by Stacy Henrie
Caleb tried to block out the pitiful image his mother’s words had evoked. But it was impossible. No matter how he felt about his brother’s poor judgment, he knew that abandoning a young woman to the train depot’s frigid nighttime temperatures or its unscrupulous male visitors was not an option. Stifling a groan, he wrapped his fingers around the mug and took a gulp of the scalding liquid. Over the rim of the cup, he met his mother’s knowing brown eyes. She gave him an encouraging smile, and, with a sinking heart, he knew he’d lost the battle almost before it had begun.
“Fine,” he said with a defeated sigh. “What do you suggest I do with the unfortunate female when I find her?”
“Her name is Katie,” his mother said, glancing at the paper again. “Katie Spencer. And I suggest you take her to the mercantile, to pick up a few items we need, then hurry back up here before it gets too dark.”
Caleb stared at his mother. “You want me to bring her here to the cabin?”
“Well, where else would she go?” Eliza asked, looking at him as though he were addled. Truth be told, Caleb was beginning to wonder if he was.
“What about putting her back on the train to her own home?” he suggested.
Eliza pursed her lips. “You can give her that option, I suppose. But we’ll have to take from the money we’ve set aside for the new calves to pay for the ticket.” She started to move toward the jar on the top shelf, where their precious savings was kept.
“I’ll bring her back here until we can get word to Jake,” Caleb said, interrupting her progress. “He can either put an end to his mining adventure and come back home to claim his bride, or he can send the money so that she can go back to where she came from.”
Eliza nodded her agreement. “That sounds very sensible.”
“Right,” Caleb muttered as he took his hat off the peg by the door and smashed it onto his head. “It seems I got Jake’s portion of that virtue along with my own.” He wasn’t sure if his mother had heard him, but her lips twitched as though she were fighting a smile.
“I’ll write Jake while you go hitch up the wagon,” she said. “That way, the letter will get off today.”
Caleb gave a resigned nod and opened the door. He would do what his mother asked, which meant coming to Jake’s rescue yet again. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Two hours later, Caleb drove the wagon out of the canyon. The afternoon sun was lowering in the sky, and, in the distance, the strident sound of a train’s whistle filled the air.
“Dang it, Titus,” he said, giving the reins a light flick. “We’re going to be late after all.”
As the uneven dirt road widened and smoothed out a little, the large, brown horse quickened its pace, and soon the cluster of buildings that made up the small town of Birch Creek came into view. A white, clapboard schoolhouse sat on one end of Main Street, right across from the church. Older homes filled the gaps between the blacksmith’s shop, the tannery, the town mercantile, and the barbershop. On the other end of the street, the Grand Hotel, with its accompanying saloon, proudly claimed its prime location, directly across from the newly constructed train depot.
Two wagons rolled away from the depot’s entrance as Caleb pulled up. He raised his hand in greeting to the drivers, both of whom he recognized as distant neighbors. A group of men entered the Grand Hotel’s front doors, their carpetbags in hand. After a quick look to ensure that no women were among them, Caleb jumped off the wagon, tied the reins to a nearby hitching post, and walked onto the railway platform.
At first, the area appeared to be empty. A single wooden handcart stood beside the ticket office, but there was no movement from within the tiny room. Caleb walked toward it, turning as the sound of labored footsteps reached him.
“Afternoon, Mac,” he said, when the town’s part-time conductor shuffled out from behind the signal box. “I was hoping you were still here.”
“What can I do for ya, Caleb?” the gray-haired man asked.
“Can you tell me if any young ladies got off the train this afternoon?”
“Well, now,” Mac said, scratching his head through his thinning hair. “It jus’ so happens there’s a nice young thing sittin’ all alone ‘round the corner. But, if her ride don’t show up soon, I’m fixin’ to ask her home with me.” He gave an almost toothless grin. “You’re not plannin’ to beat me to the punch, are ya boy?”
Caleb gave him a half-hearted smile. “Could be,” he said. “I’ll go talk to her.”
Directing a muttered curse toward his absent brother for placing him in this difficult situation, Caleb rounded the ticket office and immediately spotted the one remaining passenger, sitting on a wooden bench with a small brown trunk beside her. His feet slowed to a stop, and he watched as the young woman suddenly became aware of his presence and hesitantly rose to face him.
He’d had over two hours alone in the wagon to imagine the various types of women who might respond to a mail order bride advertisement— and he’d come up with several very plausible possibilities. But none of the visions he’d conjured up in his mind came close to the one in front of him now.
She appeared to be in her early twenties and was of average height and slender build. Her dark brown hair was pinned up in an elaborate bun at the base of her head, beneath a hat of the same deep purple as her dress. A short, gray wool jacket and leather gloves were her only protection from the late afternoon’s lowering temperatures. And, as she turned her startlingly blue eyes on him, he had the uncomfortable feeling that their shine was partly due to recent tears.
“Mr. Walker?” Her question brought him back to his awkward position.
“Yes,” he said, moving forward again. Then, realizing what this admission would mean to her, he quickly amended his response. “Well, no. Not exactly.”
