"It's a style I once saw in a magazine. I think there's plenty of fabric in this skirt."
"Leave it and I'll take a look. Sounds interesting. But you'll probably have to come back a few times and try it on for me." Mrs. Forester patted Kat's shoulder. "You can sit here awhile and I can make you some lunch in a bit. I won't be long."
Kat stood when she did. Noticing the dried pieces of mud about her, she said, "I'll just sweep up the mess I made and then be on my way. I wanted to do some more errands for Papa. Besides he's offered to buy lunch for me at the boarding house."
Mrs. Forester, her eyes soft with affection, said, "I sure have missed you, sweetheart."
Kat crossed the room and embraced her. "I've missed you, more than you know."
True to her word, Kat swept the floor clean of the dirt she'd brought with her. She'd even managed to shake loose most of the mud soiling her skirt hem, but she doubted the petticoat would ever be white again.
As she passed through the shop, she caught Mrs. Forester's eye and waved, mouthing a silent thank you. Mrs. Forester winked back at her.
Stepping out of the store, she squinted against the bright light of mid-day, lifting her hand to shield her eyes. She missed her bonnet, and thought that perhaps she could find something a little less stylish and more serviceable. Well, when in Rome. . .
Kat stepped to the edge of the walkway. Looking down, she scrutinizing the muddy road with no little concern. She looked left and right hoping to find a drier route across the street, but seeing none she took a tentative step down. All right, I can do this. Lifting her skirts two inches higher, she took another step. Slow and steady. With the next step she felt her boot slip into an unexpectedly deep puddle. Her ankle turned and her arms wind-milled in a last-ditch effort to stay upright.
The ground rose up, brown and wet. It was all dreadfully familiar. The next moment, a hand grabbed her elbow and another hand slipped around her waist. She said a silent prayer, not of gratitude. Oh Lord, not him again! Was he following her? She looked up into the face, not of Ethan Hall, but the stranger who'd tried to help her earlier.
"Steady there, Miss. Here, let me help you onto the walkway again." He held her securely by the hand. With his other hand firmly about her waist, he swung her effortlessly onto the step. Until she stood on her own with her hand securely gripping the railing, he kept his hand against her back to steady her.
Kat felt the awkward warmth in her cheeks and turned away, stepping onto the boardwalk. She wouldn't blush because of a mere touch, like a school girl! Lifting her chin, she forced herself to look directly into his eyes.
He was older than she'd first thought; the gray at his temples and slightly peppered hair might suggest he was into his late thirties. Anatomy class observations, strictly clinical curiosity, she told herself. He had a wiry frame topped by unusually wide shoulders. His face marked by a strong Roman nose, wide mouth and very nice lips that now parted into a smile. She cast her eyes down, finished with clinical curiosity. What's wrong with me?
He hesitated on the step. "Miss, um, where are you trying to go? Maybe I can help."
Kat composed herself, patting her hair back in place. "I'm supposed to meet my father at the boarding house down the street. Thank you, but I think I can manage. It's just a little mud."
He seemed to have arrived at a solution to her problem. "If you don't mind my offer, Adam and I have the wagon loaded and ready to head out. We could drive you there."
Kat looked at the wagon he indicated with his glance. It was but a few steps away, but she shook her head. "No, that's an imposition. Really, it isn't that far." She gazed at the pools of mud, a forlorn expression forcing the brave smile from her face.
"Really, it's no bother. Here!" He offered her his hand and called to the boy in the wagon. "Adam make room for the lady." Adam grinned down at her and scooted to the center of the bench seat. Jonathan guided her the few steps to the side of the wagon. Putting both hands around her waist, he lifted her to the wagon step. The boy, a wide grin on his face, helped pull her the rest of the way.
Forcing her skirt into the narrow space between the boy and the side of the wagon, Kat sat stiffly, her back pressed against the short back of the wagon seat. She glanced over at Adam and gave a tight-lipped smile. Feeling compelled to say something, she mumbled with a nervous laugh. "This is so much trouble."
