“Accepting?”
“And kissing in broad daylight.”
She pressed her lips together. She could tell him she hadn’t wanted to be kissed, but that wasn’t the truth—she hadn’t expected to be, but not wanting it? She’d definitely wanted to be kissed. The thrill of emotions Silas created in her on the depot platform flared up again, making her flush right in front of her boss.
Mr. Kingfisher was right. Seeing a couple kiss like that in the middle of a crowd would’ve shocked her too.
“I know that might seem as if I was trying to defy the school board’s wishes—”
“You are causing me too much grief, Miss Dawson. You might have an excuse, but frankly, dear, you’ve made my job exasperating. Whether you call it courting or not, that’s what you did and are therefore in violation of your contract. Consider yourself relieved of your duties. You may continue to work until the end of the week unless you don’t feel as if you can conduct yourself maturely.”
“But you can’t—”
“Please.” He held out a hand. “No one, Miss Dawson, would believe that kind of public spectacle is socially acceptable for an unmarried woman.”
“I—” She cleared her throat trying to loosen her restricted vocal cords. “I—”
“I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I’ve already consulted with the other board members, and since you didn’t deny the kiss, we are severing your contract.”
Her hot cheeks turned to ice. If she’d slapped Silas, she might not be having this discussion. But she’d pulled him closer, relishing the warmth he’d created all the way down into her toes, which now instantly reheated her cheeks.
“We’ve decided to allow you the dignity of resigning.” He gave her a wobbly smile. “It’ll make things easier on everyone.”
“I—” Since her voice seemed unable to create anything but one short syllable, she gave up and nodded.
“Very well then, Miss Dawson—I’m relieved. Please turn in your resignation tomorrow, if you would.” He stood and nodded to a passerby. After giving Kate a curt nod, he left her alone on the bench.
She sniffed hard to keep the tears and the anger back. Releasing her grip on her now-crumpled envelope, she pulled out the letter and scanned the contents, a short note written in Anthony’s hand. No postscript from Silas begging her to say yes . . . or explaining he’d changed his mind. Nowhere in Anthony’s tightly bunched letters did he mention his father, just assured her he’d arrived in Kansas safely.
She let the letter fall into her lap and tipped her head back against the toy store wall. Nothing tied her to Breton anymore, and the only people she cared about were in Kansas.
Well, had she not asked God for an indication of what to do? Her job was gone, and the Logans wouldn’t want to continue housing her. Whether she wanted to or not, she’d have to make another quick decision in regards to a marriage of convenience without knowing what the man behind the proposal really wanted.
And since she wanted to say yes, to believe things had happened for a reason . . .
God, I’m going to work off the fact I asked you to provide me with a yes or no, and I’ve definitely got a no to teaching. So since the only other option I’ve been considering is Silas . . .
Seemed like she needed to figure out what to write.
“Anthony.” Silas gave his son a firm look—one he had to use more and more if he wanted the boy to obey. Was the boy testing him or was Silas failing at this parenting thing? Anthony got more stubborn every day, even after he’d been allowed to return to school.
Anthony rolled his eyes but climbed down from the wagon. After Silas hitched his team, he circled around to find Anthony hadn’t gone into the post office as asked.
The boy stood, arms crossed, staring up at the building as if Silas intended to drag him inside and throw him into a prison cell.
“Why can’t I wait outside?” Anthony muttered.
Silas flipped up his coat’s collar to ward off the wind. “It’s too cold, remember?” At least that was Anthony’s excuse for refusing to go to the creek, explore the farm, or anything else Silas encouraged him to do after he’d finished his chores. He’d even offered to let him keep a snake if he could find one in this weather, but his son hadn’t budged. The day Kate’s letter came— asking only if they’d arrived safely, with no hint of her planning to follow—Anthony had started sulking.
Likely the boy blamed him for her not coming to Kansas. Though if he’d never proposed, Anthony wouldn’t have hoped.
