Her Dearly Unintended (3 page)

But then things changed. They grew up. The little tree house didn't have enough space for the two of them, and every time they bumped into each other there was an awkward moment that even Josiah's jokes couldn't erase. Neither one of them knew what to do with each other until that day three years ago at the church raising when Josiah chased her down and asked her to meet him behind the well. She'd never forget the look on his face—the only time she'd ever seen him scared.

And what had spooked him? Knowing that he was planning
to kiss her. And that's exactly what he did. And then he didn't speak to her again for nearly two years. Must have been completely horrified at the thought that an uptight bluestocking like her had kissed him back.

And now he wanted to pretend that they were married? No, thank you.

Silas stood. Josiah stood and moved his chair so Silas could pass. He'd best hurry because hot words were piling up behind her clenched teeth and they wouldn't be contained much longer. Josiah followed Silas to the front door.

“If I catch you relieving yourself at the house . . .”

Grabbing the tin plates, Katie Ellen rattled them into the basin so she wouldn't have to be privy to the rest of that conversation. Honestly, where did these men come from?

She hadn't been joking about wanting to clean the kitchen. She sloshed water through the kettle to rinse it, then pumped it full of water to heat for washing. Dropping it on the stove, she nearly jumped out of her skin when Josiah touched her arm.

“Shhh,” he said. “We've got to talk.”

She spun around. “You ain't kidding. If you think I'm going to let you stay here—”

“Let's leave. You and me, now. We can get to the bluff before he knows we're gone and back to my house before he tracks us.”

“Leave him here with the house and the barn? I can't do that. You go if you want, but my parents—”

“I'm not leaving without you. It isn't safe. This man is on his way to kill someone.”

“What?” She rolled her eyes. “He's just pulling your leg.”

“Why would he do that?”

She could think of at least a dozen reasons that a person might want to pester Josiah Huckabee, but what
this
man held
against him, she couldn't guess. All she knew was that if this sharp-boned man was as ornery as he looked, she wasn't about to leave him to run reckless through her home. “I can't. I was left in charge. I won't abandon my post,” she said.

“Because you don't want to disappoint your parents or because you really, really like being in charge?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

He looked over his shoulder. “I'm trying to help you, but we have to convince him that you're my wife and that I'd die protecting you.”

“You'd have better luck convincing him you're a two-headed goat from a sideshow than that you're in love with me.”

Josiah's face went blank like someone had wiped his slate clean. The moment stretched before them. Katie Ellen lowered her eyes.

“Are you sure you don't want to make a run for it?” he asked.

Still looking at the floor, she shook her head. She'd like to remind him that he didn't have to stay there with her, but thought better of it. Without him . . . she shuddered.

“Where's your pa's gun?” he asked.

“He took it.”

Josiah's jaw worked. His shirt was drying and showing which stains were permanent. Then suddenly the concern vanished from his face and his confident manner returned. “We'll just have to outsmart him. You can help me do that, can't you? Just keep an eye on him?”

It'd been three years since the two of them had worked together on anything, but it seemed they had no choice.

Keeping an eye on Katie Ellen was no sacrifice to Josiah's way of thinking. He'd always kept track of her, knew what days she checked the trout lines, knew when she and her pa would journey into Pine Gap, knew where she was likely to go when she meandered through the woods. After that kiss, he'd cut a wide swath around her, but he still couldn't stay away. Not completely. When he was feeling low, he'd wait until he could accidentally-on-purpose stumble across her in the forest between their homes. He'd thought himself clever the way he always acted surprised to see her. If she had any notion of how long he'd been waiting for her to pass, she never let on. Usually she only gave him a few curt words as she hurried on her way. Funny thing was he used to be a blamed nuisance, always underfoot, messing up her tree house and shooting that rabbit. How was he supposed to know it was her pet? But once he started to mature, she started acting strange. He thought he'd just straighten it out and go ahead and kiss her, but that didn't work out the way he'd planned, either.

