A Borrowed Dream

by Amanda Cabot

  They walked in silence until they reached what Catherine had always thought of as her spot. There the meandering creek that had given the town its name took another bend, this time toward the west. Ancient cottonwoods lined the banks, their roots drawing sustenance from the water. A few birds flitted from branch to branch, searching for a roosting spot. For them it was just another day, and the ordinariness of the scene helped calm Catherine.

  “Is it time to talk?” Austin asked when she stopped in the shade of one of the cottonwoods. When she nodded, he reached for her other hand, as if he realized she needed the comfort of his grasp. “How are you feeling?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. That was part of the reason Catherine was so grateful for Austin’s company. Perhaps talking to him would help her make sense of her emotions. “Part of me is numb. The rest feels as if I’ve been sliced open. Oh, Austin, it was horrible.”

  She had told herself she wouldn’t cry, for tears solved nothing. She’d learned that when Mama had been so ill and again when she’d died. But the caring she’d seen on Austin’s face released the floodgates, and Catherine found herself sobbing.

  He dropped her hands, and for a second, she felt bereft. But then he drew her into his arms, pressing her head against his chest as he stroked her back. “I won’t tell you it will be all right. Seeing something like that changes a person.” His hand moved in gentle circles, comforting her as if she were Hannah, and her sobs subsided. “Death is always difficult to accept, and violent death . . .” He paused for a second. “It’s not easy to recover from that.”

  Catherine wondered if he was thinking of his wife and the despair that had led her to plunge into the Seine. It had been years since that day, but some pain never ended.

  “I feel as if everything in my life has shifted. I believed I knew my aunt and uncle, but today proved that I didn’t—not really.” She’d realized that Charles had a roving eye, and she’d known that Mary was a proud woman who feared scandal, but she’d been unprepared for the reality of Charles’s past or Mary’s reaction to it.

  “Do you know why Mrs. Gray did what she did?” Austin asked as Catherine dried her tears. She’d moved back slightly, but remained in the shelter of his arms.

  “Yes. Grace said I could tell you, because she knew she could trust you to keep it secret.” Catherine took a breath and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Twenty-two years ago, a man attacked Grace, leaving her with child.” Catherine related what had happened to Grace and why she had not returned to Cimarron Creek until recently, concluding, “It was only today that she learned Charles was the father of her child.”

  “She looks so much like the portrait you showed me that Charles must have known immediately who she was. I imagine he was shocked to see her face.”

  “He was. He looked horrified and incredulous at the same time. Seeing that reaction was how I knew he was the one. All I had to do was prove it.” Catherine closed her eyes for a second, reliving the moment when she’d revealed Charles’s scar. “What bothers me is that I never guessed there was such evil inside him.”

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Austin’s eyes were warm and caring. “Some people are very good at hiding their true selves.”

  “This was someone I’ve known my whole life.” Catherine frowned as memories resurfaced. “Ever since Mama died, he’s been overly friendly to me, but until today I didn’t think he was capable of attacking a woman.”

  A bird squawked a protest as another settled on the same branch; the light breeze ruffled the cottonwoods’ leaves; the creek burbled as it made its way around the bend. Catherine took a deep breath, trying to let the pastoral beauty chase away her regrets.

  As if he understood her conflict, Austin gave her a reassuring smile. “There was no reason you should have realized what your uncle was hiding. Based on what happened, I’d say his wife had no idea what he’d done.”

  “She didn’t.”

  “Then why do you think you should have? She lived with him. She knew him better than anyone else.” That was Austin—logical, pragmatic, and comforting all at once.

  “You’re right, but I still wish there were a way to undo today.”

  Austin nodded, his expression empathetic. “I felt that way the day Geraldine died. I wondered what I could have done differently.” His words confirmed Catherine’s belief that he was still suffering from his wife’s death, that while there must have been some healing, it was incomplete.

  “Did you find an answer?”

  “No. I knew I couldn’t change what she’d done, but it was more painful than I’d thought possible to remain there surrounded by memories. Everywhere I turned, there was a reminder of Geraldine. Our home even had a view of the Seine, but after that day, I couldn’t bear to look at it. That’s why I went back to Philadelphia.”

  “Did that help?” Catherine hoped Austin didn’t think she was prying into his past, but she wanted to learn everything she could about what had made him the man he was.

  “It did.”

  Perhaps that was the answer she sought. It wouldn’t be a permanent move like Austin’s, but perhaps a temporary change of scenery would help her regain her equilibrium and relegate today’s horrors to the back of her mind.

  “Grace wants to go to Paris,” Catherine told Austin. “I tried to dissuade her, but maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should go with her.”

  As she pronounced the words, Catherine felt a sense of peace settle over her. It was true that Grace had not mentioned having a companion when she searched for her daughter, but Catherine could not ignore how right the idea felt.

  Though Austin looked stunned, all he said was, “What about your pupils? They need you.”

  Another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “What they need is a teacher, not necessarily me. Rachel Henderson has a cousin who’d like to move here if she could figure out a way to earn a living. She could teach school this fall.”