Regardless of being a fool, he wouldn’t let Anthony continue to ignore him. They had to start doing things together besides chores.
He didn’t have any toys or games, but surely he needed to provide his child with more than the three books he owned. He’d ordered a chess set, but in the meantime, Anthony could learn how to play with the bachelors who gathered in the post office for chess matches on Fridays. Perhaps Anthony would loosen up around the others. Plus they hadn’t been in town all week, and Anthony was anxious to see if Kate had written another letter.
As for himself, he wasn’t sure he wanted Kate to write again. Life was difficult enough trying to figure out how to live with one person who didn’t love him.
“Are you coming in?” Anthony’s voice held a hint of sarcasm as he stood on the threshold, letting the wind whip into the post office.
“You go on.”
Anthony shoved at the door with a huff and disappeared inside.
Silas wiped his clammy hands against his coat. Maybe he should write Kate and tell her he’d made a mistake. He’d been reckless, out of his mind.
If only the feel of her in his arms hadn’t . . .
He blew out a breath, trying to rid his face of the warmth that had taken up permanent residence in his cheeks. He needed to stop reliving that kiss every hour or so. He’d held a woman in his arms before—more intimately than for a mere kiss. But the flames that engulfed him whenever he thought of kissing Kate—
“What are you doing standing out here?” Lynville Tate stomped past him, headed for the post office door.
“Nothing.” Besides going crazy. Silas lunged forward, caught the door, and forced himself inside. A gust of the north wind slammed it behind him.
The postmaster, Jedidiah Langston, grimaced. “Would you mind not breaking the door?”
Silas shook his head. “Sorry.” He needed to stop thinking about Kate and focus on what he was doing. Focus on Anthony.
Oh, God, thank you for the boy you gifted me, but I need help.
And since I didn’t ask you about Kate, well, I just don’t know how that situation needs to be resolved. Should I write her or let her write me? I’d thought I needed her for Anthony’s sake, and then I wanted her for mine, but maybe I’m just scared to be responsible for him on my own, especially now that it looks like I’m not doing that great of a job. I know you promise to help us through anything, and I need to trust you’ll help, whether Kate’s with me or not.
Silas unwrapped his scarf and draped it over the seat between Lynville and Anthony behind the long table Jedidiah used to sort mail packages during the day. Four chessboards were set up, though rarely enough men came for more than three games at a time.
“I see you’ve brought yourself a chess player you can actually beat.” Lynville stood and punched Silas in the arm.
Silas could wipe the floor with Lynville with nothing but pawns. “Naw, I brought him for you to beat. Though he may be too skilled. He says he’s played once before.”
Lynville attempted to snarl, but a smile flickered underneath his curled lips. He turned to Anthony and flicked up the boy’s hat.
Though Anthony’s face turned dark, Lynville kept smiling. “You ready to find out if you’ve inherited your pa’s pitiful chess skills?”
The boy shrugged and frowned at the board in front of him.
The door opened, and the frosty air sucked the heat from the room again. Ned Parker tried to catch his hat as it flew
off, but missed. “Daggone wind. Hate Kansas.” He kicked the door shut.
Silas greeted the grouchiest man in Salina County with a slight nod.
Ned didn’t bother to return the greeting. He looked back at Jedidiah. “You got me a letter yet?” Ned snatched his hat off the floor, then hung his bowler and slicker on a peg before marching to the back counter.
“I have one for both you and Silas.”
Silas’s heart tripped. Anthony lifted his head, his eyes alight with the first bit of interest Silas had seen in a few days. Who else would bother to write but Kate?
Ned ripped the top off his envelope with weather-cracked fingers.
“Here’s yours, Silas.” Jedidiah’s eyebrows rose.
What if Kate kept writing? Jedidiah wouldn’t keep his questions to himself much longer.
The letter shook in Silas’s hand, so he tried to stash it quickly in his pocket, but his fingers fumbled and he had to retrieve the envelope off the floor.
