Not the Marrying Kind (26 page)

“You ran away from home?”

“More than once. Lucky for me, my folks were
fairly understanding. I got whipped for it a time or two, but thank
God they cared enough about me to set me straight.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Kat squeezed her eyes
shut, recalling her earlier conversation with Benjamin. When she’d
tried to broach the subject of his home, his family, he’d gotten
that scared look on his face. Was it because he feared punishment?
Or was there something more? “What if they’re not good parents?
What if they don’t want him?”

“They wouldn’t be out looking for him if
that were the case.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Kat rubbed her
temples, annoyed by a throbbing pain. “Benjamin thinks highly of
you. Would you talk to him? I was going to ask him a few questions
earlier, but that’s when you showed up.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Kat. Looks like I’ve really
spoiled your day for you.”

“Oh, no! Not at all. I didn’t mean—” Before
she could even finish her frantic words, the bell at the front door
sounded.

“I reckon I’d better mosey on back to the
cabin,” Joshua said, once again getting to his feet. “I forgot you
had plans, Miss Kat.”

She lifted the curtain and peeked out the
window. “It’s Reverend Kendrick.” She nearly groaned, but then she
caught that distressed look on Joshua’s face again. For some
reason, he didn’t much care for the idea of her entertaining the
reverend. Not that she intended to do any entertaining. Heavens no!
She didn’t want Virgil Kendrick calling on her and wouldn’t give
the man the time of day. But Joshua didn’t need to know that. A
little jealousy might work to her advantage. “I’ll see you out,
Joshua.”

Smiling and humming softly, Kat walked
Joshua to the door. Quite the gentleman, she noted, pleased by the
way he politely tipped his hat to both her and the newly-arrived
guest even while his eyes showed his displeasure.

He paused on the threshold, and for the
briefest moment, the two men stared each other down, like a pair of
hounds challenging each other for domination. And then Joshua was
gone. With great reluctance, Kat closed the door behind him. The
smile faded from her face.

“My father is in his room,” she told
Reverend Kendrick, quickly stepping from the entryway. “I’ll get
him.”

“No, Katherine, wait, please.” He reached
out for her, but she eluded his touch. “I didn’t come to see your
father. I wanted to visit with you. You seemed upset when you left
the parsonage earlier. I thought it might be good for us to talk
more. About Benjamin,” he added. He looked around as though
expecting the boy to materialize before him. “Is he here?”

Kat ignored the question. “You should have
sent word that you intended to call.” She marched toward the
kitchen. Kendrick dogged her steps. “I’m on my way out right now,”
she explained, grabbing the sack of mending Joshua had left for
her.

“Might I be able to drive you
somewhere?”

“No, don’t bother. It’s really not far—” Kat
breathed in relief when she heard her father’s footsteps. “Pa, look
who’s come to visit. Isn’t it nice of Reverend Kendrick to drive
all the way out here?” Before either man could speak, she leaned
forward and pecked a kiss on her father’s cheek. “I promised
Lucille I’d come by this afternoon. She’s expecting me,” she said
in a low voice, once more surprised at how glibly she could lie
when necessary. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She hurried from the kitchen, jumped down
from the porch, and raced to the corral, desperate to get away
before her father gathered his wits about him enough to put a stop
to her escape.

Damned skirts! She couldn’t simply saddle up
Sadie and ride off. Instead, she would have to take the buggy.
Cursing under her breath, she hitched the horse to the sidebars,
all the while casting cautious glances toward the house, fearful
that her father might yet come out and demand that she stay.

Nearly fifteen minutes passed before she set
off down the drive. When she reached the road, she saw Ben riding
toward her on the pinto. He waved his hat in greeting.

Kat slowed and motioned for him to approach.
“Reverend Kendrick is at the house,” she called out when he drew
near enough to hear. “I’m going to Lucille’s.” She studied the
boy’s expression. Sure enough, the wariness she’d seen before now
filled his golden eyes again. “Maybe you’d want to ride out to
Cody’s place,” Kat suggested.

“Yeah, reckon that’s what I’ll do.”

“I’ll be back about sundown. See you then.”
Her cheery smile did not reflect her feelings as she waved goodbye
and drove on. Sure as hell, Benjamin was hiding something.

