Loving Katherine

by Carolyn Davidson

  He reached behind him for the leather pouches he’d stashed behind his saddle. “Yes, ma’am,” he said meekly, undoing the fastenings and retrieving the wrapped biscuits. “Whatever you say, ma’am.” Locating the tin plates and cups, he arranged them on a towel next to him, allotting two biscuits to each plate.

  Katherine lifted the frying pan, its handle wrapped in a dish towel, and brought it, sizzling and steaming, to where he sat. She took up the fish with her fork, dividing it between their plates, and carried the hot pan away, leaving it to cool in the grass. The coffeepot was dealt with quickly, set aside to allow the grounds to settle, and then she joined him.

  “I believe I could be a contented man with you waitin’ on me for the next few years,” he told her, biting gingerly into a crisp chunk of fish. “You’ve got a real talent for cookin’, Katherine.”

  “I cut my teeth on campfire cooking,” she told him crisply. “My pa wasn’t much for doing women’s work, and Lawson…well…” She took a bite of fish and chewed carefully, pulling a bone from between her lips.

  “Did you get along with your brother?” he asked with casual interest, his eyes carefully intent on her.

  She shrugged and picked up a biscuit. “He looked after me when I was little. Used to boss me around a lot. But I didn’t mind. Once…” She paused and her look was bleak.

  “He…what? What did he do, Katherine?”

  She sat up straight, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. “Let’s just say I found out the hard way not to be too friendly.”

  “With men?”

  “I was just a girl, Roan. Too young to know what men wanted from women and too independent to listen to Charlie when he told me to stay close.”

  “Where were you then? On the trail?”

  She shook her head. “No, we’d been living at a farm in Kentucky for a couple of months. Charlie was training horses, just like always, and I kept house in a one-room cabin, washing and cooking for him and Lawson. I used to watch Charlie work the horses every day, and one of the cowhands was nice to me.” She looked at Roan and shrugged her shoulders in a telling gesture.

  “He expected you to…”

  “He caught me away from the cabin one night and started mauling me, pushed me down on the ground and told me he knew I’d been wanting some loving. He said he was just the man to make me happy.” A thin shiver of revulsion slid up her spine and she swallowed the bite of biscuit she’d been chewing.

  “Did you get away?” he asked, forcing himself to remain still, forcing his anger under control as he watched her pick up her coffee and sip at the hot brew. His muscles tensed with the effort, and he opened his clenched fist to reach for his own cup, eyeing her over the rim as he drank.

  “I couldn’t get him off me, and he had one dirty hand over my mouth so I couldn’t yell,” she told him bluntly. Her lips quivered as she drew in a deep breath and her gaze rose to meet his. “Lawson pulled him off and told me to get. He must have pounded him pretty bad, ‘cause the next day the owner came out to talk with Pa, and we had to move on. He said I’d been enticing his men.”

  “You didn’t believe him, did you, Katherine?”

  “Well, I made sure no one else ever made the same mistake,” she said firmly. “I figured if I quit wearing pants and covered up my female parts, nobody’d ever accuse me of enticing their men again. After that, Lawson stayed pretty close when he wasn’t working the horses with my pa.”

  “Where’d you go from there?” Roan asked quietly, his mind filled with the thought of the girl she’d been, of the life she’d lived.

  She shook her head. “To another farm, another town. Pa had a hard time settling down anywhere. We stayed one place in Kentucky for almost two years, though. He trained horses and even had a lady friend, the cook for the family in the big house. I guess she was good reason to stick around,” Katherine said with a small smile. “She was nice to me.”

  The setting sun cast its glow in a final glorious display across the horizon and Roan got up from his position before the dying fire. “I’ll scout up some wood to keep the fire going. You better do your washin’ up before it gets full dark. I don’t want you out in the brush after that.”

  She looked about their campsite, aware of his care in choosing it. They were beneath the trees, the open, grassy fields spreading before them, the river at their backs for protection. As far as she could see, only waving grasses and shadowed areas of brush met her eye.

