* * *
She should be angry or disgusted or upset...something! Katherine paced about her bedroom, her long dark hair dancing against her back and shoulders, her silk dressing gown flowing out behind her. Trace Warren had broken his word to her! She should not feel relieved. But she did. How could she not? The truth stopped her cold.
She moved to the cradle and stood looking down at Howard. He was growing. She could see and feel the difference in him even in these few days. He would be too big for his cradle soon. And she would be here to move him into his crib in his own bedroom. She frowned and tucked the blanket more closely about him. She liked having Howard close where she could hear his soft little sucking sounds and the whisper of his arms and legs brushing against the blanket. What would she do when she had to leave him? Tears stung her eyes.
She turned her thoughts away from that inevitable day, sat at the desk and took out writing supplies to begin her letter to Judith. Her sister would be very likely to come looking for her if she didn’t tell her she would be delayed. And she did not want Judith on the train. She wanted her to stay safe in Fort Bridger. The fear she’d been holding at bay swelled. She arranged the paper, picked up the pen and moved it toward the ink bottle, then stopped.
She glanced at the window she’d shuttered tight. Was Trace on the porch, drinking a cup of coffee? A sudden need for his company pulled her to her feet. Her silk dressing gown rustled softly. She looked down, frowned and hurried to her closet to change into her warmer quilted cotton dressing gown. A ribbon tied at the nape of her neck brought her loose hair under control. She glanced down at her fur-trimmed slippers, decided they would be warm enough if she tucked her feet beneath her on the bench and grabbed her green wool everyday cape off its hook. Howard was sleeping soundly. She swirled the cape around her shoulders and fastened it, tugged up the hood to hide her hair and hurried from her room.
She smelled the coffee when she was halfway down the stairs and quickened her steps. The kitchen was empty, but the coffeepot was hot. Was he out on the porch? Or had he chosen to drink his coffee elsewhere because of the cold? She poured a cup and stepped into the back entrance, looked out the window.
He was leaning against the post at the top of the steps. Her stomach fluttered. She pressed her hand against it and frowned. She was more nervous than she had realized about the uncertainty of her welcome. Trace had made it clear he preferred solitude to her company. She glanced back toward the kitchen then steeled herself to face Trace’s cool demeanor. He was too polite to refuse her company, and she needed someone to talk to—to be with until this fear eased along with the vague dissatisfaction that had hovered over her all day. She took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped out onto the porch. “May I join you while you drink your coffee?”
The light from the oil lamp beside the door fell on his face when he turned. Their gazes met. Her breath caught, froze in her lungs—not from the cold air, but from the look in his eyes. A look that was hastily replaced by one of cool civility. “If you care to brave the cold.”
“I’m from Albany, remember? I’m no stranger to cold weather.”
He nodded and turned back to look out into the darkness.
So much for any welcome. She wasn’t even sure she’d seen that warmth in his eyes when he first turned and looked at her. It was most likely a trick of the lighting or her imagination. Even so, she was staying. She needed his company tonight, reluctant or not. Her “German stubborn” drove her to the porch bench. She curled up on it, tucked her feet beneath the hem of her quilted dressing gown and covered them with the bottom of her cape. “I hope rattlesnakes don’t like the cold weather.” Or Indians. She shivered, refusing to look out and search the darkness.
“I asked one of the soldiers that came into the shop about the snakes. He said they hibernate all winter.”
She stared at him, touched that he had thought to inquire about the snakes. “Thank you for asking, Trace.”
He shrugged his shoulders and nodded. “It’s good to know.”
She looked down at her cup, wrapped both hands around its warmth and changed the subject to something without danger attached to it. “Howard was very good today. I let him sleep on the bed beside Audrey. Is that all right?”
“It’s fine, as long as she doesn’t lift him.”