“I've got to feed the stock.” Her brisk tone ripped him out
of his daydream. She wasn't fifteen anymore. No, she was full-on marrying age, and depending on how her folks got along with the Freesons in Fayetteville, he might have missed his chance.

“I'll do it,” he said.

“You don't know how.”

“To feed stock?” Josiah leaned against the countertop and noticed how the little hairs escaped from her bun and curled on her neck. “I was born on a farm, and if that ain't enough, I've worked at the auction house for years. I know how to feed animals.”

“But you don't know how I like it done.” She rocked as she scrubbed the iron skillet like she was trying to punish it. Such a little thing she was, but always putting forth a mighty effort.

“Then maybe you'd better come with me—”

The sound of breaking glass rang out from the parlor. Josiah shoved off the countertop and ran, skidding to a stop at the broken windowpane and the bearded man peering in.

“You locked me out,” Silas grumbled.

Josiah's outstretched arm caught Katie Ellen as she attempted to rush past him. He pushed her behind him, but she was right up on
his heels, so close he could feel her anger warming the back of his neck. “I didn't lock you out,” he said.

“You sure did. I was just trying to see if this here window was unlocked and it fell apart when I moved it.”

“It did not fall apart,” Katie Ellen hissed as her fingernails became one with Josiah's forearm. “Windows don't just fall apart. Not in my house.”

“Stay,” Josiah ordered her. He started forward, then remembered he was barefoot. So did Silas.

“Here's your boots.” Silas handed a pair through the window,
but they weren't Josiah's. They were Mr. Watson's. Josiah eyed them. Too small. He'd be crippled up for weeks if he wore them. Silas's eyes darted from the boots to Josiah's overlarge feet.

“Those are mine,” Katie Ellen called. “His are on the other side of the door.”

A close call, but they'd fooled him so far. Silas retrieved Josiah's boots, much to his relief. If the man was a killer, at least he wanted his victims to have their feet uncut before they died. He pulled the boots on, no small trick with damp skin and no wool socks, and crunched across the glass to the door. It was locked.

“Sorry.” Josiah swung the door open. “Guess I locked it out of habit.”

Silas's face wrinkled. “An accident, or were you just looking for some alone time with your wife?” He ambled across the glass and dropped onto the sofa.

Katie Ellen moaned with concern over her new furniture. “That's crush plush upholstery. Your coat is wet.”

“He's our guest.” Josiah twisted his neck, trying to work the kinks out. The more time the man spent off his feet, the less time he had to practice devilment against them.

Katie Ellen hurried forward, being sure to bump a shoulder into his arm as she passed. She dropped the dustpan on the ground and, taking the broom, she whisked the shards from the corner. “With the porch cover, we shouldn't get any rain in, but the bugs will be a problem. Got to get that closed.”

“Do you have any waxed canvas?” Josiah asked.

She lifted an eyebrow. “Not usually.”

“We have some,” he said. “I'll run—” He stopped. Josiah had been about to say
home
, but choked it down. “I could ask at the cabin down the valley.”

“You ain't getting down that bluff,” Silas said. “I've done tried.”

Well, Josiah figured he could do a lot more than the man gave him credit for, but he couldn't leave Katie Ellen unprotected. “Where's the hammer?” he asked.

Now Silas leaned forward. “You have to ask your wife where your tools are?”

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. But Katie Ellen smiled. “He complains about my housekeeping, but let me tell you, he's no help with any of the manly chores. Needlepoint, that's about all he's good at.”

“Katie Ellen . . .” Josiah warned.

“In fact, he stitched that sampler there on the wall.” She pointed at the framed needlework.

Hilarious. She was just hilarious.

Silas snorted. “What's that say, Josiah?”

“It's been a while since I stitched it,” he said, but Silas waited for his answer. Seeing no way out, he yanked it off the wall. “Beneath the alphabet it says here, ‘Dear Children, Let Us Not Love in Words or in Tongue, but with Actions and Truth.'” Josiah slid it back on the nail. She wanted to sass him, did she? How far was she willing to go? “Good advice for any marriage, although I much admire loving in words and tongue, too. Don't you, wife?”