  “I’ll wash here,” she told him. “Bring me up some water from the river when you come back. I’ll heat it up a little in the coffeepot…take the chill off.”

  His nod was answer enough, and she headed for a nearby cluster of bushes to tend to her needs before nightfall endowed her shelter with dark shadows. Talking about Ned Hastings had renewed old memories she’d buried long ago. Funny she should even remember his name, she thought with a shake of her head. She ought to be thankful, she supposed, for the lesson he’d taught her. The lesson Evan Gardner had reinforced only a week or so ago.

  Men were hard and needy creatures, most of them bigger and heavier than she was. Most of them wanting just one thing from a woman…the part of her she was least likely wanting to give. She hurried to the spot she’d chosen, silently cursing the frustration of dealing with being a woman while wearing boy’s clothing.

  It was past midnight when the silence was shattered by a raucous shout, and Katherine felt Roan’s big hand press her against the ground as he reached for his gun.

  “I wouldn’t touch that piece if I was you, mister,” a voice called out from the darkness. “I got aim right at your woman’s head, and I want you to know I’m a crack shot. Been practicin’ on watermelons. They blow up just about as pretty as a skull full of brains and bone.”

  Roan cursed beneath his breath, aware of his negligence. He’d slept soundly, wrapped about Katherine’s warm body, sure they were secure in this place. Too late, he’d heard the arrival of the men surrounding them.

  His hand rose into the air, empty. “Leave her be,” he said quietly. “We don’t have anything worth shootin’ us for. Just a string of horses, ‘bout as common as they come. Take ‘em if you’ve a mind to.”

  Next to him, Katherine inhaled sharply and he nudged her with his knee, pressing against her thigh firmly.

  “Well, I reckon you’ve got more than horses. Let’s take a look at those saddlebags of yours,” one of the men said, stepping closer. He was a dark shadow on the other side of the fire and Roan sat up warily, his eyes on the gun aimed in his direction.

  He stood and bent to pick up his saddlebags, tossing them across the fire to where their assailant stood. And then Katherine struggled to her feet.

  “Get down,” he told her roughly, pushing at her shoulder to force her to the ground.

  But it was too late; Katherine’s face was illuminated by the firelight.

  “Will you look at that!” another voice called from the darkness. “I’ll take the woman. Ya’ll can have the horses and whatever else you find.”

  A taller, shadowed figure moved into view. Hat pulled low, a full beard revealing only dark, piercing eyes over a flattened nose, he rose menacingly from the night astride a huge horse that blended into the darkness.

  “The woman’s mine,” he said in a cold voice, devoid of inflection. “Tie them both up, and let’s get on out of here. If he gives you a hard time of it, shoot them both.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Put me down, you ugly bastard!”

  Katherine’s cry was shrill, carrying to where Roan sat. He lifted his head from his chest. His eyes narrowed against the piercing pain in his head, where a gun butt had guaranteed his cooperation during the early hours of the morning. He’d wakened several times throughout the day, only to see the sleeping figures of several men scattered about a primitive campsite. A lone sentinel stood guard, rifle in hand, but try as he might to catch sight of her, there was no sign of Katherine.

  Until now. The sun had b
lazed its way across the sky throughout the long day. Now, against the brilliant sunset, he made out Katherine’s struggles, futile as they were. The man who’d claimed her last night appeared to have her well in hand, lifting her over his shoulder, ignoring the bound fists pummeling his back.

  Well, she sure as hell was alive and it didn’t sound like she’d been leaned on too heavy, Roan thought. Relief fueled the sigh that emptied his lungs, just as another shriek of promised vengeance split the air. She didn’t seem to be roughed up any, just wrinkled and dusty.

  “My husband’s a Devereaux from Louisiana. When his family finds out you’ve—” Her words were cut off abruptly as the man who carried her delivered a sharp swat to her fanny, a prime target atop his shoulder.

  “I told you to shut up,” he growled in the same guttural voice Roan recalled from the dark hours of the night.