His tone said clearly he was not interested in hearing about her day. Or about Howard. Well, she’d known that before she came downstairs. At least he wasn’t completely ignoring her. She took a sip of the hot black coffee and studied him. The thick blond waves at the top of his head gleamed in the lamplight. The collar of his brown jacket was pulled up high on his neck, and the heavy wool fabric fitted snug across his broad shoulders. He looked strong and capable leaning there against the post and drinking coffee. But there was something in his posture—a sort of rigidity. What had happened to Trace Warren? What had made him this way?
I am a widower, Miss Fleming. I am not interested in any personal relationship with any woman.
Her breath caught. His wife’s death. She should have thought of that before. Her heart had broken when Richard disappeared, and she had withdrawn from society. It had been the need to care for her mother and father that had brought her out of isolation. Perhaps having to care for Howard would be a blessing for Trace.
Whisper Creek gurgled by in the stillness. An owl screeched somewhere in the towering pines at the foot of the mountains. Trace remained silent and still as a statue. She stared at his back, wanting to ask about his wife, to tell him she understood the pain of the loss of the one you loved. But that would be presumptuous of her. She was only a temporary part of his life.
She uncurled from her perch on the bench and went into the kitchen, rinsed her cup and returned to her room.
* * *
Trace set his jaw and held his stance, staring out into the night. The sound of Katherine’s long skirts brushing against the porch floor rasped along his nerves. She was going back inside. He gripped the post beside him, his fingernails scraping against the wood. He dare not turn and ask her to stay. It would open the way to possibilities he wanted no part of. Katherine Fleming could be the end of him.
“Down in the human heart, crushed by the tempter, feelings lie buried that grace can restore. Touched by a loving heart, wakened by kindness, chords that are broken will vibrate once more.”
Not his. He wouldn’t have it! He would crush every stirring Katherine roused in him. He knew better than to let her into his heart.
Chapter Eight
“Thanks for helping me unhitch, Blake.” Trace turned Shadow into the pen behind the parsonage and gave his friend a wry smile. “One thing is certain. I’ll never be a cowboy.”
Blake laughed and draped the bridle over the fence post. “I’m with you there, Trace. I think you have to be born to it to handle cows and ride horses the way a cowboy does. I watched the men who drove cattle through this valley to feed the railroad work crews before the trains were running any farther than Whisper Creek, and I’d never attempt to do that. But I have learned to shoot a pistol well enough to hit what I’m aiming at most of the time.”
Trace fastened the gate and they walked out to the road, headed for the lights shining in Blake’s store windows. “A pistol, not a rifle? What are you planning on shooting?”
“Any rattlesnake that tries to take up residence in the stable or under the loading dock.”
“Hmm, that makes sense.”
“Or any Indians that might decide to attack.”
Trace glanced sideways. “Do you think that’s likely?”
“I don’t know. We’ve not been bothered here in the valley, but the Indian attacks against the railroad are worrying. And there have been warriors on the hills watching us a few times.”
Trace’s gut tightened. He stopped walking and looked at Blake. “I didn’t k
now that.” Had he inadvertently put Katherine and the baby in peril by trying to save his shop and home?
“I’ve seen them. So far they’ve just gone away. But if those miners around South Pass keep breaking the Laramie Treaty, who knows what will happen? I can’t protect the store, but I’ve added bars to the doors of the storage room so I can take a stand there and keep any attackers from going upstairs. There’s only one small window in that room and I’ve strong shutters on that. I intend to keep Audrey safe if any Indians should attack. Especially if she has a baby.”
Where could he make a stand in his house? Where would Katherine and the baby be safe? His breath hitched. This was the answer he was looking for! Ferndale couldn’t object to him sending Katherine and the baby away to a place of safety. And meanwhile he could replace Katherine with an older, unattractive woman willing to care for the baby who was looking for a man to provide a home for her. Perfect! His lips lifted in a wry smile. It could work! He’d plan it out tonight and have everything ready for when news of a nearby attack came their way. He started up the steps to his shop, turned and looked down at Blake. “Maybe you’d better order one of those pistols for me. And a rifle, too. Just in case.”
