The Prairie Prince

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Bart’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Stover and said, “Well then—if yer so after a good man takin’ care of his woman—why don’t ya just marry up with Katie here and get her out of my hair?”

  “Pa!” Katie exclaimed, horrified at her father’s blunt manner.

  Stover’s eyes narrowed as he returned Bart’s glare. “I did intend to ask yer permission to court Katie—official,” he said. “And now that ya brung it up…”

  “Oh, have at it, boy!” Bart said, waving a hand in the air. “If yer a-sittin’ out for misery—have at it!”

  Katie watched Stover’s jaw tightly clinch, she watched his hands fist at the side of his plate and knew he was furious. Still, he remained outwardly calm and simply said, “Thank ya—sir.”

  Katie wondered if her father had sensed how forced Stover’s referring to him as, “sir,” was.

  “Yep. You have at it,” Bart repeated. Then he pushed his chair back from the table and said, “Well—with the good news that both my children might be out of this house sooner than later—I’ve got stock to tend to.” Without another word, Bart Matthews left the house by way of the back door.

  Katie looked to Stover who sat grinding his teeth together, barely restraining his anger. She couldn’t believe he’d asked her father for his permission to court her, and why should he want to—knowing she came from such a man?

  “Mrs. Matthews?” Stover began, his anger barely in check. “I know it ain’t my place, but…”

  “Look at it this way, Mr. Steele,” Evelyn said, placing a calming hand over one of Stover’s clinched fists. “Now we can enjoy the rest of our meal.”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Stover managed.

  “You’re wonderin’ am I a strong woman for stayin’ here, or a weak one. Aren’t ya?” Evelyn asked.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Stover admitted.

  By now, Katie was trembling with anxiety and resentment. She should be jumping for joy, elated at Stover’s asking her father’s permission to court her. Yet she loathed her father for being such a miserable man. Her mother’s response to Stover only made her feel worse.

  “Well, I suppose I’m both, Mr. Steele,” she said. “Weak for myself, but strong in wantin’ to see my children cared for. I couldn’t find a way to escape before I had them—I was young, alone. Then once they were born they needed shelter, food—and I had no way of providin’ them things without Bart.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Stover mumbled.

  “Do ya think badly of me, Mr. Steele?” she asked then.

  Katie looked to Stover, fearful somehow of his response.

  “No,” he said. “I just wish I could…”

  “Save me?” Evelyn finished for him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  “Aren’t you just the sweetest boy?” Evelyn said, patting the back of Stover’s hand. “Now, then tell me…” she said, changing the subject. “What’re you’re plans with yer new place?”

  Katie smiled at her mother. Her mother was the master of distracting folks from bad, sad or angry feelings. Her loving nature earned trust and adoration, and Katie listened, feeling calmer and more hopeful as Stover and her mother talked.

  Once they’d finished eating, Stover placed his hand on his stomach and said, “That was a mighty fine supper, Mrs. Matthews. Thank ya.”

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Steele,” Evelyn graciously responded. “And now—Katie why don’t ya take this boy out under the moonlight and do a little sparkin’?”

  “Mama!” Katie exclaimed, horrified by her mother’s frank suggestion.

  Stover, however, chuckled, “Yes, Katie. Why don’t ya do just that?” He pushed his chair back from the table, stood and held his hand out to her. For some reason, she felt incredibly nervous.

  “But—but don’t ya need help clearin’ the supper table, Mama? I could—” she stammered.

  “Supper tables always need clearin’,” Evelyn said. “Kissin’ under the stars on a warm summer’s evenin’—that’s an opportunity ya shouldn’t let pass ya by. Isn’t that right, Stover?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” Stover chuckled, taking Katie’s hand and pulling her toward the door.

  “You two have fun now,” Evelyn called after them.

  Once they were outside and had walked a ways, Stover smiled at Katie and said, “I swear—the more I kiss ya the more nervous ya get. It usually works the other way around.”

