Train From Marietta (31 page)

“I’m not going until your daddy is well again,” Kate said.

“I’m gonna go tell him to get well.” Emily climbed down from the chair, held on to it for a minute to steady herself, then walked with her awkward gait out of the kitchen.

Yelena looked at Kate and shook her head.

“Should I help her?” Kate asked.

“She not want it, señorita.”

“I’ll check on her just the same.” Kate got up, left the room, and watched Emily go down the hallway. Kate thought about following her into Tate’s bedroom but decided to leave her alone with him for a while and instead went back to the kitchen and sat down at the table again.

The Mexican woman started to prepare a piece of beef for dinner. Not wanting to be useless, Kate asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, señorita.”

“I could take Tate some warm water to wash in.”

“Jorge take him water this morning.”

“Has he had breakfast?”

“At first light.” Yelena turned and smiled easily. Kate found her to be a very likable woman. “Jorge take him food and they talk about horses. Luke and boys help to ready them. Army men come today.”

Both women turned at the sound of Emily crying. Tate’s voice floated down the hallway after the sobs, trying to soothe the little girl. Knowing that she was the cause of the anguish, Kate said, “I’m sorry that by being here I’m upsetting her. Is she like this with all women, or is it just me?”

“It not you. Emily not have a mother. Her own mother leave her. She not like any women who come here. She not like Miss Sophie when she come.”

“Is she a friend?”

“She live near. She Señor Wilbur’s daughter.”

“Kate,” Tate shouted from his room “Will you come in here?”

When she got to the room, Emily was sitting on the side of her father’s bed crying. Her eyes were red, and teardrops rolled down her cheeks and dampened the fabric of her blue dress.

“Emily has something to say to you.”

“There’s no need.”

“I think there is. Say what you’re supposed to say, Emily,” Tate prodded.

“I’m sorry,” the child spoke between sobs.

“I accept your apology, Emily. Will you take me out onto the porch so I can see the horses?” Kate held out her hand. Emily put hers into it, slid off the bed, and stood tentatively, trying to balance herself.

“I can walk,” she said as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

“I can see that.” Kate wasn’t sure how much help she was supposed to give her. Tate had said that walking sometimes hurt Emily’s hips. She looked at Tate for reassurance. His face was expressionless, but he nodded his head. Kate and the small girl walked slowly out of the room.

“Which way?” Kate asked.

Emily tugged her toward the kitchen and out the back door onto the porch.

Outside, the day was beautiful. The sun shone down from a cloudless sky. In the sunlight, the colors of the surrounding trees and flowers jumped out at her. Yellows, reds, and oranges. Jorge was throwing hay over the fence for the horses. A couple of the hungrier animals were already eating. He looked up and waved.

“Shall we sit down here for a minute?” Kate pointed at the long bench on the porch.

“All right.”

Kate sat down and reached for the child to help her sit on the bench. After they’d settled, a big shaggy dog came out from under the porch. “Old Bob,” Emily called cheerfully. “Come here, boy!”

The old dog painfully climbed the steps to the porch and made his way toward them. His shaggy tail wagged with excitement, and his tongue hung out the side of his mouth. He went right to Emily, and she rubbed his head. “Want to pet him?” Emily asked.

“Sure.” Kate scratched the side of Old Bob’s face. He gave her a long, wet lick on her hand as a way of saying thanks. “I had a dog when I was a little girl.”

“Was your dog pretty like Old Bob?”

“He had big spots on his coat.”

“What was his name?”

“Guess. What would you name a dog who had spots?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said with a quizzical look on her face.

“Think about it for a minute.”

Emily looked up and grinned. “I’d call him ‘Spot. ’”

“That was his name. You’re a very smart little girl.”

Emily seemed happy with herself. They sat silently on the porch, and both scratched Old Bob with the tips of their shoes. The dog lay on his side and basked in the attention, his thick tail banging against the wooden planks when he wagged it.

“Are you going to tell me a story tonight?” Emily suddenly asked.

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll tell you a really good one.”

Kate looked up to see two riders coming down the lane toward the house. Emily also saw them, and a grimace spread across her face. “Is it someone you know?” Kate asked.

“It’s that old Sophie and Mr. Wilbur. She likes my daddy.”

