Authors: Tamera Alexander
Thinking of what Kathryn’s reaction would be if she knew tempted him to smile. She was always trying to get him to talk more.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Isaiah’s deep timbered voice came out a whisper. “Sun’ll be coming up soon. I was wondering if you’d like to join me.”
“It’s been forever since I’ve seen a sunrise,” Larson finally answered. He sensed Isaiah’s smile, though darkness obscured it.
Isaiah drew back the covers and assisted as Larson painstakingly lowered his legs over the side of the bed. When the soles of Larson’s bare feet met the cold wooden floor, shivers shot up his spine. Isaiah draped a heavy blanket around his body, and Larson braced his hands on the side of the bed. He managed to stand but felt his legs giving way beneath the unaccustomed weight.
Isaiah lifted him in his arms, and Larson clenched his jaw tight as shame poured through him. The extent of his injuries hit him all over again, and anger at his dependency momentarily saturated his self-pity. No doubt Isaiah felt his discomfort, yet the man said nothing. Larson purposefully kept his face turned away as his esteem for Isaiah grew.
Isaiah carried him from the bedroom directly into another room—what looked to be the only other room—of the cabin. The promise of coffee layered the room’s warmth, and Larson took the chance to inventory his surroundings.
Sparse
was the first word that came to mind. A scant arrangement of furniture dotted the small space. An amber-orange fire glowed from the fireplace, radiating warmth. And in the shadows in front of the hearth, he made out a small bundled form lying curled up on one side on a pallet.
An unexpected lump lodged in his throat.
This couple had given so much to him. But why? He’d thought of little else besides his own predicament since awakening. A glimpse of his own selfishness barbed him.
Isaiah flicked the latch from the cabin door, and cold air rushed around them.
Surprisingly, it felt good against Larson’s skin. Glancing ahead of him, he quickly realized that this was no chance gathering. A cushioned chair sat catty-corner on the small porch, blankets piled on the floor beside it. Two mugs of what he bet was coffee sat atop a portion of porch rail that had been cleared of snow. Steam spiraled against the pinkish hues of the eastern horizon.
Isaiah lowered him into the chair and covered him.
“Couldn’t sleep, huh?” An apologetic smile tipped Larson’s mouth, and he wished he had the words to convey his gratitude— and his remorse.
Isaiah handed him one of the cups and their eyes met.
In that brief exchange, Larson knew that Isaiah was a man of unquestionable honor and kindness. Then, as though a mirror had appeared before him, Larson saw himself and lowered his gaze.
Isaiah leaned against the porch rail and looked out across the treetops. Moments passed. Thick stands of aspen and birch cleaved the small clearing around the cabin, and the faint rustle of awakening life stirred in the frosted brush. Larson looked westward over his shoulder and, gauging from the peaks in the near distance, figured he was a good fifteen or twenty miles farther northwest from where he’d camped in the ravine that night.
Isaiah turned to look at him. “How did Abby’s chicken and dumplings settle on your stomach?”
“Fine. It’s good to have solid food again. Your Abby’s a great cook.” He took a deep breath. “Look, Isaiah . . . I’m sorry about the other day. I don’t know your reasons, but . . . I know they must be important.” Larson wrestled the next words off the tip of his tongue. “So I won’t ask you again.”
Isaiah nodded and turned again to concentrate on a spot on the horizon.
Larson tracked his focus to a smattering of clouds in the east. They hung low in the sky, like tinted shreds of cotton on a blanket of gray, reflecting the coming dawn in soft wisps of purple and pink.
Larson took a sip of coffee and relished the warmth in his throat. “So what happened after the doctor won you? After you gained your freedom?”
For a moment, Isaiah just looked at the mug in his grip. “Well, at first Doc Lewis gave me work sweeping and cleaning his patient rooms. He was the first white man who ever looked at me like a man . . . treated me like a man. In time, he showed me where to pick the ingredients for his poultices and remedies, which plants they came from and where they grew. Which wasn’t foreign to me because my grandmother was a healer—she’d taught me a lot of that. But I’d never seen some of the plants and trees that grew out here. They’re different from down South. Doc showed me how to mix them, like my grandmother had.” The edges of his mouth tipped slightly. “So that became my job, which was better than harvesting cotton and pulling a plow for sure.