“I’ll order them this morning.” Blake stopped walking and looked up at him. “Will Audrey have a baby, Trace? You seemed to know quite a bit about her condition the other day. Are Audrey and the baby going to be all right?”
He stiffened, froze at the top of the steps, his key pressed into his palm. He couldn’t send Katherine and the baby away. Not until Audrey had passed her third month and no longer needed continual bed rest. If he did and she lost her baby it would be his fault. His stomach twisted into a burning knot. He ran his thumb over the key and shook his head. “I can’t say, Blake. I was only sharing information I’ve heard over the years from some doctors who were friends of mine. Audrey’s life and your baby’s life are in God’s hands.”
“I know. I’ve been praying.”
So did I. Bitterness rose. He crossed the porch and fitted the key in the lock.
“Oh, I almost forgot!”
He stifled the anger and turned back. Blake stood holding to the newel post and looking up at him.
“Audrey and I were talking about your kindness in sacrificing your time with your bride and new son so that Katherine can care for Audrey. And we want you to come and have dinner with Katherine.”
He stared at the smile on his friend’s face. Obviously, this was meant to be a wonderful surprise. He fought back the inappropriate “no” forming on his tongue and groped for an acceptable excuse.
“We know it won’t be the same as eating the noon meal in your home together, but it will give you two back the time we are stealing from you. And it makes more sense than you hitching up the runabout to go home every day.”
Ah. He had his excuse! “Well, that’s very kind of you, Blake. But I intend to walk—the way I did before Katherine came.” He moved to open his door.
“Even so...”
He stiffened, waited.
“I’m sure you’d rather eat dinner with your bride than sit alone at your dining table. And Audrey told me I was not to allow you to refuse.”
This couldn’t be happening! Still, once again Blake had handed him his excuse. He forced his lips into a smile. “Thank Audrey for me, Blake, but Ah Key will have dinner ready for me.”
“We thought of that. Ah Cheng comes for the laundry this morning. Audrey will have him tell Ah Key you will not be home for dinner.”
“Well, then...” He groped but came up empty. He’d run out of excuses. The trap clicked closed. He forced a pleased tone into his voice. “It seems you have thought of everything. Thank you. I will see you this afternoon.”
He unlocked the door, stepped inside and turned up the wick on the oil lamp on the shelf. The whistle announcing the arrival of first morning train reverberated through the cold, still air in the shop. He hung the open sign in the window then tossed coal on the live embers in the stove. A quick twist of his wrist adjusted the dampers for maximum heat—but nothing could warm the cold place in his heart. He pulled down the chandelier over the counter and lit the lamps to chase away the darkness. As if anything ever could.
He stalked to the back room and removed his coat and hat, hung them on the hook and added coal to the small stove. He grabbed a few bottles of assorted cough elixirs to sit on the counter, put them in place and grabbed pen and paper to make out an order for more. It was selling fast, and his stock was already severely depleted. He’d go to the depot and place the order when he went to the Latherops—
It makes more sense than you hitching up the runabout to go home every day.
He froze, his fingers clenched on the pen. Every day? Surely Blake didn’t mean—No. It couldn’t be. He’d been distracted and hadn’t heard clearly. He was remembering wrong. He blew out a breath, relaxed his grip and finished writing the order.
The bell on the door jingled.
He slid the order ledger under the counter, looked at the man and woman entering and smiled a welcome.
* * *
“Good morning! I’m here!” Katherine called out to alert Audrey to her presence, climbed the stairs and walked to the bedroom. “Mmm, it feels nice and cozy in here.” She smiled down at Audrey. “It’s getting really chilly outside.”
“That’s what Blake said.” Tears glistened in Audrey’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Katherine. It’s my fault you and the baby have to be out in the cold.”
