Would-Be Wilderness Wife (10 page)

Chapter Ten

D
rew heard the shot echoing through the woods and lowered his ax. Simon must have heard it as well, for he paused, too. The two of them and James had been working behind Simon's cabin, cutting away some of the brush that had sprung up in the spring rains before heading out deeper into the woods for the fir they'd chosen for Captain Collings's spar. John and Levi were out notching the tree in preparation for cutting it down.

“Was Beth planning a big breakfast?” James asked, venturing closer from where he'd been dragging the brush into a pile. He must have been expecting the work to be light, for he'd elected to wear the silver-shot waistcoat of which he was inordinately proud.

Now they all listened, tensed, waiting for the second shot that would assure them all was well.

No shot came.

Drew ran.

His brothers were right behind him, axes down and at the ready. They weren't far from the clearing, but each step seemed a mile. Had a cougar wandered too close and threatened the stock? Had the enemy who'd poisoned the spring returned for more? Had their mother taken a turn for the worse? Was Catherine in danger?

He careened into the clearing and skidded to a stop at the sight of more than a dozen men surrounding the main house. Some were peering in the lower windows. Others were pounding at the back door. One was trying to climb up onto the roof.

“Hey!” Simon shouted, the first one out of the woods behind him. “What do you think you're doing?”

The men at the rear of the crowd glanced the brothers' way, and the fellow on the eaves dropped to the ground. Two turned and ran off into the woods. James made to follow, but Drew called him back.

“No! We need you here. You and Simon take the right. I'll take the left. Use your axes only if you must and handle for the blade.”

With grim nods, his brothers started forward.

More men peeled off as they approached. Some looked apologetic; others glared belligerently. But no one raised a hand or stammered an explanation.

By the time Drew reached the back door, only a few remained. One was begging at the panel.

“Oh, come now, missy! You can't hide in there forever. We're all fine fellows. Just tell us which you prefer, and the rest of us will go home peaceful-like.”

Drew frowned at the statement, but Simon evidently understood its meaning, for he lowered his ax as he joined Drew on the porch.

“You're too late, boys,” he said, smile cocky. “We already decided she's marrying one of us.”

The man at the front turned to him with a frown, but the door of the house jerked open. The remaining men scattered from the fury on Catherine Stanway's face. She marched out onto the porch like a colonel leading a battalion into battle.

“Oh,
you
decided, did you?” she said to Simon. “Just like that. No need to consult the lady in question. You're as bad as this bunch!”

His brother was paling, but he had the good sense not to argue with her.

Drew stared around him in amazement. “You all came here to court Miss Stanway?”

“No, siree.” A prospector Drew knew was called Old Joe stretched his suspenders as if he were quite proud of himself. “I didn't come to court. I came to marry.”

“You came to make a fool of yourself.” Catherine leveled her stare at him. As his head dropped, she met each gaze in turn. Most lowered, too, or glanced away.

“Where I was raised,” she said, voice as crisp as a winter's afternoon, “a gentleman courts a lady, and they mutually agree that marriage is the best course. I will not be coerced or bullied into marrying. And anyone who attempts to force his way into my affections will rue the day he was born.”

Drew raised his brows. Simon took a firmer grip on his ax as if expecting her to pounce on him any moment. From the back of the crowd, James grinned at her.

“Well, she's a shrew,” someone muttered. “Think I'll take my chances with one of them tamer ones in town.”

Several others nodded, backing away or turning.

Enough was enough. Drew pushed his way to the front and faced the last of her suitors. “You heard the lady. Clear off. If you've a mind to marry, you'll have to find another partner.”

His brothers joined him, lining up beside Catherine, and more men left, shaking their heads and grumbling. Soon only two remained.

One approached, cap in hand. He was a short man with a thick mustache, highly waxed, and a precise part down the center of his dark hair. Drew recognized him from town.

“Miss Stanway,” he said, “I'm Jonas Cooper. I work for Mr. Yesler at the mill. He'll vouch that I'm a tidy, sober man. I attend church every Sunday, and I tithe ten percent to the poor. I've had some education, and I've managed to put money aside for a house in town. I don't cuss, but I do enjoy a fine cigar from time to time. I'd be honored if you'd consider allowing me to court you properly.”

