Coming Up Roses

by Catherine Anderson

  "Yes, Sheriff?"

  Higgins swept off his hat and wiped his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. His thin gray hair lay over his balding pate in wet strips that looked almost black. "Well, ma'am…" He cleared his throat and shrugged his shoulders. "I want you to understand that I sincerely believe what you told me this morning. But—" He broke off and looked at Zachariah. "Well, ma'am, the sad thing is—"

  Kate knotted her hands in her skirt. "Yes?"

  The sheriff heaved a defeated sigh. "Well, to put it indelicately, the corpse is so deteriorated that it's impossible for the coroner to tell by examining the head wound if it was caused by a blunt instrument or a sharp surface on the hearth." He waved his hat in a helpless gesture. "I was hoping for cut-and-dried evidence to corroborate your story. But we didn't get it. We can't settle this with a simple inquest. I've got no choice but to file charges against you." Kate flinched and averted her face for a moment.

  "Understand that I'd just let it go on your word if I could," he put in quickly. "I'd like nothing better than to end all this as quick as can be. You and the child have obviously suffered enough. But I have to follow lawful procedure."

  Kate swallowed and managed to say, "What you mean is that I'll have to go to jail and stand trial for murder."

  He cleared his throat again. "The evidence will go before the grand jury first. If things go well with that, there may never be an indictment."

  "An indictment?" Kate remembered everything Zachariah had said last night. "That's an official charge, correct?"

  "The charges are what's happening right now. The indictment comes if the grand jury decides there's sufficient evidence that a crime has been committed. If the evidence presented against you in a preliminary round is strong, you'll be indicted for murder and have to stand trial. If the evidence is too flimsy, the case will never go any farther."

  Kate sought Zachariah's gaze only to find that he had braced his hands on the back of a chair and was studying the floor. "Must I be in jail until the grand jury decides?"

  The sheriff shuffled his feet. "Your husband and I have been discussing just that, and I've decided to bend the law a hair. He's given me his word he'll bring you in come morning if I'll let you have this one last night at home.

  More for the child's sake than yours, you understand. I'd like to make this as easy on her as I can. This will give you a chance to explain things to her and prepare her for your absence. The catch is that I have to have your word you won't—" He studied the crown of his hat for a moment. "I'm sticking my neck out, you see. If you hightail it out of here, I'll be in hot water aplenty for not locking you up, straight off."

  Kate nodded. "I understand, Sheriff. And you have my word that I'm not going anywhere. I appreciate your bending the rules so I can be with Miranda tonight."

  The sheriff looked relieved and smiled, albeit feebly. "Chances are the judge will set bail and you'll be able to come home in a couple of days."

  "I'll pray for that," Kate replied. Then she too forced a smile. "You needn't look so woebegone, Sheriff Higgins. I knew I'd be facing serious consequences when I went to see you this morning. I don't hold you accountable for how the law reads."

  "For what it's worth, I don't believe any court in the land will convict you if it comes to that."

  "I hope you're right."

  * * *

  It seemed to Kate that those precious few hours she had left with her daughter flew by. She went through the motions of a normal evening, fixing dinner, doing dishes, taking Miranda onto her lap to tell her stories before bedtime, but with every breath she fought back tears.

  With a maturity far beyond her years, Miranda took the news of her mother's departure calmly. She had seen the disturbed rose garden, and that evidently had prepared her for the worst. As best she could, Kate explained her reasons for going to the sheriff.

  "It was something I felt I had to do," she whispered shakily. "We have a new life now, you and I. We're not alone like we used to be. Even if I have to go away, I know you'll be happy here with Zachariah."

  Miranda nuzzled Kate's bodice and toyed with the buttons. "I understand, Ma. It's like in a story, huh? Until ever'thing gets all done with, you can't say it's the end."

  Kate rested her cheek against her daughter's hair and closed her eyes. "That's exactly right. And I want to say it's the end. Until I do, it'll never be completely over. We deserve a happy ever after, you and I."

