by Regina Scott
Relief coursed through him, and air rushed into his lungs. She was going to give him a chance. Perhaps on the drive or at the Landing, he could convince her to think differently about him.
“Anything you want,” he told her. “And thank you.”
* * *
She should have refused him. By his own admission, everyone was fine at the Landing. What good could she do there? Her heart would only break when she left him again.
She’d had a hard enough time the past few days. Each time the door opened at the hospital, she’d expected Drew to walk through it, coming to tell her something horrible had happened. Or Simon to tell her Drew lay dying from the injuries she’d chosen to ignore. How could she claim to be a nurse and leave the man she loved in pain? Why had she let fear rule her better judgment?
Yet how could she go back and beg his forgiveness when she still wasn’t sure how to deal with those fears?
Now she glanced over at Drew as he drove the team along the track out of town. He had been quite the gentleman, escorting her to the boardinghouse and waiting on the porch while she’d told Maddie the circumstances and packed her bandbox. She’d let him carry it to the wagon for her while Maddie had supervised from the porch.
“What’s this?” he’d asked as Catherine had handed him a book.
“Culpeper’s Complete Herbal,” she had told him. “I promised John a copy. I simply wasn’t sure when I’d see him again to give it to him.”
His smile had been warm as he’d placed the book behind the seat. Very likely he’d thought she’d been hoping he’d come for her.
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
“You be taking all the time you need, now, Mr. Wallin,” Maddie had called in encouragement as he’d lifted Catherine onto the bench. “Sure’n Catherine could do with a change of scenery, and I’m thinking you have some fine scenery up where you live.”
Catherine had frowned at her, but Maddie had merely laughed and waved a hand as they’d set off.
If Drew noticed Catherine’s scrutiny at the moment, he didn’t show it. More than anything, she wanted to know why he’d made the trek into town to fetch her. He’d said something was wrong with his heart. Was he truly hurting as much as she was, as Maddie had claimed? Why didn’t he say something, explain his reasoning, share his feelings?
Tell her he loved her too much to let her go.
“Have you had many patients lately?” he asked.
Polite conversation again? Once she would have welcomed it or sought her own safe topic. Now her disappointment was like bitter medicine in her mouth.
“Enough to keep us busy,” she replied, shoulders of her dress brushing a red-throated rhododendron as they passed. “There’s a rumor another doctor may be coming on the next ship from San Francisco.”
“That’s good news.”
In the silence that followed, she could hear the horses’ hooves sucking at the mud of the track. She couldn’t go on this way. Lord, help me. Give me the words to tell him what’s in my heart, what I fear.
“Drew, I...” she started, even as he said, “Catherine, I...”
He smiled. “Forgive me. What did you want to say?”
Catherine couldn’t look at him. How did a woman tell a man she cared for him so much it frightened her? She fixed her gaze ahead, into the trees, then frowned. “Is that smoke?”
Drew had been looking at her. Now his head whipped around. Rising above the towering firs was a plume of gray, growing larger every minute.
“Something’s on fire,” he said, and he slapped the reins to urge the horses faster.
Not the Landing! But even if it wasn’t Drew’s home, the fire looked too close for comfort. How fast did a fire travel among the trees? Could it outrun a person? A horse? How many would be harmed if it wasn’t contained?
As if her fears had infected him, Drew called to the team, pushing them forward. Catherine clutched the sideboard as the wagon careened down the track. The forest was no more than a green blur on either side. Something leaped across their path, and she realized it was a deer, fleeing the flames.
Lord, please protect Beth and Drew’s brothers. Protect dear Mrs. Wallin. Please keep them all safe!
They rattled into the clearing, and Drew hauled back on the reins to bring the horses to a stop. Flames licked up the side of the barn, darkening the white circle Drew had drawn for Catherine to practice shooting.
The Wallins had formed a line from Mrs. Wallin and Beth working the pump outside Drew’s house to Simon closer to the barn, and were passing buckets of water toward the fire. Drew looped the reins around the brake and put his hand on the sideboard to jump down. The team reared in their traces, whinnying in fear, knocking him back beside Catherine. She put out her hands to steady him.
“I’ll calm them,” he promised as he straightened. “Take Ma and Beth to the lake. You’ll be safe there.”
“I’m not leaving you!” Catherine insisted, but he was already climbing down, speaking to his horses. A moment later, he was running toward his cabin.
She wasn’t sure how she could help fight a fire, but she knew she could ease his mind about his mother and sister. Gingerly, she picked up the reins, then had to pull as the excited horses tried to plunge forward.
Beth ran to the wagon and climbed up beside Catherine. “Drew and the others are going to keep fighting the fire,” she reported, face flushed. “He wants us to protect the stock.”
James and John had dropped their buckets and raced into the barn. Now they reappeared through the smoke, each leading two goats, some chickens nearly smothered in their arms.
Beth gathered the frightened hens into the back of the wagon while her brothers loaded in the bleating goats. Catherine couldn’t catch sight of Drew. Where was he? What was he doing? Would he be safe?