  “The more ya kiss me the more I’m afraid…” Katie began. She caught herself only an instant before a full confession escaped her lips.

  “The more yer afraid of what?” Stover prodded, pulling her into his arms.

  Stover knew what Katie was afraid of. He knew she doubted her ability to keep his interest. Why did she doubt herself? He blamed that on Bart Matthews. He suspected Bart Matthews had never said a kind word to his daughter in her entire life. He knew the man treated his wife with no more regard than he did his livestock—probably less. Yes, he knew what Katie feared, why she seemed to be more and more anxious each time he kissed her instead of more and more confident. But he wanted her to talk to him, tell him, and confide in him. Over the past few days Stover had done a lot of thinking of his own, battled doubts, fears, told himself that a young girl like Katie wouldn’t want to commit to him and instantly be saddled with three rambunctious sisters to raise. And then he’d thought about the way she treated the triplets, the way she seemed to understand their silly ways. He thought about the house she lived in, a hateful, critical father, and Stover realized that what he might have to offer wasn’t so bad after all.

  In fact, he’d discussed it with Pillar and she had encouraged him to pursue Katie Matthews as aggressively as he wanted to. Jared had already come to Stover and asked his permission to propose to Pillar. Stover knew that by the end of the week, Pillar would be planning her wedding. He was happy for her, happy for Jared and suddenly he’d found that it wasn’t wrong for him to be happy, too. And Katie Matthews made him happy—happier than he could ever remember being before.

  Still, Stover understood Katie’s anxieties and fears. He also knew that, although he wanted to pick her up and sweep her away to a better life than the one she knew—he knew she must know his intentions were rightly placed. He suspected she felt he only pitied her and that was why he was pursuing her. And he did pity her—as well he should. But pity was not his reasons for falling in love with the pretty little prairie princess of Custer’s Creek. It was her joy of living, her disregard for what people thought, the amusing nature of her silly antics. It was her love for her brother, her determination not to let her rotten father ruin her. She was a beautiful young woman with an enormous capacity to love—if fear didn’t stop her.

  “Of—of you,” Katie told him. She was embarrassed, afraid of what he might say. She looked away from him when he smiled at her.

  “Nothin’ to be afraid of where I’m concerned, princess,” Stover said. “Here,” he said then, sitting down on the ground and leaning back against a tree. “Sit down with me.”

  Katie swallowed the lump in her throat and placed her hand in his when he held it out to her. Stover pulled her down, settling her between his legs and leaning her back against his chest.

  He propped his arms up on his knees and said, “Tell me what’s on yer mind.”

  Katie almost laughed out loud. Nothing in the world could coax her into telling Stover what was on her mind at that moment! What was on her mind was that she loved him—that she didn’t think she could endure the heartache of his losing interest in her.

  “Nothin’s on my mind,” she lied.

  “Liar,” Stover said, taking a strand of her hair and twisting it around his finger. “You worried about Jared and Pillar?” he asked.

  “No,” Katie told him. “I’m impatient—can’t figure what’s taking Jared so long—why he won’t just ask her to marry him and get on with his life. But I’m not worried about them.”

  Katie felt Stover kiss the top of her head before he said, “You w
orried about Hillary Westover gossipin’ all over town about me and you?”

  Katie smiled and turned her head to look at him. “No. I’m hopin’ she does tell everybody in town,” she admitted.

  Stover smiled and wrapped his arms around her. “You worried about your Mama or your Pa?’ he asked.

  “I always worry about Mama,” Katie told him. “But even though it makes me a bad daughter—I rarely worry about Pa.”

  “It don’t make ya a bad daughter, princess,” Stover told her.

  “You worried about me, then?” he asked.

  Katie noticed the way his arms tightened around her as if he were expecting her to jump up and run away.

  “I…I…” she stammered.

  “Ya are worried about me,” he said. “Close yer eyes and tell me all the reasons why.”

