Tainted Dreams

by Christi Corbett

  Kate grimaced. "Indeed I have."

  "So you agree? You're going to let the issue of the fake deed go?"

  "I agree," Kate said, taking care to keep her smile bright and eyes neutral. She had absolutely no intention of following his demand. One day she would learn who had stolen from her and have her revenge.

  "Good," he said, his tone brisk and efficient. "I'm leaving for Champoeg in a few hours. Unfortunately, I've got a prior business engagement that will take me out of town for the upcoming week, but the following Monday morning we'll go to the claims office and find out what you need to know." He pursed his lips and tapped his finger against his temple. "Better yet, since your land deed has a map of the boundaries drawn at the top, why don't we just take our horses on a leisurely ride and find it ourselves?"

  Kate hesitated. Intuition told her something was wrong, but she couldn't place why she was so uneasy about his proposition.

  "Clara can act as escort if you're concerned about your reputation," he added, apparently mistaking her misgivings for a concern for propriety.

  "Since I'm already well-known for gallivanting alone through the town, I don't think it's an issue," she replied.

  "Perfect," he said triumphantly. "We'll leave Monday the 27th at nine o'clock sharp. In the meantime, I'll arrange for a special lunch just for the two of us today. We'll have privacy and be able to get to know each other better."

  "Thank you, but I have to decline."

  "Very well," he said pleasantly. "We'll do it another time. I'll keep asking until you say yes, and one of these days you will."

  He said it with such conviction that she had to laugh. "How do you know that?"

  "I'm a confident and patient man, but above all, I'm persistent."

  His smile was friendly, but his words filled her with trepidation and the sudden urge to return to her room.

  "Thank you for the book, and for the helpful conversation." She gripped the arms of the chair and leaned forward in preparation to rise, but Theodore quickly sidestepped around his chair and sat on the edge of the tea table, effectively blocking her exit.

  "Kate, in the interest of time, I'm going to be blunt. My hotel and my investments in the shipping industry have served my pocketbook well. One example is the role I played in financing the Star of Oregon venture; by the time all the details were worked out, I'd tripled my worth. However, I've come to realize I want what the west won't be able to offer in my lifetime—culture. I want to go to the opera, listen to a symphony, enjoy seven-course meals prepared by French chefs, attend ballroom dances, and all the other things that a wealthy lifestyle entails."

  "Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

  "Because I want to return to Boston next spring, and I'd like you to come with me. As my wife."

  "I'm not interested in moving to Boston," she said quietly. "Or being your wife."

  Theodore knelt before her and cupped her chin in his palm. His touch was gentle, yet a shiver of fear ran down her spine at the possessive look in his eyes. "I intend to convince you otherwise."

  To Kate's immense relief, Jake stepped into the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Confidence Lost

  Jake walked into the hotel's lobby with his saddle slung over one shoulder and his rifle resting on the other. He grimaced to see Theo's empty desk. His room was already paid through next Sunday, but he'd wanted to settle up for two additional weeks. Afterward he'd planned to head to the mercantile and buy a saw, an ax, and an augur, then spend the rest of the day at his land, marking which trees were the straightest and most easily accessible. Hard work was just what he needed to distract him from the disaster his relationship with Kate had become.

  He had six months to prove up his claim. Ten seconds after walking into the dugout he'd decided what to do first—build a cabin. Staying in Theo's hotel for the next few weeks wouldn't be ideal, but would far outweigh sleeping on the floor of a dark, dank dugout. After one night the pain in his leg would be excruciating.

  While waiting to drop more of his precious wages into Theo's soft palm, he lowered his saddle to the floor, propped his rifle against the wall, and then glanced out the window. To his dismay, grey clouds darkened the sky and promised rain. As he contemplated the whereabouts of his oilskin rain slicker, Jake heard an unexpected sound coming from the other side of the parlor doorway curtain.

  Kate's laugh.

  Stepping closer, he frowned to hear Theo's voice as well, though the heavy fabric made it impossible to hear specifically what was being said.

  Jake rationalized his next move. Given she wanted nothing to do with him anymore, he could simply walk out of the hotel and leave her to her own devices. On the other hand, he hadn't seen her for five days, which made him downright negligent in keeping the promise he'd made to her father. Telling himself it was what Elijah would have wanted him to do, Jake shoved the curtain aside and walked into the parlor.

  What he saw next made his jaw clench until his teeth ached.

  The woman he loved, the woman he'd proposed to only eight days ago, was allowing that deceitful, corrupt, vindictive, pitiful excuse of a man to kneel at her feet and caress her cheek. Though she looked more surprised than sorry to see him, at least she had the decency to pull away from Theo's touch.

  "Hello, Jake," Theo said, rising to his feet. "As always, your presence is both uninvited and inopportune. What do you want?"

  He glared at Kate. "Faithfulness and trust, which I apparently won't find in here."

  Kate's chin quivered, but instead of replying, she turned to Theo. "Thank you for the tea and the advice. If you'll excuse me, I need to check something in my room."

