Chapter Ten
When the women walked into the kitchen, Katlin felt as if she'd stepped into a blast furnace. The heat was unbearable. No wonder Sarah was pale, her cheeks flushed. In Sarah's condition, Katlin was surprised she was able to function at all, much less cook a huge meal complete with freshly baked bread and home made pie. Which only proved Sarah Westfield was tougher than she looked.
"Do you have anything cold to drink?" Katlin asked.
"How about some fresh squeezed lemonade?" Sarah offered. "Rick brought the ice and lemons back from town this morning."
"Sounds wonderful." Spying a bucket of ice, glasses, and the pitcher of lemonade on a butcher block type table in the corner, Katlin suggested, "Why don't I get us each a glass while you get me something to wrap your wrist?"
"Its nothing, Katlin. I'll be fine," Sarah argued, on edge as she eyed the various dishes which needed to be carried into the dining room. AI really need to get supper on the table."
"Bull-shit," Katlin tossed back. "The men can wait."
Katlin's flippant remark, although it initially startled Sarah, was rewarded by a reluctant chuckle. The ice had been broken, and the tension created by an initial meeting between two people dissipated as if it had never existed. Katlin was pleased to see the animated spark that entered Sarah's dark eyes.
"You’re right," Sarah agreed with a defiant toss of her head. "Let’m wait," she added as she turned on her heels and went into the pantry for a roll of fabric she used for bandages, scissors, and a safety pin.
After pouring two glasses of lemonade, Katlin stepped into the dining room, leaving Sarah no choice but to follow. "Let’s sit in here for a few minutes. It's cooler."
Katlin sat both glasses on the gleaming oak trestle table then pulled out a chair and sat so she was facing the entrance and the parlor where Mitch had gone to fix himself a drink. Sarah pulled out another chair and sat facing Katlin, her back to the door.
"Now, pull up your sleeve and let's have a look at that wrist. Although Katlin didn't miss Sarah's obvious reluctance, she nevertheless proceeded to unbutton the cuff at her wrist.
Katlin picked up her glass, took a sip of the wonderfully refreshing cold lemonade, and looked up to see Mitch leaning casually against the door jam watching her. Something was bothering him. He didn't look angry or upset, but it was there in the controlled way he held himself as if determined not to let anyone else know. Katlin used the posture too often herself not to be able to recognize it in someone else, especially in Mitch.
"Everything all right?" Mitch asked after he'd caught Katlin's eye.
"We’re fine. Tell the men we'll have supper on the table in a few minutes," Katlin answered, hesitating over the word supper. She had to keep reminding herself that here it was breakfast, dinner, and supper instead of the breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
"If there's anything I can do to help, let me know," Mitch offered, and Katlin knew he wouldn't hesitate to help. Unlike some men.
"We have everything under control. Go on out and join the men while I play doctor, and we have a little girl talk."
With a nod of understanding, Mitch silently mouthed the words, AI love you."
"And I love you too," Katlin responded aloud, not caring who might hear. "Now get out of here or supper will never get on the table."
With a grin that could only be described as cocky, Mitch winked, tipped his hat, then turned and went out the door. When Katlin heard the door close behind him, she returned her glass to the table and looked down to examine Sarah's extended wrist.
Carefully schooling her features not to betray her anger, Katlin lifted her eyes to meet Sarah's. No words were necessary. While Katlin hoped the wrist was only sprained and not fractured, there was no disguising the finger-shaped bruises that could only have been left by the punishing grip of a man's hand.
Wordlessly, Katlin picked up the roll of four-inch wide white cotton and began to wind it around Sarah's wrist. "Tell me if I get it too tight."
Sarah merely nodded, too ashamed to speak.
"From what little I've seen of it so far, you have a lovely home, Sarah," Katlin said casually. It was true. The home was warm and homey, showing the hand of a woman who loved and took pride in her home. From the hardwood floors polished to a shine which reflected the hand braided throw rugs, the cheery print curtains at the windows, to the vases of wild flowers, the home reflected Sarah's influence. Not what Katlin would have labeled Westfield extravagance.