Mrs. Wallin had gone to the house and returned to dump an armful of her quilts at Catherine’s feet. Handing her husband’s daguerreotype to Beth, she climbed up beside Catherine and cried, “Go!”
Still, she couldn’t see Drew in the smoke that billowed about the clearing. She had to trust him to make it through, to come back to her. Just as he trusted her to keep his mother and Beth safe.
It was the hardest thing Catherine had ever done, but she slapped down on the reins and left him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
With Mrs. Wallin on one side and Beth on the other, Catherine guided the team through the trees, following the track she and Drew had walked on Sunday. Nathan had taught her how to drive years ago. He’d thought himself so clever to be better than her at something, the teacher rather than the pupil at last. She’d humored him, though she’d known the skill wasn’t critical. Where she’d lived she’d either walked or traveled with friends or family. Besides, her father rarely surrendered the reins to his son, let alone Catherine. Now she blessed Nathan for teaching her, for the knowledge allowed her to bring the horses down the hill and onto the shore by the lake.
If she looked out over the blue water, cresting in places in a rising breeze, she could almost pretend everything was normal. Birds darted back and forth across the lake: gulls with their black-tipped wings, swallows with their mouths open. Mount Rainier rose in the distance, like a mother watching over her children at play. Only the hint of smoke in the air told of the fight going on among the trees behind them.
Beside her, Mrs. Wallin had her hands clasped in her lap, and her lips moved presumably in prayer. Catherine sent up a prayer as well, but it felt so small against five lives, three homes and the work of two generations.
She hated not knowing, not doing more. A part of her had always wondered whether there might have been something she could have done if she’d been there with her brother and father on the battlefield. Was God giving her a chance to help now?
She rose from the bench. “Wait h
ere. I’m going back.”
“No, don’t!” Beth clutched Catherine’s skirts. “Oh, please, Catherine, don’t leave us. What if the cougar is still around?”
“Then I won’t be much use to you,” Catherine replied. “We don’t even have a gun.”
Mrs. Wallin touched her daughter’s hands. “It’s all right, Beth. Let her go. She knows her mind.” She nodded to Catherine as Catherine climbed down to the ground. “Help them. We’ll keep the stock safe. You save my boys.”
Save her boys. What faith she had in Catherine.
As she lifted her skirts and started up the hill for the Landing, Catherine knew she didn’t have that kind of faith. She wasn’t sure why the Lord didn’t keep some people, like her father and brother, safe, why some had to die so young or when so needed. Despite her best efforts, things just seemed too chaotic, too out of control.
These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer. I have overcome the world.
She drew in a breath, feeling as if the truth of the remembered verse had touched her physically. The Lord had made no promises that life would be safe and secure. He’d only promised to be with her through it all.
And that was a promise she could keep for Drew.
She hurried through the trees and out into the clearing at the edge of the Landing. Though Drew’s brothers continued to throw water at the fire, their faces grimy from the smoke, the blaze was beginning to gain the upper hand. Tongues of flame licked greedily through the slats on the barn. The oxen had been let free and were running from one side of the clearing to the other in their fear, the rumble of their hooves accompanying the crackle of the burning wood.
Above the noise rose the bang of metal on stone.
Catherine spun to face the pool. Drew stood, one leg in the water, the other straddling the wall. He lifted a massive sledgehammer over his head, muscles straining, and brought it down. Stone and mortar flew from the blow. He was trying to break open the pool, and she saw in an instant his purpose. If he flooded the barn, he’d cut off the fire at its base and hinder its progress. He raised the hammer again, shirt taut across his chest, gaze fixed on the wall as if it were his enemy. Once more he was a knight, going to battle for king and country.
For all he held dear.
She wanted to cheer him on; she wanted to speed his work. She glanced around, looking for some way to help, and her spirits plummeted.
The woodpile was smoking.
The towering mass of logs, raised on a platform and braced by a pair of struts at either end, all but covered the side of the barn closest to the pool. When Drew battered down the wall, the wave might put that fire out in the pile, but the water would never reach the underlying flames in the barn. And neither Drew nor his brothers was in any position to move the wood.
But she was. She might not be able to hack through a wall or carry off dozens of chunks of wood, some as big around as her waist, but she knew how to break through a strut.
Glancing around, she spotted any number of axes on the grass, dropped, most likely, when their owner had run to join the bucket brigade. A good many she wasn’t sure she could even lift, much less swing. But there, stuck in the wood of the porch, she spied a hatchet!
She ran and yanked free the tool, then dashed across the clearing for the woodpile. The movement must have caught Drew’s attention, for she heard him call her name, his voice strained. No time to respond, no way to quickly explain, and she needed all her strength. She drove the hatchet into the wood at an angle, as she’d seen Drew’s brothers do at the tree, pulled it free and drove it in at the opposite angle. Again and again she struck, watching, praying, as the little V widened.
“Catherine!” Drew’s voice was like distant thunder.
“It’s all right,” she called, pulling back the hatchet. “I’m almost there.” She swung it into the strut.
The wood snapped, peppering her with splinters. She stepped back as the pile began to shift. With a rumble, the logs started tumbling out onto the ground.
