Katherine

by S. A. Glenn

  Katherine

  S. A. Glenn

  iUniverse, Inc.

  Bloomington

  Katherine

  Copyright © 2012 by S. A. Glenn.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

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  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  ISBN: 978-1-4759-3110-5 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4759-3112-9 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4759-3111-2 (ebk)

  iUniverse rev. date: 07/12/2012

  Contents

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  INTRODUCTION TO KATHERINE

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  THE EPILOGUE

  DEDICATION

  This book is dedicated to my loving Mother, Merna Glenn,

  the finest mom a son could ask for.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  This is the first book by a new author, S. A. Glenn. He was born in Longmont, Colorado, but now he lives in North Carolina.

  He enjoys playing his guitar and writing songs. Among his many interests are astronomy, gardening, and holistic healing.

  INTRODUCTION

  TO KATHERINE

  In 1995 a beautiful young woman with long, straight, dark hair appeared in my mind’s eye, standing behind an antique sofa—but she had a hauntingly disturbed gaze upon her face. I asked her who she was. In my thoughts I heard her tender voice, and she replied, “Katherine.” I begged her to tell me why she was so distraught. She communicated that something terrible had transpired. Feeling like we were deeply connected I asked her if I had hurt her. She shook her head no.

  “What happened, Katherine?” I searched for the answer.

  But she spoke not a word. She then elegantly glided down into the cellar, stood in it and pointed to the dark ground with her grave emotions, and wept.

  “What is it, Katherine?” I implored her, not understanding her misery.

  She left the rest a mystery for me to discover through writing her tale from beginning to end. Only then could I uncover the puzzling event, learning the truth as I wrote; as you will come to know by reading our story.

  In 1868 Samuel Lee Simms fled from the Carolinas and headed out west. He was running from ghosts in his past, searching for a fresh life. He found new friends and love in the town of Wrangler, but he also discovered a killer who threatened to take away his recently found peace of mind, along with the lives of those he held dear to him.

  PROLOGUE

  AUGUST 21, 1872

  There was a cloudless deep-blue sky on a mid-summer’s morning. The sun had just risen, giving a sign of how hot the afternoon would become. A distant train whistle blew as a gentle breeze created a harmonious tune with the chimes on the front porch. Birds flocked to a nearby tree to sing a soothing melody while an aroma of golden wheat ready for harvest filled the land.

  A married couple, Samuel and Katherine, were standing in their living room. The love they shared was unequal to any they could have ever dreamed of. They relished the life they had built together. Every day was filled with everlasting joy and compassion.

  Katherine would sacrifice herself for Samuel’s well-being. She was brought up by her parents to be loyal to the end. And even though they themselves had divorced when she was young, not practicing what they had preached, she still absorbed their love to the fullest. She would not give up on her husband no matter what would happen. Being with child, and desiring to return to the devoted wife she once was, Katherine’s heart ached with betrayal. How was she supposed to explain what had transpired? She loved her husband more than herself.

  When she was a little girl she had left her mother behind, to live with her father in New York—it tore her apart. She loved both of them so much, but she had to make a choice, a choice that had left her devastated. How could they force her to decide which one of them she should live with? That wasn’t fair. But she also realized life wasn’t fair—she learned that lesson early in life. She knew that she had to get away from the place that reminded her of the happy memories; because those happy memories of her parents getting along only made her sad when the visions invaded her thoughts. She had needed a new place to live that hadn’t absorbed years of joy gone wrong.

  Katherine wasn’t going to allow yesterday’s incident to rip apart her marriage like what happened with her parents. Her father, though he was a great daddy, had been with another woman and that had put her mother through hell. Katherine would not allow something like that to grow in her marriage. She prayed that Samuel, her husband, would not give up on her no matter what had happened.

  Katherine waited behind the sofa, running her clammy hands across its fabric, remembering when they first got the couch, remembering that things were simpler then. She felt a tear in the cloth, but realized that that should have been the last thing on her uneasy mind. Her mouth was dry, she could barely swallow. Her heart was pounding so hard that she believed Samuel could hear it. Worrisome thoughts ran rapidly through her memory about what developed the day before. The ticking of the old-fashioned grandfather clock had her anxious to speak, but this was not the time for explanations, she believed. Nervousness enveloped her as she gazed into the darkness where Samuel stood. She imagined things would be fine, but they had gotten out of control. She knew that she could not keep the awful secret hidden any longer. Tonight at dusk, after Samuel returned from the field, she would tell him everything. She just hoped he would forgive her; but he, her one and only truelove neede
d to know the truth.

