by Lucy Evanson
Chapter 10
John Gray’s was fairly busy considering how late it was, and Kate saw several people that looked vaguely familiar as she slowly made her way around the store, examining the goods. She and Jake had decided to come into town on a whim, after a long, boring day of doing nothing around the house; when she had mentioned the idea of going into town to pick up a few things, Jake had leaped at the chance to drive her in the carriage.
After promising to return in half an hour, Jake had driven off, leaving Kate to browse the store alone, nodding at the women she half-recognized and studiously avoiding Mr. Gray every time he emerged from the back office. She didn’t want to have to lie cheerfully about what a mess his wife had made of her dress. As it happened, she was already dreading having to explain why she was buying fabric without going to see his wife; now that Kate knew how talented Becky was, she was flirting with the idea of having her make an entire dress, so she was on the lookout for something appropriate.
After inspecting almost everything the store had to offer, Kate looked out into the street. It must have been more—much more—than thirty minutes, but there was no sign of their carriage. That boy, she thought, and was about to step back and resume searching for her dress material when she saw a bolt of blue fabric sitting in the display window. As she examined it more closely, she realized that it would never do; the color was lovely, a deep royal blue, but it was a simple thin cotton fabric. Perfect for an apron. For a formal dress, not so much.
She had nearly turned back to resume searching when she noticed a book displayed in the window. She turned her head to the side, trying to read the upside-down title.
Oliver Twist. I haven’t read that in a long time. A fond smile appeared on her face as she reached for it. Kate began to flip through the book, stopping to read a passage here and there, and was soon entirely lost in the story. It was like she had run into an old friend whom she hadn’t seen in years, and she became barely aware of her surroundings, hardly moving when other customers needed to pass and not even noticing how late it had become. By the time she next looked up from the book, the blue sky had turned shades of violet and orange and the sun had slipped well below the roofline of the buildings across the street.
“Oh my gosh,” Kate said, turning to the clerk, who was high on a ladder behind the counter, stocking the shelves. “Excuse me, do you know the time?”
He pulled a watch out of his pocket and glanced at it. “Five minutes of eight,” he said. “I’m just about to close up, miss. You going to buy that book? I expect there are a few pages you haven’t read yet.”
“No, thank you,” she muttered, and replaced the book before stepping out into the street.
Where is Jake? He should have been here almost an hour ago. As she paced back and forth, her heels thumping hollowly on the sidewalk planks, she could see no sign of her brother.
The busting activity that had filled the street only a couple of hours before had almost entirely died away; the only movement on the dusty road was from a mangy dog headed out of town at a trot, his head whipping from side to side as if expecting to find a boot headed his way at any moment. Farther down the road a few horses were tied up in front of the saloon, occasionally flicking their tails and softly pawing at the dirt.
In a moment she heard the door open behind her, and she turned to watch the clerk lock up the store.
“Did you need something else, miss?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
“Do you have somebody to see you home?”
“Yes, my brother will be along directly,” she said. “Thank you.”
“I hope so. A young lady like yourself shouldn’t be hanging around here alone. It’s getting dark. Good evening,” he said, nodding at her as he turned and headed down the sidewalk. She watched him walk away, passing the saloon with only a quick glance inside. He walked a few more steps, then stopped, turned around, and went back to enter the bar.
Men.
She glanced up at the sky; it was getting dark quickly, and as if to make the point, the lamplighter appeared at the far end of the street, dragging his rickety ladder behind him as he moved from lamp to lamp, throwing back the shadows bit by bit.
She turned and looked back at the goods displayed in the mercantile window. Perhaps I should have bought that book after all, she thought. At least I’d have something to do while I’m waiting.
A burst of noise drew her attention away from the window. Down in front of the saloon, a trio of men had just been escorted out and appeared to be none too happy about it. It was a bit too far to make out everything that they were saying, but a few choice words were recognizable even at a distance; the last time she’d heard language like that her father had accidentally hammered his thumb instead of a nail. The saloonkeeper, a mountain of a man, pointed a finger in the face of each man and then shook his huge fist; there were no words needed to understand that message, at least.
Kate turned slightly, not wanting it to look like she was staring, and her eyes lit upon the bolt of blue fabric again. Now that I think about it, maybe that would do. Now I’m not sure. She glanced to her right. Still no Jake. She glanced to her left just in time to see one of the drunkards elbow another as he pointed down the street. Pointed right at her.