"It’s nothing fancy, but my father and I were happy here," Sarah responded so softly Katlin had to lean forward to hear, and she suspected Sarah was afraid of being overheard. Nevertheless, Sarah's simple statement spoke volumes, and Katlin was quick to pick up on what wasn't said. Katlin picked up the scissors, cut the bandage, and secured it with the safety pin, wishing she had the Ace bandage in the first aid kit from her supplies back at the Bull's Head.
"How does that feel?"
Sarah flexed her wrist slightly. "Much better. Thank you."
"It was nothing."
"Yes it is," Sarah insisted, and both women knew she wasn't thanking Katlin for bandaging her wrist but for what Katlin hadn't said about the injury which had made it necessary. In that moment, a bond of friendship and trust had begun to form between the two women who had been strangers less than half an hour ago.
AI think it's wonderful about your marriage to Mitch. He's a good man," Sarah said then looked pointedly toward the opened window, pausing so Katlin could overhear the conversation on the front porch. AI couldn't help overhearing Mitch's announcement. Sound travels out here."
In other words, be careful what you say, someone might be listening. Judging by the sound of the voices outside, it sounded like Rick was standing right outside the window. Katlin nodded her understanding and rose to her feet.
AI guess we'd better get supper on the table," Katlin said for Rick's benefit. "Hungry men tend to get cranky, and we can't have that," she added with a conspiratorial wink.
Working together, talking quietly so they wouldn't be overheard, they had supper on the table in short order. It never ceased to amaze Katlin how much you can learn about a person in a short period of time. Once Sarah started talking, it all came pouring out of her in a rush, leaving Katlin to wonder just how long it had been since Sarah had someone to talk to who cared enough to listen.
Sarah's grandfather, Eli Tate, had been a successful carpenter and furniture craftsman in Boston. Upon his death, Sarah's father, John, sold the business and everything except his favorite pieces of his father's hand-crafted furniture. He used part of the money to purchase a large tract of land out west. Even though John Tate was as skilled a craftsman as his father before him, he'd had his own dream. His dream was to become a rancher and to build a secure future for the family he hoped to have one day.
John Tate met Sarah's mother on the wagon train west. They fell in love and were married before they reached their destination. The newlyweds had fallen in love with the wide open spaces of Kansas, and together they'd built the home in which Sarah still lived, her connection to the parents now gone. Barely a year after the house was built, Sarah's mother had died giving birth to the couple's first and only child . . . Sarah.
Unlike Katlin's father, Sarah's father had cherished his daughter and had showered her with all the love and support any child could hope for. John Tate was not only Sarah's father, he'd also been her best friend. Until Rick Westfield entered the picture.
On the fateful day which forever changed Sarah's life, she had gone into town for their monthly supplies where she had been accosted by a group of drunken drovers. She had been rescued by Rick who had been the trail boss in charge of the offending men. As the son of the rancher who owned the cattle they'd driven north, and as such in charge of the wages they hoped to collect, the drovers didn't so much as whimper as they quickly disbursed.
Rick had insisted on escorting Sarah home that day. She'd invited him to stay for supper to thank him for his
gallantry. From that point on, Sarah, who was admittedly naive when it came to men, who had never so much as been courted by a single suitor, was hopelessly lost.
After that first day, Rick had begun courting her in earnest, showering her with gifts, attention, flowery words, and innocent kisses which left her wanting more. In less than a week, the charming, handsome young rancher had swept Sarah off her feet. For the first time in her life, Sarah had rebelled against her father's advice. Rick had convinced her that John Tate's objections were nothing more than a father's reluctance to see his little girl grow up, his fear of losing her to another man. As Rick encouraged, Sarah went into town without telling her father of her intent to be married. They had returned to the ranch that evening as man and wife.
