Kat looked up and saw that he was seeing something beyond the passing storm, whether in the past or future she wasn't sure. "I remember, Papa. You gave me the science for everything. It made me feel stronger knowing the why of things."
Nathaniel looked down at her. A vague almost puzzled expression washed across his face. "You know that the older I get, the more I realize how little I know. I could still tell you the why. But lately, I've been thinking more about the who."
"Is that why you've been going to church lately?"
Nathaniel laughed lightly. "Should've known the wags would have filled your ear about that. I wasn't sure how you'd react when you learned about it. Some hypocrite I turned out to be." He shook his head slowly, the laughter fading, replaced by that contemplative expression she'd seen earlier. "It's just that there are questions these days I can't answer with science anymore. People that should be dead, who aren't. Remedies I couldn't administer with my entire apothecary couldn't cure them, but they were healed. Things happen that I can't explain."
Nathaniel pulled back and shrugged. "I'm just looking for answers, Kat, just like I always have. But I've pretty much exhausted the places to look for them." He gave her a half smile. "Sometimes, of late, I think I've been asking the wrong questions."
Chapter 13
Whispered Warnings
“Mrs. Gillet, his leg looks very good! I see no inflammation, no evidence of infection." Kat looked up from her examination of Mrs. Gillet's four-year-old son. "The wound is healing nicely."
Kat saw the relief wash over Mrs. Gillet's face as the woman stepped back from where she'd been peering over Kat's shoulder.
"Praise be to God!" she said while fanning her florid face.
Kat heard the catch in her voice, recalling the tragedy of her older son's death. Five years ago, by the time the family had decided to call her father, the gangrene had beset the leg and even amputation couldn't save his life. Such an unnecessary death.
People needed to be educated, she thought for not the first time since returning to the valley. Snake oil salesmen could make all the promises, but the alcohol-laced remedies they sold could do nothing against infection. More of these hardworking people were likely to die, not from their wounds, but from the infection that followed. Her father had made much progress in the years he'd treated the community of Snowberry, but with newer treatments, she knew much more could be done to improve the quality of life here on the frontier.
Mrs. Gillet pulled the corner of her apron to her eye. "I'm so grateful that your father moved here. And now to have two of you, well, it's just wonderful. When Daniel cut his leg with that axe, I just feared the worst, you know? I couldn't bear to think of burying two of my babies before they were growed."
The older woman placed a kettle on the wood stove to boil, talking while she prepared a pot of tea. "You know, I couldn't understand why your papa just didn't bleed Daniel of that infection. But he seemed quite set on not doin' what even my mother would have expected as proper treatment. Had to trust him to know best, him being educated and all. But it surely was hard."
Kat shivered involuntarily as she imagined the horrors of those days, not so long passed, when bleeding a patient was standard practice. Her father's education had taught him the futility and even harm such procedures brought about. She also now knew the strides modern science had made since her father had studied, progress she hoped to share with him in the days ahead.
While she put a fresh bandage on the boy's leg, Kat couldn't help but notice things that confirmed for her the need to educate the townspeople about sanitary handling of food and water. But would they listen? Could they be convinced that these unseen microbes could be the cause of so much suffering?
Kat accepted the cup of tea she'd been offered but declined the bread after seeing that the same knife that had been used to slice the bread had been laying on the counter where it had been obviously used to slice bacon for the morning meal. She hoped she hadn't insulted Mrs. Gillet in the process of protecting her health.
"I'm glad the Picnic Committee ladies decided to change the contest this year. It's about time, if you ask me. We've been watching those two hens, pardon my saying it clear, peck at each other for long enough! Heard you might have had somethin' to do with that." She winked.
"Oh, I hardly think so. To be honest, I don't even remember casting a vote," Kat said.
"You sure you won't have a slice of bread? I made it fresh this mornin'. You could sample my Thimbleberry jam. I'm plannin' to enter it this year." Mrs. Gillet sat across from Kat and rubbed her glistening brow with the hem of her apron.