Drew's fingers tightened on the ax. Catherine had every right to choose a fine man, and Cooper was about as upstanding as they came. Yet Drew felt a sudden urge to go dunk the fellow's perfectly combed hair in the lake.

Not to be outdone, the other man swept in front of Cooper. Drew had never seen him before. He had black hair, a neat goatee and a definite twinkle in his dark eyes. James was already eyeing his coat, which was trimmed with velvet. Instead of a handkerchief at his throat, he wore a fancy cravat held in place by a gold stickpin mounted with a green stone that looked suspiciously like an emerald.

“Nay, fair maiden,” he said, voice hinting of a foreign shore, “consider my suit instead. I'm Gulliver Ward. I made my fortune in the gold fields of California, and I'm set to build a playhouse in Seattle, where only the finest theatricals will be performed. My wife will be gowned in silks and satins and fed on oysters and caviar. She will be one of Seattle's first ladies, when the money starts coming in, of course. With your beauty and my wit, no door would be closed to us. Allow me to win your heart.”

Drew stared at him. What was he doing, laying his life at her feet? He'd never even met her!

“Out!” he shouted, raising the handle of his ax. “You have five minutes to get off my land. James, escort these fine fellows.”

His brother started forward. So did Catherine, but this time her fury was turned on Drew, and he found himself backing away from it.

“And there you go, Mr. Wallin,” she said, eyes sparking fire, “deciding my future just as surely as the rest of these men.
I
will decide who I court, if I court. Have I made myself clear?”

Drew nodded. “Clear enough. But may I remind you that you shot the rifle. I thought you wanted my help.”

She took a deep breath as if to calm herself. “I did. But I am quite capable of making my own decisions.” She turned to the two men. Drew steeled himself to hear her answer. If she accepted that gussied-up Ward, he thought he'd have to go soak his own head in the lake.

“Mr. Cooper,” she said, voice as precise and calm as it usually was when she spoke about clinical matters, “I appreciate your thoughtful assessment of your worth as a matrimonial candidate. Allow me to reciprocate. I am headstrong, opinionated and outspoken. We would not suit. I suggest you look more closely at the ladies still in Seattle.”

Drew felt as if the air was sweeter as Mr. Cooper stared at her in surprise. Catherine turned to her other suitor.

“Mr. Ward, you certainly have a way with words. I predict you will go far.”

Drew couldn't help it. He took a step closer to the fellow, but Ward's gaze did not waver from Catherine's.

“I'm glad we are of a common mind, my dear,” he said, inclining his head. “Allow me to escort you away from this rustic hovel. You shine like a diamond even here, but I know you will positively glow in a more suitable setting.”

Drew could feel his teeth grating on each other; he was surprised Catherine couldn't hear them. Simon was smacking the handle of his ax into his palm as if he couldn't wait for an excuse to use it.

“You are too kind,” Catherine said with a smile that raised gooseflesh along Drew's arms. “But I have work here. You might look up my friend Miss O'Rourke in Seattle. She has a particular fondness for silks and satins. I do caution you, however, that she may be just as loath to spend her life as a decoration for a man's arm. Good day.” She turned and entered the house, closing the door decisively behind her.

Drew wanted to howl at the sky in triumph. She'd turned them down!

Cooper had a harder time believing it, for he shook his head. “They said she was cold, but I wouldn't believe it. You had better think twice before taking that one to wife, Wallin.”

“You, sir, are blind,” Ward said, stepping down from the porch. “A man can go far with the right woman at his side. I'd heard Miss Stanway was the best of the lot.”

“How did you know she was here?” Simon asked, lowering his ax.

“'Twas a tale told over a friendly hand of cards,” Ward assured him. “When a lady is so lovely, word will get around. And the fact that she was willing to sojourn with you all indicated her taste in men might not be overly finicky.”

Simon frowned. “Did you just insult us?”

