Rainy Day Dreams: 2

by Lori Copeland

  Not that she would ever admit that to him.

  She turned a resigned smile on Evie. “I don’t suppose you want to hang this in the restaurant. It has the distinction of being the last painting ever created by Kathryn Bergert, an artist who achieved notoriety for her lamentable lack of talent.”

  Evie laughed and slipped an arm around her. “I would be honored to hang it in a very special place.” She squeezed Kathryn’s waist. “In my storeroom.”

  She helped Kathryn gather the supplies and fold the blanket. When Evie headed for the café, Kathryn took her paints, brushes, palette, and other articles, bundled them in a square of linen, and placed them in the bottom of her trunk. Kneeling on the floor, she covered them with a stack of books. There. Her artistic dreams buried beneath the eloquence of Jane Austen and Alfred Tennyson. Maybe one day she would discover her true talent and dream a new dream.

  She sat back on her heels. At least she finally uncovered the reason behind Jason’s coolness toward her. How painful it must have been for him to hear her blathering on about art every time she saw him. He could never fall in love with another painter. The reminder would be too—

  She stilled, her hands frozen in the act of shutting the trunk lid. Love? Who said anything about love?

  The second ladies’ tea since Kathryn’s arrival was even better attended than the first. With the arrival of Roberta Blaine, the minister’s wife, conversation focused on the news she brought from their visit with her sister in El Dorado. Kathryn listened with half an ear, nodding at the appropriate time and mechanically washing down a slice of nut bread with tea.

  When had she fallen in love with Jason Gates? The idea was so astonishing, so surprising, so…well, so entirely unwelcome. Perhaps she wasn’t really in love with him. The soft, fluttery sensation in her stomach whenever her mind conjured his image hadn’t been there yesterday, had it? No, it had begun this morning, when he looked her in the eye and declared his belief in her innocence. This was gratitude, not love.

  But deep inside she knew that was not true. With dawning dismay, she admitted the truth.

  I’m in love with Jason Gates.

  “What do you think, Kathryn?” Louisa’s voice broke through her musing.

  Kathryn jerked upright, tea sloshing into her saucer over the rim of her cup. “What?” The faces of the ladies seated around her snapped into focus, all of them pointed her way. She cast about in her mind for a shred of the conversation that had been going on around her and came up empty.

  “Someone’s head is in the clouds today,” Letitia teased in her singsong voice

  With a bashful nod, she admitted, “I was thinking about something else. I’m sorry.” She looked at Louisa. “What did you say?”

  The answer never came, because at that moment a pair of men appeared in the restaurant’s doorway. The ladies looked up to find two sailors in crisp uniforms staring into the room. Kathryn stiffened in her chair. The two were familiar. They were Barney and another man whose name she did not know. Both had been among the group who’d treated her so roughly two days past. In fact, Barney bore evidence of the fight in the form of an ugly purple bruise beneath his left eye.

  They snatched their sailor caps off their heads and twisted them in their hands. “We’re looking for Miss Kathryn Bergert.”

  Every eye turned her way, and at that moment Barney saw her. He nudged his partner with an elbow and nodded toward her.

  “Miss Bergert, could we speak to you outside, ma’am?”

  “Certainly not.” Evie rose and took up a protective stance beside her.

  “We don’t mean no harm,” the other man hurried to say. His gaze fixed on Kathryn’s face. “There’s some of us out here who want to apologize for what happened the other day.”

  Though cautious to place herself in their proximity, she hesitated to dismiss them outright. Their manner was far more humble than it had been on Tuesday, almost servile. Rumors that the Decatur’s captain had berated them harshly might be true. Perhaps an apology was part of their punishment.

  With a quick nod at Evie, she rose and crossed to the door. The sailors backed up and she stopped just inside. No sense putting herself in danger of being manhandled again.

  Outside a group of six men congregated around the totem pole. Several sported bruises and one man had a bandage wrapped around his forehead. She hid a smile. This lot had certainly gotten as good as they gave in their skirmish with her millworker friends.