Her rescuer swung up into the driver's side and took the reins from the boy. He kissed to the horses and the wagon started with a slurping sound as the wheels churned through the mire. To keep from falling, Kat grabbed the side of the seat. They traveled one block before Jonathan pulled the horses to the left and made a tight turn to head in the opposite direction. It took mere minutes to pull up directly in front of the boarding house. After handing the reins to Adam again, Jonathan hopped down with a splash, and passed behind the wagon, holding on as he did to keep from slipping. He lifted his hands to Kat.
Gathering her skirt in her hand, she balanced on the running board. He slid his hands around her waist for the second time and lifted her from the wagon to the sidewalk. He held her for only a heartbeat, but in that moment as he stood close to her, she noticed that his eyes were not brown as she had first thought but dark blue-gray. What a lovely shade of gray, she thought, and . . . symmetrical! They're symmetrical! Kat employed her well-rehearsed method of distraction. She recited it, like a catechism. Step out of yourself, Kat! Don't be a silly fool. Keep your focus on your goal and don't get distracted. This is simple animal attraction!
He released her and she took a step back.
"Thank you." She realized then that she did not know his name, nor had she introduced herself. She should at least be courteous.
Extending her hand to him, she said, "I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself before. I'm Kathryn Meriwether. . . Dr. Kathryn Meriwether."
"Jonathan Winthrop." He took her hand lightly, tipping his hat. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."
That was when she recognized the Texas drawl.
Carefully navigating his way through the mud at the back of the wagon, he stepped back into the wagon. When he saw that she hadn't moved from the step, Jonathan asked quite seriously, "Are you going to be all right?"
She wondered at this last comment, then realized she was still standing in the same place he'd left her, like a stunned deer in the crosshairs. "Oh, quite! Thank you." She lifted her hand to her ear lobe, pulling it viciously as she spun and stepped through the door of the boarding house.
Adam looked over at Jonathan, a sly smile creeping across his youthful face. "Good-lookin', huh?"
Jonathan looked at the boy with a bemused expression. "You interested, now? Don't you think she's a bit old for you?"
Adam colored. "Not too old to notice." He mumbled this, but shot back, "She's certainly not too old for you!"
Jonathan shrugged. "No, but I'm a bit too old for her, I reckon." He kissed to the horses and they leaned into their traces pulling the loaded wagon through the mud.
Adam settled down on the wagon seat. Half to himself he said, "She's sure a little thing, not much taller than me I guess."
Jonathan nodded once, commenting dryly, "Would guess that's true."
The boy stared off into the distance, his voice suddenly soft and dreamy. "But she's sure got all she needs tucked in between her pretty little head and those tiny feet."
Jonathan turned his head to study the boy. He shoved his fist hard into the boy's arm. "Adam! What kind of talk is that? Would your father want you talking about a lady like that?"
Adam flushed crimson. "Guess not." He stuck his chin out, shooting back. "But it's true."
Jonathan turned back to the road. "That it is. That it is."
For a moment he considered the fetching Dr. Meriwether, and had to agree with Adam's appreciation of her attractive qualities. Then he grinned at himself in wry amusement. He was a man nearly twice her age. Entertaining romantic notions might have been something he’d done before life had laid him lo
w, but not now. What did he have to offer any woman? He was broken and he knew it, broken in a way no doctor could heal.
Chapter 6
Sheriffs Bullies and Liars
Eight out of the original nine cans lay on the other side of the fence rail, pierced through. Kat lowered her rifle and squinted at the result of her firing. "Missed one!" She swore softly under her breath.
"Kat! When did you start swearing? You never heard that from me!" Nathaniel gave her a look of mock rebuke.
"Well, Papa, you pick up more than medical terms when you work with men under pressure." She threw back a rueful smile and reloaded.
Nathaniel nodded toward the execution line of soup and bean cans. "You seem to have lost a little of your irritating talent for beating me at target shooting. What's thrown your aim off?"