“Maybe we should tell Yelena someone’s coming.”

Old Bob had finally noticed the approaching riders, roused himself, and began to bark. Yelena came to the door and said, “I tell the señor.”

Kate helped Emily off the bench. The little girl held her arms out for Kate to pick her up. Kate lifted the child to straddle her hip. Yelena held open the door, and they went inside, through the kitchen, and on to Tate’s room. He lay on his bed with arms at his side. He frowned when he saw Kate carrying Emily. “She’s too heavy for you.”

“I’m fine.” Kate smiled. “You have company.”

“Yelena told me.” Pointing at the rocking chair in the corner of the room under the window, Tate added, “Come. Sit down.” Kate took a seat and held Emily on her lap. The little girl snuggled tightly against her. Leaning up on one elbow, Tate said, “I don’t intend to tell Wilbur you’re the woman who was missing from the train.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s so damn nosy. Besides that, he’s shirttail kin to Hayden.”

“Oh my,” Kate said worriedly.

They could hear their guests’ steps echo across the porch, followed by their greetings to Yelena. Another minute passed before Yelena led them through the door to Tate’s room. “Got company, señor.”

“Come in, Wilbur, Sophie,” Tate said.

Sophie wasn’t a particularly pretty girl, but she wasn’t ugly either. She was slightly overweight with mousy-brown hair. As she came into the room, her eyes were on Tate. She wore a pale yellow blouse with a dark blue riding skirt. Small golden earrings hung from her earlobes. She had spent time on her appearance this morning.

“We just heard that you’d been injured.” Sophie hovered over the bed. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I’m fine, Sophie.”

“How can you say that? Look at you.” She was so busy fawning over Tate that she hadn’t looked at either Kate or Emily. She placed her hand on Tate’s arm. “I’ll stay and help Yelena.”

“I’ve already got a nurse.” Drawing the woman’s attention to the rocking chair, he introduced them. “Miss Tyler, this is my neighbor Wilbur and his daughter, Sophie.”

Kate nodded politely. “How do you do?”

Sophie looked her up and down but said nothing. Kate knew that Sophie immediately regarded her as a rival. The look in her eyes reminded Kate of the wildcat they’d seen on the ledge. Finally Sophie spoke. “Hello, Emily. My, but you look pretty today.”

Emily frowned. “You always say that.”

Wilbur cleared his throat. A rotund man, he was obviously Sophie’s father; most of their facial features were the same. Instead of his daughter’s long, mousy hair, Wilbur’s was white and very short. Instinctively Kate didn’t like the man. He carried an air of superiority. “I see that a patrol is camped down by the river. Are they here to get your horses?” he asked.

“Yes. They should be gone in a day or two,” Tate answered.

“What about the wild stallion? Seen any sign of him?”

“The Indian boys told me the herd had moved farther west,” Tate lied. The thought of Wilbur’s capturing that horse chapped him. Truthfully, the last he saw of the herd led him to believe they were going in the opposite direction.

“Damn Indians would steal the shirt off your back.”

Tate gritted his teeth and remained silent.

After another twenty minutes of small talk, most of it about horses and Tate’s condition, Sophie and Wilbur left. As Sophie went out the door of the bedroom, she gave Kate a killing glance. Kate could only smile in return. As soon as she heard the back door slam, she said to Tate, “She thinks I’m trespassing on her territory.”

“Then she’s mistaken. She doesn’t have any territory here.”

“I don’t like her,” Emily offered.

Tate grinned. “I don’t like her either.”

Later in the morning, as Kate was about to change the bandages on Tate’s wounds, he caught her hand and brought it to his cheek. It felt pleasantly rough. Kate’s mouth curved into a wanton little smile that in turn grew into a throaty laugh. “How long has it been since you’ve shaved?” she asked.

He pulled her down to him, a low laugh escaping him, and locked his arms around her. He felt her hand on his face and was slowly filled with warmth. Their lips met in an innocent kiss that was equal parts soft, generous, uninhibited, and sweet. “Katherine,” he whispered.

His feeling for this woman had been growing steadily since the day he first saw her, standing on the platform. Now it nearly consumed him. She was so open, so giving. When she responded to his kisses, she was as unrestrained as a summer breeze.