  "Of course," he said, extending his arm in a grandiose flourish to allow her passage. "I'll think of you often this coming week while I'm in Champoeg, and I look forward to our ride together a week from tomorrow."

  She nodded curtly, then brushed by Jake without a word.

  Ignoring Theo's unmistakable look of triumph, Jake returned to the lobby, grabbed his saddle and rifle, then stalked out the door.

  It is better to dwell in a corner of the housetop,

  than with a brawling woman in a wide house.

  Proverbs 21:9

  It had been his father's favorite verse from the Bible. Growing up, Jake hadn't understood the reasoning behind it. Until now. While he would regret losing creature comforts like a warm, dry room and regular meals, he knew he couldn't handle watching Kate entertain offers from a man like Theo. His claim had shelter—however primitive—and water. This week in the hotel would be his last.

  While building a cabin wasn't an easy task to begin with, and being cold and wet while doing it would only increase the difficulty, at least he'd be working toward his future instead of sitting around and pining over what he'd lost.

  Fueled by anger and despair, Jake strode through the main door of the livery and down the aisle. He stopped just short of Plug's stall when Kate emerged from the shadows and blocked his path.

  "Those were strong words back there, Jake. Care to explain further?"

  "No." He attempted to step around her, but she was faster. This time she positioned herself in front of the door latch. Unless he physically picked her up and moved her aside, he wasn't going to ride out anytime soon.

  Fine, then. If she wanted a confrontation, he was ready.

  "I'm not surprised to see you here." He dropped his saddle, leaned his rifle against the wall, and crossed his arms. "I've heard you're good at harassing people to get your way."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Jake scoffed. "I know all about your recent exploits in the land office. Threatening a room full of men, Kate? What were you thinking?"

  She curled her hand around the top of the door and stuck her foot onto the bottom board, then pulled herself up to meet him eye to eye. "I'm thinking I refuse to allow my father's land to sit untended because of the idiocy of a few uneducated men."

  "What do you intend to do no
w?" he asked.

  "Get the land and work it," she quickly replied. "Losing the mercantile is a setback and will slow me down, but I won't let it stop me."

  "I figured. You're used to getting what you want, so I'm certain you'll come up with a way around the law."

  "I already did." Her lips tightened as if trying to hold back a grin. "The law has been incorrectly interpreted to imply women can't own land. An assumption I plan to correct as soon as—"

  "As soon as what?" he asked. "Theo comes back to town?"

  She jumped at his harsh tone. "Yes. Technically, he was the one who pointed out the specific detail, so he's going to—"

  "Self-serving of him, don't you think?"

  A long, low roll of thunder interrupted her and she glanced down at his saddle with a worried frown. "Where are you going? There's a storm coming."

  "I'm leaving, Kate. Your actions in the parlor made it clear you're with Theo."

  Her brows furrowed in confusion. "I'm not with him. We're just going riding. With Clara as our escort. He offered to help me and I accepted. There's nothing more to it."

  "Trust me. That's not what he thinks." Jake recalled the rumors he'd heard from the other travelers with his and Theo's wagon train. Many had alluded—and some declared outright—that Theo had thought little of his wife when she'd been alive, had exploited her death for sympathy, and had snuck out of Boston under the cover of darkness to escape her family's outrage that he'd lost their entire fortune at the card tables. "Kate, he's a convincing smooth talker. And you're so busy putting status over character you're falling for his lies."

  Her eyes widened. "Lies? You're one to talk of lies."

  Jake yanked off his hat, tossed it onto his saddle, and ran frustrated fingers through his hair. "Yes, I should have been honest about Emily. But I was ashamed, so I kept it from you."

  Lightning crackled close by, followed seconds later by another long rumble of thunder. With a wary eye on her horses she hopped down from the door, but made no attempt to leave.

  "Kate, do you remember our conversation the night we met Henrick?" he asked quietly.

  Her shoulders slumped, but she still didn't drop her gaze. "This is different."

  "That night you told me you trusted me above all else," he continued, pressing his point. "And I responded by promising never to take your trust for granted. Why, then, won't you heed my repeated warnings about Theo?"

  "You don't understand."

  "You're right. I don't understand. Waking up with you in my arms after that night in the cave was the best morning I've ever experienced." He grabbed her by the hand, pulled her through the doorway of the livery, and jabbed his index finger toward the hillside overlooking the town. "Up there is the very spot I declared my love for you. Days later, I proposed marriage to you. I offered you everything I could give, and it wasn't enough."

  Emotions tightened his throat, forcing him to choose his next words carefully. "You're not the woman I thought you were, Kate."

  "I guess not," she whispered, slowly turning away from him. She started walking, but only managed a few steps before he grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him.

  "This is how we end?" he demanded, ignoring the raindrops pelting his clothes. "After all we've been through?"

  "Yes." He felt her muscles tighten beneath his palms. "Take your hands off me."

  Without hesitation he lowered his arms and took two steps back. After a long moment he forced himself to look away from what he wanted so badly, but couldn't have. He'd blown it. Completely.