He needed to get ahold of himself. The only reason Kate would write him was for Anthony’s sake. She’d not quit teaching to marry him. Any feelings their kiss had created would fade over the months left in the school year. Anthony would adjust to Kansas without her help and then there’d be no need for her to come.
He let out a slow breath and went to sit.
“Ha!” Ned folded his letter with a flourish. “All done now. I’m a free man! Too bad Silas the do-gooder balks at me bringing my moonshine. I’d pass the jug around. Even let you have a swig, you little cuss.” He tweaked Anthony’s ear.
Anthony yanked free and glared.
“How’re you free?” Lynville tried to grab the letter Ned brandished.
Ned smacked him in the back of the head with the paper before stuffing it into his chest pocket. “Done divorced her. Now who’s in the worse position, eh? Helga—that’s who. Who’ll want her? Now I can get myself a woman to—”
Silas cleared his throat. “My boy’s present.”
With a quick eye roll, Ned dropped into his customary chair and hiked a dirt-laden boot onto the table. He leaned back with his hands behind his head. “The hag don’t know what done hit her.” He guffawed.
Jedidiah gave him a courtesy chuckle. The rest of them kept their mouths shut. Everyone avoided encouraging Ned to rant about Helga. Trying to talk decency into the man was a waste of breath. Hadn’t done a lick of good anytime before.
Did he really think he’d pulled one over on her? Sure, most women didn’t wish for the stigma of divorce . . . unless she’d been abused like his wife. Helga was probably laughing right along with Ned right now, but with joy.
Lynville grabbed a pawn and pointed it at Silas. “You gonna read your letter or play?”
“It’s probably for Anthony.” He looked at his son, who frowned at him. “Do you want to read it now or later?”
“Now.” Anthony glanced at the four men around the table. “Not enough people for me to play anyway.”
“I think Micah’s coming. He’s in town for a few days.” Lynville turned the board to set up the white pieces on his side.
Silas tore the flap and took out two letters, Kate’s flowery penmanship flowing across both pages. One for him, one for Anthony. The jitters in his stomach resembled a hoedown. He handed Anthony his and stared at the other. A good thing he’d long ago asked Ned not to bring along any more of his paint-stripping moonshine. He might have tempted fate and sacrificed his throat to the awful stuff.
With a shaky hand, Silas pocketed his letter. He couldn’t read it now; the men might get curious enough to ask why he couldn’t wait until home to read what Anthony’s teacher wrote.
Lynville realigned his pawns, Jedidiah poured peanuts into a bowl, and Ned stared at the ceiling with a satisfied grin while Silas worked to squeeze out the desire to find himself a whiskey, a tonic, something to take home with him to—
“Miss Dawson’s coming!” Anthony squeaked.
Silas’s fingers dug into the chair arms.
“Who’s coming?” Lynville grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl before Jedidiah placed them in the middle of the table.
“My teacher.”
Had he ever seen Anthony smile like that?
“To visit?” Ned smashed a peanut against the table with his fist, then swept the shell pieces onto the floor. “For Christmas?”
Anthony shrugged. “Didn’t say anything about Christmas. Sounds like she’s coming now.”
If she was coming while school was still in session . . . Silas worked to breathe like a sane man.
Micah burst in the door. “I’ve brought beef!” The smell of smoked meat heavily doused in garlic from his father’s butcher shop filled the room. The men flocked to Micah.
Silas tipped his head toward the men. “You getting some, Anthony?”
His son stared at him for a bit, likely wanting his reaction to Kate’s coming, but he’d barely managed to utter that last question. Finally, Anthony stood. “I guess I could eat again.” He ambled over to the counter and Jedidiah handed him a tin plate.
With no one paying him any mind, Silas unfolded Kate’s letter and slumped in his chair to see the letter under the table. The shadows made it difficult to read, but he wasn’t about to let anybody read over his shoulder.
Silas,
I’ve decided to come. I figured we could talk about arrangements once I arrive. By the time you receive this letter, I should be on my way. I arrive on the 11th.
