Would-Be Wilderness Wife (13 page)

He glanced in the window, watching as Catherine carefully unwrapped James's prized waistcoat from Levi's leg. “I can see it. But she isn't a heifer needed to build the stock or a new plow to open more acreage. She's a person, Simon. She has wishes and needs, too. She won't be content to stay out here.”

“Maybe she just hasn't heard an offer she likes,” Simon countered. “So I'll ask you straight out—are you going to court her?”

Something leaped inside him at the thought. He could imagine walks along the lake, sitting on the porch holding hands under the stars, her head on his shoulder by the fire at night as he listened to her tell him all that was in her heart. He could build her a dispensary where she could treat any who came to her for care. He could see himself at the head of the table, her at the foot, and ranged between children with her beautiful hair and stunning smile.

But those were crazy thoughts. If she stayed, there'd be more days like this, worse days, living in terror that something would yank her out of his arms, send her to the grave and leave him powerless, broken. That thought, more than any of the others, set his gut to churning. Catherine might praise his strength, and his brothers might rely on his arm to swing an ax, but when it came to losing someone he loved, he feared even his strength would fail.

“No, I won't court Miss Stanway,” Drew said to his brother. “I have enough to do around here without looking out for a wife.”

Simon was watching him as if doubting his word. “Then you won't mind if I give it a try.”

His hands fisted, but he forced his fingers to relax. “You do what you must, Simon. You always have.”

Simon shook his head. “You have an odd way of encouraging people, brother. But you're right. I tend to look at the practical side of things. There are too many opportunities for us to get hurt or sick out here, and it takes too long to bring people to town for tending. We need a doctor or nurse. I doubt we can hire one, so I plan on marrying one, whether you like it or not.”

Chapter Fourteen

I
t was nearly dinner before Catherine had Levi settled. First she and the others had to dry themselves from the rain. Although she had toweled off her hair with a cloth Mrs. Wallin provided, the only way to dry her dress was to stand and turn in front of the hearth like a chicken on a spit, careful not to get too close lest a stray spark catch her skirts on fire.

She used the time to direct James how to shave kindling to her specifications for Levi's splint and to send Beth for the other supplies she'd need. Then she splinted the leg properly and added a stick at the end that could be twisted as needed to provide traction.

Levi generally cooperated with few protests, and Beth peppered her with questions. But by far the most helpful was Drew. Once she had Levi positioned on one of the benches near the table, he sat at his brother's head, hands braced on Levi's shoulders as both a warning not to move and a deterrent when the youth had second thoughts.

“You'd make a fine nurse,” Catherine commented at one point when she'd finished setting the bone.

“I'll leave that to the professional,” Drew answered, but his smile warmed her more than his words.

When she finished, Levi gave the splinted leg a wiggle, then yelped at the pain the movement must have caused. “How long do I have to wear this?”

“Weeks if you're careful,” Catherine said, rising and shaking out her skirts. “Months if you're not. Despite what your brother said about hobbling, limping for the rest of your life is best avoided if possible.”

The boy grumbled, but his pallor told Catherine that some part of him would heed her warning.

Mrs. Wallin had been sitting nearby. Now she shifted to be next to her youngest son. “You listen to Miss Stanway, Levi. And to your brothers, as well. What would you have done if they hadn't come back for you?”

“Died and rotted,” James said cheerfully, and Beth smacked him on the shoulder with one hand.

Catherine drew back, watching as James and Beth teased Levi until the youth's cheeks bloomed red. John had returned to the house a while ago, with Simon out spelling him on watch. He, too, joined in the fun.

Catherine wished she could joke about it, but the entire time she'd been working on Levi, her family had kept intruding on her thoughts. What if someone had gone back for Nathan on the battlefield? Would he be alive today? Where were the men her father had tended when the medical tent had been shelled? Had none of them gone to see if he could be saved?

Levi's wounds weren't as serious, and for that she was thankful. But something about his injuries nagged at her, and she wasn't sure why.

Drew rose and came to where she stood by the stairs.

“I didn't want to ask you in front of Levi,” he murmured, “but I need to know. How bad is it?”

“It was a simple fracture,” Catherine assured him. “From the lack of swelling, I'd say nothing was damaged internally, and externally, as you saw, he's fine.”

Drew nodded, but she wasn't sure he accepted her explanation.

“I know from experience as well as education,” she told him. “I've seen someone fall out of a tree before.”

His eyes widened.

“Oh, he wasn't up as high as Levi, I'm sure,” she said with a smile. “But my brother, Nathan, climbed a sycamore in our yard once, going after a wayward kite. He managed to free the kite, but he lost his balance on the way down and tumbled out.” She shook her head, remembering.