  At her appearance, with a group of curious women crowding the doorway behind her to watch, the sailors snapped to attention. Barney seemed to have been given the role of official spokesperson.

  “Miss Bergert, we apologize for our behavior. It was not befitting of Navy men. You was asking for our help, and we shoulda treated you like a lady, which you are.” His speech, obviously rehearsed, evoked nods from those standing around him. “Furthermore, we pledge that if you need our help in the future, we will come to your aid.”

  One of his buddies added, “That goes for all you ladies, and the whole town too. That’s why we’re here. If there’s an attack, you can count on the Decatur’s crew.”

  “Well.” Letitia stepped up beside Kathryn. “That’s quite reassuring.”

  “Yes, it is,” Kathryn agreed. “And I accept your apology.”

  At that moment, a wagon came into view from the direction of the wharf. Carter, the wiry delivery man, walked at the front, guiding his mule. A huge crate dominated the wagon bed. He caught sight of the group by the totem pole and picked up his pace.

  “Am I glad to see you boys!” he called out. “I could use some help unloading this here heavy box.”

  Letitia aimed a smile down her long nose at the sailors. “You did pledge to answer a call for help.”

  With a shrug, the sailors slapped their hats on their heads and fell in beside Carter as he passed the restaurant, headed next door.

  Louisa peeked through the doorway. “What in the world does he have in there?”

  “Were I to venture a guess,” said Letitia, “I’d say it’s Madame’s piano.”

  “A piano?” Helen pushed her way past the ladies to stand in the doorway beside Kathryn. “Madame has a piano?”

  “It just arrived on the Leonesa. She’s finally going to put some furnishings in that empty front room, though she told me herself she doesn’t play.” Letitia rolled her eyes as she turned away.

  The rest of the ladies returned to their teacups, leaving Helen and Kathryn in the doorway.

  “I play,” Helen said quietly. “Hymns, mostly, and a few romantic pieces. Mother enjoyed listening to music after dinner.”

  Kathryn watched as a pair of sailors hopped up in the back of Carter’s wagon and the rest formed two lines at the rear, ready to catch the heavy crate when it slid out. An idea took root. Perhaps she had no talent for art, but what about music? She’d always admired musicians, but never had an opportunity to try it herself.

  “Would you teach me?” she asked Helen.

  When the woman replied with a thoughtful nod, she smiled. Perhaps one day she could even hold a recital for her friends in the Faulkner House’s front room. She would save a special seat in the front row for Jason.

  Thirteen

  Monday, January 21, 1856

  Jason knelt on the pitched roof and positioned a split cedar shake. David placed the nail carefully, lifted his hammer, and after a dramatic pause, pounded it in place.

  “There. That’s the last one.” He sat back on his heels and pitched his voice to be heard by everyone in the vicinity. “Gentlemen, we have finished our blockhouse.”

  Around the roof and on the ground, the men cheered. Jason scanned the even rows of shakes that covered the roof and satisfaction settled over him like a warm blanket. Look at all they’d accomplished. And not only the fortress construction. On the ground he watched as the men shook hands, congratulating themselves on completing the job. Noah clapped Will on the back and Big Dog lifted a giant fist above hi
s head in communal victory. These men had been strangers two weeks ago. Now he counted them as friends.

  “We’ve still got work to do inside.” David stood, feet spaced shoulder-width apart on the steep roof, and looked down over the celebration. “I’d like to shore up that front wall some more, and I’m not sure the platform is secure enough. I wouldn’t want it to collapse while we’re trying to fire our rifles.”

  Jason had climbed up on the inside deck earlier today to check the height of the firing holes on the upper level. He’d mimicked resting a rifle in the opening to aim and determined that the position was perfect for most men—with the possible exception of Big Dog, who would have to stoop no matter what.

  “It’s secure enough,” he told David. “You’ve done a good job.”