Something wet sloshed into her shoe, and she slipped. Turning her head, she saw a wave of water churning toward her. The pool was breached, water pouring across the land. She was caught between it and the falling wood.
She struggled to gain purchase in the mud, skirts heavy with water. A log bounced off her foot. She gasped, and strong arms wrapped around her, lifted her, carried her out of the way.
Cradled her close and kept her safe.
Drew set her on the porch, and she had to force her fingers to release her hold on his shirt.
“Stay here,” he said, backing away, face drawn and eyes wild. “If anything happened to you, I’d never be whole again.”
Catherine reached out a hand to him. “I know. I feel the same way. Let me help!”
A cry went up from the barn. Drew turned, and Catherine saw James dash out into the light. He splashed and kicked up his heels in the remaining puddles as the wave of water spread out across the Landing.
“Yee-haw! You did it, Drew! It’s out!”
Catherine sagged against the porch support, clutching the rough wood. Thank You, Father!
Levi, who had been manning the pump, hobbled closer to the barn as if to make sure. Now Catherine could hear Simon and John calling to each other as they beat back the last of the flames.
Before her, Drew’s shoulders sagged, the past few moments apparently having taken a toll. Catherine climbed down from the porch and put a hand to his shoulder. “You did it, Drew. Everyone is safe.”
He took her in his arms, held her close and buried his head in her neck. His damp hair caressed her cheek.
“We did it,” he murmured. “I saw the fire starting in the pile, but I couldn’t leave the spring to stop it. But if those logs had fallen on you, Catherine, if the water had knocked you under it...”
She felt him shudder. She rubbed his back. “It didn’t. I’m safe. Your family is fine.”
He raised his head and gazed down at her, eyes haunted. “This time. What about the next time or the time after that? I can’t be everywhere, with everyone.”
Catherine gave him a squeeze. “That’s God’s job. And I’m learning we should do our best and leave the rest to Him.”
“And His helpers.” James grinned as he approached them. “Very nice work on the woodpile, Catherine. Remind me never to leave my hatchet out when you’re angry.”
“Hatchet, sir?” Catherine answered with a smile. “I have my sights on an ax, two handed, perhaps.”
“Better watch out for this one, Drew,” James said. “She thinks big.”
“One of the many things I love about her,” Drew replied.
Catherine could not make herself move from his embrace. Love? Oh, yes, she felt it, too, bright and pure and strong. But though she was beginning to wrestle with her fears from the past, she could see he was still consumed by concerns for the ones he loved. Would he be willing to add her to the list?
* * *
Love. He hadn’t sought it, had not earned it, but he could see it shining in Catherine’s eyes and feel it in the touch of her hands. There was so much he longed to say to her, things they needed to work out, but once again, his brothers had other ideas.
Simon and John strode out of the barn, tossed aside their shovels and crossed to Drew’s side. Grime striped their faces, and Simon’s green eyes looked pale in their red rims.
“It’s out,” he announced. “But what I want to know is how it started.”
Drew released Catherine, but kept one arm about her waist. He couldn’t seem to let her go completely.
“None of us would be so careless,” John said. “If Beth hadn’t called us when she smelled the smoke, the fire could easily have spread to the forest and threatened dozens of far
ms before it was through.”
Catherine nodded toward the barn. “I think Levi may have an answer for you.”
Drew looked to where his youngest brother was walking toward them, leaning heavily on his crutch. His face was white under the smear of mud. He stopped a few feet from his brothers, as if afraid of coming too close.
“It’s my fault,” he said, voice cracking. “Someone started the fire on purpose, and I know why.”
“Surely even you couldn’t make someone this mad,” James teased. He clapped his brother on the shoulder, nearly oversetting him on his crutch. “Although you must admit that you have the unique ability to annoy a body without trying.”
Drew was interested in how Levi would respond. His brother shifted on the crutch as if he’d like nothing better than to run away again. “Oh, I annoyed someone, all right. I didn’t intend to. But I may owe someone money.”
“May?” John frowned as Drew felt his shoulders tighten. “Either you owe it or you don’t.”
Drew couldn’t remain silent. “Why would you owe anyone anything?” he demanded. “You have all the food, clothing and shelter you need.”
“And maybe I wanted more!” Levi’s head came up, and he glared at Drew. “Maybe I wanted something of my own, something I earned all by myself.”
Drew reared back from his brother’s vehemence, but Simon leaned closer.
“What have you done?” he demanded.
Levi turned his glare on his second-eldest brother. “It was just a friendly game of cards. Scout goes into town and rounds up folks to join his father. I thought, why not me? I’m grown now. I can enjoy a hand of cards or a good cigar if I want.”
“I imagine a bottle of gin was involved, as well,” John said with a shake of his head. “I’ve heard there’s plenty of that rotgut stuff at the Rankins.”
“I didn’t drink,” Levi said, as if that would be any worse than what he’d already confessed. “I kept my head. And I was winning a lot. I was good at it.” Suddenly, he sagged. “Only then I wasn’t. Mr. Rankin said I could pay him back when I won, but I couldn’t stop losing.”