Tate had saved his love. He had stored it away, bestowing it only on Emily and those who shared his confined life. Now all the love that he had to give was Kate’s. His heart was drumming hard. His breathing was shallow. He burrowed his face into the fragrance of her hair and felt himself harden and tremble.

Kate abandoned herself to the heavenly feeling of being in his arms. Her fingers touched his hair and his nape and then felt along the hard line of his jawbone. A low moan escaped her when her lips parted from his, and she clung to him as if she were trying to merge her body with his.

“I didn’t know kisses were like this,” she sighed.

His lips traced a line along the side of her face, culminating in a gentle kiss to her trembling mouth. Moving down the other cheek, he whispered into her ear, “I’ve never felt like this before. I’m so damn scared that you’ll leave and that we’ll never get to know how wonderful our lives together could have been.”

Kate pulled back and cradled his face with her hands. She could feel light tremors rippling through his body. “I’m scared too. I didn’t even know if I should come in here again, afraid that I’d read too much in the kisses that we shared last night. We have the power to hurt each other, Tate, simply because we care so much.”

As he looked into her soft, tender eyes, fear left him. Seeing her smile, the flash of a dimple forming in her cheek, made Tate feel as if he could take on the whole world. Love surged through him like a river. How was it possible that this woman, with her gentle smile and calm words, could make him feel like this?

“We’d better change your bandages,” Kate said when their lips parted.

“Your cheeks are pink,” he teased. His eyes, shining silver between hedges of thick, dark lashes, danced over her face. “Everyone will know it was my rough whiskers that scratched your face.”

“I don’t care if the whole world knows you kissed me.”

At that, Tate said a silent prayer.
Please, God, help me to keep this woman with me!

Shortly after the noon meal, the patrol rode into the yard. Jorge met them and showed them the horses. The sergeant and two other men dismounted, and as the Indian boys drove the horses through a chute into the corral, they carefully examined each horse. It was a quick process; the sun was still high overhead when they finished.

Jorge brought the army officer into the house and back to the bedroom where Tate lay. There the men conducted their business. The sergeant accepted the bill of sale on behalf of the government, shook hands with Tate, and left. Jorge and the Indian boys assisted the patrol in getting the horses bunched together and ready to move out.

Tate could hear the shouting and whistling as the horses left the ranch. It was strange for him to be lying in bed while others did his work. As the last sounds of the horses vanished in the distance, Luke appeared in the bedroom doorway. Tate smiled. “How did it go?”

“It go. Horses gone.”

“Did Jorge cut out the mares I wanted to keep?”

“Jorge did.”

“Good. I’m depending on those mares to be carrying the wild stallion’s foals. All we need to do is find him.” Tate rose up in bed and leaned against the headboard. “I won’t be able to ride for a while. I’ll need you to keep an eye on that herd, Luke.”

“While you keep eye on city woman?” Luke grinned.

Tate frowned. “She does have a name, you know. It’s Kate.”

“Kate,” Luke repeated. “What kind of name is Kate?”

“It’s short for ‘Katherine. ’”

“Why not say ‘Katherine’?”

“You and your damn questions.”

“If I don’t ask, I don’t know,” the boy said with a shrug.

When Tate first met Luke, the youngster was quiet, not wanting to speak or interact with people outside of his tribe. It was with pride that Tate looked upon this young man, the kind of pride that a man might feel when looking at his growing son. “There’s no reason for you to go. There will be plenty of work around here if you’d want to hire out.”

“I think about it.”

“Well, don’t think too long. I’ll hire somebody else.”

Luke laughed. “Nobody good as me.”

“Or as modest,” Tate joked back.

“What ‘modest’ mean?”

Luke and the other boys left a few hours later. Tate knew better than to offer them a monetary payment for helping him get back to town and for helping with the horses; Luke was too proud for that. Jorge had given them some meat from the smokehouse, and they’d been on their way.

The sun was high in the western sky when Kate slipped into Tate’s room. Laughter came from the kitchen, where Emily and Yelena had settled down to cut paper dolls out of the Sears catalog.

“It’s been a busy day around here,” Kate sighed.

“I half expected Lyle to come for you today.”