Kat looked down at her teacup. "Thank you, Mrs. Gillet. I had quite a breakfast just before I rode over."
Mrs. Gillet sat back, folding her hands across her ample chest. "Your father has done for himself quite well since your ma passed on. From what I hear, he should enter one of the cooking contests!"
It came as no surprise that even Nathaniel Meriwether's private talents might be common knowledge among the wags of their small town. "Well, I'll tell him you threw out the challenge then." She laughed lightly.
Kat could see from Mrs. Gillet's eager eyes that she was braced for a stimulating conversation. Kat wasn't sure she was ready to be broadcasting any gossip. It would definitely be in the category of "unprofessional behavior" amongst her colleagues in Boston.
Mrs. Gillet must have sensed Kat's imminent departure, leaning forward she said, "It's sure a shame about these robberies. And to think they're taking place right across the valley. Here! In our own little Snowberry!" She shook her head, tsking through tight lips.
"Indeed, it is." With this Kat could agree.
"You know what I think? We need a real lawman. That's what I think." She sat back, folding her hands across her chest again.
Kat, while she abhorred the idea that her town had been infected by gold and silver fever which might necessitate any law enforcement, had to agree again. She also doubted that anyone would want such a job. Most of the townspeople were far too busy trying to scrape out a living to take on another job.
"Have any of the businessmen in town looked into hiring anyone other than Mr. Hall?" Kat asked.
"Hardly think so. Hall, he hardly takes anything for doin' what he does. Whatever that is." Mrs. Gillet wagged her head, tsking again with greater emphasis.
"I see."
"But you know what I think?" Mrs. Gillet leaned forward, one eyebrow cocked.
Kat knew this to be another rhetorical question so she waited.
"I think someone should go up to Schmidt's Valley and ask that fella that moved into the old homestead. Cause I heard he was a Texas Ranger! Imagine that! Now that there's a real lawman! I suppose he'd set things right." Mrs. Gillet sat back looking pleased with her solution.
Kat tried to picture the quiet man with the shielded, dark eyes as a lawman. The image didn't fit, and seemed quite contrary to her initial impression of him. He seemed too kind and reserved to have come from such a violent past. Then again, there was that dangerous element she'd sensed, but more than likely this was just one more example of Mrs. Gillet's active imagination.
"Well, perhaps if Mr. Hall takes his job seriously, he'll hire more professional lawmen to patrol the road." Kat quickly finished her tea, rising to her feet before Mrs. Gillet could take the gossip any further. "Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Gillet. Either my father or I will be out to remove the stitches from Daniel's leg next week."
Mrs. Gillet sent her off with a full loaf of bread wrapped in a somewhat clean cloth, shouting her gratitude again as Kat took her leave.
Kat rode from the Gillet homestead keenly aware of the civilized world she'd left behind in Boston, marveling at the vastly different life she'd returned to here in her hometown. It seemed more than distance that separated these two worlds. In many ways, she felt as if she'd stepped from the future into the past, not just her own, but that somehow time had actually reversed when she'd boarded the train in Boston. Some
where between the bustling cities of New England and the border of Idaho Territory she'd passed through a portal in time, where the world of policemen and modern innovations dissolved to this outpost of vigilantes and superstition.
Perhaps it was her heaviness of heart that led her to take the fork in the road leading back to Schmidt's Meadow. The farther from the Gillet homestead and town she traveled, the lighter rose her spirits. Blue stepped out at a brisk trot, head held high. Instead of taking the main trail to the valley, she took the narrow trail that led higher up the high mountain valley. She gave into her curiosity to see if anyone had discovered the older trapper's cabin on the side of Mt. Baldy.
When she'd last seen it, the ancient structure was a spooky old place with sinking roof and gaping holes in the floorboards. The stone fireplace alone seemed to be propping up the rest of the cabin. Only once had she and Josie dared to venture inside, and that was only because of a sudden thunderstorm which had taken them by surprise. It had been a balmy spring day until the skies had bruised, growing heavy with an unexpected storm. The cabin had provided the only safe shelter in an area of several miles. Inside they'd found a half-dozen cans of food with labels printed in a foreign language. A few pans remained on the shelves, abandoned by the last residents.
