the rising anger of the crowd around them.

  She hesitated, then shook her head.

  "Are you hurt?" Jake asked.

  She bit her lip and shook her head again.

  Jake moved to stand at her side, wanting to keep an eye on her even as he focused on the two men.

  "You're asking the wrong person about being hurt." Cyrus spun wildly, pointing to the side of his head to show the closest men how a thin line of blood ran from his ear down his neck. "Look what she did to me! And to Murray!" He pointed to his partner, now on his knees and heaving his breakfast into the dust.

  "You two are filthy, disgusting pigs who deserve everything you got!" Kate shouted, earning a round of cheers and applause from the crowd.

  "Shut up!" Blind rage distorted Cyrus's lips into a twisted snarl. He lunged toward Kate.

  Jake was faster.

  He side-stepped in front of Kate to block Cyrus's advance, slammed his fist into the side of the man's nose, then swung his right leg sideways and kicked Cyrus's feet out from under him.

  Cyrus landed face first in the dirt.

  "We're just getting started. Get up!" Jake yelled. This man deserved the beating of a lifetime, and Murray was next.

  Cyrus groaned and rolled onto his back, clutching his nose and gasping for breath.

  "What about you, Murray?" Jake crossed the circle and gave him a swift kick to the ribs. Not a fair move by any means, but neither was attacking a woman. "Get up!"

  Jake felt a strong hand settle on his shoulder, warning more than restraining. "They've had enough," Travers said.

  A few men in the crowd nodded their agreement, while others muttered how they should be beaten longer and then dumped in the river. Mr. Parker, owner of the town's apothecary, mentioned a public hanging and someone ran off to find two ropes.

  "They'll be no hanging of these men," Travers said, once everyone had quieted. "At least not today."

  The uproar began anew, and Travers again urged everyone to silence. "As much as we want to hang these men for their crime, we have to keep within the guides set up by the Provisional Government." Travers eyed all the men. "We're trying to prove to the east that we can become a state, which won't happen if they get word of us running wild and acting lawless."

  Jake glanced at Kate, standing alone with her arms clasped around her waist and looking as though she could either cry or scream. "They need to be punished for what they've done," he said, wishing he'd had ropes handy a few minutes ago.

  "I agree," Rob the trapper said, stepping forward to stand beside Jake.

  Albert Wilson entered the circle. "Travers is right. We'll arrest these men. They can sit in jail until we figure out the logistics of a trial.”

  Cyrus and Murray began protesting that everything had been a misunderstanding. When their tactic failed to sway the crowd, they declared it unfair to arrest them because they hadn't actually completed the act with Kate, only bothered her a little.

  At that, four men had to physically restrain Jake from going after them again.

  Two ropes were finally found, and after Cyrus and Murray's hands were tied behind their backs, several men volunteered to escort them to, and secure them in, the jail at the end of town.

  They were led away amidst jeers and taunts from the crowd.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Regret

  After Cyrus and Murray were gone and the crowd had dispersed, Jake finally trusted himself to speak to Kate again. "What can I do?" he asked, hating that she wouldn't look him in the eyes.

  "Help me find what I bought from the mercantile," she murmured. "Everything's wrapped together in brown paper."

  Jake immediately began walking a zigzag pattern, going from the center of the street to the edge of the boardwalk, his gaze darting a matching pattern. Kate found it first, several yards from where she stood. She bent to retrieve it and then let out a sharp gasp as she straightened again.

  "What is it? What's wrong?" Jake hovered over her, wanting desperately to help but not knowing how, and afraid whatever he did would make everything worse.

  She winced and pressed her palm to her left side. "Cyrus dug his fingers into my ribcage. Hurts."

  Easing the rumpled package from her hands, he tucked it under his right arm and offered her the support of his left.

  "Take me back to the hotel," she whispered, gripping his forearm tight and leaning against him hard.

  Thankful he'd agreed to Travers's offer to watch over Nickel, he guided Kate through the streets of town.

  When the hotel was in sight, Kate lightened her hold on his arm. "I'm fine."

  He wasn't fooled. The deep breaths she'd taken as they'd walked were meant to calm, but the unmistakable shudder as she let each out confirmed to Jake her confidence was all an act. She'd just been accosted by two miserable excuses for human beings, and now she was being escorted to safety by the man who'd lied to her.

  Kate wasn't fine. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

  They walked into the hotel, up the stairs, and to Kate's door without another word spoken between them. She pulled her key from a skirt pocket. After she failed several tries at placing it in the keyhole, Jake eased it from her shaking fingers, unlocked the door, and swung it open.

  She walked inside and sat gingerly on the bed. The package dropped to the floor, abandoned.

  "Kate, I just want to—"

  "Don't." She shook her head wildly. "Don't lecture me. I don't want to hear it."