Her eyes wandered to his mouth, shooting a streak of fire up his spine. She blushed and he let out his breath slowly as if she had no effect on him at all.

“To tell you the truth,” Silas said. “I haven't noticed any love betwixt the two of you in word or action. Something's fishy here.” He shifted on the sofa and kicked his dirty boots up over the curvy decorated arm.

Pulling her gaze from Josiah, Katie Ellen's lips pressed together so strong they went white, but she held her tongue.

If he expected Katie Ellen to play along much longer, he'd better allow her some time away from their antagonist. “Seeing how you're stuck here, you want to help me feed the animals?”

Silas's eyes slid closed. “Naw. I've been in this rain for three days straight. I need some sleep.” He loosened his hat from his long, stringy hair and settled it over his eyes.

Katie Ellen hurried to sweep the glass into the dustpan and silently glided to Josiah. “I'll go look after the animals. You stay with him.”

“He's not going anywhere, and I need to find something to patch up the window.”

Josiah followed her outside. Katie Ellen put on her boots first, and then her gloves, her coat, and her hat. Each step was measured, planned, and done with beautiful efficiency. She tugged her coat tight, then with nimble fingers worked the buttons closed from her neck down. And despite his fervent wishes, she didn't seem to need any help, so he watched the rain running off the roof like a curtain of water.

She looked through the broken window at Silas lying on the sofa. “You don't have a coat, do you?” she whispered.

“I'm not made of sugar, so I won't melt, but I am rather sweet,” he said.

Her gloves slipped on the button. He smiled. She glared. They took out toward the barn, dodging beneath the trees as they went. The afternoon was getting cooler than it was when he'd first gotten there. Once they reached the barn, Katie Ellen made quick work of the lock. Josiah didn't even have to ask. Since before he was old enough to remember, it hadn't been safe to leave your cattle unlocked in these hills. Although strangers
no longer roved the hills in the numbers they did after the war, some downright mean men had settled here and there. In fact, one had settled right in her cabin.

She pointed out her father's carpentry tools and the lumber where he might could find a board for the window. He was just riffling through the scraps when the long squawk of an un-oiled pulley slapped his eardrums. He turned to see Katie Ellen holding on to a rope that stretched through two pulleys on a high beam, then down to a sling that held a bundle of hay swinging midair.

“You've plumb outdone yourself, haven't you, Katie Ellen?”

Walking opposite of the suspended sling, Katie Ellen maneuvered it over the wall of the cow pen, then hand-over-hand lowered it. “I've gotten better over the years. That drawbridge on my tree house was just the beginning.” Once the rope went slack, she strode with that determined walk of hers to the stall and tilted the sling until the hay slid out. With the sling hanging empty, she once against found her spot at the end of the rope.

Forgetting the board, Josiah moseyed over to inspect this new piece of equipment. With ease, Katie Ellen pulled the rope down, which lifted the empty sling out of the cow pen. “How are those pulleys moving around?” he asked. “Are they welded to that brace?”

“Yep.” She grunted between pulls. “The brace spins around where we can lower the hay and feed anywhere along the perimeter of the barn, and they're double pulleys so the weight is split in half. I drew up the plans myself and Pa took them to the blacksmith. Pa's back always had a crick in it. Now it doesn't.”

Josiah wiped away the rainwater that streaked into his face as he tilted his head back to watch the pulleys work. “You amaze me,” he said.

The empty sling lowered quickly and melted flat on the barn floor. “You didn't think I was smart enough to figure out something like this?” she asked.

“Are you kidding? I spent half my summers in your hideout to see what you'd make next. From that first slingshot—”

She turned, her eyes wide. “Are you the one who stole my slingshot? I should have guessed it.”

Was he? Josiah scratched his forehead. “I remember playing with it, but I wouldn't have taken it. Not on purpose. I'm pretty sure I put it back.”

“Pretty sure?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I was eight years old,” he said. “You can't hold me responsible for something I may or may not have done that many years ago.” But her look said that it was their more recent history that riled her the most.