Not the Marrying Kind (18 page)

Kat figured she was getting off easy. “How
much?”

“A nickel.”

“I’ll give it to you as soon as we get
home.”

* * * *

Kat hummed softly as she sliced the pie. The
sweet, spicy aroma of baked apples wafted through the kitchen,
wrapping her in a cozy, comfy air of contentment. Mama stood
nearby, setting out plates for the dessert.

“Did you notice how Emily keeps blushing?”
Mama asked with a soft laugh and a look of love in her eyes. “I
think it’s adorable.”

Kat laughed too. “Benjamin is blushing just
as bad. I swear, those two make a cute pair, don’t they?”

“They’re not the only ones blushing, honey.”
Mama turned toward her and tucked a lock of hair behind Kat’s ear.
“I’ve seen the way you look at Mr. Barron. You wouldn’t be getting
any ideas, would you? Is he the reason why you don’t want to marry
Reverend Kendrick?”

Warmth crept up Kat’s neck and spread across
her cheeks. It wasn’t from the heat of the kitchen or from the late
spring day. She turned to hide her embarrassment.

“Mama, please.” Kat shook her head. “I don’t
want to talk about this. Especially not here. Not now.” She peered
into the dining room, fearful that Pa might overhear them. Or
worse. Joshua might hear them talking.

“Be careful, Kat. Remember, we really know
nothing about Mr. Barron.”

“I know enough, Mama. He’s a good man.”

“Well, he’s a handsome one, all right. I’ll
give him that much. But it’s the handsome ones you’ve got to look
out for. Always remember that.” She pointed toward the pie. “Now,
how about getting that dessert on the table?”

Kat closed her eyes, imagining the look of
delight on Joshua’s face as he took a bite of the sweet treat she’d
prepared. Suddenly, her eyes flew open.

“Mama, no! We can’t serve anybody this
pie.”

She’d done it again. Forgotten the sugar.
Even though she’d had Mama’s hand-written recipe right in front of
her, she’d somehow overlooked that one crucial ingredient.

“Why ever not?”

“Trust me, Mama. It’s not fit to eat.” Kat
grabbed the pie tin from her mother and rushed to the back door.
“Don’t we have any fresh fruit we could serve?”

“I’ll get the preserves.” Mama sighed and
headed for the cupboard.

As Kat stepped outside to dispose of the
pie, she noticed a buggy coming up the road to the house. At once,
she recognized the heavy-set man in the somber black suit and
narrow string tie. Beside him sat a boy about the same age as
Benjamin, but where Benjamin was all skin and bones, this hefty
fellow had obviously not missed any meals.

Quickly she scooted back through the doorway
into the kitchen. “Mama, we’ve got company. It’s Judge Morse.”

“Well, honey, go out and greet him. You know
he’s always welcome in our home.”

Kat nodded, and threw off her apron, but
when she stepped outside again, she frowned. She’d known W. H.
Morse for most of her life. He lived in Denver, served the Colorado
Territory as a federal judge, and came through the little town of
Sunset several times a year. She’d never been in trouble, never
planned to be, and had no problem whatsoever with the judge. But
she didn’t care a whit about his boy, Willie. He liked to tag along
on his father’s travels, thought himself mighty important to be the
son of a federal official, and always managed to stir up bad
feelings wherever he went.

Why Judge Morse didn’t do something about
the boy, Kat would never understand. He had to be aware of the
trouble Willie caused, but instead of disciplining him, his father
turned a blind eye to his son’s misdeeds.

“Good afternoon, Judge Morse. Afternoon,
Willie. What a pleasant surprise to see you.”

The honorable and esteemed Judge William
Howard Morse, Sr. climbed out of his buggy, huffing, puffing, and
wiping perspiration from his brow with a grubby-looking
bandana.

“Long way out here,” he commented.
“Especially on a hot day.”

Sweat poured from his balding pate. He
unfolded the bandana and rubbed it across his head. Even at a
distance of several feet, Kat could smell the stench that emanated
from him.

Her nose wrinkled and she took a few steps
back. Still she had a duty to be polite, so she forced a smile to
her face. “We were just finishing our Sunday dinner. Would you care
to step inside and join us? You’re more than welcome.”

“No, no, I didn’t come here expecting a
meal, and I don’t plan to stay long.” He tucked the bandana into
the pocket of his sweat-stained vest and leaned forward. “But I
don’t suppose your mother has any of that fine apple pie she makes,
does she? A bite of that might tide me over until I get back
home.”