  "I just want to make sure you're all right." He started to take a step into the room, but she held up her hand to stop him.

  "Please, go."

  He paused, his foot still hanging in mid-air. "Let me stay."

  "No. I just want to rest in my room until dinner."

  "If that's what you want," he replied uncertainly.

  She answered him by rising from the bed, walking to the door, and placing her hand on the knob. Her expression left him no doubt of her desire for him to leave.

  "I'll be back later to escort you to the dining room."

  "There's no need. I'll be eating in my room tonight," she said, then softly closed the door and clicked the lock into place.

  He hated to leave her. He hated seeing her frightened by those ruthless men. But most of all he hated that she felt she couldn't confide in him, or show him her fear.

  He walked down the narrow hallway, stopped at his own room to pick up his saddle and saddlebag, then headed downstairs and into the hotel's kitchen. Clara was at the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

  "Hello," he said quietly, hoping not to startle her.

  "Hello yourself," she replied, eyeing the pile of riding gear hoisted over his shoulder. "Going somewhere?"

  "I'll be gone riding for the rest of the day. Maybe even overnight."

  Jake's father had always insisted women had a sixth sense about trouble, and this one was no different.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, though her tone made her words more a demand than a question.

  "Kate had a rough day
."

  Clara frowned. "What happened?"

  "I'll let her tell you. In the meantime, I'd consider it a personal favor if you could keep an eye on her for the next few days. She's going to need a friend."

  "Of course." Clara dropped the spoon in the pot and wiped her hands on the apron tied around her waist. "I saw you two leave together this morning. Where is she now?"

  "Upstairs in her room," he replied, grimacing at the quiver in his voice.

  She studied him closely, then narrowed her eyes and planted her fists to her hips. "You two have a fight?"

  "And then some."

  Chapter Thirty

  A Visit to the Land Office

  Saturday, November 18, 1843

  Kate leaned against the wall of her hotel room, staring through the window at the long line of men standing outside of the land office waiting their turn to go inside.

  She'd risen before first light and watched William and Jake—both had slept on the building's doorstep to guarantee they'd be first and second inside—step through the door as it opened. Fifteen minutes later they'd both come back out smiling.

  It was the first time she'd seen Jake since Tuesday. After the debacle in front of the mercantile, she hadn't left her room. She'd told Clara it was so she could focus on sewing new underclothes and a dress, but in reality she needed time to bolster her courage.

  Kate shuddered yet again at the thought of those disgusting men, their vile suggestions and their rough, callused hands. Thankfully the physical reminders were fading fast. The scratches on her arms were now only faint lines, and the pain in her ribcage had subsided enough to convince her that Cyrus's strong fingers had only bruised, not broken.

  Hiding in her room also allowed her to avoid the two other men who had earned her fury—Theodore and Jake.

  Kate rested her forehead against the glass and yawned. Again.

  The last few days had been brutal.

  Though she'd worked day and night, sewing until her hands cramped and her fingertips were raw from needle pricks, she still hadn't completed the pink dress. It lay on the end of her bed awaiting sleeves, a bottom hem, and yet another adjustment to the bodice. While any reputable seamstress would have shaken her head in disgust, pulled apart every seam, and started from scratch, Kate was proud of what she'd accomplished. Creating a set of new underclothes and a half-finished dress in less than a week was quite a feat considering she'd only learned how to sew a few months ago.

  Downstairs the hotel's front door slammed closed, startling Kate from her recollections. William's booming voice and Margaret's resulting squeals of delight told Kate that he'd returned to his wife and shared the news he'd secured their land and their future.

  She eyed the men lingering in the street just outside the land office. Jake wasn't there. After craning her neck and standing on tiptoe to better see the town, she finally caught sight of him heading toward the livery, his stride fast and sure. Minutes later, he emerged atop of Plug and rode out of sight.

  Kate wondered when she'd see him again. Now that he apparently had a land claim of his own, he had no reason to stay in the hotel. And she had no idea where to find him.

  By lunchtime, the line outside the land office building had dwindled to only ten men. After a quick prayer for strength and guidance, Kate slipped both deeds into the pocket of her trousers, slid her knife into the sheath strapped to her belt, and headed downstairs.

  If the next hour went well, she could be settled in her new house by dusk.

  With her hair in a single braid hidden down the back of her shirt and her father's hat pulled low on her head, Kate made her way to the land office. Even though she knew Cyrus and Murray were in jail for what they'd done, she kept a wary eye on every man who got too close and clutched the handle of her knife as she passed the alleyways.

  To her relief, her trail clothes proved to be an effective disguise and she arrived at the land office without anyone giving her so much as a second look. Since the line no longer ran out the door, Kate walked inside and took her place behind the last man in the queue.