  "Are you scared?"

  "Not at all," Kate lied. "My one worry was what might happen to you if I had to be in jail for a while. Now I'm just anxious to get it over with."

  "Is jail a bad place?"

  As honestly as she could, Kate described a jail cell. "I'll be warm and comfortable. They'll bring me my meals. It won't be as nice as being at home, but it won't be terrible, either."

  "I'm gonna miss you a powerful lot."

  Kate hugged the child close. "Oh, Miranda, I'll miss you, too. More than you'll ever know. I love you so much.

  No matter how long I'm away, please don't ever forget that."

  "I know how much you love me, Ma. You're in all this trouble 'cause of me."

  Kate felt she had to dispel that notion. If things went badly, she didn't want Miranda carrying the burden of guilt.

  "No, not because of you," she whispered fiercely. "You must never think that, sweetness. My marriage to your father caused all of this, and that happened long before you were ever born."

  "Why come did you marry him?"

  Kate took a shaky breath. "It's a long story. In short, my uncle Jed arranged the marriage, and I didn't have a say."

  "Was he a mean man? Your uncle?"

  Kate smiled sadly. "Not at all. He was just—" She broke off and smoothed her daughter's hair. "He was very old, and he worried about what would happen to me after he was gone. He was my only relative after my ma and pa died, you see. When your father saw me in church and took a shine to me, Uncle Jed thought it was Providence .

  He figured I'd be safe and well cared for if I was married before he passed away."

  "Only you wasn't, huh? Pa turned out mean."

  "Your pa was troubled, Miranda." There were some things Kate felt she needed to say for fear she might never get another chance—things Miranda needed to hear and remember. "So is your uncle Ryan. If it should happen that you and I never speak of this again, I want you to remember that."

  "Am I gonna be troubled when I get old?"

  Kate managed a light laugh. "Goodness, no. It's not something catching, sweetness. It's a confusion they were trained up to have … by their father. You haven't been raised by him, and when you grow up, you'll be right as rain."

  "Why come did their pa train them up confused?"

  "Because he was a troubled man, too. Imagine, if you will, loving someone with all your heart and having them run away and leave you. That's what happened to him. His wife deserted him, and left him to raise his two little boys all on his own."

  "Pa and Uncle Ryan?"

  "Yes, your pa and uncle Ryan. Their ma just up and left one night while they were all asleep. She didn't even tell her family good-bye. Your grandpa Blakely was filled with a lot of pain. Sometimes when we hurt, we turn the pain against the people we love most. That's what he did, I think, though I'm sure he meant well. He didn't want your pa and uncle Ryan to fall in love some day and get hurt like he had, so he raised them up to believe females were wicked."

  "So Pa never loved me and you?"

  Kate took a deep breath. "I think he loved us, Miranda, but it was a very twisted and ugly love. Because of the way his pa taught him to think, he was all mixed up inside his head. When we think of him, that's what we must remember."

  A sound at the kitchen door caught Kate's attention, and she glanced up to see that Zachariah had entered the room. For a moment, their gazes locked. Then he looked away. Kate was left feeling desolate.

  She put a bright face on it for Miranda's
sake. "Well, it's about that time. Since you seem to end up there every night, regardless, what say I tuck you straight into my bed so we can snuggle later?"

  Miranda seconded that suggestion with unbridled enthusiasm. Without a word, Zachariah turned his back on them and left the kitchen.

  Chapter 20

  A fter tucking Miranda into bed, Kate went in search of Zachariah and found him sitting on the porch. When she joined him on the step, she followed his gaze to the moon that hung like a shimmering china plate above the roof line of the barn. To the left, a giant oak stretched gnarled limbs against the sky, its billowy top glossed with silver and swaying in the gentle breeze.

  Kate hugged her updrawn knees, acutely conscious of the distance she sensed in him, uncertain how to breach it.

