Forbidden Fire

by Bonnie K. Winn

  “I’ll be damned first.”

  An unexpected grin sprang to Katherine’s face. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be saying that, Reverend.”

  Jake struggled to hang on to his anger, but found himself sharing part of her amusement. But his smile disappeared as he gazed deep into her eyes. “Make no mistake, Katherine. No man tells me who my friends will be.”

  “But—”

  He rose, taking her hand with him, pulling her up to face him. “I said no man, Katherine.” Releasing her hand, he walked away. But the warmth of her gaze stayed with him, long after he’d left. Long after he knew it was safe. In less than a month the saloon would be open, and Morgan was right. The congregation would expect him to choose. Disquiet filled him as he realized it was not a choice he was sure he could make.

  Chapter 4

  Katherine watched the tiny green sprouts struggling to push through the soil. She couldn’t have been more pleased if nuggets of gold had emerged. The last few weeks had been kind to her new garden. Swiping a hand across her forehead, she didn’t care if it left a trail of dirt. Satisfaction was a heady companion. Knowing she should be worrying about the upcoming opening of the saloon, she pushed aside the nagging thoughts and concentrated on the pleasure instead.

  The saloon’s furnishings arrived daily at a breakneck pace. They expected the piano any day now, and the workers were nearly finished installing the interior finishings. And here she was again, in the preacher’s garden, lavishing attention on the new plants. She couldn’t explain her passion, only that the feeling of connecting with anything so real had been denied for so long, and she couldn’t stay away.

  Glancing up, her gaze centered on the parsonage, and she admitted the garden was hardly the only attraction. She’d told herself sternly that she was being ridiculous beyond belief. Still, in the evenings she found herself staring out her window in the direction of his home. Pretending to study the stars, her attention inevitably was drawn to the small whitewashed house next door. Always practical, relentlessly realistic, she couldn’t understand this foolishness.

  But when his rugged features appeared as he opened his front door, the fluttering in her stomach refused to go away. She remained crouched close to the ground, wishing she hadn’t chosen her oldest cotton dress to wear. No sooner did the thought appear than she chastised herself.

  “Morning.”

  She nodded in reply, pretending to study the new shoots. Did he have to look so good so early in the day?

  “How do you manage it? You work for hours getting the saloon ready. Able Browning insists on meeting with you at least once a day, and you still have time to tend the plants.”

  “Living things need nourishment, care.” As she spoke, she fingered the fresh young sprouts, tamping dirt around their tender roots.

  “Doesn’t that include you?”

  Katherine frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I never see you out much, except back here.”

  Her lips tightened, and she fastened her gaze on the ground. “I’m accepted back here.”

  For once he seemed at a loss for words. When he found them, they sounded stilted. “You’re always welcome at the church.”

  The words hung between them as Katherine winced. “I don’t think either of us is brave enough to carry out that invitation. But I know you meant well.”

  Jake cleared his throat, obviously at a loss. “Garden’s looking good.”

  She finally rose and glanced up at him. “Yes, it is.”

  He laughed. “You’re wearing half the dirt on your face.” Reaching out, his hand grazed her forehead. Katherine held her breath as his fingers moved over her cheek. Ever so slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. Her lips parted, seeking the air that seemed to have deserted her. His eyes darkened, and she saw that the pulsebeat at his throat seemed to leap with a life of its own.

  Not daring to move, Katherine swallowed the lump in her throat. With great care his hand moved down the long column of her neck, and she knew with certainty he could feel the ragged beat of her heart beneath his fingers.

  A flash of the pain that had accompanied the last thirteen years finally broke through the barriers that held her captive, and she stepped away shakily. Jake’s hand dropped to his side as he, too, stepped away.

  “I have to get back,” she announced abruptly.

  “There’s a wedding tonight, so I’d best be seeing to things, too.” But he didn’t move, instead staring into her eyes as though he couldn’t break the contact.

  “Yes, well. Goodbye, then.”

  He watched as she turned to leave, the feel of her heartbeat still imprinted against his hand. The wind lifted her hair as she turned back to him, a mahogany banner streaming behind her. “I hope your wedding goes well…Jake.”

  The soft echo of his name floated across the yard as she disappeared in the saloon.

  “Thank you…Katherine.”

  Stars dappled the quiet summer night sky, and the gleam of a new moon outlined the collection of wagons and horses hitched to the rail in front of the church. Katherine sat in the window seat of her bedroom pretending absorption in the needlework she held. But her needle had not pierced the cloth in more than an hour. Instead she watched as the people gathered. The sound of talking and laughter drifted between the buildings. She held her breath as the words of the wedding vows carried into her window. In a short time the wedding concluded, and she could hear the sound of fiddles humming and the dance in progress.

  Remembering her childhood, she could see her parents’ happy faces at dances, their joy in simply being together. At times like this, the pain of their untimely deaths seared anew. So many years since then, such unbelievable changes. Her youthful dreams had been to have a life much like theirs, certainly not the one she’d been forced to lead since they’d been gone.