  “What?” Katie asked. “Why do ya want me to…”

  “Just close yer eyes, Katie,” he insisted.

  Katie drew in a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  “Ya hear them cattle lowin’ nearby?” Stover asked.

  “Yes,” Katie whispered.

  “Ya hear the crickets singin’ and the breeze in the pines?”

  “Yes,”

  “Do ya hear me breathin’, feel my arms around ya?” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she answered completely enthralled by the spell he was weaving about her.

  “Now, then,” he began. “Tell me everythin’ you’re worried about where I’m concerned.”

  Katie took a deep breath, tried to remain calm, tried to trust that Stover wouldn’t simply push her away and be done with her.

  “You’re…you’re handsome and strong and…and could have any woman ya set yer mind to,” she said.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Go on.”

  “I…I’m young…and…and I come from a family…a family that isn’t like a family,” she told him. “I…I worry that…that you’re just feelin’ sorry for me because of my pa and…” Her words were lost as she felt his hand cover her mouth.

  “Who can say what a family is, Katie,” he said. His voice was low and comforting. “Look at mine.” He kept his hand over her mouth as he continued, “And, yes—I do feel sorry for ya because of yer pa—I feel sorry for Jared and yer mama, too. But ya don’t see me out sparkin’ with either of them two, now do ya?”

  Katie smiled and pulled his hand from her mouth as she said, “No.” She did feel calmer, more confident and sure about his sincerity toward her. “But…I’m just…I’m just…”

  “You’re just a pretty prairie flower full of life and good and beauty…” he began.

  “And ya won’t just pluck off my petals and toss me aside?” she ventured, thinking of the daisy she’d plucked petals from the very first day she’d met Stover.

  “Pluck off yer petals?” Stover chuckled.

  “Yes,” Katie said, snuggling back against him. “Ya know—like when ya pick a daisy to play the ‘he loves me, he loves me not’ game—ya pluck all it’s petals off and then—when yer done—ya toss the rest away.”

  Stover was quiet for a moment and then he said, “Oh, I do plan on pluckin’ off yer petals, if yer gonna put it that way. First there’s the flirtin’ petal, then the courtin’ petal, then the kissin’ petal—or in our case—the kissin’ petal and then the courtin’ petal and so on. Oh, yes—I do plan on pluckin’ all yer petals, Miss Katie Matthews. But I plan on pluckin’ ‘em so’s I can hang on even tighter to the rest.”

  Katie’s heart swelled with wonder and hope, with joy and with love for the magnificent man who held her tightly in his arms. She believed him, for she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Furthermore, his implication—plucking all her petals—she dared to dream he meant to keep her—always.

  Happy and confident once more, she hopped up onto her knees and turned to face him.

  “Do ya know what I feel like I am right this minute?” she asked him, clasping her hands at the back of his neck.

  “What?” Stover chuckled.

  Katie sighed and smiling said, “I feel perfectly happy—like sugar frostin’ drizzled over a warm Christmas cookie.”

  “In that case, can I be the cookie?” Stover asked, his eyes narrowing, a familiar grin of mischief spreading across his delicious lips.

  Stover chuckled as Katie gasped, her eyes widening with astonishment. Oh, how he enjoyed shocking her! How he adored the way she blushed and pretended to be offended when he knew darn well she loved every minute of his flirting ways.

  “I can’t believe ya said that!” she exclaimed.

  “Sure ya can,” Stover said, taking hold of her waist and pushing her to the ground.

  Katie giggled as he rolled her on her back and hovered over her. He studied the deep blue of her beautiful eyes, the way her dark hair disappeared in the darkness, the way the moonlight caressed her soft face.

  “Why me?” she whispered, reaching up and losing her fingers in his hair.

  Stover closed his eyes for a moment, rallying his self-control. Her fingers in his hair would be his undoing if he wasn’t steadfast. “Because you’ve got the most, and the prettiest, petals,” he whispered. “And the rest is even better.”