“Did he break anything?” Drew asked, watching her as if the story had given him hope.

“No, but you should have seen his face and hands. Scratches everywhere! One took stitching up. Oh!” She stared at Levi.

Drew had stiffened at her explanation. “Forgive me. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories.”

“It's not that.” Catherine shook her head to clear it as Levi ducked under James's hand to avoid his brother's teasing. “I've been trying to determine why your brother's injuries trouble me, and I think I know why.” She turned to Drew. “There isn't a scratch on him.”

Drew frowned, glancing between her and Levi. “He looks pretty beat up to me.”

“He is, but that's my point. Falling through a tree, you don't generally think to protect your face, and if you did, the backs of your hands would bear the brunt of the damage. Levi's face and hands are clear.”

“Perhaps he hit his chest instead. He coughed blood. Did he break a rib?”

Catherine shook her head. “He isn't any more sore there than anywhere else. And the blood in his mouth came from a split lip.”

Drew cocked his head. “There's that bruise around his eye.”

“Indeed,” Catherine replied. She glanced at Drew. “Exactly as if someone had struck him.”

Drew's shoulders tightened, raising him higher above her. “You think someone beat him? Broke his leg?”

She knew it sounded far-fetched. Why would anyone be so cruel? Besides, Levi had confessed to climbing the tree. Yet she also had had suspicions about Scout. Could the two have been fighting?

“I don't know,” Catherine admitted. “But I'd talk to him about the matter if I were you.”

He growled something under his breath about that being his life's work, and she thought it best not to ask him to repeat himself.

Beth hopped up just then and hurried toward the back room and the stove. A moment later, she was in the doorway, beckoning John to help. Simon came in the door and set down his rifle before wandering over to Catherine and Drew. She thought he might ask about his brother's situation, but instead he pulled a little leather-bound book from his coat pocket.

“My father was partial to poetry, Miss Stanway,” he said, offering the book to her with a smile that didn't quite light his green eyes. “I wonder, would you be willing to join me in a reading for the family tonight?”

She glanced at the title, picked out in worn gold on the slim volume:
The Courtship of Miles Standish
. “My father was partial to Longfellow as well, Mr. Wallin. I'd be delighted to help.”

“Please,” he said, eyes lighting at last, “call me Simon. It's far too confusing to have all of us be Mr. Wallin.”

Drew shifted beside her, calling her attention to the difference between him and his brother. Though Simon was a match for him in height, Drew's younger brother was more slender, a willow to Drew's cedar.

“Very well,” Catherine said. “Is there a particular part you'd like us to read tonight?”

“Try page thirty-three,” Simon said. With a nod to Drew, he strolled back to Levi's side.

“Poetry,” Drew muttered under his breath, as if the very idea was ridiculous.

Catherine frowned at him. “Do you have something against lyrical language, Mr. Wallin?”

He shook himself. “Forgive me, Catherine. This argument is between Simon and me. We both have the same goal, to keep this family safe. We just disagree on how to go about it. If you'll excuse me, I need to go check that the barn is closed up properly.”

Catherine nodded, and he strode out the door without another look to his brother. She couldn't help noticing, however, that Simon watched him go.

Curious, she opened the book's well-worn pages to the section Simon had indicated. The Pilgrim hero John Alden had just called upon the lovely Miss Priscilla Mullins on behalf of the colony leader, Miles Standish, and the young lady was protesting that if Mr. Standish was too busy to court her, he was likely too busy to be married to her. This was what Drew's brother wanted her to read?

“Excuse me, Miss Stanway.” She looked up to find that John had finished helping Beth and stood beside Catherine. She snapped the book shut and met his gaze.

“Yes, Mr. Wallin? What did you need?”

“Perhaps you could call me John,” he said with a soft smile. The closest in age to Levi, she could see that he resembled his mother the most, for his straight, thick, neatly cut hair was a reddish-gold, and his eyes were the greenest of all the brothers. “I merely wanted to thank you for your excellent work on Levi's leg. I've always been fascinated by the human body's ability to heal after great trauma. Is there some secret to how you treat a break like that?”

He looked so earnest, eyes intent on her face, wiry body poised forward, that Catherine found herself prosing on about fractures and sutures and dressings. He asked probing questions, offered suggestions from things he'd read and praised her knowledge so much that she was in an uncommonly good mood when Beth called them all to dinner.

John offered her his arm to escort her to the table. Simon pulled out the chair Drew normally sat in for her, and James presented her with a bouquet of wild flowers, which earned him a glare from Simon.