“I’m sorry, Judge. No pie today.”

His crestfallen expression nearly made her
laugh, but she reminded herself that she was in the presence of a
federal authority. Pa had taught her to show respect, and even if
it proved difficult, she always tried to follow his teachings.

The door behind her opened, and Emily Sue
bounded out, her golden curls dancing in the brilliant sunlight.
“Mama said to see what was taking you so long. She said to invite
the judge inside.” She must have suddenly remembered her own
manners. With a proper little curtsy, she said, “Good afternoon,
Judge Morse.” The lilt left her voice when she added, “Good
afternoon to you, too, Willie.”

Kat turned. “We were just fixing to come
inside, weren’t we, Judge?” Smiling she linked her arm in his.
“There isn’t any pie, but I think Mama might have some raspberry
preserves. A spoonful or two on her fresh bread might make a good
treat for your long drive back to Denver.”

“Why, yes, it might, indeed.”

As she stepped back, allowing the judge to
enter first, Benjamin came rushing out, colliding with the huge
whale-like man. Thrown back, he looked up with wide eyes and pure
fear on his face.

“Say there, boy, slow down,” warned the
judge. “Watch where you’re going.”

Benjamin lowered his head. “Yes, sir. I
will.” He maneuvered around the man who stood blocking the door,
then slunk over to stand beside Emily.

A bit of adolescent jealousy? Kat smiled at
the thought. She patted the judge's forearm. “Let’s get you some of
that bread and raspberry spread, sir. Maybe you’d care for a glass
of tea to go with it?” She spoke quickly, hoping to distract the
man from his run-in with Benjamin. The boy didn’t need to get on
the judge’s bad side. He’d already struggled against enough
hardships and disadvantages in his young life.

“Well, Judge Morse,” said her father, rising
from his chair when Kat ushered the man into the dining room. “What
brings you all the way out here?”

Morse pulled out his smelly bandana and
wiped his brow again. “Just checking to make sure things were all
right. Heard you’d had a bad spell.” Clutching the bandana in his
stubby fingers, he tapped his hand against his chest. His foul body
odor wafted through the room. “If there’s anything I can do for
you, Dirk, you let me know, all right?”

“Appreciate the thoughtfulness, Judge. Awful
kind of you to come pay your respects. It’s a bit early for that,
though. I’m not dead yet.”

Morse threw back his head and laughed. The
physical exertion must have been too much. Fresh beads of sweat
popped out across his forehead. He wiped them away, then apparently
noticed Joshua for the first time. He waved the stinking rag in his
direction. Everybody at the table seemed to have a coughing fit at
once.

“Who’s this fine fellow?” asked the judge.
“Don’t recall ever seeing him before.”

“New foreman. Hired him on a short time
ago.”

Joshua got to his feet. Kat expected him to
offer a handshake and an introduction. Instead, he turned toward
her and said, “Reckon it would be best for me to head back to
Cody’s about now. I don’t want to interrupt your visit with the
judge.”

If for some reason his actions were an
attempt to brush off Judge Morse, it failed. Morse cleared his
throat—quite noisily—and turned his full attention on Joshua.

“Sorry, but I didn’t catch the name.”

“Barron, sir. Joshua Barron.” He extended a
hand.

An odd sort of relief washed over Kat as the
two men shook hands, yet Joshua’s guarded expression brought
renewed apprehension. Clearly he felt uncomfortable in the judge’s
presence.

“It’s all right, Joshua, you don’t have to
leave. You’re not—”

Her words were interrupted by shouts from
the yard. Morse, who stood nearest the window, responded first.

“Good Lord, it’s Willie. And that other
fellow, too. They’ve got themselves a fight going out there.”

“Benjamin?” Kat raced toward the window and
peered out, shocked to see the wiry, red-headed boy straddling
Judge Morse’s obese son. Benjamin’s fist plowed into the boy’s
nose. Blood covered Willie’s white shirt.

Kat flew out the door. “Stop it!” she cried.
“Stop it right now!”

She hadn’t noticed Joshua, but he must have
been at her heels. He grabbed Benjamin and pulled him off his
blubbering, tearful opponent. All the while, Emily Sue watched, her
face pale, her eyes bigger and rounder than ever, and a stream of
tears streaking across her rosy cheeks.

“It wasn’t Benjamin’s fault,” she shouted.
“Willie started it.”

