by S. A. Glenn
Katherine’s smile dwindled as she turned to him. “Excuse, me?! I do not know what you are talking about!”
“The night of the ‘soirée’!” he said, making fun of the French word. “I looked through the window. He poured you a glass of wine, you took a swig, he then fondled you. Then all you did was say his name: ‘Looouuuiiisss’!” Samuel said with insult.
“How dare you accuse us of that?” she insisted, storming out of the kitchen into the living room. “None of that happened!”
“Are you calling me a liar?”
“What were you doing peeking through the window: spying on me? What kind of trust is that?”
“It wasn’t like that, Kat.”
“Are you saying I am a liar?”
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I know what I saw, Kat!”
“I resent being spied upon, being told that I allowed another man to take liberties with me!” She headed for the bedroom, yanked her coat from the closet and fit it on.
“Where are you going, Katherine?”
“To Mother’s!”
“Why?”
“To stay with her.”
“I don’t want you going there!”
“Too bad!” she stated, buttoning up her coat.
“What’s this?” he asked, pulling on a white, silk handkerchief sticking out of her coat pocket.
“I don’t know, never seen it before!” she declared, hurrying on her scarf around her neck.
“L-P,” he read, holding the silken cloth in front of them—then it hit him like as arrow through his heart. “You’ve been messing around with Louis Pierre!”
“Don’t be absurd, Samuel! I don’t know how that got into my pocket,” she claimed, putting on her gloves.
“You’re a liar!”
“Just leave me alone!” She stomped around the bed, removed her gun from the chiffonier and stuffed it into her coat. Brushing by Samuel at the doorway, she headed outside.
“I’m going to put a stop to this, Katherine!”
She threw open the barn door and scurried toward the horse. Standing next to it, she turned and saw Samuel at the door. “You’ll put a stop to what?” She peered down at his gun held at his side. “What’re you going to do?”
“I don’t want you goin’ to your mother’s, or hanging around with that ‘LOUIS’ guy. I’ll do what I have to!”
“You can’t pick my friends, Samuel!” she made it known, fitting the harness about the horse’s head.
“Katherine! You’re making a big mistake! STOP!”
“Do not tell me what I can or cannot do!” she insisted, saddling the horse and climbing onto it. Kicking the horse’s sides, she led it out the door, nearly knocking her husband to the ground.
He watched her with rage, yet with sorrow as she rode off into the mist-filled night. He sauntered back to the house, hearing her gallop away—then only the silence of the calm before the storm was audible.
Back inside the house, Samuel called for his loyal companion. Ruff scurried in over to the fireplace and curled up on the rug. Samuel shut the door and secured it with the deadbolt. He took a place next to his dog, miserable about what had transpired. “Ruff,” he said, petting him, “I love Katherine lots, but sometimes she really gets under my skin.”
Ruff peered up at him with his big, brown eyes, blinked and sat his chin onto Samuel’s thigh.
“She’s lying to me, boy. I don’t understand how she can be so cruel. I didn’t do anything to her. Maybe she doesn’t love me, anymore. Maybe she wants something else. Something I can’t give her. What is it she wants, boy?”
Katherine pulled up to her mother’s stable and put away the horse. She walked through the back door and she found her mother in the kitchen finishing her chores.
“Oh, my goodness!” exclaimed her mother, covering her heart with her hand. “You gave me such a fright, Katherine. Why’re you here? Is something wrong? Where’s Samuel?”
“We had a fight… He’s fine—other than being a jerk! Is it alright if I stay here tonight?”
“Of course, Katherine. You’re always welcome here. So, tell me what you two were fighting about?”
“It’s really complicated. I just want to go to sleep.”
“That’s fine, dear.”
Katherine dragged her feet up the stairs to her old room, worn-out from her day’s labor and mental exertion. She fit on a former gown from the closet and crawled into bed. Fluffing the pillow, she rested her head upon it, thinking about Samuel as it poured rain. “Why does he have to be so damn stubborn, sometimes?” she asked herself as she shifted to her side and curled up to get warm. “Samuel wouldn’t lie to me and make things up, would he? I was quite drunk that night. I just can’t recall what he accuses me of. And then the matter of him looking through the window, he was probably just lonely. Oh, dear, my poor Samuel, and the way I spoke to him. I’ve been such a fool. I love him so. I must get home early tomorrow; let him know that I’m sorry. I only hope he doesn’t do anything mindless till then.” She breathed deep, let out her worries, and fell fast asleep.
Bright and early, she raced home with a fresh outlook on life. Seeing Samuel in the barn, she quietly approached, tying off the horse outside. She hid behind the door, picked up some pebbles, and tossed them one by one at him until he came out.
Poking his head outside, Samuel found Katherine with a mischievous grin. “What are you doing out here, Kat?” he asked with a smile.
“I want to apologize for last night. I’m sorry, Samuel,” she expressed with pouting lips. “That night at the mansion—I don’t remember! I was too drunk. And the handkerchief—I don’t know how it got there. I would never cheat on you. Will you forgive me? Pleeeaaassseee?!” she begged with her hands.
“Yes. But you’re not getting away with it without punishment,” he made it known, thrilled by her begging.