Sincerely, Kate Dawson
Micah plopped down in the chair beside him, and Silas rammed the letter under his leg.
“You not eating?” Micah waved a fork at him.
Lynville took the seat across from Micah, his plate piled high. “Mind if I play Micah first?”
Silas rolled his tongue around in his mouth a time or two to make sure it was wet enough to work. “I’ll play Anthony. Make sure he remembers the rules.”
Arrangements. What would she want? A wedding immediately? Where would they all sleep? He’d only just started working on Anthony’s bed frame. He’d have to work faster. He smoothed his hand over his beard, trying to stem the grin threatening to rearrange his face.
While the men busily munched, he read the letter again. She hadn’t said anything about marrying, just coming.
Despite the north wind snaking through the cracks in the walls, Silas wiped the sweat off the back of his neck repeatedly. Trying to focus on his game strategy.
“You going to move?” His son huffed and grabbed more peanuts.
“I’m afraid I . . .” He swallowed and tried to remember his plan for his rook.
Fear. That’s what had agitated him since leaving Missouri and now wound through his belly and radiated out his every limb. Not worry over whether he should have proposed, not wondering if Kate should reject him, not fretting about Anthony turning out all right.
He was out-and-out scared. She could get their hopes up and decide not to marry him at the last minute. She could be just as disappointed with this winter’s meager provisions as Lucy had been with anything involving his homestead. She could go through with the wedding and keep herself guarded against his affections while he lost his heart.
Should he do anything to protect himself against the hurt she could cause them?
Chapter 16
“Would you mind having a seat, miss?” The young porter, his red freckles bright against his nearly translucent skin, sighed with exasperation. “The passengers are complaining about you again. They need to get around too.”
Stuck on a train with nowhere to run, Kate had been compensating by pacing—for hours. “Is Salt Flatts the next stop?”
“Yes, miss.”
She shook her head. How could she possibly sit when she was this close to seeing Silas again? Would she see what she wanted to see in his eyes the moment she stepped off the train? If she didn’t, did that mean her plans should change or—
“Miss?” The porter’s eyes narrowed. Would he dare wrestle
her into a seat?
She blew out a breath and pivoted. She tromped back to sit and grabbed the armrests as her anchor.
She’d spent her savings for the train ride. Salt Flatts was her only option now. So why did her gut refuse to believe that? Her sister and husband surely never wanted to see her again, even if she groveled—which she wouldn’t.
Aiden had likely taken a wife already, not that he’d want her back. And she still wouldn’t marry Jasper, even if he offered her all the paint in the world.
And most importantly, Anthony needed her.
She’d been brave enough to cross the country once to marry a complete stranger, so why did her feet refuse to stay still when she was headed to a man she felt something for?
“Miss, please.” The blond woman beside her squeezed her arm. “You’re shaking the entire seat. I can’t read.”
“Sorry.” Kate clamped her legs together, but within seconds her knees shook again.
The young lady huffed and glared at Kate’s skirt until she got her legs under control.
What was the woman reading? Maybe if she talked to her about books, she’d forget about the shaking.
Gold letters embossed the bright green cloth cover: Shakespearean Sonnets.
What did Shakespeare know about real life anyway? Romeo and Juliet fell in love, married, and died for each other in less than a week. She’d known Silas four times as long and wasn’t sure what she felt for him . . . besides jitters.
A month was not enough time to know someone. Though the other times she’d run off to get married, she hadn’t bothered to think through her decision longer than a day.
Where was the courage she’d possessed on her last train trip? She even knew the groom this time. Silas was caring, wanted her to raise the child she loved, kissed like—
“Are you all right?” The blond lady leaned over to see her better.
“No.” Kate grabbed the cheap fan she’d bought several stations back and fanned her rapidly heating face.
Her seat partner laid her sonnets in her lap. “You’re agitated about something.”
That was an understatement.
A Bride at Last Page 18