  “We’ve done a good job.” David let a satisfied smile roam over the men. “I’d venture to say half the town has hammered a nail or two in the past three weeks.” Then he shook his head and fixed a sardonic eye on Jason. “The other half prefers taunts to hammers.”

  “They’ll come around.” Jason set his jaw with grim certainty. “When the fighting starts they’ll be falling all over themselves with gratitude.”

  They shinnied down a pole to join the others. Noah approached and shook their hands in turn. “Some of us were talking just now. We’re going to need to stockpile supplies in here. Food, water, gunpowder.”

  David agreed with a nod. “I’ve thought the same. Been meaning to take a wagon out to the cabin for a week now. I’ve got some watertight barrels, camp bedding, and the like stored out there. Louisa has a bee in her bonnet over fetching them back here. We might need them before this is over.”

  “Why don’t I go after them now? There are still a couple of hours of daylight left.” Noah glanced around the area. “You stay here and see to cleaning up, then go on home. Surprise your wife by showing up early for once.”

  “I’m not going to let you go alone,” David protested. “That’s asking for trouble.”

  Jason eyed the sun. In another hour or so they’d have this place cleaned up. Plenty of time to head back to the restaurant for the first decent meal since construction on the blockhouse began. Noah had informed his wife that there would be no need to deliver sandwiches tonight, and she’d announced her intention to cook up an extra special supper to celebrate the end of the long days. An uncomfortable twitch began in his gut. Kathryn would be there, helping Evie dish up generous portions and talking with the customers. Talking with him. Would she mention that terrible painting? Should he mention it? And if not, then what else did they have to talk about? For the first time in a long time he felt tongue-tied around a woman. And the realization made him want to escape.

  “I’ll go,” he volunteered with a quick smile at Noah. “I’ve been in Seattle three weeks and the only thing I’ve seen is the mill, the hotel, and this blockhouse. Been itching to get out into the forest and take a look around.”

  David cocked his head. “It would be good to get home early for once.”

  “It’s settled then,” said Noah. “Let’s get the extra timber out of that cart and get going.”

  They recruited some men to unload the wagon they’d used to haul wood from the mill and then hitched up David’s horse. Jason found himself looking forward to getting out into the trees. He’d been raised in the Michigan forests, hanging around his dad and other lumberjacks from the time he was ten years old. There was a peace to be found in the woods that he’d never felt anywhere else. And this forest was like nothing he’d ever seen back East. The giant cedars and fir trees surrounding Seattle had been calling to him since he first saw them from the deck of the Fair Lady.

  A thought occurred to him as they started walking down the sloping side of the knoll. “I guess we’re safe enough?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Carrying the horse’s lead rope loosely, Noah nodded. “The cabin’s not more than a couple of miles from here and the road’s well-traveled. We’d have heard if there’d been any hostiles sighted in this area.”

  “That’s good enough for me.”

  “You ever hear about how we came to pick this place?”

  Jason shook his head. “No, but it sounds like a good walking story.”

  The two men set an easy pace, and soon the last of the town’s buildings fell behind them and they passed into the forest.

  Men crowded into the restaurant as expected, their moods high while they congratulated each other over heaping plates of venison, stewed tomatoes, corn cakes, and potatoes drenched in butter. The arrival of fresh supplies on the Leonesa had filled the café’s storage room to capacity, and Evie dipped into her supplies generously.

  Kathryn bustled from table to table, refilling coffee mugs and empty platters and serving up unstinting gratitude along with huge slices of raisin pie and sweet cream. The news of Jason’s and Noah’s errand came as a relief. After her startling realization this afternoon she was not looking forward to seeing him. What would she say? How would she act? Would he detect her feelings when he looked at her? She devoutly hoped not, and whispered a prayer to that effect.

  The pies were quickly becoming a memory when a messenger arrived. An Indian woman ran into the dining room and immediately doubled over, panting.

  One look at the fear in her wide eyes and everyone fell silent.

  “Kikisoblu sends word,” she stammered. “White woman come. She hurt, bleeding. Say husband dead, house burned. She run away with girl, come here.”