"Lack of practice, I suppose. Didn't have much time for it." She drew the weapon to her shoulder and fired. The final can flew up with a satisfying plink. "Too busy learning how to swear," Kat grinned at her father, handing him the Browning rifle, then picking up a half-dozen tin cans. She scrambled up the hill to balance them on the rail.
"Suppose none of those city doctors even know the business end of a gun from the butt," Nathaniel called after her as he leaned back against a tree trunk watching his daughter, skirt tucked into her waistband stride back down the hill and across the yard.
"Oh, they were quite familiar with back ends—just not those constructed of wood."
Nathaniel sniggered, "Kat! I'm afraid your feminine sensibilities have been compromised by your studies of anatomy."
"Papa, my feminine sensibilities were compromised long ago by being brought up by a doctor. Besides, it seems you were the one who raged at anyone who chose to use euphemisms instead of. . . Let's see. What did you say? Oh yes, 'perfectly adequate anatomical language.'"
Loading two .45 rounds, Kat pulled the Browning rifle back to her shoulder and fired, levering rapidly before taking a second shot. Two shots, two cans flying.
Nathaniel shook his head as he watched a sparkle of smug self-satisfaction brighten her eyes. "You know, for a while when you were growing up, I thought you just might decide to study law."
Kat picked up her father's gun, a newer Browning, and inspected it. "Now what in the world would have made you think that? You treated me like an intern most of my adolescence! Remember that I was the one who told Josie the real facts of life, thanks to you and a particularly well-illustrated medical book."
Nathaniel snorted. "I suppose I did. But you were darn good at picking up anything I taught you. You were doctoring everything from that ugly old yellow cat you carried around like a sack of potatoes, to wild rabbits. Couldn't have you sued for malpractice on the neighborhood pets!"
Kat spun to the target, the rifle loaded and fired.
"No, it was that you were always so keen on seeing that justice was served. Remember the Robinson children and that gang of Liam Brewster's?"
Kat bent down, picking up two spent rifle shells. She tumbled them in her hand while she thought back to her childhood vigilante days. She chuckled. "Guess, I did have a single-minded focus on delivering justice to those bullies."
Nathaniel sniffed at that. "Single-minded focus? You delivered it all right! They never went after those poor kids again after you justiced them bloody." Her father chuckled. "I tried to straighten that nose of his, but it ended up pointing two degrees south when he was facing due east."
"He still lives around here?" Kat squinted into the sun, taking a reading on the time.
"I see him from time to time. He's still a bully."
Kat cradled the barrel into the fold of her arm, starting off toward the house. Their talk of her vigilante days brought the self-appointed sheriff to mind. That started her mind traveling down another path. Hadn't most of the gold and silver strikes been outside the ranges bordering their long valley?
"Papa, why are the ore wagons even coming on this side of the mountain and not using the old road?"
"Well, they were for a time, I think. From what I've heard, the route held too many places for robbers to ambush the wagons. Our side of the mountain makes the trip through more open land. It's safer. Or, at first it was. Now, I hear they take a different route from time to time, trying to confuse the robbers."
Kat kicked at a clod of mud. "Men and their fool lust for quick riches! How many lives and towns been ruined by it?"
"I assume that's a rhetorical question," Nathaniel said.
"It's going to change the town! It already has! There'll be more drinking establishments, more gambling, and more violence." Her eyes flashed with anger as she imagined what she feared would become the town's inevitable future.
"You're preachin' to the choir, Kat. Don't you think I've already seen the results in my office here? I never used to treat gunshot wounds, unless you count the time Mrs. McDougal moved her husband's rifle to dust the mantle and accidentally shot him in the foot."
"She was the only one claiming it was an accident, as I recall," Kat skipped up the steps and onto the porch that wrapped around the house from the kitchen entry to the office front door. "Mr. McDougal was singing quite a different song in your surgery." Nathaniel chuckled and bobbed his head at the memory, taking her gun from her and carrying both inside the house. Kat sat on the porch bench where she had an expansive view of the town below and the river beyond, meandering away down the long valley.