Her throat grew tight and she could feel goose bumps rise all over her body. The men slowly began to make their way toward the store, swerving and swaying as they walked toward her. She spun around to see what other businesses were still open, but was met by nothing but darkened storefronts. Even the lamplighter had disappeared. She glanced back at the men approaching her. They didn’t appear to be in any hurry. But then they don’t need to hurry, Kate realized. I’ve got nowhere to go.
She turned back to the approaching trio. All three were dressed identically in filthy denim trousers supporting a thick layer of mud; rough work shirts open at the neck, and heavy boots that were suitable for neither parlor nor church. Diggers. The moment she realized that they were miners, a flame of hope blazed to life in Kate’s mind. Perhaps they work for Edward. Perhaps they won’t give me any problems at all.
That hope grew unsteady as they neared her, encircling her and backing her into the doorway of the mercantile.
“Gentlemen, I’m afraid I can’t help you with whatever you need,” she said. “My fiancé, Mr. Carter, will be along for me in only a moment and I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to see you harassing me like this.”
The tallest of the three elbowed the others. “See, I told you this was Carter’s woman.”
Her skin crawled as the three ogled her, not even trying to hide the lust in their eyes as they looked her up and down.
“So you know my fiancé, then,” she said. “Well, then you know I’m speaking seriously when I say that he won’t be pleased about this. I’m sure you don’t want any trouble with your jobs.”
One of the shorter diggers turned and loudly spit onto the sidewalk. The tall one snorted at Kate. “Your Mr. Carter can go hang,” he said. “He fired all three of us today. Said we were drunk too much to work. What you gonna say about that?”
“Well, I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” she said. “I’ll go speak to him about it at once.” Kate stepped to the side as if to leave, but the shortest of the three diggers, a rotund little man with a thick mustache, threw his arm up to lean on the building, blocking her path.
“You men go on now,” she said, not quite hiding a tremor in her voice. “I think I may have some money, you can all go have a drink on me.”
“Money ain’t gonna get us a drink if they ain’t gonna let us back in the bar,” the tall one said, and the others laughed. “And maybe we don’t want a drink anyway. Maybe we want a little something more.” His eyes were hard and black, like lumps of lead.
“I’m sure I can’t help you with anything else,” Kate managed to say. “Good evening, gentlemen,” she said, and in spite of their dirty clothing she squeezed past them and started walking down the side
walk. If nothing else, I’ll even take refuge in the saloon, she thought. At least I know that they’re unwelcome there, so I’ll be safe until Jake arrives. The footsteps she heard behind her, heavy and hollow, started slowly but soon grew faster, and she had to fight herself to keep her eyes forward. Just keep walking and don’t let them see how scared you are. Bullies prey on the weak. You must look strong now.
She stepped lightly down the few steps at the end of the raised sidewalk, lifting her dress to avoid dragging it in the dirt as she crossed to the next building. The alley was littered with old barrels and broken boards, empty bottles and rusting pieces of junk she couldn’t identify as she passed. She lifted one foot to step up onto the next segment of sidewalk, but her foot never touched down.
Instead, a hand whipped up over her mouth and she felt herself grabbed in several places, pulled backwards and dragged into the alley. In spite of the larger threat she was suddenly faced with, she at first only felt disgust at the dirty hand now clamped over her face, pressed tightly against her lips. Filthy, she thought. His hand reeked of tobacco and God knew what else, and it was a few seconds before she came to her senses and realized that she had greater things to worry about than the smell. She was being pulled quickly, and felt like the shadows of the alley were swallowing her up as the street got farther and farther away. Filthy or no, I have to do something, she told herself as she opened her mouth and bit her attacker hard.
At first it seemed like her bite had no effect, although she felt like she had taken a raw steak between her teeth. That would have tasted better than this man’s grimy paw, to be sure, but she redoubled her efforts. Finally the pain made its way through the drunken fog of his brain and he cried out, whipping his hand away from her face.
“The damned bitch bit me!” he spat out, cradling his hand.
Kate screamed. She screamed as loud as she could, until her throat felt like it would rip apart from the inside, howling like a wolf, a banshee, a mythical beast. It was very strong, very loud, and very unladylike. Just what was needed.
The tall one shook her roughly by the shoulders, and she then saw his hand rushing toward her face far too quickly to avoid it. His palm made a cracking noise against her cheek as he slapped her, and her face felt like it was burning, as if he’d just branded her like cattle. Her scream died in her throat, and her strength seemed to drain away as she fell backwards onto the ground. He hit me, she thought. This can’t be happening.