  His withdrawal made her feel as if her foundation were eroding. She wished she could tell him that, but Joseph had never allowed her to express her feelings, for one thing, and for another, her emotions ran so deep that it was difficult to strip them bare. Yet she couldn't let the situation ride, either. Time was running out. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving here in the morning not knowing what was troubling him.

  "Zachariah," she began, "are you angry with me because I went to the sheriff?"

  He braced his elbows on his knees, leaning slightly forward and hunching his broad shoulders so the cloth of his blue shirt stretched taut across his back. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, laying it across his high forehead in glistening waves. "No, honey, I'm not angry. If I hadn't wanted you to do it, I would have said something last night when you brought it up."

  She dug her fingernails in at the sides of her knees. "Something's wrong. I've sensed it all day."

  He took a deep breath. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

  "Like what?"

  "Oh, lots of things," he replied evasively. "Nothing for you to worry about. You've got enough of a load."

  He turned to regard her. It wasn't lost on Kate that he didn't quite meet her gaze. Her heart constricted around a cold knot of pain. Whatever it was bothering him had something to do with her, but for some reason, he didn't want to share it.

  "It sounded like Mandy took the news pretty well."

  Kate averted her face, wishing, praying for inspiration so she could say the right things. She didn't want to lose this man. "She took it amazingly well considering how she might have reacted two months ago. You've worked miracles with her."

  "I can't take the credit."

  "Oh, yes. You've wrought a wondrous change in her." She returned her gaze to his face and struggled to swallow.

  "You know, it's funny. In the beginning, I was so terrified that you'd break her heart. She was searching for someone bigger than life, for someone to be her hero, and I didn't figure any man could live up to that." Her voice turned thin. "I was wrong, Zachariah. So very wrong. I'm not sure what the definition of a hero is, exactly, but if ever a man was one, you are."

  The lines that bracketed his mouth deepened with a bitter twist of his lips. "Thank you. That's a fine compliment."

  He didn't look or sound happy about having received it. Kate fought down another wave of panic. What had she done to turn him away from her like this? "Zachariah, I know you're upset about something. Won't you please tell me what?"

  "Like I said, I'm just doing a lot of thinking."

  "Does it have to do with me?"

  "Some. When you came out here, I was dreaming up ways to break you out of jail." He flashed her a grin that fell short of being convincing. "Not that I believe something so drastic will be necessary. I don't. But if worse comes to worst, I could run with you and Mandy to Canada ."

  " Canada ?"

  " France , then. Paris is gorgeous this time of year."

  "You've been to Paris ?"

  He returned his gaze to the sky. "A long time ago. So long ago it seems like it was in another lifetime."

  Tears of relief stung Kate's eyes. A man didn't contemplate taking such desperate measures for a woman he didn't care about. "Were you truly thinking of ways to break me out of jail?"

  He laughed softly, but there was no humor in the sound. "Crazy, huh? That's a problem with us heroes, you know. We're not happy unless we're rescuing our ladies fair. Everything goes to hell when we realize we aren't needed anymore."

  "Not needed anymore?" she whispered. "Oh, Zachariah, how wrong you are. I'm entrusting into your care the most important thing in the world to me."

  A muscle along his jaw started to twitch, which told her that he was clenching and unclenching his teeth. Then, with no warning, he pushed to his feet and stepped off the porch with one long-legged stride. "I think I'll take a walk. I need a stretch."

  "May I come along?"

  He flexed his arms and shook the stiffness out of his legs. "You should stay close to listen for Mandy," he said tonelessly. "I shouldn't be long. If it turns out I am, go ahead and douse the lamps. I'll stretch out downstairs someplace."

  "You aren't coming up to bed?" Kate heard her voice going shrill, but she couldn't help it.

  "Tonight should be for you and Mandy."

  Kate made fists in the twill of her skirt, squeezing so hard her knuckles hurt. "Is that part of what you're angry about? Because I let her go to bed in our room?"

