She opened her mouth, ready to tell him what she thought of his order, but couldn’t. She never could. She’d never been allowed to show anger or frustration, had been trained from the moment she could think and understand that to express either of those emotions showed lack of breeding. The general expected her to be obedient, and she always had been.
Unshed tears burned her eyes behind the lenses of her glasses. Oh, she so wanted to try, so wanted to be able to give verbal evidence of her anger—for once—but before she could utter a sound, he rose from his seat.
“I should leave.”
She stood, jaw aching, the words she wanted to say filling her mind but stuck on the tip of her tongue.
He stood at the door, his hand on the knob, reluctance to leave evident in his stance, on his face. She could tell he wanted to say more, perhaps apologize. The hardness in his eyes softened just a bit, no longer the color of polished pewter, but he didn’t ask for forgiveness. Indeed, he issued another order. “I want you to report what happened with Canady to the sheriff.”
Once again stung by his attitude and harshness, Kathryne stammered, “I-I…don’t think it’s…it’s necessary. And I don’t think he-he’ll do anything about it.”
“Doesn’t matter. He still needs to know. Promise me.”
She looked at him, saw his sadness. Perhaps he regretted his behavior. The knowledge didn’t help. Her throat tightened and her chin trembled. It always did when she wanted to cry. She took a deep breath and nodded, unable to utter a single word.
He didn’t move for the longest time but his gaze settled over her, as if memorizing every detail of her face. “Lock your door. And think about what I said. Go home, Katie. Go back to where you belong.”
He said not another word as he opened the kitchen door and left the house. Kathryne stood rooted to the spot. Tears filled her eyes and gathered on the rims of her glasses. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly then stood up straight. Her hands balled into fists. She wanted to hit something, anything, just to hear the satisfying crash of something breaking. Kathryne grabbed his cup and threw it against the wall, something she never would have done while living in the general’s house.
****
Chase heard her indrawn breath then the thump of something hitting the wall and the inevitable crash as the item exploded on impact. It took every ounce of his strength to remain where he stood when all he wanted was to rush back into the cottage, take her in his arms and apologize.
He’d made her angry with his order to go home, an order he conceded she had no intention of following. He’d hurt her, too. Her brandy-colored eyes had darkened then glimmered with unshed tears and color blossomed on her cheeks, but she hadn’t said a word.
He’d been harsh. For her. For himself as well. He didn’t consider Crystal Springs a safe place and that’s what he needed for Kathryne, for his own peace of mind. He had murderers to find and he couldn’t do his job if he continued to worry about her. And he did worry about her. Constantly. For reasons he could not explain.
Before he left the back steps, Chase heard her talking to herself, the words clear. He had been correct in his assumption she wasn’t about to go home, but at least she locked the door.
Hands shoved in his pockets, he walked back to his room at the boarding house, his brain a jumble of thoughts and unanswered questions. He’d known from the moment he rode into Crystal Springs something was wrong here. Aside from the treatment he received, he sensed secrets the townspeople kept, secrets they dared not utter aloud.
And now he knew. Not only had Evan and his companions been murdered, but several others had as well, including the late sheriff. All unsolved and suspicious as hell. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he walked through town, the music pouring from Riley’s batwing doors the only sounds in the otherwise quiet night.
The fine hairs at the back of his neck rose. Someone watched him from the shadows. He felt the heated stare and the malice in that steady glare. Was it Beau, angry and seeking revenge for having his plans thwarted? Roy? Shep? Or someone else? Someone who just plain didn’t want him in town? Hell, that could be just about anyone. He wasn’t exactly welcome given the label they’d attached to him.
He slipped into the shadows between buildings and waited, hardly daring to breathe, counted to ten then ten again then stepped out of the shadows. The street remained empty, but the feeling of being watched persisted. His first thought wasn’t for his own safety. It was Katie’s and before he realized it, he’d changed direction and strode back to the cottage on the hill.
He stood beside the boulder in the front yard where Walter had once taken his punishment. Light spilled from behind the lace draperies in the parlor. Katie moved toward the small table beside a big comfortable wing-backed chair and set a cup on its surface. She’d changed from the lavender skirt and white blouse she’d worn earlier into her nightclothes. From this distance, he could see the lace at the collar of the robe. She’d taken her hair down from the tight bun at the back of her head, the glossy chestnut tresses curling wildly around her face and over her shoulders. He ached to run his fingers through those silken locks and touch her soft skin. He watched, fascination taking hold of him, tugging at his heartstrings, as she took a seat and curled her legs beneath her before she grabbed a book from the table, found her place and began to read.
With effort, he pulled his gaze away from her and searched for movement within the shelter of the trees that surrounded the cottage. Confident no one lurked within the shadows, he breathed a sigh and gave up his position beside the boulder, but only went as far as the schoolhouse.
He couldn’t keep watch over Katie every night and still find Evan’s murderers. There had to be another solution. As he watched Katie rise from her chair and blow out the kerosene lamps in the parlor, the solution came to him. Aside from installing new locks on her doors, what better watchdog could he ask for than Sarge?