  Only five men were ahead of her, but nearly twenty more lingered in the building, standing around and talking. All ignored her, giving her ample time to look around the large, open space. There wasn't much to see. A desk and a chair near the back wall were the only creature comforts in the room, and were currently occupied by a stern-looking man she didn't recognize. A fireplace along the left wall struggled to keep the damp chill from the room.

  The man at the front of the line thanked the man behind the desk and then walked over to join the others warming their hands over the flames. Kate couldn't hear what they were discussing, just their murmurs and the scuffling of boots against the wooden floor.

  Another man left the desk. Kate shuffled a few steps forward and then forced her legs to keep still. Flighty feet would only attract unwanted attention.

  When only two men stood between her and the claims recorder, she caught her first glimpse of the maps spread across his desktop. Her heart pounded and she dried her palms down the sides of her trousers.

  The next man finished his business. As he passed Kate, he slowed to give her a curious stare—out of only one eye due to the other being covered by a black eye patch—but said nothing.

  With only one man in front of her, Kate could easily hear every word of their conversation. She listened.

  "Mark, you're young," said the man behind the desk. "Seeing how me and your Pa go way back I'm willing to give you a chance, but are you sure you're capable of proving up a claim? While I see you're not taking on your full six hundred and forty acres, what you are claiming is still going to be a lot of work."

  "Yes. I can handle it, sir!" Mark's answer was quick and confident, but his voice revealed he was more boy than man.

  The dark-haired man behind the desk chuckled. "You're a land owner now, which makes you a full grown man. It also means you don't need to call me sir, or even Mr. Johnson. Claude is fine."

  "Yes, Claude. I can handle it," Mark repeated.

  Claude chuckled again, then hunched over his desk, pen in hand and ink pot nearby. Kate leaned slightly to the left and watched as Claude wrote a mysterious series of numbers and notations on several papers, then rifled through a stack of maps until he found one with the words Oregon City Region written along the bottom edge. After loading his pen with fresh ink, he drew an uneven rectangle near the top.

  "There you go." He leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Now Mark, you remember it's on the south side of the river, not the north. Don't want you getting your land mixed up with the British side now."

  The men erupted in laughter.

  Mark turned around, and in his excitement he nearly collided with her. Once he'd recovered his balance he tipped his hat in her direction. "Sorry, ma'am."

  A hush fell over the room.

  Kate swallowed hard and stepped up to the desk.

  "Good afternoon," she said, opting to ignore the comments coming from the men at the fireplace, some quiet and some not.

  "Good afternoon." Claude frowned, then added loudly, "Ma'am."

  Several men pulled their hats from their heads.

  "I assume you're in charge here?" she asked, punctuating her question with a forced smile.

  "That's what they tell me," he replied, tipping back in his chair and placing a toothpick between his teeth. "What can I help you with today?"

  Kate had done a lot of thinking over the past week and figured there was a good chance she wasn't the only victim. Perhaps others were unknowingly holding a forged deed, and had already brought them to this office with the intent to lay claim to the land they represented. This man might already have a lead on who was behind the scheme and who to seek out to get back her father's money.

  Kate held out the counterfeit deed to the store. "Can you tell me anything about this?"

  Claude sat forward in his chair again and took the paper from her hand. After studying it briefly, he looked up at her, his
expression one of bewilderment. "This is a fake."

  She nodded. "So I've been told. I'm hoping you can tell me something about who might be responsible for creating or selling it."

  He examined it again, this time making the extra effort to skim through the entire document and also evaluate the back. "I've never seen anything like this before. Where did you get it?"

  "It was purchased in Virginia, and I was under the impression it represented ownership of a mercantile here in Oregon City."

  Claude leaned forward in his chair, propped his elbows on the edge of his desk, and gave her a cold stare. "We've got enough merchants already."

  Kate matched his attitude with one of her own. "The issue of whether this town can support another mercantile isn't what I'm here to discuss."

  She retrieved the deed from his desk and turned to face the men in the room, now silent and hanging on her every word.

  "I am a victim of fraud," she announced, holding the parchment aloft. "This deed was supposed to lay claim to a building here in town, but it's a worthless forgery. Let it be known, I intend to find out who is responsible for stealing from me. I want back the money spent on this; it's rightfully mine."

  She gave a curt nod to the room as a whole, tucked the deed into her pocket, and then turned back to Claude.

  "In the meantime," she said pleasantly, "I'd appreciate you directing me to where this property is located." She held out the second deed. "Please."

  "You threaten a room full of men, and then have the audacity to ask for information you have no right knowing?" Claude stared at her in wide-eyed astonishment. "You're a woman. Why are you in here instead of in a kitchen?"

  "Better watch yourself, Claude," a man called out. "Don't you recognize her?"

  "No."

  "This is the woman who went after Cyrus and Murray the other day. And won."

  Low whistles and murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  Claude's eyes focused on the paper Kate still held over his desk. "That deed bought at the same time as the other one? From the same person?"