On Sundays, the mercantile, like the other
business establishments in Sunset, remained closed. Kat knew she
could find Lucille at home with her parents. She didn’t much like
the idea of handing Joshua’s personal items over to her friend. It
seemed too intimate, somehow. Kat didn’t want Lucille touching the
man’s shirts or socks any more than she’d want her touching
him.

Under the circumstances, however, she had no
choice but to deliver the ripped and torn clothing to Lucille. She
wouldn’t tell her they’d come from Joshua, Kat decided. She could
pretend they belonged to Pa.

What difference would one more little fib
make? Ever since she’d met Joshua Barron in the hills that May
evening, her life had become one clever lie after another. If all
her untruths were lined up end to end, they’d surely stretch to
hell and back.

But Lucille, of course, quickly guessed the
truth. “These aren’t your father’s shirts, Kat,” she said, holding
one up. The broad shoulders and the length of the sleeves clearly
indicated that they were made to fit a much taller, larger man than
Dirk Phillips. She put down the shirt and picked up a sock, holding
it by the toe. “And this,” she went on, “is definitely not your
father’s.” She raised it a bit higher, noting its length. Her eyes
widened. “Oh, my, you do know what they say about the size of a
man’s foot, don’t you?”

Kat’s features scrunched up. She had no idea
what Lucille was talking about now. She probably didn’t want to
know.

“Oh, all right, yes. Joshua brought these to
me,” she admitted. “But I need your help. You know I can’t sew.”
Flattery always worked on Lucille, and Kat poured it on thick.
“You’re the best seamstress in these parts, next to your mother, of
course.” In addition to running the mercantile, Olive McIntyre used
her dressmaking skills to augment the family’s income. She’d taught
her daughter how to stitch and sew, as well. In time, Lucille would
no doubt set up a little shop of her own.

“I know, but you can’t keep doing this.”
Lucille shoved the shirts and socks into the bag and thrust it at
Kat. “It’s wrong. Sooner or later, Mr. Barron is going to find out
what you’ve been up to, and believe me, he’s not going to be happy
about it.”

“He’s not going to find out.” Kat shook her
head, refusing to accept the proffered bag. “It’s only a couple of
shirts, Lucille. A few buttons, that’s all. What would it hurt for
you to take five minutes of your time, do the mending, and earn a
quarter? If I weren’t willing to pay, I could see where you might
get miffed, but you’re making money.”

“Money isn’t the point. It’s the root of all
evil,” she said in a low voice.

“Not true,” countered Kat. “That’s one of
the most often misquoted scriptures in the Bible. It’s the love of
money that’s evil, not money itself.”

Lucille planted her hands on her hips. “Oh?
And what about those passages about rich men and camel’s eyes?”

“What?” Kat burst into a fit of giggles. “I
think you mean the eye of a needle,” she pointed out when she
finally caught her breath. Weak from laughing, she sagged against
the counter. Lucille caught the giggles next, spurring on another
round of helpless laughter. Kat clutched her aching sides. It hurt
to laugh so hard, yet it felt good, too. Soon both girls were
dabbing tears from their cheeks.

“I just think it’s wrong, Kat,” Lucille
said, once she’d calmed down enough to be able to speak. “I know
you’ve got good reason.” Lucille averted her gaze. “I mean, if my
father wanted me to marry Reverend Kendrick, I’d probably be
desperate, too. Still, nothing good ever comes from telling lies.
Besides, this little scheme of yours is never going to work.”

“Why would you say that?” Her voice suddenly
cool, Kat stepped back and shot the other girl with a dagger-filled
look. She already knew what lay behind her so-called friend’s
words. Lucille wanted Joshua for herself.

“You need to face the truth, that’s all. A
man like Joshua Barron isn’t going to look twice at a
flat-as-a-board, skinny girl like you.” She thrust out her full,
ripe breasts and placed a hand at her waist, emphasizing her
curves. “He needs a real woman, a woman who can satisfy his
needs.”

“I could do that.” Kat choked out the words,
surprised at the heated desires coursing through her body at the
mere thought of Joshua’s
needs
.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You could never give
him all he wants.”

“I suppose you think you could?” There, it
was out in the open. No sense holding back now. “He’s got no
interest in you. If he did, he’d be bringing his torn socks to you,
not me.”