Young Sarah had grown up in a hurry. Almost immediately, she had realized the charming young man she'd fallen in love with was not the man she had married. Instead of returning to Rick's ranch in Texas as she had expected they would do, Rick had moved into the Tate Ranch. Sarah spent most of her time attempting to keep peace between her new husband and her father. One month after they were married, John Tate was killed by rustlers. Shortly thereafter, Rick's father sold his holdings in Texas and joined his son in Abilene.
Sarah's ranch hands were quickly replaced by Westfield men, and the Tate Ranch had become the Westfield Ranch. Sarah had become a prisoner in her own home.
End of story.
Not by a long shot. Not if Katlin had anything to do with it. At this point, Katlin felt it would be counterproductive to voice her suspicions that Rick was probably behind the death of Sarah's father. It was just too convenient. Katlin suspected the same thought had occurred to Sarah as well.
Katlin put her hand on Sarah's arm and whispered earnestly, "Things are going to change around here, Sarah."
AI don't see how."
"We need to talk, where we won't be overheard. I'll find a way. Trust me and go along with anything I might say. Okay?"
Sarah put her hand protectively on her stomach as she digested Katlin's words. For the first time in a very long time, she felt a stirring of hope for a better future for herself and her unborn child. She'd only just met Katlin McKinnen, but there was something about the other woman's inner strength that rekindled something inside Sarah which had burned out the day her father died in her arms.
"Let’s do it," Sarah agreed softly.
"That'a girl," Katlin whispered back. Then leaning closer to Sarah's ear, she added, AA man's greatest weakness is he underestimates what a woman can do if she's pushed too far."
Deliberately giving Sarah time to think about what she'd said, Katlin headed for the porch to tell the men supper was ready. She hoped to have a few private words with Mitch, and then she had to figure out how to get Sarah alone. And if she managed that, all she had to do was figure out how to tell Sarah what she wanted to say without sounding like a crazy person and losing the fragile bond of trust so recently formed.
Just as she reached the screened door, Katlin heard Sing's voice whisper in her head. "Sarah's ancestors on her mother's side were Gypsies from the old country. She spent over a year with her grandmother before she passed on because her father wanted her to know her mother and her heritage through her mother's people."
"I don't see what good that will do me," Katlin began to argue mentally then stopped. A knowing smile curved her lips as understanding dawned.
"Very good, Little One," Sing praised. AI figured you'd get it. And by the way, there is no fracture. Sarah's wrist will be fine."
"Supper is on the table, gentlemen," Katlin announced as she stepped on to the porch then walked to Mitch and slipped her arm around his waist.
"It’s about time," Richard muttered under his breath. Rick moved behind his father's wheel chair and turned him toward the door. Mitch reached over, opened the door, and held it opened for the other men to pass through.
Katlin caught Mitch's eye and raised her lips, inviting a kiss. Mitch didn't hesitate to comply. Putting her hand on the nape of his neck, Katlin held his head down as her lips moved up to tug at his ear lobe with her teeth.
"Do you trust me?" Katlin whispered.
"Absolutely," was his equally soft response.
"Will you go along with anything I might say, no matter how far-fetched it might be?"
"What else is new?" he chuckled and nipped at her neck.
Katlin retaliated by tugging none too gently on his ear lobe.
"Ouch, that hurt."
"It’s important, Mitch. Trust me to know what I'm doing."
"Kat, I trust you, but can't you tell me . . . ?"
Katlin silenced him by returning her lips to his. "I’ll explain everything on the way back to town." With a gentle butterfly kiss, she added, AI promise."
"I’ll hold you to that."
"Can't you love birds give it a rest," Richard shouted from inside the house. "While you two are heating it up out there, supper is getting cold in here."
Katlin loved to cook but didn't enjoy cooking for one person so she rarely sat down to a home cooked meal. Sarah had prepared what Katlin considered a feast. There was tender roast beef simmering in rich brown gravy, mashed potatoes, green beans, thick slices of freshly baked sour dough bread, and Katlin knew there was apple pie and home made ice cream for dessert. Everything was cooked to perfection, and Katlin was content to eat quietly, savoring each bite as she listened to the conversation between the men as they discussed everything from the weather and problems in town to Rick's plans for the ranch.