  While Kathryn tried to make sense of the broken English, Red jumped out of his chair. “Who did it?”

  “Nisquallies.” The woman choked out the word. “They coming! They coming!”

  “Now?” Kathryn’s voice rose on a panicked note.

  But the woman shook her head, dark hair waving around her head. “Soon. Very soon. Kikisoblu says three days, maybe two.”

  Evie went to the woman’s side with a mug of water and waited while she drained it. “Are the injured lady and her daughter going to be okay?”

  “Girl scared, but okay.” She shook her head again. “Kikisoblu take lady to white doctor man and send me here.”

  “She’ll be at Doc Maynard’s then,” said someone.

  “Who is it?” asked Evie. “Did Princess Angeline tell you her name?”

  “Yes. She named…” The Indian woman screwed up her face, and pounded on her head with a fist. Then her expression cleared. “Cox.”

  Evie’s hand flew to cover her mouth. “Not Rebecca Cox?”

  The woman nodded. “Rebecca Cox. And a girl with her.”

  “That’s William Cox’s wife.” Red spoke in a grim voice. “That means William is dead.”

  Evie wavered on her feet, and for a moment Kathryn thought she might faint. Her face turned deathly pale and she spoke in a horrified whisper. “Indians have burned the Cox cabin. Dear Lord, no.”

  Silence reigned for a few seconds, and then the dining room erupted in activity. Men leaped out of their chairs and headed for the door.

  “Don’t you worry, Miss Evie,” said Big Dog as he snatched his coat off the peg. “We’ll get them.”

  Kathryn stood to one side, watching the restaurant empty. When every man had gone, leaving her alone with the Indian messenger and Evie, she shook her head. “Surely they don’t intend to launch an attack against the Nisquallies.”

  “That’s not where they’re going.” Evie’s voice choked on a sob. “The Cox house is less than a mile from David and Louisa’s cabin.” She pressed a fist against her mouth and drew a shuddering breath. “Jason and Noah are walking right into their path.”

  “And that’s how I ended up with the prettiest wife in all of Seattle.” Noah finished with a grin.

  Jason shook his head, laughing. “I can’t believe she and a handful of women cleared that patch of land with a handsaw and axes.”

  Noah raised a hand in a vow. “It’s the honest truth. You should have seen her expression when I told her it was my land. Why, we were at Arthur
’s place, not too far from here over that way.”

  He pointed westward, and Jason automatically followed the direction of his finger. His gaze was drawn upward, above the canopy of trees, where a thick cloud of black smoke billowed into the sky. The odor struck him then, and he realized he’d been smelling smoke for the past few minutes.

  “Something’s on fire.”

  Noah looked, and his laughter dissolved. “That’s too big to be a cook fire.”

  They both came to a halt. A bad feeling settled in the pit of Jason’s stomach. “You say Arthur Denny’s place is empty these days?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a mile or two beyond that. I think that’s close to where William Cox’s place is. I hope everything’s okay.”

  A heavy suspicion stole over Jason that everything was not okay at the Cox place. “We’d better go see if he needs help.”

  Noah was already leading the horse to the side of the path, where he looped the lead around a low-hanging branch. The wagon, piled high with collapsible cots, a couple of barrels, and two crates full of odds and ends left over from Seattle’s early lumberjack days, was far too wide to navigate the dense forest. Jason grabbed the rifle he’d borrowed from David and tossed Noah’s to him, and then they took off through the trees.

  Having been raised in the woods, Jason prided himself on his ability to tread silently, a skill necessary for hunting deer and other wild game to add to the camp’s supper pot. He was glad to see Noah possessed the skill as well, and fell in behind him as they slipped from the cover of one thick tree trunk to the next. After every step or so, they paused to listen. The only sound besides the call of birds and the occasional scurry of an unseen animal was a distant drone that grew louder as they neared the source of the pillar of black smoke. A chill rose up his spine when he identified the sound as burning wood. A loud crack echoed toward them, as though of thick logs giving way.