A sudden wariness filled her eyes, and she took a small step back. “Are you or are you not Mr. Walker?” she said.
Caleb took off his hat and offered her his hand. “My name’s Caleb Walker, ma’am. I’m Jake Walker’s older brother, and I’ve come to pick you up. I apologize for getting here so late. The canyon road was in worse shape than I had thought.”
“You’re Jake Walker’s brother?” she said, cautiously raising her hand to his.
“Yes, ma’am,” Caleb said, trying to ignore the frisson of awareness that raced up his arm at her touch.
“I’m Katie Spencer,” she said, releasing his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Caleb said. He pressed his hat back onto his head and turned to point at the brown trunk. “This your only luggage?” he asked.
“Yes.” She picked up a small reticule that was still lying on the bench. “That’s everything.”
Caleb nodded. Without another word, he bent down, hoisted the small trunk onto his shoulder, and turned to face the exit.
“The wagon’s parked right outside,” he said.
Chapter Two
For about the millionth time since she’d boarded the train in Saratoga Springs, New York, Katie wondered if she’d completely taken leave of her senses. A well-bred young lady simply didn’t take off across the country, unaccompanied, to marry a man she’d never met before. It just didn’t happen. And yet, here she was, following a complete stranger to a wagon that would take her who-knew-where, with nothing to fall back on but her instincts and a handful of coins in her reticule.
A year ago, she never would have believed that she’d find herself in a position like this. She’d been a baby when her mother had died, but she and her father had enjoyed a close relationship. He’d run a stable for the finest racehorses in the state of New York, and she’d filled her childhood with helping him care for those majestic animals. As she’d grown older, she’d accompanied him to many of the horse races, and she’d been readily welcomed into that high-society crowd.
But, when their prize-winning racehorse, Moonspinner, collapsed in his final lap on the Saratoga race course, everything had changed. Without an obvious cause for t
he horse’s death, and with thousands of dollars on the line, accusations of neglect and mishandling were heaped at her father’s feet. Within weeks, all but two horses had been relocated to other stables around the state, and her father’s health had gone downhill as quickly as his fortune.
In the end, Katie had been forced to sell everything they owned to pay the legal, medical, and funeral bills. No one had cared enough to help. Her only visitor after her father’s funeral had been her former beau, Bart Hansen, who’d simply come to reclaim his promise ring.
With no home, no income, no family, and no marriage prospects, she felt as though the tiny advertisement for a mail order bride, hidden among the “Wanted” pages of the New York Times, had been written especially for her. So she’d sent off a letter immediately, and Jake Walker had replied.
Over the last few weeks, she’d experienced more kindness through the letters of this unknown cowboy than she had from friends she’d known all her life. And it had motivated her to choose a different path: one that would take her out from under the dark cloud of gossip and censure; one that would give her a fresh start. Leaving behind everything safe and familiar, she’d taken the biggest risk of her life. And, as she watched Mr. Caleb Walker lower her trunk into the back of his wagon, she could only pray that she’d made the right decision.
Thus far, her limited interaction with Mr. Walker had been encouraging. After enduring over thirty minutes of despair, believing that she’d been forgotten at the train depot, his arrival had been an overwhelming relief. And she was grateful that, despite the odd circumstances that had brought them together, she didn’t feel threatened by him. In fact, he had treated her with respect.
She wondered now how much he resembled his brother, Jake. Mr. Caleb Walker’s broad shoulders and strong arms had made light work of carrying her trunk, just as his long legs had quickly eaten up the distance to the wagon. She guessed that he was usually clean-shaven, but the lateness of the hour had left an evening shadow on his chin. From where she stood, his dark curls were barely visible beneath the wide brim of his cowboy hat.
Suddenly, he raised his head and looked right at her. Embarrassed at having been caught staring, Katie felt her cheeks color. “I appreciate you coming to get me, Mr. Walker,” she said. “But, would you mind telling me why it was you and not your brother who came?”
He made his way around the wagon to help her onto the seat.
“You can call me, Caleb,” he said. “And I came because Jake’s not here.”
Katie frowned. “What do you mean, ‘not here’? Where is he?”
“He headed up to Coeur d’Alene about two weeks ago,” Caleb said. “Got word of a new silver strike up there, and left as soon as the roads were clear of snow.”
Katie stared at him, trying to dampen her rising panic. “I don’t understand. Why did he have me come if he’s no longer here?”
“As near as we can tell, your letters crossed in the mail,” he said.
Katie turned away from Caleb’s perceptive eyes and swallowed hard. “A mail order bride with no groom,” she whispered. “What’s to be done with me now?”
She didn’t even realize she’d said the words out loud until he answered her.
“Mother’s written to Jake, explaining what’s happened. And, while we’re waiting to hear whether he’s going to hightail it back here or send you the money for a return ticket, I’m to take you home.”
“Home?” Katie prayed that she could keep her tears from falling in front of this man. Did he not realize that she had no home?
He nodded. “We have a place up the canyon. Didn’t Jake tell you about it in one of his letters?”