“Poof, this is nothing! It’s probably freezing in Albany. My coat is warm. And this little man is so bundled up it’s impossible for the cold air to touch him. Isn’t it, Howard?” She uncovered the baby, kissed his cheek and laid him on the bed beside Audrey. “It’s odd to not know what to expect of the weather. Does Wyoming have mild winters or blizzards?” Will I be here or at Fort Bridger? She removed Howard’s knitted hat and coat and pulled up his long booty socks. “Will you be bundled up tight all winter, little one—or warm enough in cotton flannel gowns?” She tickled him as she cooed the words, and he waved his little arms and kicked his feet.
“He’s so adorable, Katherine. And to think that Blake and I will soon have a baby son or daughter...” Audrey lifted her hands and wiped tears from her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m doing a lot of crying lately. I try to be brave, Katherine, but I’m so afraid something will go wrong and I’ll lose the baby...”
As I will lose mine. There is more than one way to lose a baby. The thought ripped at her heart. Her eyes filmed with tears. She blinked them clear, covered Howard with his blanket and turned her back under the guise of removing her coat and hat. “Now, just let me put these bottles in the refrigerator, and I’ll get to work while Howard sleeps.” She pulled the bottles from the baby’s valise and started for the kitchen. “Is there anything you need me to do for you? Are you hungry?”
“No, nothing, thank you. Blake is wonderful about helping me to wash and prepare for the day. And he made us oatmeal for breakfast. He said to apologize to you for him. He didn’t have time to do the dishes before he went to help Trace unhitch. And he will need to open the store when he returns.”
“Well, gracious, there’s no need for him to apologize for a few dirty dishes. It’s kind of him to help Trace.” She went to put the bottles away, heard Blake run up the stairs and into the bedroom and busied herself looking at the supplies in the pantry.
Blake’s steps pounded down the stairs. She went back to the bedroom, tried not to envy the glow on Audrey’s face. “I saw some canned salmon in the pantry, Audrey. Do you and Blake like salmon loaf? I thought I’d make one for your dinner.”
“Yes, we do. Very much. Does Trace like it?”
“Trace? I have no idea.” She pressed her lips together at the slip of tongue and hastened to cover her bald statement of fact. “Ah Key does all of the cooking at.
..home, and I’ve not been here long enough to discover Trace’s likes and dislikes of food.”
“You’re about to.”
She blinked, stared at Audrey’s gleeful smile. “I beg your pardon?”
“Make enough salmon loaf for four, Katherine. Trace will be joining you for dinner today!”
“Wh-what?”
Audrey clasped her hands and grinned. “You should see your face, Katherine! You look perfectly astounded.”
“I am astounded.” She couldn’t very well deny it. “Trace didn’t tell—”
“He didn’t know. Blake and I planned it as a surprise for you two.” Audrey’s voice turned thick with tears. “We both feel so guilty for taking your time away from each other we decided to have Trace come and eat his afternoon meal here with you.”
“And he agreed?” An image of him standing on the porch with his back turned toward her popped into her head.
“Why, yes, why wouldn’t he?”
Why, indeed? “Well, he’s...so busy at the shop.”
“Yes. But he has to eat, Katherine. And every newly married man wants to spend time with his bride.”
Not Trace Warren. I’m not his bride. “But Ah Key—”
“That’s been taken care of. When Ah Cheng goes to collect your laundry he will take him a message to not prepare a dinner meal from today until I am able to be up and about and doing my own work!” Audrey’s voice rose in a crescendo of joy.
“Until—” She stopped the expression of shock trembling on her lips and clapped her hands against her cheeks. “Well, that’s quite a surprise.” She tugged her lips into a smile. “I don’t know what to say except—I’d better get to work preparing that salmon loaf.” She laughed along with Audrey, wiped her palms down the sides of her long skirt and hurried back to the kitchen, her thoughts tumbling one after another.
Trace was coming for dinner. How had Blake and Audrey convinced him? She glanced down at the white pleated bodice and plain gray skirt she wore and wished she had chosen one of her prettier gowns—not that it would make any difference to Trace. It was only that it would make her feel more...comfortable. Liar. You want to see something other than that cool reserve on his face when he looks at you.
Wedded for the Baby Page 11