Lucille grew still. She closed her eyes,
then nodded. “Yes, maybe you’re right.”

“You know I am.”

“All right, fine. I’ll sew on these missing
buttons.” She cradled the bag at her bosom. “I’ll turn his shirt
collars, and I’ll darn his socks.” Lucille’s tongue darted out. “I
wonder if it’s true what they say.” Her face reddened, and she
waved the thought away. “Never mind. You can pick everything up on
Wednesday.”

“Thank you. I knew I could count on
you.”

Kat and Lucille exchanged a friendly hug,
then she hurried toward home wondering what folks
did
say
about the size of man’s foot. Whatever it was, it sure brought a
smile to Lucille’s face.

* * * *

Joshua rode slowly along Main Street, past
the little church with its tall steeple, and right on past the
little parsonage with its neat, white picket fence. Upon reaching
the wide bend where Main Street veered off and turned into
Northern, he wheeled Bronco around and rode slowly past the little
parsonage again. On past the church, on to the next corner. And
back.

Finally, nearly two hours later, he saw
Kendrick’s horse and buggy approaching.

About damned time
.

Joshua had come awfully close to riding back
to the Rocking P Ranch and keeping a lookout there, but he didn’t
want Kat to see him.

He didn’t get it. The last he knew, Kat
hated the minister’s lily-white guts. She’d raised a real ruckus
about marrying him. What made her change her mind? When had she
begun to include Virgil Kendrick in her
plans
for the
future?

Well, Joshua had a few plans of his own, and
he wasn’t about to let some Bible-thumping, do-gooder spoil things
for him. He drew a narrow-eyed bead on the man in the
stiffly-starched clerical collar, watching as he climbed down and
unhitched the horse from the buggy.

Time to set things straight. Right here.
Right now.

When the housekeeper answered his knock, she
eyed him curiously, apparently unsure whether or not to allow him
into the house.

“I need to see the reverend.” Joshua removed
his hat and held it in his hand. “It’s real important, ma’am.”

“You’re not a regular church-goer. I don’t
believe I’ve seen you more than a time or two.”

He twisted his hat and lowered his head. “I
reckon I’m in need of salvation, ma’am. Could I please speak to
Reverend Kendrick?”

“Well, yes, of course.” With a reluctant
smile, she ushered him into the parlor. “Who should I say is
calling?”

“Joshua Barron, ma’am. He’ll know who I am.”
And he’ll know why I’m here.

Moments later, with his aching leg stretched
out over the faded, hand-woven rug on the parlor floor, Joshua
stared across the room at his adversary. Kendrick stared back, the
two men eyeing one another in silence. Joshua tapped his foot and
waited, refusing to speak first.

A muscle near the man’s right eye twitched.
“Why are you here, Mr. Barron?” he finally asked. “Is there
something I can do for you?”

“Yep. You can stay away from Kat Phillips,
simple as that.”

The man’s ears turned bright red. He cleared
his throat. “She’s part of my flock. It’s my Christian duty to look
after her, to tend to her spiritual needs.”

“She doesn’t have any needs you should be
tending, spiritual or otherwise.”

“I’m afraid you have the wrong idea.” Now
Kendrick looked away. His gaze seemed to dart about the room,
almost as if he were assuring himself where the exits were.
“There’s nothing improper in my relationship with Miss Phillips.
Her father has given his blessing.”

“You’re not going to marry her.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Kat doesn’t love you. She doesn’t want to
marry you.” Joshua knew he was speaking out of turn, but damned if
he would sit by and watch this shifty-eyed son of a bitch walk away
with the young woman. If she married any man, by God, it would be
Cody.

Kendrick leaned forward, an ugly smirk
curling his thin lips.

“Miss Philips will do whatever her father
tells her.”

“Don’t bet on that happening.”

“I’ve never gambled in my life, Mr. Barron.
It’s sinful, you know.” He rose to his feet and crossed the room.
“I’ve never killed a man, either. I’ve never been thrown in
prison.”

Joshua fought for breath. His chest ached,
and his heart pounded as the dark-paneled parlor walls seemed to
close in around him. The blackness and bleakness of his past
gathered around him, sucking him into its abyss of anguish and
despair. How had Kendrick found out?