  Austin stared at the creek for a long moment, his expression solemn. “I know going to Europe has been your dream, but it wouldn’t be easy for two women to travel alone, especially since neither of you speaks French.”

  “We can hire a guide. That’s what Mama and I had planned to do.”

  He nodded but appeared unconvinced. “There’s another alternative.” He swallowed deeply, seemingly uncomfortable with whatever it was he was going to propose. When he spoke, his voice was low and fervent. “Would you let me be your guide?”

  For a second Catherine wondered if he was speaking a foreign language. Was Austin, the man who’d told her he had no desire to return to Europe, the man who’d confirmed how painful it had been to remain in Paris after his wife’s death, now proposing to accompany her and Grace?

  “You?” The word came out as little more than a croak.

  He nodded, his expression more serious than she’d ever seen it. “I had planned to wait until you were out of mourning. I know how important it is for you to honor your mother with a full year of mourning, and I’d hoped that by then the threat from Sherman Enright would be over. Today changed everything. I don’t want you to leave.”

  And, if she were being honest with herself, she did not want to leave him.

  As Catherine opened her mouth to tell him that, Austin pulled her closer. “I love you, Catherine. I think I have since the first day I met you.”

  His eyes shone with the love he was professing, sending shivers of delight along Catherine’s spine. This was not the way she’d pictured a declaration of love. Today was hardly the day she would have expected it, and yet she could not deny the joy that rushed through her as Austin pronounced the words she’d longed to hear.

  He cupped her chin in one hand as he said, “Dare I hope that you love me too?”

  “I do.” She wanted to shout it so the world would hear, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

  His lips curved into the sweetest of smiles. “Then marry me. I’ll take you and Grace to Paris.”

  It was tem
pting, oh so tempting, but Catherine knew it would be wrong. “I want to say yes, but you’re right: it’s too soon. Mama was both mother and father to me. It seems only right that I give her a full mourning period. And, as I told Grace when she said she wanted to leave Cimarron Creek, neither of us should make any decisions right away. I’m not sure we’re thinking clearly, especially not today.”

  Though Austin made no attempt to disguise his disappointment, he said only, “But you love me?”

  Catherine would not deny him the answer he sought, not when it was what her heart had been telling her for so long. “Yes, Austin, I love you. I love you so very much. I love Hannah too.” She smiled, thinking of the girl who’d captured her heart her first day of school. “I doubt I could love a child of my own any more than I love her, but I need to finish mourning before I begin a new phase of my life. Will you wait?”

  Austin nodded. “I’m not a patient man, but I’ll learn. I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to be ready.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “There is one thing I hope you won’t make me wait for.”

  When he looked the way he did now, Catherine knew there was nothing she’d deny him. “What is that?”

  “Another kiss.”

  He tightened his grip on her chin, tipping it up. When she nodded, he lowered his lips to hers. His mouth was firm, his touch so tender that Catherine felt herself melting. For the first time since Charles had stared at Grace in church, Catherine was fully at peace. This was where she was meant to be—in Austin’s arms.

  25

  This is the nicest Fourth of July I can remember.”

  Austin stared at the beautiful woman seated next to him. If he was going to stay in Cimarron Creek, he needed to buy a carriage. Catherine deserved to ride in something nicer than an ordinary wagon.

  “I agree,” he said. Philadelphia had had more elaborate parades, and the fireworks were more spectacular, but there’d been nothing to compare to the pleasure of spending the day with Catherine. They’d watched the parade together, listened to the seemingly interminable speeches, and laughed at Hannah and Seth’s attempt to run a three-legged race.

  Though the boy’s hand was still in a cast and his ribs were still taped, making breathing difficult, he’d done his best when Hannah had declared that the thing she wanted most was to enter the race. She had claimed she didn’t care about winning, which was fortunate, since a six-year-old girl and a gangly thirteen-year-old boy were hardly ideal partners. But Seth had done his best, enduring what had to have been a painful fall, all to make Hannah’s wish come true. The boy would do anything for Austin’s daughter, just as Austin would do anything for Catherine—including returning to Paris.

  He tipped his hat at Kevin as the man drove past them. When they’d planned the day, Mrs. Moore had suggested everyone return to the ranch for supper and had decreed that Kevin would drive a second wagon so that no one would be crowded. With Kevin, his mother, and Grace on the seat and Hannah and Seth in the back, that wagon was far more crowded than Austin’s, but he wasn’t complaining. Being alone with Catherine was a reason to rejoice, not complain.

  It had been a wonderful day, because he’d had Catherine at his side. But the pleasure Austin had experienced wasn’t due solely to Catherine. As the day had progressed, he’d realized that he felt as if they all belonged together—Hannah, Seth, Catherine, and himself. Even Grace. She’d spent much of the day discussing recipes with Mrs. Moore, the two women acting as if they were lifelong friends rather than new acquaintances.

  Austin took a deep breath, inhaling the sweet smell of the wildflowers that dotted the countryside. For the first time since Geraldine’s death, he felt as if he were once again whole and part of a family. As dearly as he loved Hannah, he needed more. He needed a wife and perhaps another child.

  “I can’t believe the change in Seth.”

