Dorothy Garlock - [Wyoming Frontier] (12 page)

“What are you thinking, Nightrose?” he whispered, his eyes searching hers. “Tell me before I go.”

“I . . . was just wondering if you’ve . . . had measles.”

He laughed and hugged her so tightly she could scarcely breathe.

“Are you worried about me?”

“No!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve had measles.” He kissed her hard on the lips and stepped off the porch. “See you in the morning,” he called from the darkness.

Seven

It was middle of the afternoon. Mary was sitting at the table with her journal open to the first blank page. She could hear Theresa’s happy laughter and Katy’s voice coming from beneath the big elm tree where Rowe had attached the rope for the swing.

“Hold on, ladybug, you’re going up to the sky.”

Hearing the laughter in her sister’s voice, Mary breathed a sigh of relief. The two people she loved the most were safe and happy . . . for the moment. Lately, Katy had been either strangely quiet or unusually waspish. She was still determined to leave Trinity at the first opportunity. Mary dreaded leaving, not only because Roy would be angry if he came back and she and Theresa were not here, but because it was comforting to know that they were under the protection of Rowe and Mr. Weston.

Mary didn’t know what had taken place between her sister and Rowe on the night the wagons arrived, but since that time Katy had avoided him as if he had the plague. When Mary talked about how Rowe was bringing the town to life again, Katy remained tight-lipped and silent, refusing to acknowledge that Rowe had unusual organizational abilities, or that he was a man who was firmly in control.

Mary sighed again. Katy was fighting her attraction to the big dark man, and there was nothing she could do to help her. She moistened the lead in the pencil with her tongue and began to write in the journal.

Trinity, June 22, 1874.

The past two weeks have brought many changes to Trinity. The more than thirty miners who have come here are rough and lonely men. Most of them have families in Bannack or Virginia City and will bring them here if the work lasts. Mr. Weston, the foreman, said there is a chance the stage will be rerouted to come through Trinity. Rowe wants to make Trinity into a supply and banking center for the ranchers that he is sure will come after the mines play out.

The outbreak of measles has not been as bad as Rowe and Mr. Weston had feared. Only seven men have come down so far. Mr. Weston is one of them. He was awfully sick last night. I stayed with him until Rowe came at midnight to walk me home. This morning he was better. His fever broke and he wanted something to eat.

The blacksmith, John Beecher, is back and has set up shop. He was surprised that we were still here. He said that most of the miners that left here have gone on west. He has not heard anything of Roy.

Two Chinese men are doing laundry. The cook is a colored man. The men call him Belly Robber. The saloon is open in the evenings. The only rowdiness has been a few fistfights. Rowe and Mr. Weston have been able to keep order so far.

A freighter named Ashland came in yesterday with six wagons and a string of mules. He’ll haul the ore to the smelter at Bay Horse. Right away one of his men got into a fight with a miner.

Rowe sees to it that we have wood for our cookstove and that the two water barrels just outside the side door are kept full in case of fire. We also use the barrel water for washing, but carry fresh drinking water from the well. Every few days the camp cook brings us fresh meat, either elk or deer.

Rowe comes by each evening. Theresa is terribly fond of him. Maybe too fond. She has stopped asking about Roy.

Katy is my worry. She’s resentful of the things Rowe does for us and at times is extremely rude to him, which is so unlike her. It doesn’t seem to bother Rowe as much as it does me. I don’t have Katy’s desire to go back to Laramie to work in the orphanage. I feel safe with Mr. Weston and Rowe. I could make a living here for me and Theresa by selling baked goods. If the town prospers, Katy could open a school. But I’ll not stay here if Katy is set against it.

I’m ashamed to say that I seldom think of my husband anymore. Roy has been gone for almost three months. I hope he is all right, but, God forgive me, I no longer care if he comes back or not.

Katy stopped the swing and Theresa slid off the plank seat and lifted her dress.

“I got to pee-pee, Aunt Katy.”

“Not here! Go inside and use the chamber pot.”

“You used to let me pee-pee out here,” Theresa said and pulled her dress higher.

“That was before men came to town, ladybug,” Katy said firmly. “Put your dress down and go in the house.”