“Not with that accent,” James joked.

Ward swept them a bow. “I meant no harm, gentlemen. My own past is no less humble. That hasn't stopped me from reaching high, even in a bride.” He glanced at the door and sighed. “Ah, well. Back to the city for this lad. Farewell, gentlemen.” He turned and strolled out into the woods, where Drew assumed he must have a horse waiting.

“Reprobate,” Cooper said with a shake of his head, as if he hadn't also just tried to marry Catherine at first sight like the fancy Ward. He turned to Drew. “Sorry to have troubled you. Mr. Yesler sends his regards and hopes you will have more timber for him soon.”

“Maybe we would,” Simon said, “if we weren't so busy defending what is ours.”

Cooper reddened. Stammering another apology, he, too, headed for the trees.

“I'll just make sure they've all gone,” James said, “and ask that Ward fellow where he purchased his coat.” He set out toward the edge of the clearing.

Simon shook his head. “I warned you, Drew. If you won't marry Miss Stanway, someone else will.”

“You heard her,” Drew snapped. “She refused to marry any of them.”

“So she said,” Simon agreed. “But what I want to know is why she looked at you every time she said it.”

* * *

Beth had come down from upstairs and stood by the stove as Catherine closed the door behind her, hands still shaking. The girl's eyes were wide in her round face, her fingers twisting at the material of her pink gingham gown.

“Who were those men?” she cried. “Was that Simon I saw outside? Where are Drew and the others? Should I fetch a rifle?”

Catherine only felt confident answering the last question. “No need for the gun. I think the other men have gone. I'm sorry if I frightened you when I fired.”

Beth took a step closer and put out a hand as if she needed to be certain Catherine was safe. “When someone fires one shot around here, we notice. What happened?”

The chair by the hearth beckoned, but Catherine couldn't sit, not when her heart was hammering as furiously as her temper. She had to smother these emotions. She paced to the stove, a cast-iron series of steps into the fireplace with a fat-bellied oven in the center near the fire and burners on top. Reaching above it, she pulled down a copper teakettle from a hook on the wall, talking as she worked. “We had company this morning, a great deal of company. And they were not the sort of men I wanted to introduce to you.”

As if she disagreed with Catherine, Beth scrambled to the window and peered out, blond hair brushing the pane. “I don't see anyone. Were they the ones who poisoned the spring?”

About to lift the bucket of water by the stove, Catherine stilled. Was it possible? Whoever had thrown manure into the Wallin's pool had been bent on making trouble. Was this simply more of the same?

But no, the water had been contaminated before Mrs. Wallin had fallen ill, which was long before Catherine had arrived. If those men were truly here because of her, they could have had nothing to do with the spring.

“I don't think so,” Catherine said, pouring water into the teakettle.

Beth wheeled away from the window. “Oh, good! Drew's coming in. Maybe he'll have answers.”

Catherine's fingers tightened on the wooden handle of the kettle as the door opened. Although she was grateful Drew and his brothers had come running at her shot for help, she didn't appreciate the way they'd presumed to know her mind. Like her neighbors in Sudbury, they seemed certain her only course was marriage. Had she gained nothing by traveling across the country?

Drew came in and shut the door behind him. His mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes were narrowed as if he wasn't sure of his reception.

In truth, she wasn't sure how to receive him, either. She busied herself setting the teakettle on the stove. The movement was stiff enough that metal clanked on metal.

“What was all that?” Beth demanded as he came into the room, boots thudding against the worn boards of the floor. “Who were those men?”

“Apparently a pack of fools,” he replied. He crossed to Catherine's side and lowered his head and his voice.

“Forgive me if I offended you,” he murmured. “I just didn't like the idea of those men pushing themselves on you.”

Neither had she. In truth, she'd panicked, something she'd always thought beneath her. She was an intelligent, well-educated, skilled woman. She'd never been in a situation she couldn't master, until her father and brother had died. Even then, she'd fallen back on reason and logic, walling off all the emotions that troubled her.

But those men had demanded that she marry one of them, as if she were no more than a commodity. How did reason prevail?