  “Damn!” It was a hopeless sound, growled between Roan’s clenched teeth, followed by a string of fluently uttered curses. The bearded outlaw allowed Roan one long, piercing look from beneath his brows as he heard the low sounds of frustration from his male captive.

  Roan watched helplessly as the man carried a subdued Katherine toward a stand of trees. Stretched behind him, his arms were tightly bound, then attached to the tree he leaned against. He’d spent long hours between bouts of unconsciousness attempting to loosen his bonds, to no avail. Still, his fingers twisted and strained as he quietly fought against the rope in a useless battle.

  He’d been offered water twice during the day and accepted it thankfully. Aware he was probably living on borrowed time, he’d watched as the camp stirred in the late afternoon, gauging his chances of freeing himself.

  Now his teeth ground in futile anger as he saw Katherine’s form disappear into the trees, carried like a sack of oats. His senses attuned to her, he heard the words she muttered and he caught a glimpse of the rage blazing from her eyes as her head turned in his direction.

  She was furious. Not a glimmer of fear radiated from her flushed face and gleaming eyes. Only the familiar look of Katherine in a snit. And then she lifted her head a bit more and he felt the heat of her gaze sweep over his bound body. Her mouth opened and she drew in a breath, her look one of such caring and concern he could hardly hold still under it. He watched as she attempted to lift herself, pressing her fists into the back of the man carrying her, but Roan shook his head at the movement.

  Don’t, he ordered her silently. Don’t make a fuss, Katherine. His eyes begged her, even as they took on a bleak look of fear as he considered her fate. For as sure as the sun would rise in the morning, she was about to become the physical property of the man who carried her.

  The bushes closed about them and Roan lost sight of Katherine’s head as the two figures disappeared beneath low, leafy branches.

  One of the men sauntered close by to grin gleefully at Roan’s distress. “Did you see that? I’ll just bet Cass is about to have hisself a time with that li’l gal of yours. She sure is a spunky one. Had to gag her to keep her quiet.”

  Roan closed his eyes, his active imagination already in gear. The thought of Katherine’s fine skin and slender form lying bare before another man was almost more than he could abide. He thought of her rich brown hair, the long, shiny length of it wrapped about a filthy hand, and felt the bile rise in his throat.

  And then her scream shattered against his eardrums and he dropped his head to his chest, his hands working even more frantically at the rope that bound him.

  A lean hand clamped over her mouth and bent her head back against a hard, unyielding body. Katherine’s eyes brimmed with tears as helpless rage filled her to overflowing. She drew in a breath through flaring nostrils and choked with the effort.

  “If you shut up, I’ll take my hand away,” said a voice from behind her. It was husky and deep, strangely hushed in the dim light beneath the trees.

  She nodded quickly, fearful of gagging on the cough that begged to be released from her lungs. His hand moved cautiously from her lips and she sucked in great gasps of air. She choked again, coughing as she gained her breath, sagging in his grip as he held her with one arm about her waist.

  “Don’t scream again,” he warned her quietly. “That man of yours is already tearing his wrists up tryin’ to get loose. You don’t want him any more riled than he is.”

  “I only screeched because you pulled my hair, you big lummox. Why should you care about Roan anyway?” She spit out the words furiously. Her fears for Roan’s well-being having been temporarily assuaged, her anger had rebounded in great style.

  “Don’t say another word,” her captor said quietly. “Just turn around and look at me.”

  Katherine straightened her shoulders and pushed at the arm he’d wrapped around her, turning within his embrace, aware of his hands holding her firmly. Her eyes met the dark cotton of his shirt. Then with an effort, she lifted her chin to gaze fully on his face, the bottom half still covered by a dark growth of beard. Above it, his nose was crooked and flattened. She allowed her gaze to skim the scar slashing whitely across his face, high on his left cheek, and then, with concentrated effort, she stared into his eyes.

  They were brilliant blue beneath dark brows, regarding her with sadness, yet filled with a strange warmth. She sensed rather than saw the smile twisting his mouth, noted the reflection of his amusement in the narrowing of his eyes.