  His voice thick with bridled impatience, he said, "I told you I'm not angry about anything, Kate. I just need to stretch my legs, that's all."

  With that, he strode away into the shadows. For several seconds, she sat there gazing after him. Then she shot up from the step and ran after him. By the time she caught up, she was breathless. "Zachariah, please, wait! Please?"

  He turned back just as she clasped his sleeve.

  "Couldn't we walk near the house so I could hear Miranda?"

  He broke her hold on his arm by raking a hand through his hair. Tension emanated from him. "I'm not fit company right now," he said in a harsh voice that was totally unlike him.

  "We don't have to talk. I don't mind. I'd just like to be with you. This is my last night, and I don't want to be alone."

  Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a weary sigh. "I don't think you're following me.

  When I say I'm not fit company, what I really mean is—" He broke off and fixed his gaze on her. "What I really mean is that you shouldn't be around me."

  Kate peered up at his dark face, trying to read his expression. "Why shouldn't I be around you?"

  "Because I'm not myself right now," he replied raggedly. "If you don't get away from me, I might do something we'll both regret."

  "Something we'll regret?" she repeated.

  "Yes." He bit out the word.

  "Like what?"

  "Just take my say for it and cut a wide circle around me for the rest of the night. Please, Kate? I don't quite trust myself to be near you. Not tonight."

  "But why?" she asked in genuine bewilderment.

  He cursed beneath his breath. "Because I might hurt you, that's why. Do I have to draw you a picture?"

  "You, hurt me? You, Zachariah?"

  "Yes, me! That's what I said, isn't it?" A dangerous glint came into his eyes, and he swung an arm toward the house. "Go sit on the porch. Go inside and read. Go to bed. Whatever you like, okay? But get the hell away from me!"

  His voice snaked around her like a whiplash. Kate had seen Zachariah angry, but never like this, his face rigid with repressed rage, his body tensed as if to do her violence. Instinctively, she retreated a step.

  "There's a smart girl. Get away from me while you still can."

  The words snapped her back to her senses. Though he loomed over her and looked furious enough to bite through saddle leather, he was Zachariah, a man she had come to trust. She had no idea what was eating at him, but she intended to find out.

  "I'm not afraid of you," she informed him.

  He planted his hands on his hips and gave a harsh laugh. "You've picked a helluva fine time to de
cide that."

  Feeling diminished by his angry posture, she drew up her shoulders and raised her chin. "I apologize if my timing is bad, but that's the truth of it. I could never be afraid of you."

  "When did this revelation strike you. Out of the blue at breakfast? It sure as hell is news to me. I'm telling you, be afraid."

  Kate could only stare at him. Stalemate. After doing his best to intimidate her with his glare for the space of several heartbeats, he threw up his hands.

  "You know, sometimes I wonder if you've got the brains God gave a gnat." He measured off a scant inch between thumb and forefinger. "I'm about that close to raping your sweet little ass. Is that plain enough for you?"

  The words took Kate so aback she blinked. "Why on earth would you consider doing that?"

  "Why would I—?" His voice cracked, and he gaped at her with an expression of sheer incredulity on his face.

  Then, hands back on his hips, he leaned forward to press his face close to hers. "I want you!" he fairly shouted at her. "Is that a good enough reason?"

  It took nearly all Kate's courage to stand her ground. He was a large man. Body tensed and poised as if to spring, he struck an intimidating figure. At a glance, she could see the untapped power that roped his body. She couldn't even contemplate what might transpire if he turned that strength against her.

  Anyone with good sense probably would get away from him. She guessed maybe he was right, and she didn't have brains enough to know what was good for her. Crazy, so crazy. She was a grown woman who knew from bitter experience that real life was grim and seldom fair, that the strong reigned, and that the weak survived as best they could. She was very likely a fool ever to have allowed this man to convince her otherwise. But he had.

  And now, if she couldn't believe in him, she knew she would never be able to trust in anyone or anything again.