The girls had heard stories of the French trappers who had worked in the mountains before the first immigrants blazed the Oregon Trail. But little evidence remained to unravel the mystery of who had built the cabin. Aside from a broken animal trap propped in the corner and the remnants of some moth-eaten animal skin nailed to a wall, little was left to identify those who'd lived there. As they sat in the dusty gloom, thunder rattling the walls and rain dripping through numerous holes in the roof, they had conjured stories of the dastardly outlaws that had holed up in this cabin, imagining how that stain on the floor was the only evidence remaining of a treacherous betrayal between brothers. After the storm had abated and the girls had made their way home, rather more subdued, Kat had slept not a wink. Though they had never spoken of it, she rather suspected that it had been much the same for Josie.
The trail grew narrower and the footing more difficult the higher she and Blue traveled. Kat felt a delightful tingling of anticipation. It had always been this way for her, never one to back down from a fight or to avoid the possibility of an adventure. The more scared Josie was by a proposed adventure, the more resolute Kat was to pursue it.
She dismounted when she thought she was close, leading the Morgan through the dense vegetation encroaching on the trail. Stepping into the clearing, she could see that twining berries had reclaimed a large portion of the cleared area behind the cabin. The structure itself was half consumed by dense woody vines and years of accumulated leaves.
As much as the cabin still resembled the haunted shack she remembered, there was something out of place. Standing in the shadowed edge of the woodland, she held Blue's reins tightly in her hand while surveying the area. The roof dipped at a crazy angle where a tree limb had grown down to rest wearily upon a corner. With each year's growth the roof had borne a little more of its weight.
That's when she noticed that the door was unnaturally clear of the vines covering most of the cabin. Someone had cut away an opening, allowing the door to be functional once again. Odd, she thought. Then she remembered the men who had taken possession of the Schmidt homestead. Perhaps they'd come up here and decided to investigate the cabin. She frowned to think of yet one more sanctuary intruded upon.
Hidden in the shade, she scanned the area before crossing the open area and approaching the cabin. Dropping Blue's reins, she stepped onto the porch. The door, warped by the weathering of years, would not fully close so she nudged it open with her shoulder. A creaking protest of iron on rusted iron announced her presence. Cringing at the sound, she peered into the room, lit only by a few narrow rays of light streaming through cracks in the walls and the half-open doorway.
As her eyes adjusted, she stepped a bit farther into the room. Her toe kicked an empty can that went clattering across the floor. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest. Although the cabin was dirty with cobwebs and rat droppings, the counter and crude table had been wiped clean of dust. Cans with new labels lined the shelf by the sink. Two pallets with blankets took a good portion of the floor space on either side of the ancient rock fireplace. Someone was definitely making themselves a home here. Frowning she stepped back onto the porch.
Why would anyone want to live this high on the mountain? There was no evidence of mining. Maybe they were just drifters, skirting the towns where they might encounter unwanted questions. Her curiosity stirred, leading her to investigate the surrounding area. One thing she felt confident of was that there had been at least three different horses here in recent weeks. The tracks were distinct.
She shook her head, chiding herself for her childlike imagination. There could be any number of reasons, men might avoid civilized settlements. But she couldn't shake the thought that the location would make a great hideout for those attacking the ore wagons. Even if she were correct, who could she trust with the discovery? Apparently, not Hall. She could see no evidence, no boxes of ore, no gold. All she had was a twist in her gut and a nagging suspicion.
With a petulant expression clouding her face, she swung into the saddle. "Come on, Blue! Let's head back. No reason to stay here." The Morgan tossed her head as though in agreement.
They descended as they'd come up the mountain, staying to the narrow trail rather than taking the fork that would have led them through Schmidt's Meadow. Having no desire to have to explain her presence to either Jonathan Winthrop or Timothy Hindricks, she and Blue took their time navigating the rocky terrain and finally hooking up with the main trail back to town.