She shook her head, and, for a split second, a look of irritation crossed his face. “Well, I’ll tell you about it as we ride,” he said. “And Mother will be sure to take care of anything I forget.”
“Your mother lives there too?” Katie asked, experiencing the first glimmer of hope that her already shredded reputation may not, after all, suffer complete destruction.
“Mother, Jake, and me,” he said. “Pa passed a few years back.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, only too aware of how much that loss hurt.
“He was a good man,” Caleb said simply.
He helped her into the wagon, and they drove in silence as far as the mercantile.
“The post office is inside the store,” Caleb said, bringing the wagon to a stop and withdrawing a letter from within his jacket. “I’ll get this mailed off to Jake.”
He jumped down from the wagon and tied up the reins. Then he moved to her side.
“Do you want to come inside?” he asked.
With the way Katie was feeling right then, she couldn’t imagine anything much worse than meeting a curious shopkeeper or his customers.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait with the wagon,” she said.
Caleb gave a small nod. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
When Caleb exited the mercantile a short time later, there was no one in the wagon. Kicking himself for having left Miss Spencer alone, he hurried forward, scanning the road for any sign of his missing passenger. The street was unusually quiet. A couple of older men were talking outside the barbershop, and a wagon was parked down by the schoolhouse, but, with evening coming on, most people must have already headed home for supper. Where could she have gone? With rising concern, he rounded the wagon and lowered the small load of provisions his mother had requested into the back.
At the hitching post, Titus nickered, and Caleb heard a soft voice respond. He looked over in time to see Miss Spencer step out from behind his horse, and he watched as Titus lowered his head to gently rub his nose against her neck. Miss Spencer giggled and stroked the horse affectionately.
“It’s just as I thought,” she said to the horse. “You’re nothing but a big softy.”
Caleb raised his eyebrows, not sure which emotion dominated— his relief at having so quickly found his charge or his surprise at her fearless approach to his large workhorse. Before he could say anything, however, another voice reached him.
“Why, Caleb Walker! You weren’t actually planning on leaving town without stopping to see me, were you?”
Caleb’s heart sank. He turned to face a young lady, who’d come out of the nearby store and was sashaying up the sidewalk toward him.
“Afternoon, Miss Skidmore,” he said, closing the back of the wagon and purposely keeping the vehicle between them.
“Miss Skidmore?” She gave a pretty little pout. “And just when did you decide to get all formal?”
He shrugged. “‘Bout the time you got yourself engaged to Billy Haskins, I reckon.”
“That shouldn’t make any difference at all,” she said, an inviting smile on her lips.
“Actually, ma’am,” Caleb said, walking over to Miss Spencer, who’d been silently watching the whole exchange from behind his horse, “it makes a heap of difference.”
Without a word, he took Miss Spencer’s arm and led her back to the wagon. With Amy Skidmore looking on with wide eyes, he helped Katie Spencer onto the seat and then climbed up beside her.
“Miss Skidmore,” he said, giving a short pull on the rim of his cowboy hat in her direction. Then, with a gentle flick of the reins, he wheeled Titus around and headed down the empty street, increasing the distance between him and the young woman on the sidewalk as quickly as he could.
Once the town was behind them, Miss Spencer was the first to find her voice.
“That young lady was quite anxious for your attention.”
Caleb grimaced. “She’s claimed enough of that already. She won’t be getting any more.”
“I see,” she said quietly.
But Caleb was quite sure that she didn’t. And, for some reason, having Katie Spencer think ill of him did not sit well at all. Perhaps, if he explained himself now, the subject wouldn’t raise its ugly head again. He took a deep breath.
“Up until a few weeks ago, I believe
d myself to be courting Miss Skidmore,” he began. He sensed rather than saw Miss Spencer turn to face him. “Living up the canyon limited how much I could see her, but I’d go whenever I could steal a day away from my responsibilities at the ranch. It wasn’t so hard in the fall, but winter came early this year, and we were snowed in for weeks.”
He paused, remembering his shock when he’d finally made it to town and had seen Amy for the first time in a couple of months. “The canyon road finally cleared enough for me to attend the annual church spring social,” he continued. “I arrived at Miss Skidmore’s house, expecting to escort her to the dance. But, when I got there, her parents told me she’d already left— with her new fiancé.” Caleb stared straight ahead, reliving that moment of shock. “I went to the dance long enough to see them for myself. Then I rode home.”
Miss Spencer remained quiet. Caleb waited for a few minutes before glancing her way. She met his eyes and gave him a tentative smile.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I respect the way you behaved when Miss Skidmore approached you. Most of the men I know would have succumbed to her batting eyelashes.”
It wasn’t the response he’d anticipated, but, at her unexpected candor, Caleb chuckled. And when Miss Spencer realized that he wasn’t going to take offense, her smile grew.
They lapsed into silence again, but something about their brief moment of camaraderie lifted Caleb’s heavy heart and left him wondering if, perhaps, a pair of dancing blue eyes would have been harder to ignore than Amy Skidmore’s sultry looks. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he reached down and pulled a blanket out from under the seat.
“Here,” he said. “I should’ve given you this right off. Temperatures drop fast in the canyon.”