  The music from a soft waltz filtered through the air, and the longing inside her brought a gleam of tears to her eyes. But she fought them. With more intensity than she’d allowed in years, she stifled the urge to wonder what if, to dream of what could have been. She grasped the window with trembling hands and closed it quietly but firmly. Like her heart, the window must close, not allowing any further passage.

  A rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. Composing her face, she picked up her embroidery. “Come in.”

  She didn’t expect to see her partner’s cheery face. “Morgan, what are you doing?” Jumping up from her seat, she stared at him.

  “I might ask you the same thing. Sitting in the window, mooning over a wedding.”

  “I was not!” she denied hotly, wishing she’d remembered to pull the shade down.

  He merely cocked his head in reply.

  “I was watching, that’s all.”

  “Lie to the customers, Katie dear. They love it. Even to Vance or the girls. But not to me.”

  “Is there something wrong with enjoying a wedding?” But her voice lost its belligerence, and the query was edged with sadness.

  “No, Katie. Just remember some things can’t be. Not for us, anyway.”

  She controlled her longing, dimmed her dreams. “You’re right.”

  “No last-minute details you want to worry me with?” he teased. “Annette and Daphne haven’t come to blows and decided to leave? Vance hasn’t uncorked all the whiskey and found it to be kerosene?”

  That evoked a small smile. “And if I told you all that had happened and more?”

  He shrugged without concern, his smile securely in place “I’m sure you’d have everything under control. You always do.” He chucked her drooping chin. “Don’t worry. We’ll open tomorrow and show this town what a real saloon is.”

  After kissing her forehead gently, he eased away and left her with her thoughts. Crossing to the window, Katherine stared down at the lights next door, knowing that after tomorrow the town would know more than just what a saloon was. They would know who she was.

  Chapter 5

  The night of their gr
and opening more than met the town’s expectations. Music and laughter spilled through the doors into the street. No mud and manure mired the area beneath the hitching rack as it did at ordinary saloons, thanks to a boardwalk installed at great expense. The Crystal Palace Saloon proved to offer the finest in everything. The furnishings were met with gasps of disbelief and unspoken admiration.

  Most of the townspeople had made an inordinate number of useless trips up and down the street to catch a glimpse of each enticing shipment. People who lived in bare homes with no luxuries were sorely tempted by the beautiful gold and crystal furnishings. People came from outlying farms as well. Women who lived in dugouts, log cabins, and soddies and who considered a bolt of fabric a rare treat, crept to their windows, gazing at the stunning contents.

  Frosted cut glass filled the elaborately carved swinging doors at the entrance. Thirty-four burners, suspended in ornate cut-glass chandeliers, illuminated the main room and reflected the colored crystals sprinkled on the bar. The bar itself was a sight to behold. The marble, mahogany, and carved Circassian walnut bar lined three walls of the main room. It was the type of bar that gave class to an establishment, one that was seldom seen outside of big cities. Even the cuspidors and foot railings were made of highly shined brass.

  Behind the bar was a mantel built around a sixty-foot-long mirror and flanked by brightly labeled bottles. A safe larger than the ones at most banks sat in the corner, ready to hold customers’ valuables. Oil paintings, a few of which were of a somewhat carnal nature, decorated the walls, but the ample bare flesh of the nudes was classical, not obscene. The original artwork was the first most of the townspeople had ever seen. To them the Crystal Palace was like a fairy tale come to life. They attended prayer meetings and condemned the wickedness. But they watched and wanted.

  The tiny town of Browning barely had enough buildings to line the one street ignominiously named Main. Only the church, livery, mercantile, and doctor’s office fronted the street. Several bit houses, whiskey mills, and cantinas lined the edges of the street, but they were to be expected. There wasn’t a saloon of this magnitude outside of Frisco or Denver. No one dreamed anyone would erect a structure like the Crystal Palace. But then, no one ever imagined the wealth of the cattle trails. And the cowhands had made their way to Browning.

  Stockyards were hastily constructed. The work paid well, and men swarmed to get their share. The farmers were irate as the cattle trampled newly planted grain and tore up carefully plotted land, but some were equally glad to see the trails arrive so they could sell them their crops for feed.

  Still the cattle came, and with the longhorns came cowhands, ripe and ready for all the entertainment the Crystal Palace could offer. Katherine’s hurly-burly gals draped themselves obligingly beside the cowboys when not dancing. The girls’ brief outfits of mid-thigh-length skirts, exposed striped stockings, and plunging necklines seemed to be an irresistible drawing card.

  Unlike some saloons that doubled as brothels and cat houses, the Crystal Palace offered only gambling, singing, and dancing girls. The girls entertained and drew customers, but they didn’t extend their services to include prostitution. For most lonely cowhands, a smiling girl and a ready supply of whiskey was enough. When it wasn’t, they went elsewhere. And if any of the Crystal Palace girls made assignations outside of the saloon, that was their business. But Katherine made sure they were paid enough that they didn’t need to.

  Jake lit his cheroot as he stared at the winking lights of the chandeliers next door. He sincerely hoped that Katherine’s outfit was more modest than those of her girls. While he hadn’t put a name to some of the emotions he felt about her, his gut twisted at the thought of her exposing her flesh for a drunkard’s entertainment.