“What are you gonna do to me?” she asked with a finger to her lips, acting playfully worried.
He took her hand and hurried her around to the back of the barn. Sitting down onto an old stool, he brought her to his knees and swatted her good on her bottom.
“Owww!” she whimpered, rubbing her backside as she peered up at him with a frown.
Bringing her to her feet, he stood her against the wall, face first. Pulling up her dress, he pulled down her drawers to her ankles. Releasing his suspenders, he dropped his trousers. Pulling her hair, he shoved himself deep up inside her and whispered in her ear, “is this what you want, Kat?”
She smiled big and bit her lip in ecstasy.
CHAPTER 31
Things became serious between Louis Pierre and Sara. They were spending most of their free time together, enjoying each other’s company. On a pleasingly warm, early April evening, they sat outside under the starry sky, talking and sharing a bottle of merlot.
Fréderic watched them from inside the mansion.
Being cozy at the gazebo, Louis poured their second glass, twisting his arm around hers to take a drink. Their eyes locked as they partook in the intoxicating beverage. Romance set in as they smiled endlessly at each other.
“It is most pleasant having a causerie with you, Sara. I love your sweet voice,” he expressed with his captivating, French accent. “I feel this liaison between us is growing. You are quite chichi to me. I am indeed a man devoted to a life of sensual pleasure—a roué, if you will. I feel so insouciant when you are near, my lover. I am farouche with passion. You are beau ideal for a female partner, a wife!” he declared as he raised a brow and spilled wine between her bosoms.
“Aaahhh!” she squealed.
“Pardon wa, my dear. Allow me…” He brought his mouth to her chest, drew his tongue over the wetness, and lapped it up.
“Louis. Oh, my goodness!”
Sara awa
kened the next morning, lying next to Louis in his luxurious bed with a chiffon canopy. She peered over at the window to see a ray of sunshine peeking through the curtains. It gave her a new outlook on life, beholding a future of no more lonely nights. A knock on the door disrupted her fantasy.
Louis rose. He rolled over, seeing Sara’s beautiful smile. He kissed her check, and then they sat up in bed together. “Enter!” Louis commanded.
The door opened with a slow squeak. Fréderic came forth, wheeling in a cart with two silver trays with plates of scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, and toast. Orange juice and coffee with cream were also to be served. “Breakfast in bed, Monsieur Pierre, as requested.”
“Oui. Merci beaucou, Fréderic,” responded Monsieur Pierre.
“Good morning, Fréderic,” said Sara with a smile, pulling up the covers to her chin.
“Morning Madame,” he replied, not looking upon her or breaking a smile. He stationed the cart at the foot of the bed. He limped over to the window and threw open the fancy, maroon curtains, filling the room with an abundance of sunshine. Fréderic placed a tray onto Sara’s lap, serving his master last. He then stood at attention, awaiting further instructions.
“That will be all, Fréderic,” stated the master.
“Oui, Monsieur Pierre.” Fréderic bowed then shut the door behind him as he left.
“I could get used to this,” said Sara as she sipped the coffee.
“I am going to spoil you rotten, Sara Jones.”
“I don’t mind that at all. It would be nice not to have to cook all the time. I’ve been doing it since I was a young girl, you know.” She chomped down on a thick piece of bacon.
“I do not doubt that at all. You have been a hard worker throughout your life. But maybe it is time for you to relax and relish the finer things in it.”
“Maybe so,” she admitted, poking into her eggs with a real silver fork.
Katherine was at the restaurant early before she headed off to the schoolhouse. Her mother wasn’t there, and she was worried since the business was about to open. Katherine headed out front and sat on the swing, hoping that her mother would show up soon. A carriage came into her view. She noticed that Fréderic was the wagoner. She hopped off of the swing and waited at the top of the steps, anticipating seeing the one whom she was seeking. Fréderic pulled up on the reins and stopped the team in front of the restaurant. Setting the break, he eased down from the seat and down the steps. Pulling open the door, Sara popped her head out with a huge smile.
“Mother!” her daughter cried out as she ran to her.
Fréderic displayed his hand and Sara safely exiting the ride. “Katherine, my beautiful dear. What a lovely, sunshiny day!”
“Hello, Fréderic,” said Katherine.
He greeted her with a plain face, cocked his hat back and climbed up onto the carriage.
“Thank you, Fréderic, darling,” said Sara.
“Madame.” He released the break then snapped the leather straps over the horses’ backs; they darting off with a trail of dust left behind.
Katherine fanned away the airborne particles, placed her arm through her mother’s arm, and led her inside. “You had me worried, Mother!”
“Whatever for?”
“I couldn’t find you, and the restaurant is about to open.”
“Oh, pooh! I’m a big girl. I can take care of my affairs.”
“You’re quite chipper, Mother, and you’re glowing. What have you been up to?”
“Specifically, it’s none of your business, my sweet girl. But I will tell you that I was with Louis.”
“You spent the night with him, didn’t you?”
“I did…”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you did. You did the ‘hanky-panky’ with him. Was he any good?”
“Katherine! Mind your manners!” Sara blushed.