Satisfied with the answer, knowing she would be safe, at least tonight, he found a spot beneath the branches of a huge evergreen, settled himself against the trunk and folded his arms across his chest. As soon as the opportunity arose, he’d ride to Camp Verde and bring Sarge back to Crystal Springs with him.
Chapter Eight
Kathryne nodded to several acquaintances as she let herself into the sheriff’s office bright and early on Saturday morning. Though she didn’t feel it necessary, and despite the fact Chase’s attitude still upset her, she had promised to report the incident with the Willow Creek ranch hands. And so she would.
Even though she didn’t think anything would be done about it. In the short time she’d been in Crystal Springs, she knew the sheriff did very little to maintain the law. Her conversation with Laurel proved it. Three unsolved murders in a year proved it.
Deputy Long sat at his desk, the only one in the small, dingy office, his feet on the desktop as he leaned back in the chair. A cup of steaming coffee to his right lent a pleasant aroma to the stifling confines of the room. Dust motes danced in the sunlight streaming through the window. The newspaper in his hand rattled as he quickly folded the pages and jumped to his feet. She didn’t know him well, though he’d been friendly on the few occasions they’d met. “Good morning, Deputy Long.”
“Good morning, Miss O’Rourke.” Dimples appeared in his freshly shaved cheeks when he smiled. Blond hair settled in unruly waves over his forehead and he pushed the silky strands back with long, slim fingers. Startling green eyes twinkled as his grin deepened. He looked so young, not much older than she, and yet, he held the power of the law within his hands. The silver star within the silver circle pinned to his shirt glittered in the sunlight, and she suspected he spent considerable time keeping the badge polished. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“I’d like to see Sheriff Townsend.”
“He ain’t…I mean, he isn’t here.” He flushed, the red stain rising up from his neck to color his entire face. “I don’t expect him back until later. Ca
n I help you?”
“I’d like to make a report, please.”
He seemed startled by the request. His eyebrows rose in question and the flush staining his face darkened. Perhaps, no one in Crystal Springs had made a report or filed a complaint before. Perhaps, she was the first, but she doubted what happened to her had been a unique incident. It was common knowledge the men who frequented Riley’s could and did get rowdy on occasion. She had been warned, which led her to believe some other woman had been accosted as she had been.
“Of course.” He pulled a chair away from the desk and dusted off the seat. “Please.” He grabbed a ledger from the shelf behind him, blew dust from the cover and placed it on the desk before he took his seat. Opening the book, he turned to the first blank page then picked up the short stub of a pencil and licked the tip. Even from her position, she could tell the ledger had never been used. “What would you like to report?”
“I was accosted by three men from Willow Creek ranch.” She said the words matter-of-factly, but the anxiety of those words and the memories they invoked made her shudder. If Chase hadn’t come along when he did…
Instantly alert, he studied her face. “Did they hurt you?”
She shook her head. Other than frightening her, she remained unscathed, except for the bruises on her arm and the nightmares, which had plagued her as she tossed and turned in her bed.
“Do you know who they were?”
“Beau Canady, Shep Turner and Roy Benedict. They came out of the alley between Stagmeier’s and Gleason’s.” Another shiver rippled through her. “They’d been drinking. I smelled whiskey on their breaths.”
“I see.” He glanced at the book and wrote the names on the page. “Tell me everything.”
Brow furrowed, the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, he wrote while Kathryne related the incident, pressing so hard on the pencil, he broke the point twice. Both times, he picked up another pencil and kept writing.
He glanced at her, his eyes reflecting worry. “How did you get away from them?”
“Mr. Hunter came to my rescue.”
“Hunter?” His body tensed and the concern in his eyes changed to something else, something menacing. Kathryne not only saw the change, but felt it as well. The very air around him seemed to shimmer with hatred and he looked at her differently, as if she had done something wrong by allowing Chase to save her from whatever the Willow Creek boys had planned. Sympathy for Chase rose in her. Anger for the way he was treated in this town rose in her as well.
“I’ll let Sheriff Townsend know.” He closed the book and rested his hands on top. “Perhaps, I’ll take a ride out to Willow Creek and have a talk with the boys.”
As soon as he said those words, Kathryne knew nothing would be done. As she suspected, reporting what happened was a waste of time, but she had promised Chase and she’d kept her promise. “Thank you for your time, Deputy,” she murmured, but couldn’t keep sarcasm from her tone. Kathryne rose from her seat and let herself out of the office. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, drawing air into her lungs in an effort to calm the anger surging through her.
“Miss O’Rourke.” The voice came from her right, accompanied by the sound of boot heels heavy on the thick planking of the sidewalk. Kathryne turned as Sheriff Townsend approached. “I see you came from my office. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” From all appearances, he seemed solicitous, but after hearing how Laurel had been treated when James died, she suspected his attitude was just an act. “Was Deputy Long able to help you?”
“Yes and no.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I came to report an incident that happened to me last night. Your deputy dutifully took my statement, but I doubt he’ll do anything about it.” Frustration made her words sharper and louder than she intended.
“Why would you say that?”
“Because I happened to mention that Chase Hunter came to my rescue.”