  Samuel drew open the curtains, grinned, and blew a kiss to his wife. He broke the silence and spoke with a frown, “Did you get the strawberry jelly from the root cellar for me?”

  Katherine’s deep troubles nearly had her miss his kiss. Clearing her mind, but only for a moment, she caught it just in time. “Yes, my dear. I know how frightened my Samuel Lee is of dank places,” she replied with a facetious smile. “And how much he desires my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” she added with a giggle.

  “Thank you, my lady.” He bowed. “But you know it’s because of what happened that I don’t like it down there,” he playfully pouted.

  Katherine became still, in a trance again, haunted by yesterday’s crazy memories. Being shot at by a crazed, maniac Frenchman was no picnic. She snapped out of her daze, picking at the slit in the sofa once more. “I know, Sam. I’ll do anything for you!” she exclaimed with great seriousness, swallowing back her tears.

  “Is everything okay, Katherine? Did I do something wrong?”

  “Of course not, Samuel. It’s nothing,” she answered, stumbling in her speech. She bit at her nail, gave him a pseudo smile and changed the subject. “You best hurry up, now. Get to work. Who’s going to work the field if you don’t?”

  He tipped his hat, took her hand and kissed it. “Yes, madam.” He left for the door.

  “Samuel!” she called out, curtsying to him. “Don’t forget your lunch.”

  He trotted over to the sack and his jug of water, grabbed them then hurried back to the threshold of the door and turned. “I love you and the baby. What would I ever do without you, Kat?”

  “And I, you,” she claimed with a warm smile.

  The commitment given to one another could not be destroyed. Their devotion was impenetrable—or so it seemed…

  He exited their home, not knowing he would never hear his one and only truelove’s voice again.

  CHAPTER 1

  EARLY SPRING 1868

  Samuel had hopped a train back east heading to the mid-west in search for work. It had not been in his plan to take this trip, but he had no choice. He wanted to have a good life, not one that he had to spend looking through cold, steel bars. Without his freedom, there was no reason to carry on. He traveled inside an empty boxcar, sitting in the corner, trying to keep warm. It smelled like urine, and there were many whiskey bottles lying around. The only sound was that of the train’s wheels clicking over the track. The moonlight seeping through the cracks was his only source of light. The shadows within were elongated, eerie, having his mind creating unknown frights. His only company was some rats searching for morsels to satisfy their hunger. Their eyes glowed red when the moonbeams struck them. They took notice of him as he shifted his feet closer to his body. Their heads whipped around and cocked with their noses twitching and eyes staring at the shuffle. Samuel didn’t like these diseased rodents: they gave him bad memories of dank places.

  As twilight appeared it chased away the darkness. The train slowed down and its whistle blew, letting Samuel know that the town was near. “That’s when it’s time to hop off,” two strangers had told him before he got onto the train, assuring him that there was work at a new sawmill. Samuel stood, stretched. He slid open the large door and gazed down at the blurry ground as it rushed by. Searching ahead, he spotted a grassy area, a cushion for his fall. Taking in a deep breath, he leapt out, rolled a few feet, then stopped with his face down in the dirt. He spit out a mouthful of earth and got up. Dusting himself off, he pulled in a big puff of air, noting it didn’t smell like that of the south: a musty odor. Here it smelled fresh, crisp. It’s nice for a change, he thought to himself.

  The early spring air was brisk. He pulled his coat tighter around himself and followed the river upstream. He saw the small town of Wrangler ahead, three of four miles away. How peaceful it looked with its surrounding fields of crops. The birds were chirping, sounding happy and giving Samuel a much needed confidence within himself. Viewing the mill, he hurried forward, excited to start a new life.

  Nearly reaching the factory, he saw a large man with a thick, red beard and suspenders, limping as he walked. Heading into the shade, the man stood under a large maple tree, seeming to cool off from his morning’s hard work. He pulled out a bag and put in a pinch of tobacco behind his lip as he watched Samuel walk toward him.

  Samuel cleared his throat. “Ahem. Mighty fine day we’re havin’ with the sunshine ’n’ all.” Samuel stood next to the man, but in the warm sun.

  “Yes, we are. Good day to be alive.”

  “My name’s Samuel Lee.” He extended his hand. “Ya folks hirin’ ’round here?”

  The husky man sized up Samuel, spit out a load of chew juice, whipped off his beard of spittle and greeted Samuel with a firm handshake. “Wee doggie! Whaddawe got here, skin ’n’ bones?”