  “You don’t recognize me, do you?” he asked roughly. His fingers squeezed her arms, and he set her away from him. “Take a good look, Katherine,” he told her, then stood silently as she raked him with incredulous, unbelieving eyes.

  Her fingers lightly touched the growth of beard, brushed against his full lips and then rose to trace the scar marring his flesh. She followed the battered lines of his nose with her index finger and winced as she sensed the pain it had caused him. Finally, she pressed the flat of her palm against his jaw, fingers moving beneath the growth of hair to find the shape of his face.

  “Lawson?” The single word was whispered between quivering lips. They pressed together firmly as if she feared to utter it again, lest she be wrong. A single tear slipped from each eye and left a damp path down her flushed cheeks.

  His nod was almost imperceptible and he pursed his own lips, as though he fought a surge of emotion. “Yeah, it’s me, Katherine. Nasty way to meet up after all this time, ain’t it?”

  She allowed the tears to flow, closing her eyes and leaning forward to rest her head against the broad wall of his chest. A single sob escaped and she lifted one hand to press her fist against her mouth.

  “Lawson, I thought…you were…” She couldn’t complete the words, couldn’t admit the fear she’d lived with for so long. Forbidden to speak his name, which was tainted with the bitter news of his cowardice during the war, she’d all but given up hope of ever seeing him again.

  His arms came around her and he held her tightly, rocking her to and fro for comfort as his shirt absorbed her tears. “Almost was killed a time or two,” he said gruffly. “For a while, I wouldn’t have cared, except for never seein’ you and Pa again. Then, later on, I knew it was too late…and y’all were better off without me.”

  “Why did you…how come you’re…” She couldn’t form coherent thoughts, her mind spinning as she tried to comprehend the events of the day. Then her head snapped back abruptly, and she peered at him with concern. “How’d you get your nose plastered all over your face like that?” She smoothed the ruin of his once perfect profile with one finger. And frowned as she remembered something else that had played havoc with her temper all the livelong day.

  “Was it necessary to stick that filthy rag in my mouth, Lawson? And just look at the marks on my wrists,” she told him, holding out her hands for inspection.

  “I had them tie you up and gag you, for fear you’d recognize me today, honey. When I realized you hadn’t seen past this beard, I figured it’d be safe to stake my claim and carry you off into the trees for the night. And I did tell them to
leave the gag off the last time they fed you.”

  Katherine shuddered. “I won’t even ask you what was in that mess I ate. I only got it down because I didn’t know when the next time was I’d be offered anything.”

  He set her away from him and led her to a dead pine tree, a relic of a long-forgotten bolt of lightning. “Sit down, Katherine,” he said. “We need to talk.”

  She sank limply to the fallen tree and looked at the ground, aware of him beside her, silent and watching. “What will happen to us?” she asked finally.

  “Who’s the man? Is he really your husband? What did you call him? A Devereaux from Louisiana?”

  She looked up at him warily. “What does it matter? For that matter, why did you capture us in the first place? What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into, Lawson?”

  “Didn’t have to work too hard to find trouble, Katherine. It came lookin’ for me.”

  She gave him an exasperated glare, her frustration from the long day returning full force. “Are you a wanted man?” she asked bluntly. “What kind of hooligans are you running around with?”

  “They’re way beyond hooligans, honey,” he said quietly. “They’re a bunch known as Cass’s Raiders. Just leftovers from the war, you could say, makin’ their way as best they can.”

  “Kidnapping and robbing?” She glared at him with exasperation. “Mama would turn in her grave if she knew.”

  “Yeah, well she doesn’t, so don’t fret about it. And Pa ain’t about to find out, either. Not that he’d care, anyway. After I refused to go fight in the war, he…well, I don’t think he considers me his kin anymore, anyway. But I still don’t want you tellin’ him, hear me?”

  She shook her head. “Not much chance of that. Pa died early on in the year, Lawson. He’s buried on the farm.”

  His eyes closed for a moment, and she peered at him in the gathering darkness beneath the tall trees. “Just as well. I’d shamed him enough already. He couldn’t forgive me for runnin’, could he?”