“It ain’t a house, It’s a
store
!” Theresa said, determined to have the last word. “I want to pee-pee right here.”

Katy shrugged. “If you want to show your behind to the men, go ahead.”

“They’re not looking. So there!”

“How do you know?” Katy sat down in the swing. “There’s one over there under the wagon. And the one fixing the roof of the store was looking this way. Go ahead, ladybug, it’s your hinder they’ll see, not mine.”

“Oh, all right.” Theresa dropped her skirt, put her small fists on her hips and stomped off toward the funerary.

A low laugh bubbled out of Katy. She gripped the ropes and pushed with her feet until she was swinging back and forth. She thought with a sudden pang of the times the child had tried to get Roy’s attention and failed. She didn’t lack for attention now. She had become the darling of the town. The men doted on her. Rowe built the swing; Hank Weston brought her a small hoop and showed her how to roll it. Anton Hooker made her a beanbag out of a mink pelt and came by at least once a day to toss it to her. She made a daily trip to the cookhouse for a treat, usually a handful of raisins.

The swing carried Katy higher and higher. The breeze lifted her skirts to her knees, cooled her face, and tugged at her hair. The swing made her a little homesick for the plantation down on the Tallapoosa River in Alabama. She closed her eyes and thought about magnolia trees, green grass, and tall glasses of lemonade.

Suddenly, an arm as strong as a steel band was flung around her waist and she was held against a hard chest with her feet dangling a foot from the ground. The only sound she made was a grunt when the air left her lungs. A quick turn of her head brought her cheek up against Rowe’s chin.

“What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

“Tut, tut. Don’t swear, my love. I’ve been trying to catch you alone for days.”

“I’m not alone. Rowe . . . put me down.”

“Not until you say you’ll come with me. I want to show you something.”

“I’ve things to do.”

“Something more important than being with me?”

His lips were actually nuzzling the nape of her neck. She leaned as far to the side as was possible, but they followed, and nipped her ear lobe.

“Stop that!”

He laughed. She could feel the vibration from his chest on her back and the warm puffs of breath on her ear.

“Katy, Katy. Why didn’t I find you sooner? How old are you? I’d have married you at twelve. We could have had six children by now.”

“Bullfoot! Let me go, or . . . I’ll shoot you.”

“No you won’t.” His cheek was against hers.

“I will! Dammit, I will!”

“You don’t have the Derringer. I was watching while you were swinging Theresa and your skirt didn’t sag.”

“You were spying! You’re a . . . sneak.”

“Yeah, I am. I know when you blow out the lamp and go to bed. I know when you go to the privy and how long you stay there.”

“That’s . . . that’s awful!” Katy was getting short of breath. Her heart was pounding so hard that she was sure he could feel it against his chest.

“Are you going with me, Nightrose?”

“It seems I have no choice, and . . . stop calling me that silly name.”

“It isn’t silly. It’s beautiful . . . as you are.” He walked forward until her feet touched the ground. “I hate giving up this advantage. I warn you, I’m going to watch and catch you in the swing again.”

As soon as Katy’s hand left the rope Rowe caught it in his as if he feared she would escape.

“As the owner of this great metropolis, you must be needed somewhere. The man by the wagon is looking this way. He wants to talk to you.”

Rowe followed her gaze. “That’s the freighter, Ashland. He’s looking at you. Stay clear of him.”

“Why? He doesn’t look any worse than the rest of your employees—Hank Weston included. Anton looks a little more respectable.”

Rowe’s sable eyes hardened, and when he spoke, it was in a tone that revealed his irritation at the comparison.

“Hank is ten times the man that one is, and the best there is when it comes to using blasting powder. Art Ashland is a hard-living, self-centered man who’ll fight at the drop of a hat. What’s more, he has the reputation of being less than kind to women.”

“Then why did you hire him?”

“Because he’s the best freighter I know. He’ll take a load where nine out of ten would fail. What he does outside his job is his business unless it concerns something of mine.” His tone gave her no doubt that he considered
her
one of his possessions. “Stay away from Ashland. If he bothers you or Mary, let me know.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said with a toss of her head. Then added, “Mary and Theresa too.”