  “Yes, sir. Haven’t eaten much lately, sir.”

  The man looked him dead in the eye. “Ya don’t say! Well, then—the name’s Steele—Oliver Steele. My friends call me Oli.”

  “Howdaya do, mis… ter…” Samuel’s speech faltered, not knowing how to address the man.

  “Awww, you can call me Oli, Samuel.” He patted Samuel on his shoulder and smiled. “Whatcha lookin’ so serious for boy? Loosen up!”

  “Yes, sir.” Samuel shook his head, then his body as he eased up.

  “Ha ha ha. Oh, boy. Funniest thing I’ve seen in ages, kid. Now, what can I do ya for? Oh, yes, I recall… You wanted a job. Well, it just so happens I need a deliveryman to transport the materials. It pays ah dollar ah day. Interested?”

  “Oh, boy! Yes, sir. I can do that, sir—I mean—Oli.”

  “Great! Be here Monday morning, seven sharp, Samuel Lee. Now head straight down the road to ‘Sara’s Restaurant’. Tell ’er ya work for me. She’ll take good care of ya, ya hear?”

  “Yes, sir. And thank ya, Oli, sir.” They shook hands. Ecstatic about having a job, Samuel scurried away for a much needed meal.

  Samuel walked up the steps of the restaurant past a porch swing. As he opened the door, the aroma of home cooking flowed past him, making his mouth water. Seeing five stools at the bar, he sat on the middle one, removed his hat and placed it into his lap. He spied an attractive older woman with her hair in a bun, wearing a blue dress with an apron wrapped around her waist. She was busy sweeping behind the counter and didn’t notice her first customer of the day. Samuel pulled out his last nickel from his dirty worn-out trousers and clanked it down onto the counter. She twirled around, startled, finding a curly-haired young man with a thick, scraggly beard and ragged clothes.

  “I’m sorry, sir,” she apologized with an inviting smile. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “It’s okay, ma’am. Just needa shot of that there whiskey.” He pointed to a bottle on the shelf behind her.

  She grabbed it and a shot glass. Filling the glass to the brim she slid it to him. “What’s your name? Where are you from, stranger?”

  “I’m Samuel Lee from—” he kept his exact origin a secret for a good reason. If he let anyone know where he was from, it could get him caught. He had gone through a lot to keep himself away from the long arm of the law. It was in his best interest to not let out too much information. And he didn’t want anyone else getting hurt, either. “From the Carolinas. Howdaya do?” He reached up to tip his hat. His face turned red as he realized that he had already taken it off.

  She chuckled. “I’m doing well. Thank you, Samuel. Just relax, you’re fine. My name’s Sara Jones.” She placed a menu in front of him.

  “Ma’am, I only have this nickel to pay for the drink.” He slid it toward her. “I work for Mr. Oliver Steel. He said you’d—”

  “Say no more, Samuel,” she interrupted, pushing back his money. “Do you need a place to stay?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”
>
  “You may have a room upstairs. It’s straight up the staircase. And after you eat, you may bathe in the bathhouse out back. Now, look at the menu and order what you want.”

  “Much obliged, ma’am.”

  Being some time since he had drunk alcohol, it took his breath away when he gulped down his shot, warming his stomach. Looking over the menu, everything sounded delicious, but he picked only one item, not wanting to be selfish. “I’ll take a plate of ham, ma’am.”

  “Nonsense! You’ll need more than ham to keep up your strength for Oli, Samuel. Order what you want.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Without hesitation, he said, “I’ll take the ham, scrambled eggs, hash browns, flapjacks, sirup, and lots of butter. And coffee. Black, please,” he ordered, nearly out of breath.

  “Now that sounds more like it, young man. Won’t be long.” She smiled then left.

  Samuel thought about how she reminded him of his mother. The concern Sara had, fussing around to make sure he was alright—then he reminisced about his Mother’s kindness and how she always looked out for him, always believing in him—even when he was in trouble she stood by him. He wished he could go home to see her, but he knew it was too late, that he could never return. A tear formed in his eye as he realized how much he missed her.

  Sara returned with his order. His eyes became as wide as saucers; it was more food than he had seen in a week. He wiped the tear from his eye and smiled big for Sara.

  Eating everything, his stomach filled to its limit. As he stacked the plates, he got a calming sensation, being a long time since he’d been able to relax. He was being accepted by comforting people, and it seemed that they would keep him safe; and that maybe he could fully trust them someday. But until then, he must be cautious. He thanked Sara for the meal and headed out for his overdue bath.