  Katie smiled and Stover could no longer resist kissing her sweet mouth.

  Stover’s kiss descended like a Heaven-sent summer thunderstorm—powerful, wet, and refreshing! Katie found she was able to ignore any inhibitions she had, accepting and returning his kisses with passionate fervor! She let her hands roam freely over his shoulders and back, let her fingers be lost in the softness of his hair. Once when he broke the seal of their mouths, letting his lips linger on her throat, Katie took his face in her hands and gazed into his eyes for a long moment before pulling his face to hers, renewing their kisses again.

  There was nothing else in the world to them, no one else—only each other and the passion burning between them. Nothing else in the world—until the moment when Evelyn Matthews’ screams pierced the night air.

  Chapter Eight

  Katie held tightly to Stover’s hand as they hurried back toward the house. Her mother’s scream still rang in Katie’s ears and she feared what they would find when they returned. Had her father gone too far at last? Had he seriously hurt her mother—or worse? Visions of her mother lying on the kitchen floor, bruised and broken flashed through Katie’s mind, and she could only pray that all would be well.

  As they reached the barn, Stover stopped and put an index finger to his lips, indicating Katie should be quiet. Every inch of her wanted to call out to her mother, know she was all right, but she obeyed. Katie watched as Stover peered through the darkness. Everything seemed quiet, normal. Lamplight glowed from the windows of the house and there seemed to be not a sound in the air.

  “Stay here,” Stover whispered, squeezing Katie’s hand.

  “No!” Katie said. “I want to go with ya. Don’t leave me out here alone, Stover. Please!” she begged.

  But he shook his head and said, “Stay here, Katie. I’ll call for ya when I’m sure everything is all right.”

  Katie tried to calm her breathing, tried to bury the fear throbbing through her entire being. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it. Still, as Stover released her hand and started toward the house, she stayed by the barn as he’d instructed.

  She watched as he crept carefully through the darkness, pausing once near a tree to nod reassuringly at her.

  As Stover neared the front porch, however, Katie gasped as her mother suddenly rushed out the door yelling, “No, Stover! Go back! It’s a trap!”

  Katie screamed and rushed forward as she saw a man push her mother on the back of the head with a gun then level a pistol at Stover. It was the leader of the men who had attacked her outside of town. Katie stopped dead in her tracks as she saw her mother crumple to the ground, heard the pistol fire and saw Stover’s hand clutch his side as he reeled backward, falling to the ground.

  “No!” she screamed, rushing toward him, bursting into te
ars as she watched the evil man walk to him.

  “Oh, I’m afraid he’s plum done in, missy,” the man growled as he leveled his pistol at Katie.

  Katie stopped, waited for the man to fire at her, but he didn’t. He never had time, for Stover reached out with one powerful arm and swept his legs out from under him. The man fell to the ground, still managing to keep his grip on his pistol however. Leveling it at Stover again, Katie screamed as another shot rang out and a crimson burst of blood and flesh exploded from Stover’s right shoulder.

  Katie screamed and started toward Stover once again, astonished that he still stood and had the strength to stomp on the man’s hand with one boot, rendering him unable to wield the gun again.

  “Stay, Katie!” Stover shouted, glancing back at her quickly. “Don’t come a step closer!”

  Katie froze in her tracks, frightened, in anguish over Stover’s injuries, watching as Stover reached down and pulled the pistol from the man’s hand. She gasped, however, when the man swiftly swept his leg over the ground, tripping Stover and causing him to fall.

  “Boys!” the evil man shouted. “I got him! He’s out here! The girl, too!”

  Panic enveloped Katie as she saw two other men come running out of the house. Each had one arm in a sling, the result of their last encounter with Stover Steele. Still, Stover was injured and weak and with two more men coming at him, even two weakened men, she knew he could not break free.