“People had been coming to the doc’s clinic for years. He cared about them. He had me deliver the medicines to families outside of town when he couldn’t go himself. Doc treated me well; he was my friend. Taught me how to read and write, how to speak suitably to the townsfolk.” The deep timbre of Isaiah’s voice accentuated the stillness. “I watched and learned from him, and for some reason, people kept coming to the clinic even after Doc Lewis died. I’d listen to what ailed them and then mix the remedy Doc would’ve given them.”
Larson saw a smile ghost Isaiah’s profile, then slowly fade.
“One day a couple of families new to town got sick. Folks around there found out they’d been to see me and figured I was the cause. That I’d poisoned them.” Emotion textured his hushed voice. “Some of the men in the town . . . visited me that night. When I woke up again, I was lying in the dirt, naked, with a noose around my neck. At first I thought maybe they just hadn’t picked a strong enough branch.” He shook his head. “But that limb looked like it had been cut clean through.”
Larson noticed the cabin door edge open slightly. Abby’s shadowed silhouette stilled.
“The families died, all but one of the women. I know because as soon as I was able I gathered supplies from the clinic and went to their houses by night. When I got there, I found the woman barely alive.” Isaiah shook his head, the early dawn giving his dark complexion a bronzed glow. “Nobody was with her. Not a soul. She was sick with the cholera. It swept through the town, took a lot of people with it.”
Larson looked from Isaiah back to Abby, who stood in the doorway, silent tears coursing down her cheeks.
Isaiah sighed. “I didn’t know if I could help her, but I knew I couldn’t leave her to die. I also knew that if those men found me again, they’d hang me for sure. So I took her and went to an old cabin near a mining town that Doc and I had come across on one of our trips. Thanks to God’s mercy, she got better. And I eventually took her back to her home.”
“But I wouldn’t stay,” Abby whispered, opening the door fully. Going to Isaiah, she went and laid a hand on his shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own. “I’d already found my home.”
Larson stared at the two of them. Abby’s small white hand covered by Isaiah’s large black one. Such an unlikely pair, and with so much against them to start with. His throat tightened as he watched the love pass between them. Had they not known him so intimately already, he might have felt uncomfortable intruding upon the tender moment.
As it was, all he could think about was Kathryn and whether she could ever come to care for him with that same intensity. But even more, could he ever be the kind of man who would inspire such love?
K
ATHRYN GATHERED HER ROBE about her and peered through the cabin window at the imposing-looking man standing on the other side of the door. The top of his head reached at least a hand’s length above the threshold and his powerful build was daunting.
He pounded again and she jumped. What could he want? And so early in the morning. The sun was scarcely up. Almost without thinking, she placed a hand over her still-flat belly in protection of the child inside her.
Lord, keep us both safe
.
She unbolted the door and opened it a crack. “Yes, may I help you?”
“Good morning, Mrs. Jennings.” The man removed his hat to reveal a more youthful and decidedly friendlier looking face than Kathryn expected. “I’m here to talk to you about the job.” He spoke as though his words were measured, carefully thought out beforehand.
Her fears eased considerably. Despite his size, there was something in the man’s deep blue eyes that persuaded her to trust him. Still trying to decide what it was exactly, she nodded. “You’ll need to see Mr. Taylor about that. He’s responsible for all the hiring, but I’m certain we’ll have work for you.”
The rest of the ranch hands had quit a week ago. Apparently they shared Harley Dunham’s opinion about working for a woman. Matthew had put word out that they were hiring, but so far they’d had only scant inquiries. She felt sure that Matthew would not turn this man away.
He dipped his head in deference. “What would you like me to do first? I can start right now.” He accentuated each syllable, and his eyes twinkled.
Seeing his eager expression, Kathryn realized what it was that inspired her trust. This man possessed an innocence that belied his formidable stature. She couldn’t help but smile. It was like watching a little boy at Christmas. “If you’re that eager to get started, there are chores to do in the barn. The animals need to be fed and—”
“Oh, I know what to do in a barn, ma’am.” He grinned as he slipped his hat back on. “I’ve been in one of those before.”
Kathryn stared across the desk at Harold Kohlman, fighting to hold her temper in check. “But my understanding was that I owed you the amount I borrowed when I was last here. I’m bringing that amount in full today, the second of April, like we agreed. Here, I have the contract we signed together.”