“You stubborn little mule. Can’t you get it into your pretty little head that you wouldn’t stand a chance against a man like him? You don’t have to take care of yourself now. I said I will do it and I will.”

“And who will protect me from you, O mighty warrior?”

The hard-edged line of his jaw and the sudden narrowing of his eyes warned her that the question had made him angry. It stopped her from saying anything more. She turned her head, tilted her chin, and gave him a view of her profile.

“Keep it up, Katy. I’m already tempted to spank your bottom.” She heard his breath hiss through his teeth. “You’ve been on your own for so long that you think it’s a weakness to depend on me. In fact, it’s the natural and right thing for you to do, whether you admit it or not.”

His voice was dangerously soft, his smoldering look was pinning her to the ground. Katy couldn’t stop the wave of apprehension that caused a shiver to travel the length of her spine. It was strange, she thought, how the same voice could be so full of laughter one moment, and so grating in its harshness the next. But that didn’t keep the retort that formed in her mind from coming out her mouth.

“So you’re less than kind to women too. I’m not surprised.”

“My woman will love me enough to respect my wishes. I won’t have to beat her.”

“I pity her.”

“Then you pity yourself.”

“It seems that you’ve made up your mind about me,” she said, after an intense silence. “And as far as you’re concerned, I have nothing to say about it. Is that right?”

“I’ve made up my mind that I want you, but you’ll have plenty to say about it . . . no doubt.” He added the last drily. “I have pride too, Katy. I’ll not force myself on you if you find me repulsive.”

The look he gave her was far from gentle. The teasing light was gone from his dark eyes; his mouth beneath the raven black mustache was grim. Suddenly Katy regretted her unguarded words and wanted desperately to see him smile again.

“You can get me madder than a wet hen quicker than anyone I’ve ever known.” The edges of her lips curled upward.

The harshness started to leave his face. His eyes crinkled at the corners and some of the stiffness went from his body.

“At least you’re not indifferent to me. I’d rather you be angry at me than to ignore me,” he teased.

“If it’s true that we lived another life before this one, you must have been a dog and I a cat.”

His grin broadened to a full smile. “If you were a cat, I was a cat, and we did our part to see that the species survived.” The glitter in his eyes made her feel as if she were riding high in the swing. At first she didn’t get the meaning of his words, and then, instead of being offended, she burst out laughing.

It was a reaction he hadn’t anticipated. He watched in fascination. The sound of her spontaneous laughter was as clear and as true as a bell. He loved to hear her laugh. He liked the way she held her head, the way her hair shone in the sun, but most of all he liked the way she laughed and the way her eyes reflected all her emotions. They sparkled now like moonlight on clear, still water.

“You are exasperating, my Nightrose. No . . . don’t argue,” he said when she opened her mouth to protest the name. “Let’s go before we start fighting again.”

“I’ll tell Mary.”

“I already did. Do you feel up to walking more than a mile?”

She grinned up at him. “If you can, I can.”

His smile spread that horrible charm over his face again. They walked to the creek and then along the stony bank. Smiling still, he pulled her along beside him, walking between her and the dense woods, keeping firm hold of her hand. They shared a companionable silence. The sun fell warm and golden on their faces and uncovered heads. His hair shone blue-black like the wing of a raven, hers like fine silk threads of gold. He adjusted his longer steps to Katy’s free-swinging stride. It was the first time they had walked together since that awful day she and Mary had helped him from the saloon to the funerary after he had been shot. Modo came out from under the bushes and trailed behind them.

Katy glanced up at Rowe. No longer smiling, he was as watchful as a stallion protecting his herd. His eyes searched each side of the path without moving his head. His hand held hers gently, but she felt alertness in him. He moved as warily as a wolf, studying the landscape ahead from all angles.

Farther along the creek the trees grew close to the bank, shutting out the breeze, and a film of perspiration dotted Katy’s forehead and upper lip. When they came to where the creek bed narrowed and flowed over a bed of solid rock, Rowe swung Katy up in his arms and waded across. She accepted the action without protest. He grinned at her as he set her down on the other side, but said nothing. He took her hand again and they walked into the woods. Without hesitation the brown dog followed.