“There's no need to thank me,” Catherine told them as Beth and Mrs. Wallin took their seats at the table. “I was only doing my duty in helping your brother.”

“But with considerable style,” James assured her as he sat. He elbowed Levi, who had been propped up next to him on the bench, leg straightened out before him. “Isn't that right, Levi?”

Not waiting for the blessing to be said, Levi spooned a mass of mashed potatoes onto his plate and shrugged. “I suppose.”

James shook his head.

Catherine glanced to the window overlooking the yard. “Isn't your eldest brother going to eat?”

“Drew's busy with the stock,” John said, seating himself on the bench nearest her and pushing Simon father down as he did so. “We can send something out to him when we're done.”

“If there's anything left,” James agreed, reaching for a biscuit.

“Boys,” their mother chided. “Just because I'm not up to taking him a plate doesn't mean one of you can't do it.”

Catherine found herself on her feet before she'd thought better of it. “I'll go.”

Immediately Simon was on his feet, as well. “Allow me, Catherine.”

James stood so quickly he set the bench to rocking, raising a protest from Levi. “I probably owe him the next shift. I'll go, as a favor to you, Cat.”

They were all entirely too thankful for her intervention with Levi. “Catherine,” she corrected him. “And truly, gentlemen, there is no need. You've worked hard most of the day. It will only take me a moment.”

“I insist,” Simon said, grabbing Drew's plate and throwing on a biscuit. “We can't impose on a guest.”

“Quite right, Simon,” James said, lowering himself back onto the bench. “I'll just stay here and keep Catherine company.”

“Catherine isn't the only one at this table, you know,” Beth put in. Her mother patted her hand as if to quiet her, a smile hovering about her mouth.

John nodded. “She's right. You both can go out and help Drew. I've already taken my shift, and I'm perfectly capable of keeping Catherine company.”

What was wrong with them? Now all three were glaring at each other, while Beth shook her head and Mrs. Wallin's smile broadened. Levi kept shoveling food into his mouth as if he suspected someone would take his plate next.

“We'll all go,” Simon announced, lobbing on a dollop of mashed potatoes and splashing it with gravy.

James rose once more. “Fine,” he said, grabbing a cup.

“Fine,” John agreed, snatching up a fork. They bumped each other's shoulders on the way out the door.

Mrs. Wallin laughed. “How nice to see my sons so helpful. Would you care to say the blessing, Levi? I believe you have the most to be thankful for.”

Levi dropped his fork, face reddening, then bowed his head and clasped his hands.

Catherine bowed her head as well, listening to his simple prayer of thanks for the food and the family around them. She couldn't understand what maggot had infested the Wallin men's minds, but it almost seemed as if they were trying to court her despite her warning from this morning. Were all the men in Seattle mad? Was it something in the Puget Sound waves? In the air? She knew brides were at a premium, but this was ridiculous.

She was highly tempted to dose them all with Peruvian bark and send them to bed before they infected anyone else!

* * *

Drew was shutting the horses in for the night when three of his brothers entered the barn. They stalked up to him, each trying to walk faster than the others. Simon thrust out a plate. “Here. Catherine thought you might be hungry.”

James held out a cup from which half the cider had sloshed, if the shine on the side was any indication. “She sent us with your food.”

“Actually,” John said, handing him a fork, “Simon and James made fools of themselves trying to be gentlemen, and we all decided it was wiser to retreat to the barn for a while rather than confess our shortcomings to Catherine.”

Simon stared at him, then shook his head, chuckle tumbling out. “He's right. Peace, James.” He offered his hand.

James shook it with a grin. “Peace. For the moment. It never lasts long in this family.”

Drew balanced the cup on the edge of the plate and eyed his brothers. “Let me get this straight. All three of you made a fool of yourselves over Catherine? Are you all trying to court her?”

James shrugged as he released Simon's hand. “Can you think of a better way to keep her in the family?”

“I believe there's good historical evidence that women generally frown on being kept captive,” John pointed out. “You have only to look to the Romans to see that.”

They were mad, the lot of them. Drew motioned them over to the bench his father had built along the stalls and sat with the plate in his lap. “It isn't easy adding a wife, you know,” he told them as he forked up some of the mashed potatoes, gravy dripping. “She's your partner in all things. Remember how Ma and Pa used to act?”

Simon nodded as he sat beside him. “Every decision, every action taken together.”

James raised his brows as he leaned against the wall. “That's a tall order. Based on some of the married folks I've seen in town, not every marriage is such a joyful union.”