This had proven to be a most unsatisfying day and she found herself completely out of sorts. So, when she saw a horse and rider approaching, she stiffened. In no mood for any social interchange, civil or otherwise, she urged Blue on to a faster pace.
A broad-brimmed hat covered in a heavy layer of dust and grime shadowed the man's whiskered face. She noticed that the horse he rode looked far too small for the man's bulk. When he was within hailing distance, he raised his head to look directly at her. Kat recognized him in an instant, the small malevolent eyes and the nose, bent and broken from the blow she'd delivered those many years ago.
Liam apparently recognized her at the same time, the right side of his mouth pulling up into an appalling attempt at a smile. "Well, I'll be! Kat Meriwether! I'd heard you were back."
Kat nodded to him and said simply, "Liam." She considered riding on by without entering into a dialog with him. But Liam had pulled up his horse and turned its head just enough to block the trail and her ability to walk on.
"I was really hopin' to see you before you left us again." He pushed his hat up with a grubby finger, peering intently at her.
Kat lifted an eyebrow, just a degree, at that remark. Why would he want to see her? And why was he the only one who hadn't assumed she was staying? That question presented the greater puzzle. "I didn't know that I was going anywhere." She heard the terse tone of her own voice, regretting it instantly. Knowing that it would be too easy to fall into their old pattern of verbal sparring, she reminded herself to control her tongue.
Liam pulled the corner of his mouth a degree higher, managing an unpleasant sneer instead of a smile. "Well, I guess it's just I didn't figure that you'd be comin' back to stay here after schoolin' and all." He chuckled and scratched his whiskered chin while keeping his eyes intently focused on her face. "Hey! If you're plannin' on hangin' around, well that's just fine." His horse took an impatient step forward. Liam checked her harshly. "I know we never got along much as kids."
"No. We didn't." It was all she could say. Her mood just wouldn't allow her brain to come up with any socially acceptable response to an obvious statement. Impatience with this unfortunate meeting was growing and she felt her reserve slipping. All she wanted to do was touch a heel to Bl
ue and let her speed home where she could take a long, soothing bath.
"Well, I just want to say that I ain't holdin' no hard feelings. I'm real glad you made yourself somethin' for people to respect around here." His face worked hard to hold his crooked smile in place.
"That's very good of you, Liam," Kat said through tight lips. Good Lord! The man was still as irritating as ever. She imagined punching him in the nose again, feeling the cartilage give way beneath her knuckles. That mental picture gave her a moment of pleasure, unfitting for a lady.
Liam inched his horse closer to Blue, still managing to block the trail. "I also gotta say, you're lookin' mighty fine. You turned out to be quite the lady."
By way of response, Kat sat rigid in the saddle, her grip on the reins blanching the knuckles of her left hand. The pleasurable images were suddenly replaced by a quiver of fear as she realized that they weren't kids anymore, her days of thumping bullies clearly over.
"But I also want you to know that I'm a changed man. I ain't the boy I used to be." Liam sat back in the saddle, affecting a relaxed attitude. "So, I'm just hopin' we can bury the hatchet. You know?"
Kat didn't know if she was successfully hiding her skepticism at this confession of transformation. Nothing aside from his sticky words supported his claim. But she knew that the best way to end the conversation civilly would be to accept him at his word.
"Well, I'm very glad to hear that, Liam. I'm sure we'll see each other again." With that, she nudged Blue. The little mare jumped forward, startling Liam's nervous horse off the trail.
Liam called after her, "You know there've been a lot of bad things happening around here lately. You might want to reconsider riding out alone. It just might not be safe like it was when we were kids."
Kat heard the change in his tone, the simmering undercurrent of a thinly disguised threat. She wheeled Blue around. Her recalcitrant nature that had led her to punch him when she was a girl exploded through her veneer of calm. She refused to be threatened by this bully. Despite what he said to the contrary, she was confident that he'd not changed his stripes.
Kat's Law Page 9