By now, the entire family had come out to
witness the fracas. Judge Morse grabbed his son and set about
checking him over, assessing the damage done. Joshua, meanwhile,
kept a firm grasp on Benjamin’s shirt collar, holding him back even
as his arms flailed and his legs kicked in an effort to get
away.

Kat’s father stepped into the fray. “What’s
this about? What’s going on?” He cast accusing glances all around.
Would Benjamin have courage enough to speak up?

Yes, indeed. Kat smiled, admiring the boy
for his bravery, and for his chivalrous acts.

“He was calling Emily names,” Benjamin told
the crowd of listeners. “Said she was a spoiled brat.” Benjamin’s
fists were still doubled up. Kat suspected that if Joshua were to
loosen his grip for even a second, the hot-tempered lad would be
beating Willie Morse again.

“Who is this boy?” asked the judge, turning
toward Kat and her father. Amanda had taken Willie aside and was
wiping the blood from his face with a clean kerchief. “Who does he
belong to?” Morse’s voice bellowed so loudly the ground itself
seemed to shake.

Kat caught the apprehension in the boy’s
eyes. His face paled, making his freckles stand out all the more.
She glanced up, her gaze meeting Joshua’s. Somehow he would know
what to say, what to do, how to make things all right again. Why
she believed it, Kat couldn’t say. It was simply a feeling that
rose up from deep within her.

“He’s my boy,” Joshua said, his voice filled
with such ringing conviction that for a moment, Kat actually
thought it true.

Upon hearing his claim, anyone would have
believed him, she thought. Certainly Judge Morse would have no
reason to doubt Joshua’s his words. But would her father keep
silent? Would he allow the bold-faced lie to stand? She held her
breath.

Judge Morse didn’t give anybody a chance to
speak. He lumbered toward Benjamin and Joshua, looked down his nose
at the former, then turned his fury on the latter.

“That boy of yours is a trouble-maker,
Barron, plain as the nose on your face. Or maybe I should say plain
as the nose on Willie’s face.” For obvious dramatic effect, he cast
a sympathetic glance toward his son. “No doubt it’s broken, and
I’ve got a mind to summon Marshal Long here and now.” Morse paused,
letting his threat sink in. “I won’t,” he went on, “but I will
expect you to discipline your boy.” He stepped closer, breathing
his anger out on Joshua. “I don’t know you, and I probably don’t
want to know you, but I’ll tell you this. You’d better keep a close
watch on that kid of yours, because if he gets himself into any
more trouble, I’ll be coming after him. I’ll take him right in and
throw him behind bars, don’t think I won’t.”

He paused again. Kat guessed he was waiting
for someone to protest. No one said a word.

Out came the smelly, sweat-soaked bandana.
Morse wiped his heated face. The gesture seemed to calm him
somewhat. “Kids like that,” he said, jerking the bandana toward
Benjamin, “need punishment. Can’t let rascals like that get off
easy.”

Pressing her lips together, Kat forced
herself to remain quiet. Willie Morse deserved his broken nose
along with whatever other injuries Benjamin had dealt him. Between
his enormous size and his father’s standing, the obnoxious bully
figured he could do as he pleased and get away with it. Until now,
nobody had tried to stop him. In her estimation, it was long past
time Willie learned a lesson, but damn it all! Why did Benjamin
have to be the one to teach him?

The judge stared down at Benjamin. “You’ve
got a mean look. I might still take you in. Maybe a night or two in
jail would straighten you out.”

“You can’t be serious.” Kat couldn’t keep
silent a second longer. “He’s a boy.”

“A boy?” Morse shook his head. “He’s a tall,
strong, fellow with a mean temper and a bad disposition. You’d best
watch your back around him, Miss Kat.”

Why didn’t somebody come to Benjamin’s
defense? Appalled by the silence, Kat pushed her way past the
judge, coming to stand between him and the boy. “He’s sorry for
what he did.” She cast a warning look over her shoulder. “Isn’t
that right, Benjamin?” She prayed he’d have sense enough to give
the right answer.

“Yes, sir," he said, looking up at the
judge. "I’m real sorry. It won’t happen again.” In a show of
contrition, the boy scuffed his boots against the rocky dirt.

“All right, everyone, nothing more for us to
do out here. Let’s all get back inside.” Kat’s father led the way,
shepherding the judge and his son into the house. Kat’s mother,
quickly turning the talk to fresh bread and raspberry preserves,
followed close behind.