As with Deputy Long, scorn and loathing passed before Sheriff Townsend’s eyes, the expression of concern quickly changing. His eyes narrowed and his hands balled into fists. It was more than apparent he had no liking for Chase and though he recovered quickly, the damage had been done. His true feelings had shone, if only for a brief moment. He gestured toward a bench. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
Though she wished to forget the whole incident, she took the seat he offered. Sheriff Townsend sat beside her, and at least pretended to listen. He didn’t move, but a muscle jumped in his cheek and his lips were pressed together with something akin to annoyance. With her? With Canady and his companions? With Chase? She didn’t know. What’s more, she didn’t care. She wished he’d do his job, but doubted that would happen.
For a long time, he didn’t speak. He watched the street, nodding to a few people going about their business. When he finally turned to her, he said, “You were fortunate Hunter came along when he did.”
His words were calm, but Kathryne sensed the contempt beneath them. She studied him and saw that same emotion reflected in his eyes.
“Yes, I was lucky. I hate to think what would have happened.” An involuntary shudder shook her to the core. “What is it you have against Mr. Hunter?”
Oh, if looks could kill, she’d be dead where she sat as he pierced her with his intent glare.
“We don’t like his kind.”
“And yet, you tolerate men like Canady who attack women with no provocation. I don’t understand.”
He said nothing more, but the skin around his left eye twitched. And kept twitching. The muscle jumping in his jaw picked up its pace. At one time, she’d thought the sheriff an attractive man. Now, knowing what she knew about him, seeing the hatred blazing on his face, he seemed just plain ugly.
Kathryne stood, brushed the dust from her skirt and started walking away. “Have a lovely day, Sheriff,” she said over her shoulder, the sarcasm in her words heavy…and intentional.
“You might not want to wander around alone after dark, Miss O’Rourke.”
It wasn’t the words that struck her. It was his tone and the implied threat. Kathryne stopped in her tracks and turned on her heel to face him once more. She didn’t know where she found the courage to finally let lose some of the anger she’d suppressed for so long, but she did. “I beg your pardon? Are you saying it’s my fault those men accosted me? Are you saying I asked to be attacked simply because I chose to walk through town after dark? Is that what I’m hearing from you, Sheriff?”
“No, ma’am.” He stood, his tall, lanky frame unfolding from the bench in one fluid motion. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
The expression on his face, the tenseness in his body told her he lied. He did think it her fault those men accosted her. She sucked in her breath as her heart began to pound in her chest and her whole body trembled with suppressed fury. She approached him. Townsend backed up a step, but his expression didn’t change. Oh, how she wanted to slap the condescending look from his face. Indeed, her hand just itched to connect with the smirk on his lips.
“Let me tell you something, Sheriff,” she said, unable to hide her feelings or the tremor in her voice, which only served to make her angrier. “I will not be told where I can or cannot go, or when, simply because the sun has set or because you say so. Nor will I be treated with disrespect, by anyone, you included. It’s your job to make the streets safe, so do it. And if you won’t, we can find someone who will!”
She’d made an enemy. She knew it the moment the words left her mouth and the sheriff’s expression changed. The smirk disappeared. His eyes narrowed and glittered. He said not a word, but the murderous gleam in his gaze struck her to the core.
“Good day, Sheriff.”
As quickly as she could, she strode away. Disbelief and fear settled over her as she rounded the corner, but anger took the lead in her emotions. Something had changed though. She’d stood up for herself. For the first time in her life, she’d expressed her frustration an
d anger, and it felt good. Now that she had done so, she could never go back to keeping those emotions tucked inside.
In moments, she found herself in front of Emy’s house just in time to see Terry, black bag in hand, scurry past her down the walkway with a nod. “Emy’s in the kitchen,” he said as he climbed into the saddle of the horse waiting just outside the gate. “Go on in.”
Kathryne let herself into the house and traversed the long hallway to the kitchen. She could hear Emeline’s voice…or rather, the frustration in her voice. She stopped in the doorway to take in the sight before her.
Emeline stood at the table, rolling pin in hand, flour up to her elbows, coating the apron she used to cover her gown and dusting the open cookbook beside her. Flour also dusted the floor around her, as well as almost every other available surface in the big kitchen. Tendrils of glossy brown hair escaped the tight bun at the back of her head and stuck to her red, perspiration damp face as she stood poised to roll the rolling pin over the glob of white sticky dough before her.
The anger and fear from a few moments before dissipated as Kathryne watched her sister, a woman she’d always thought could do anything, attempt to flatten the dough into a circle. And fail. The dough stuck to the rolling pin, curling around the smooth surface. Emeline blew air from between her pursed lips—a sigh of frustration—as she peeled the dough from the wooden rod and dropped it on the table, producing a cloud of white powder, which sprinkled more flour on her apron. She pushed the hair away from her forehead with her forearm, getting flour there as well…and looked up. Her expression changed from frustration to embarrassment to happiness in a quick second.
“Kate! What are you doing here?”
“Watching you.” She walked into the kitchen, her skirts kicking up flour from the floor, to grab a dishtowel from the counter near the sink. She wiped the flour from her sister’s face then laid the towel over Emeline’s shoulder, as their mother had always done.
A Good Man for Katie Page 9