She was glad that her father and mother had agreed to build the house on the hill rather than in the heart of town. Some people complained about having to make the climb, especially those with rheumatism, but Nathaniel was never one to deny a request for a house call. So, it became a non-issue.
Up here away from the center of town, the child she'd been felt free of critical eyes, especially so after her mother's death. Her father had indulged her to be...different, a little wild by others' more conventional standards. More than one opinionated, concerned citizen had admonished her father to use a tighter hand in raising her. But Doc Meriwether had ignored them, just like he'd ignored his sister's advice to send her back east to her so she could be raised in a civilized town and taught how to be a proper lady. And there'd been those that tried to arrange a wife and mother to fill the needs of the widower and child. Nathaniel was, after all, quite a catch and still an attractive man. But he'd successfully escaped those efforts, remaining a contented bachelor.
Kat reached up, pulling the pins from her hair. Her long plait of brown hair swung down over her shoulder. Leaning her head against the house wall, she closed her eyes. The winds, brisk but not cold, felt pleasant brushing over her bare arms. The smell of spring filled the air better than any perfume, and soon the scent of her mother's blush roses would add to the heady fragrance. Even before that, the lilac bushes bordering the small garden would paint a lavender backdrop for the sweet peas that would follow with tender shoots of pink and purple reaching up and up.
Opening her eyes again, she felt a shadow of melancholy steal some of the day's warmth, realizing that she might not still be here to see them bloom. Her hand slipped into the pocket of her skirt, and pulling out the letter from St. Mary's Hospital, she read it once more.
"What you got there? You sure you don't have some beau back east who's writing you love poems?" Nathaniel had slipped quietly from the house onto the porch without her hearing him.
Hastily folding the letter, she slipped it back into her pocket. "No!" She took his hand and pulled him down to the bench beside her. Threading her arm through his, she lay her head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of him, a peculiar mixture of camphor and chamomile soap. "You know I've got room in my life for only one man and the position is filled."
Nathaniel looked down at her, his voice soft and colored with a tint of sadness. "That's what worries me, Kat. Can you really be happy here? You had so much to keep you there, young doctors and new medicine must have enticed you to stay. And here you are with this old frontier doctor."
/> Maybe this was her opportunity. Maybe she could show him the letter, then tell him how exciting it would be to be a part of a new hospital in a bustling town like San Francisco. He'd understand the opportunity it opened for her. She reached into her pocket.
Her father spoke before she could. "Kat, I had something made for you. I've had it since before you came home, but wasn't sure if you were ready for it. Maybe you aren't, but..." He gave her a nervous smile. In lieu of explanation, he pulled a neatly wrapped parcel from the side of the bench and onto his lap, something he'd apparently carried onto the porch without her knowledge.
Curiosity stirred and she took the package onto her own lap. She looked up at him, eyes questioning.
"Go ahead. Open it!" His face became a peculiar mixture of boyish joy and apprehension.
Kat tore open the edge, pulling the paper away to reveal a plank of wood with metal hooks at the top. Seeing it unwrapped left her more baffled. She looked up at him again, puzzled.
"Turn it over, silly!"
She obeyed.
It was a neatly inscribed sign that read:
Dr. Kathryn Meriwether
&
Dr. Nathaniel Meriwether
Kat ran her finger over the crisp blue lettering, lingering over the title before her name. Her chest suddenly tight, she feared looking her father in the face.
"Papa...it's beautiful!" She turned to him, throwing her arms around his neck, managing not to look into his eyes or for him to see into her own. "Thank you," she whispered into his whiskered cheek.
His voice, husky with emotion, answered her, "You're welcome, little girl." He kissed her cheek. "I'm so proud of you."
Tears dripping onto his coat, she clung to him. "You are a dear. I love you, Papa." Kat pulled away, dragging her sleeve across her eyes. "Look at me! I'm such a baby!"
Still unwilling to look at him directly, she scooped up the sign and wrapping paper, then turned away, her heels rapidly beating a retreat across the porch. "I'll make us some lunch, all right?" she called over her shoulder.
Kat's Law Page 4