“Look at you. You face is flush. Mother got some last night,” she laughed.
“Katherine Marie… Go wash your mouth out with soap!” She shooed her away with an embarrassed grin. “But on a serious note,” said Sara, “things are becoming significant between us.”
“How so?”
“He mentioned to me about taking it easier, delighting in the finer things in life, possibly being his wife.”
Katherine smiled, taking pleasure in her mother’s excitement—then she frowned, remembering Samuel’s accusation against Louis Pierre. “Mother. I need to talk to you.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” she asked as she looked down at the laces of her apron, tying them.
“It’s about Louis, and something Samuel says he saw him do.”
“Okay,” Sara said, fully focusing on her on daughter now. “What is this about Louis and Samuel?”
“That night at the soirée—”
“Yes.”
“Well, Samuel was watching me form outside the window.”
“Why was he doing that?”
“He was curious, but that’s not the point.”
“Okay. Continue.”
“He saw—”
“. . . saw what, Kat?” Sara’s face froze with curiosity.
Katherine hated having to say anything about this. She remembered the tale about a man named Clifford riding a donkey named Frank, and that it was a hard story to swallow. It was also tough to believe that she couldn’t recall Louis grabbing her sexually, but she realized that she must have faith in Samuel; that he was telling her the truth. “Louis grabbed my buttock and squeezed it, but I was too drunk to—”
“That’s ridiculous!” Sara cut in; her glow fizzled as she became offensive.
“I’m sorry, Mother.” Her head hung low.
“Why’re you saying these horrible things?” she begged. “Louis would not put his hands on my daughter—that’s disgraceful! He’s not like that! Samuel’s had it out for him from the very beginning. He never liked him, and you believe all he’s conjured up!”
“No, Mother, please!”
“‘Please’, nothing!” she replied in a bitter rage, rushing around to make last minute preparations. A nerve had been struck within Sara. She tried to rid her mind of the impression that Louis Pierre was a playboy like her husband. After all these years she had finally found her knight in shining armor. But now he had been reduced to the typical man she kept meeting. But what if Samuel was only making this up? He did disfavor Louis. Maybe he was saying this to hurt him. Except it is hurting me, she thought to herself. I need to talk with him.
“You don’t have to be that way, Mother!”
“Yeah? Well, you don’t have to be here!” she yelled, then turned her back on her daughter.
Katherine scoffed. “Fine!” She trotted over to the door, yanked it open, and slammed it shut behind her. She headed for the schoolhouse, wagging her head with anger about her mother’s attitude.
Irate about all that had occurred, Sara stormed out the door and locked it with the “CLOSED” sign still in the window. She briskly walked to the sawmill.
Samuel was outside in the sunny weather with a customer. Sara walked up and stood by them. Samuel halted his business with the man and directed his attention toward her. “Ma’am. What’s wrong?” Samuel asked, seeing her agitated face.
“Excuse me, Sir,” she told the customer, gazing at him with a phony smile.
The burly man pardoned her with a tilt of his worn-out hat.
“Samuel, I need to speak with you. Right now!”
“Yes, ma’am. What is it?”
“What is this about Louis’ hand on Katherine bu—?”
“Ma’am, please! Let’s take this over here!” he broke in, taking her by the arm and stepping away for privacy.
J.R. came out of the mill and leaned against the doorway, noticing Sara’s hotheadedness.
“As I was saying…” continued Sara.
“I know what you were saying, ma’am. I saw him do that to her at the mansion. But I didn’t want her telling you about it.”
“How could you think she wouldn’t . . . ? I’m her mother! That’s an awful accusation to make against Louis, Samuel!”
“But it happened, ma’am,” he assured her, speaking softly, looking at the customer, then at J.R.
“Katherine doesn’t remember that happening, Samuel!”
“She was drunk,” he assured her.
“Are you suggesting that my daughter is a floozy?”
“Shhh, ma’am. Please. No!”
“Then I think you’re a liar! You despise Louis! You’re saying that to pay him back.”
“Ma’aaammm,” he said, not understanding why she was so disagreeably rough with him. “I—”
“And you’re a damn peeping-Tom!” she interjected, saying that loudest of all. She swung around with her back to him, crazed with assurance and not wanting to believe anything bad about the Frenchman she had grown to love. She scurried off, desperate to believe that Louis Pierre was not like her husband.
Samuel was beside himself with embarrassment, knowing that the two bystanders heard everything she had said. His sadness turned to anger as he remembered his childhood when he had been called that name before; it stirred up bad memories. He wished for Sara to suffer.
Long after the restaurant closed, Sara found herself at the saloon, talking with Jesse Frost, her longtime friend. After having a few drinks and asking him for advice, she moved to the back table, watching the drunks fall down and make foolish spectacles of themselves. She lounged about, pouring shots of bourbon, warding off men who thought that she was a prostitute. She thought about Louis Pierre and how men acted like vultures.
A pretty lass entered the establishment. Jesse motioned his head, directing the woman toward Sara. “Excuse me,” she said to Sara, “I’m Jesse’s cousin, Bridget Montgomery. Jesse called for me, wanting me to talk with you. He said you were feeling down. Would you like some company?”