  Jake caught sight of Morgan and had to admit that he cut a debonair figure as he spun the elaborate roulette wheel that compared to any a big city offered. He could almost see the other man’s smile directed his way—conveying a combination of mockery and apology. Jake sometimes felt that Morgan had seen clear through him. That his secrets were no longer his own. And instead of disturbing him, it was more of a feeling of relief. With Morgan he could be himself. His real self.

  Stepping back, Jake studied the darkened church. His congregation’s prayer meeting had ended a few hours ago, but no amount of praying or arguing would close the doors of the Crystal Palace. He’d had nearly a month to learn that.

  And a month to learn that no matter what profession he’d chosen, he hadn’t left the man behind. Each day he was drawn closer to Katherine. He’d had to search for a nearby pond where he could take countless dips in the cold water to settle his frustration. Restlessly he walked to the edge of the porch, studying the gaiety, remembering a time when he’d have been a part of it.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Jake startled at the sound and peered into the darkness. “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I always find some time alone early in the evening.” Katherine’s voice washed through the night, the jewels at her throat winking in the dim moonlight.

  “You’re not exactly alone,” he replied, relieved to see that her fashionable ball gown was just that. Fashionable, alluring, but hardly indecent.

  “I hadn’t expected to find anyone out here.”

  His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he focused on her expression. “I do live here,” he reminded her.

  She didn’t need the reminder, having spent the last month trying to forget just that. “I saw lights on in the church earlier.”

  “Prayer meeting.”

  “I see.” She could imagine what some of the town zealots had prayed for. She doubted it was Christian charity.

  “They’re not giving up, you know.”

  “I didn’t expect they would.” Her voice hesitated for a moment. “Are they angry with you?”

  “Disappointed, I think. Some are mad. Think I didn’t do my job.” The darkness cloaked his face, hiding his confused thoughts. He’d almost walked out more than once. But he’d made himself a promise he hadn’t fulfilled yet.

  Her great eyes seemed to melt into the darkness. “Do they know? I mean, that you’re friendly to us?”

  He laughed, but the sound held little humor. “Are you suggesting that I’m courting the enemy?”

  The cover of darkness disguised the unaccustomed blush spreading across her cheeks. “I’m not certain I should be suggesting anything to you, Reverend.”

  “I thought we were past that.”

  “And I thought you had a sense of humor,” she responded, the shimmering black of her dress blending into the night.

  “Why didn’t you tell me who you are?”

  Cautiously Katherine glanced up. “You’ve known who I was since the first day we met.”

  “No, I met Katherine O’Shea. You never told me you were Kitty O’Shea.”

  She started to explain and stopped as abruptly. “How does a preacher know about Kitty O’Shea?”

  “We’re not required to take a vow of ignorance,” he replied, deftly sidestepping her question. The unorganized church hadn’t required him to take any vows, but he wasn’t sure he should dwell on that fact.

  “Sometimes I like to be just Katherine until word gets out.”

  “The most famous dance hall singer in the West. Hell, probably in the East, too. You expected to keep that quiet?”

  “Only till we got the saloon set up. I haven’t time for curiosity seekers or people who come to gawk. I have a business to run.”

  So she had. And a single-mindedness of purpose he could fully admire if it weren’t in direct opposition to what he had been asked to accomplish.

  While Jake had completely accepted his unconventional neighbors, he’d been shocked to see posters proclaiming the famous Kitty O’Shea plastered all over town. “I suppose there’s one advantage to living next door to the saloon.”

  Katherine gazed at him in questioning surprise.

  “I have a front row seat
to Kitty O’Shea’s performances.”

  “Which I’d better start in about two minutes.”

  “But you didn’t get your time alone.”

  The night symphony of crickets and snapping fireflies echoed between them, broken only by the bursts of sound next door.

  “Tonight I don’t seem to need it…Jake.”

  Before he could wonder what she meant, she turned. Her alluring dress of black gauze and silk rustled over the grass as she disappeared.

  If he were given to flights of whimsy, he would have wondered if he’d dreamed her presence. But even as he completed the thought, the haunting tones of her voice filtered through the air. The voice that had lured thousands seemed poised as though to deliver another blow. Abruptly Jake rose from the porch railing and stubbed out the last of his cheroot. The door swung shut behind him before he could hear what that message was.

  Chapter 6

  “This look like enough dirt, Jake?” Morgan swiped at the sweat running down his face.

  Jake heaved the shovelful of soil onto the newly placed beds. Wide, dark swatches of soil bordered the walk and the perimeter of the church. The freshly turned soil begged for planting. “Any more and we could bury bodies instead of flowers.”

  “We never should have let her get started on the vegetable garden. Look what it led to,” Morgan commiserated, laying the wheelbarrow down. In the weeks since the vegetable garden had flourished, Katherine had insisted on planting flower gardens. Not just a few, but rows and rows of new beds. Asters, petunias, and marigolds colored the yard. Along with the wildflowers that ranged through the fields, it was an elaborate palette of blooms.

  “She was right. The churchyard did seem to need some fixing up.” Jake looked at the newly decorated gardens. Katherine had breathed life into the sterile setting, giving it a loveliness he’d not known it could have.