Kohlman glanced at the papers in her hand but didn’t reach to take them. “I know very well what I signed that day, Mrs. Jennings. The bank has its own copy. But you are obviously unaware that your husband also secured a loan on your homestead prior to that time.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “That payment was due two weeks ago—on the sixteenth of March. The loan is now in default.”
Silent until now, Matthew Taylor leaned forward in his chair. “Mr. Kohlman, I’m here on Mrs. Jennings’ behalf. Larson Jennings has not been seen or heard from in over three months. We don’t know his whereabouts . . . or if he’ll be returning.”
Matthew looked down, and Kathryn saw him wince. She knew he hated to speak so plainly in her presence but was thankful for his offer to accompany her.
“We have reason to think he might have been caught in the storm that hit Christmas Day,” he continued. “Fact is, he may not be comin’ home. We just don’t know.”
Kohlman looked at her dispassionately. “Regardless of whether your husband is alive or not, Mrs. Jennings, the loan is now due. The bank has, in good faith, loaned that money to you and your husband. If you cannot repay the loan, we’ll be forced to take action.”
“What do you mean by ‘take action,’ Mr. Kohlman?” Mr. Taylor asked.
“Well, foreclose, of course.”
Kathryn nearly came to her feet. “You have no right to—” “I have every right, Mrs. Jennings.” Crimson crept up the pudgy folds of Kohlman’s neck. “Your husband signed an agreement with me, whether you were aware of it or not.”
“But you should have told me about that loan on the day we met. You shouldn’t have withheld that information from me.”
“Mrs. Jennings, I do not consider it my responsibility to relay business details between a husband and wife. It is a husband’s business what he decides to share with his wife.” His eyes cooled. “I am not the one who withheld that information from you, ma’am.”
At his withering glance, Kathryn felt the fight drain from her. She sank back in her seat. The dream of keeping the ranch was slipping through her fingers. Why had Larson kept this from her? It hurt that he hadn’t told her, that he hadn’t trusted her enough to help bear this burden. She took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure.
“Given Mrs. Jennings’ situation, how long does she have to repay the loan before you foreclose?”
Kathryn glanced from Mr. Taylor back to Kohlman.
Kohlman’s left eye twitched. “I’ll give her until September, and I’m being generous in that offer. Then all loans will be due in full.”
“All loans!” Kathryn prayed she’d misheard him.
The banker laced his fingers over his protruding stomach. The leather chair creaked under his weight. “That’s right. The agreement your husband signed last spring clearly stated that if he defaulted on any portion of this loan, then the balance of all loans would be due. That includes the land, the cattle, the homestead. Everything.”
Though she was no expert in banking, Kathryn had gleaned some knowledge through overhearing her father’s business dealings. “May I see the agreement my husband signed?”
Kohlman opened a file already on his desk and shoved the papers across to her, then eyed his pocket watch.
Ignoring him, she carefully read through the agreement. Though she didn’t understand all the legal jargon of the lengthy document, a sickening feeling weighted her chest when she recognized Larson’s signature at the bottom. “Is this standard practice, Mr. Kohlman? To call in all loans if one payment is late?”
His look told her he didn’t like being questioned. “Only for those patrons who are considered to be high risk.”
She blinked. “High risk?”
His brief smile twisted her stomach. “Your husband fell behind in payments last year. We worked with him, of course, as we do with all our patrons.” He shook his head and sighed. “If I bear any fault in this it would be that I was too generous in my estimation of your husband’s business acumen. And for that, I am indeed sorry. That, however, doesn’t change your situation.”
The blow of the insult struck Kathryn with more impact than if Kohlman had directed it straight at her. But why had Larson not shared this with her? She thought back, remembering how the previous winter’s brutal cold had cost them several hundred head of cattle. Apparently the loss had been more devastating than she’d imagined. What anxiety Larson must have been shouldering alone. . . .
“Mr. Kohlman.” Matthew Taylor leaned forward in his chair, his face determined. “I’ve worked for Mr. Jennings for over six years. He’s a good man and has a natural savvy about him when it comes to overseeing his ranch. He wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks with it, I can guarantee you that.”