The tall one leaned in close and grabbed the front of her dress with both hands. He towered over her, and Kate felt as if her insides had turned to ice water, as if she were about to simply drain away into the mud, never to return as her old self. He roughly tore open the front of her dress, revealing her underclothes, now a mere thin shield against him, and he kicked her legs apart, moving in close to her in a way no man had ever approached her.
Kate felt her eyes sting with hot tears, and she strained against the men who were holding her down. It was useless; they were far too strong for her.
“Please,” she whispered. “Please don’t do this.”
“Missy, you just be quiet now and it’ll go better for you.” He bent over to scoop up her dress, pushing the fabric up and exposing her knees before his hands dropped to his waistband.
Kate closed her eyes. Please, please help me, she thought, her only remaining defense a desperate prayer.
She heard an odd noise, a solid thunk that reminded her of the sound of an ax biting into a log. She opened her eyes to see the tall man falling to the side, looking indeed like a felled tree as he turned slightly and buried his cheek in the dirt. In the gloom it was hard to see exactly what was happening, and it took Kate a moment to realize that another man had joined them in the alley. The newcomer held a weapon of some kind and quickly delivered another blow to the tall one, who now lay entirely motionless in the dust.
One of the diggers holding Kate down reacted more quickly than the other, leaping to his feet and running through the alley as if to escape behind the row of buildings, drunkenly swaying and stumbling over the junk that littered the ground. The slow one could only look on in confused fear, not even removing his hand from Kate’s wrist as two terrible blows descended; one that— judging by the noise—broke the arm that still held Kate prisoner, and one that knocked him senseless before he could even scream in pain. His grasp on her withered and slipped away as he fell into the dirt next to his tall friend.
This new attacker whipped around and drew his weapon back in the air before launching it forward, hurling it at the fleeing digger, who received it square in the back and went crashing to earth. Kate’s savior was upon the miner before he could get up, leaping to him almost like an animal, full of an overwhelming strength and speed and delivering another pair of blows that would keep the man not eager to move for a while.
Kate burst into tears. Silhouetted against the dying light of the evening, she could clearly see the one-of-a-kind outline of Sam’s gunstock club as he walked back to her and crouched down.
“Sam, thank God you’re here,” she said, burying her face in her hands as the tears poured down her cheeks. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. Thank God for you.”
He pulled her dress down, covering her legs, and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.
“Here, take this,” he said.
She nodded and gratefully took it from him, blotting up the tears as best she could, although the thin cloth was soon soaked through. She felt of two minds at that moment. She could have wailed like a maniac, more out of relief than fear now, but uncontrollable all the same; or she could simply set that aside for a later time. Come on Kate, everything’s going to be fine now. Wail later. She tried to breathe deeply, willing herself to become calm, and shortly the tears began to ebb.
She studied Sam, still crouched there in front of her. Their eyes met briefly before he looked away, giving Kate the chance to really look at him. With his thick black hair and dark eyes, he looked like he was made of the night, like some guardian that had sprung up out of the elements to defend her. And here I thought he was just some farm boy. Her cheeks grew hot at the memory of how she’d thought about him before.
“There’s blood on your club,” she said, watching as a single drop rolled off the tip into the dust below.
Sam looked down and examined his club, wiping it on the jacket of the tall digger, who was still unconscious.
“It’ll wash,” he said. “Everything will wash.”
Kate felt another wave of tears building up as he helped her to her feet and led her out of the alley; by the time they’d mounted his horse, she was crying freely again. She didn’t care that they rode together, that she was cradled in his arms as they passed the saloon, earning quite a few stares; that her head was nestled against his shoulder as they rode, her tears dampening his shirt. None of it mattered. The only thing she cared about at that moment was that she was safe from harm, thanks to Sam. As she remembered the rough skin of the digger’s hand over her mouth, a shudder ran through her, and Sam held her tighter. Kate felt Sam’s lips upon her skin, kissing her forehead, her cheeks and finally her mouth. She was filled with the sudden feeling that she was perfectly safe in his arms. Things could have been so much worse, she thought. She suddenly felt exhausted, and she let herself drift into a light sleep as they made their way back to the farm. The last words that passed through her waking mind were Sam’s, like an echo: everything will wash.