The men had already covered the subject of Richard's sense of loss at the death of Mitch's father while they were out on the porch. Katlin had overheard that much of the conversation while she and Sarah were getting the food on the table. Sarah had been right. Sound did carry out here.
Katlin knew it was only a matter of time before the subject of their relationship and marriage came up. She didn't have long to wait.
"To be honest, Katlin, you've come as a complete surprise to us," Richard admitted. "You can't have known each other long."
Katlin looked up at Mitch with what could only be described as a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling like someone who was playing a game and loving every minute of it. "Don't overdo it, McKinnen," she warned herself silently then said, "What do you think, Mitch, should we tell them the truth? As you said, they are like family and can be trusted. Right?"
"And pigs can fly," was her parting shot to herself as she waited for Mitch's response. Katlin had absolutely none of her story planned. She was ad-libbing as she went along, hoping for divine inspiration.
"That’s entirely up to you, Sweetheart," Mitch responded, figuring it was a reasonably non-committal answer to her question.
"Actually," Katlin began, "Mitch and I have known each other for several years," she lied boldly.
"You sly dog," Rick accused with a surprised laugh. "You always were a secretive son of a gun."
"I’m afraid being secretive is a necessity in my line of work," Katlin answered so Mitch wouldn't feel compelled to elaborate. She had an idea which might accomplish more than she dared to hope for. An idea that might flush out the bad guys. To force their hands where they would give themselves away without the need for evidence to back up her suspicions.
"Your line of work?" Richard prompted.
"I do a lot of undercover assignments for the Pinkerton Detective Agency," Katlin replied innocently, knowing she'd just dropped the proverbial bomb. "I’m sure I can trust that information will go no further than this room?"
Mitch knew where Katlin was headed, and he didn't like it.
"You’re a Pinkerton Agent?" was Rick's shocked reply.
Richard's response was outright disbelief as he scoffed, AA female Pinkerton Agent? No way in hell."
"You need to get with the times, Richard," Mitch inserted. "Allan Pinkerton is a man with vision. He's had female detectives on his payroll for some time." Mitch suspected that while Katlin was setting Rick up for something
, she was also setting herself up as a target, and there was nothing he could do about it, except cover her back.
"Exactly," Katlin stepped in where Mitch left off. "Allan is wise enough to know a woman can get information a man can't, simply because men don't usually consider a woman to be a threat. You have to admit that underestimating a woman has been the downfall of many men."
With one hand Katlin picked up her glass and took a long, leisurely drink of her lemonade while she reached under the table with her other hand and placed it on Mitch's thigh. The muscles of his leg were tightly coiled beneath her hand, and, although he was playing along with her story and appeared relaxed on the surface, Katlin knew better. Mitch was not a happy camper.
"So," Rick said, this time quicker to recover from Katlin's unexpected revelation than his father. "You still haven't told us how the two of you met."
"Mitch was on the train when we brought down the Reno brothers a few years back." If they asked for details and dates, Katlin knew she was in trouble. She thought it was around 1868 or 1869, but she wasn't sure. She didn't even know the first names of the brothers, but it was the only case she could remember.
"You were one of the Pinkerton Agents who apprehended that gang of train robbers?" Sarah asked, clearly impressed.
"She was," Mitch confirmed, adding verification to her outright lie which earned him the reward of a grateful squeeze to his thigh.
"Anyway, after that case, Allan set up a western branch. Mitch and I have worked several cases together in Texas."
"Is that why you're in Abilene, Katlin? Are you working on an assignment?" Again the question came from Sarah.
Katlin picked up her glass and finished off her lemonade before she responded to Sarah's question without answering it, deliberately leaving the Westfield men to wonder if she was working an assignment. And if so, were they involved? "My Uncle Ben is here. I haven't seen him in a long time. I knew Mitch was on his way to Abilene, so we arranged to meet here. It was just dumb luck that we happened to meet on the trail several days from here."
"Where she just happened to save my worthless hide from a gang of bushwhackers."
The Bond Unbroken Page 20