  "He's waiting for you," he said, pointing down the boardwalk to where Theo had stepped outside the hotel and lit a cigar, unaware of the turmoil only twenty yards away.

  As Jake watched Kate walk away, he realized the frigid rain was good for something—disguising his tears.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Stolen Knowledge

  Monday, November 20, 1843

  Bright stars littered the sky and provided the light Kate needed to slip undetected through the quiet, empty streets of Oregon City. Her trail clothes, boots, and her father's hat with her hair tucked underneath completed the desired look of a small man, while the leather sheath strapped to her belt protected and concealed her knife.

  She was done.

  Done hiding in her room and lying on her bed feeling sorry for herself and her father's broken dreams. Done visiting the livery and staring at her horses, as trapped in their stalls as she was in the hotel. Done watching her father's money being squandered on hotel and livery fees when she had a perfectly good piece of land out there somewhere, possibly with a house and barn.

  She was done waiting for nothing to happen. It was time to act.

  When she was less than ten yards from the mercantile, she heard the plodding hoof steps of a tired horse. Worried the rider might catch sight of her and get inquisitive or seek conversation, she fled down the alley.

  With her back and palms pressed against the rough boards of the mercantile, she waited for the solitary rider to pass.

  Kate craned her neck and listened until the horse's footsteps faded and silence returned, then leaned forward and first looked side to side, then back down the alley. After her fourth inspection of the moonlit surroundings revealed no one in sight, she knew she had to go at that moment or risk losing her courage.

  The land office was one building away; she could be there in less than fifteen seconds. She tiptoed to the rear of the building, stopping below the nearest of the two windows. The sill was above her head, but after an anxious search she found a discarded wooden barrel to solve her height problem.

  Dragging the barrel into position took longer than she liked and made significantly more noise than she'd hoped, but her work paid off when she crouched atop it and discovered it held her full weight. Thankfully the lid only emitted a small squeak as she rose to inspect the window.

  She groaned to discover she'd have to remove it whole.

  Without shifting her legs, she slid her knife from its sheath. Using the edge of the blade, she began prying at the bottom edge of the pane. Piece by piece, she carefully removed each section of decorative trim and stacked them neatly between her boot heels. When the last one was free, she hopped to the ground and moved them to the soft grass. Then she climbed back onto the barrel and got to work on the frame.

  To her dismay, her knife left several gouges in the damp, weathered wood, but less than ten minutes later she managed to tug out the frame and rest it against the wall below. After one final glance around to make certain she was alone, she put her hands on the windowsill and kicked mightily while pulling herself up. Seconds later, she swung her legs over the sill and dropped hard to the floor inside.

  She quickly lit one of the four taper candles on Claude's desk. Drafts through the gaping hole in the wall threatened the flickering flame, but ultimately it won the fight against the darkness.

  Lowering herself to her knees, Kate laid out her father's land deed flat on the floor, then rifled through the stack of maps on the desktop until she found the Oregon City Region one she'd seen Claude marking boundaries on. She laid it on the floor next to her deed, spinning it so the edge marked north was farthest from her.

  Her fingers skimmed lightly over her father's deed, stopping at the number written across the top—326-05. She said the number aloud, then continued quietly chanting it as she shifted her attention to the map. Recalling that her father had said the claim was approximately two miles from town, she orientated herself on the map by locating the river that marked the edge of Oregon City, then scanned the surrounding area for the same number within one of the countless lopsided rectangles.

  "Found it!" she declared, jubilantly slapping her hand against her thigh.

  A swift but thorough study of the boundaries ensued. To her delight, a wavering line identified by the words Squire Creek entered her claim at the northeast corner and continued through the center until exiting along the western edge. Other than a large circ
le labeled with the word "tree" in the northeast corner and the words "white rock" in the southwestern corner, there were no landmarks to memorize.

  At least she knew the name of the creek, and that her property sat north of town and approximately two miles west of the river. That knowledge, combined with the landmarks she'd noticed on the claims between hers and the edge of Oregon City, would lead her to her land.

  Seeing many of the claims had names written below their corresponding numbers, she leaned in close to see if she recognized any, then froze when she saw the name written in the rectangle nearest her claim.

  Jake Fitzpatrick.

  Two distinct thumps sounded on the boardwalk just outside the front door.

  Leaping to her feet, Kate grabbed the map and slid it between two others on the desktop, shoved her deed into her pocket, blew out the candle, and scurried to the window.

  There she encountered her first problem.

  She was too short. No matter how she tried, her arms weren't strong enough to pull herself up and over the windowsill.

  Frantic, she scanned the room for something to stand on. Claude's desk chair was an option she quickly abandoned; leaving it under the window would be an obvious indication of mischief, and might lead to an angry investigation.

  Another search revealed a wooden box in the corner.

  With the fear of discovery looming, she lugged it across the room, jumped onto the highest edge, and hoisted herself into the open window. With her stomach against the sill, she teetered as her legs swung a wild search for the barrel.

  Strong, unforgiving hands gripped her calves, then guided her feet to the barrel's lid.

  Kate jumped to the ground and stared into the piercing blue eyes of her second problem.