  Catherine’s words brought Austin back to the present, and he smiled as he glanced at the wagon ahead of them. Both Seth and Hannah were laughing, looking like the carefree children they deserved to be.

  “Seth’s broken bones are healing well. He has the resilience of youth on his side. I haven’t told him, because I don’t want to raise his hopes and then have them dashed, but I think there’s a possibility that eventually he’ll be able to do a few things with his right hand.”

  Though Catherine appeared pleased by the prognosis, she shook her head. “That wasn’t what I meant. Of course, I’m glad that he’s healing and that he may regain some use of his hand, but it’s more than that. Seth’s more relaxed and happier than I’ve ever seen him. He’s talking more too. He even told me that his bed is soft.”

  What a strange thing to confide in his teacher. “It’s an ordinary mattress, but compared to sleeping in a barn, it probably feels like down.” Austin closed the small distance between him and Catherine and laid his hand on hers, wanting the reassurance that touching her always brought. “I keep praying that Boone will relinquish his rights.” Though Austin was grateful he was able to keep Seth safe while his wounds healed, he hated the knowledge that the situation was temporary.

  Catherine turned her hand so that they were palm to palm. Even with gloves between them, he could feel the warmth of her skin, and it filled him with happiness.

  “So do I,” she said. “It would be wonderful if he could live with you permanently.”

  Though Austin wanted to amend her wish, changing “with you” to “with us,” he did not. It was too soon. He’d promised he wouldn’t rush her, and he would keep his promise.

  It had been a wonderful week, knowing Catherine loved him, knowing there was a good chance she would marry him before summer’s end. That had buoyed his spirits more than he’d thought possible. Even the solemnity of the double funeral had not destroyed Austin’s happiness. If only Enright would give up his search, his life would be complete.

  “I keep telling myself to be patient, that God’s timing is perfect.”

  Catherine’s eyes filled with understanding. “But it’s hard to wait, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Your daughter shares your impatience. She said you promised her a new dress for school, but she doesn’t want to wait. I think she’s afraid you’ll forget.”

  “I won’t.” Austin had made himself a note to visit the mercantile the week before school opened and select a dress for Hannah.

  Giving his hand a little squeeze, Catherine said, “I know, but two months feels like forever to a six-year-old. I thought I might be able to help. If you wouldn’t mind, she could spend next Monday with me. We’ll buy material for her dress and start making it. That way she’ll be part of the process. If she enjoys it, we can sew together every Monday until it’s finished.”

  It was a generous offer and one Austin knew Hannah would appreciate. Just this morning she’d told him for what felt like the thousandth time that she wished Miss Whitfield were her mother.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  Catherine gave him one of those smiles that made him feel as if he were the most interesting man on Earth. “It would be my pleasure. I may not be a great cook, but I can sew. It’s time Hannah learns how.”

  “Perfect.” The plan was perfect, and so was Catherine.

  As towns went, he’d seen worse. Tucker rode slowly down the main street of Cimarron Creek, looking at his surroundings. The trees were a nice touch, and that candy store sure smelled good. The proprietor had left the door open, letting the smell of fudge fill the air all the way to the street. Tucker dismounted and tied his horse to a hitching post. It was time to do a little exploring on foot.

  He looked in the window of the candy store. A man could use a piece or two of fudge, but he wouldn’t find his answers there. He needed a saloon. Most likely it was at the other end of the street. Folks in towns like this usually put their saloons on the edge of town where the old biddies who didn’t appreciate a fine glass of whiskey didn’t have to look at them when they came into to
wn to do their shopping.

  He might mosey back to the candy shop when he’d found what he needed, but first things first. He needed to see whether Enright had sent him a telegram. That was why he’d left his horse here, close to the post office. Chances were the man who ran the post office also handled the town’s telegrams.

  “Welcome to Cimarron Creek,” a friendly voice said as Tucker entered the building. He’d heard Texans were neighborly, and though this man’s eyes narrowed as if he realized Tucker was no ordinary visitor, he kept smiling. “What can I do for you?”

  “Name’s Tucker. I’m checkin’ to see if you got a telegram for me.”

  “Yes, sir.” The smile didn’t falter. “It came in a few days ago.” He riffled through a small stack of papers, pulling one out. “Here you go. Will there be a reply?”

  Tucker scanned the few words and shook his head, though the content surprised him. Don’t lose package. He’d expected that. Am on way. Hadn’t expected that. He’d figured he’d be taking the doc back to Philadelphia so he could fix Enright’s face there. Something must be going on back East if Enright was coming all this way.

  “Thanks.” He spun on his heel and headed toward the door. He needed to find out where Austin Goddard was holed up, but he couldn’t ask this man. No, sirree. The man knew his name. That was all he was gonna learn. Enright had taught him good. Tell folks only what they needed to know, not a bit more.

  Tucker swung his leg over the saddle and headed north on Main Street. Just like he’d figured, the saloon was on that end of town.

  “Welcome to the Silver Spur. What can I get you?” The woman was a looker with all that red hair and the streaks of silver near her ears. On another day, Tucker would’ve wanted to get to know her better, but there was only one thing he was gonna do today.