A Bride at Last (31 page)

Kate shrugged. No reason to get her hopes up. “Men always hold more sway.”

“Won’t hurt to mention it,” Nancy said as she scooted her chair to the quilt block she’d worked on last week.

“I guess.” But even if Mrs. Crismon didn’t care about a state certificate, if she wrote Mr. Kingfisher to get a teaching reference, he surely wouldn’t respond with anything that would make them want to hire her.

The front door opened again, and ladies’ voices came in all aclatter. Kate busied herself with her thread.

As the women shared good-natured stories about children and neighbors, Rachel’s motherly gaze wandered to Kate often. Was she worried for her? Who wouldn’t be? If Nancy couldn’t find work in a town she’d grown up in, who’d bother to hire an outsider with no skills?

What she really needed was for Silas to take her back. Would these women think her pitiful if she admitted she still wanted the man who’d rejected her?

This past week, Fannie had turned away two long-term boarders because of her, so she had to find somewhere else to live soon. She couldn’t sit around and hope.

She’d written her sister to let her know she was alive, but could she stomach writing her abusive brother-in-law and begging to return?

Surely there was something else she could do.

The whack of ax against wood from the other side of Silas’s cabin grew louder with each step Kate took. He’d not had a wife for more than ten years, but he’d kept a flower bed, which flanked both sides of the front door, though it held nothing but dead plants at the moment. The yard wasn’t a trash heap like one of the homesteads she’d passed on the way out of town, and the fancy little coop looked newly painted, red with white trim. Surely he’d make up for Peter Hicks’s negligence quicker than most, considering he cared diligently for his property.

She walked past the barn, surprised Yellow Eyes hadn’t yet barked at her arrival. Taking deep breaths, she forced herself closer to the steady crack of firewood splitting.

She found him on the other side of the house, his back turned as he heaved his maul above his head. She’d wait for him to no
tice her, so as not to disturb his work. But the wind was chilly in the shadows. She crossed her arms tighter about herself.

Silas stopped to wipe his sleeve across his forehead. With his maul safely on the ground, she cleared her throat.

He startled and turned to face her. His chest expanded with a deep breath, the corner of his mouth jumping a little. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I hope you don’t mind the visit.”

“I don’t mind seeing you, Kate.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, then wiped at the back of his neck. “I don’t hate you or anything of the sort.”

“Well good, though I’m afraid you won’t like what I’m here to talk about.”

He leaned his maul against the house, then wiped his hands. He seemed broader than she remembered. Maybe it was the way his shirt wasn’t buttoned up to his neck, or how the damp fabric clung to his muscles, or maybe it was because he’d filled her dreams every night and her visions hadn’t done him justice.

“What do you want to talk about?”

She dragged her gaze off his chest and stepped back so she wasn’t close enough to smell the lye soap and the woodsy air that smelled so good on him. “I can’t find a decent job in town. Most everyone wealthy enough to hire housemaids already have them. One older man did offer me a cleaning job . . . or his hand in marriage, but I didn’t like how he leered at me.”

“Old man—Old Man Carson?” He croaked.

“If he’s the one who spits tobacco outside the feed store—”

“Yes, that’s him.” Silas’s eyes turned hard. “You were right to turn him down.”

“He’s not the only one offering marriage. I’ve—”

“You’re considering marrying someone from around here?” Silas’s eyebrows hiked.

“It’s a possibility.” She crossed her arms and stared at him.

Silas wiped his hands with his handkerchief again, though there couldn’t be anything left to wipe off.

“So what’re your thoughts on me marrying?”

He looked off in the distance for a bit, then closed his eyes. His face contorted, and he seemed to have difficulty swallowing. “If Ned Parker offers, don’t choose him. He’s . . . He wouldn’t treat you right.”

If he was having difficulty thinking of her marrying this Ned fellow . . . “Fine, I won’t consider him.”

“Good.” A muscle in his cheek twitched as he shoved his handkerchief into his pocket.

She gave him a long look. “I can’t sew well enough for the seamstress, the school isn’t hiring, and Mrs. Star—”

“No.” He grabbed her arm. “Tell me you didn’t set foot in her place.” His eyes shot daggers toward town.

“I didn’t. She overheard me inquiring about a job.”

Silas remained silent, and Kate let whatever was going on in his mind churn uninterrupted. Maybe she wouldn’t have to say anything more. If he thought she might have to turn to something so horrific to support herself . . .

He looked back at her, more intense than she’d ever seen him, and his hold tightened. “Tell me you’d never take a job with her.”

“No.” But if he thought she’d consider another man, could she get him to reconsider by starting a flicker of jealousy? “But what do you think about Mr. Arnett?”

“James?”

“The nice-looking livery owner?”

He closed his eyes, and she kept from mentioning that his grip on her arm was too tight. “Yes, he’s a good fellow. He’d—” Silas’s black dog barreled right in between them and jumped on her.

“Down, Yellow Eyes.” Silas let her go and grabbed the mongrel by the ruff.

She smiled at the dog’s clunky name but sobered quickly.

“Sorry about that. He likes people too much.”

The dog settled next to Silas’s feet, his tail thumping wildly, his tongue hanging out of his mouth as if asking for permission to jump on her again.

If only the dog hadn’t broken Silas’s train of thought.

But she had time to wait—unless a letter from her sister came with a train ticket for her to return home. Because if Peter spent money on a ticket, he’d expect Kate to return to Georgia to be their housemaid—an unpaid housemaid.

No, she’d do almost anything to keep from going back—maybe even marry someone else.

No! What was she thinking? She might threaten Silas with the mention of proposals from other men, but she wasn’t about to accept one.

She could endure a few months at her sister’s while she looked for somewhere else to live. But then, she’d be nowhere near Anthony . . . or Silas, who needed to realize what he was doing to her.

She puffed her chest and tilted her chin up. “You owe me money, Silas.”

He looked to the sky as if he kept a tally of debts there. “Come again?”

“You told me if I came to Kansas, there’d be a wedding.”

“But—”

“I used my savings to get here—not to mention your kiss at the train station caused me to lose my job.”

He rubbed his brow with his thumb and fingers as if trying to squeeze away a headache. “I’m sorry, but my finances aren’t in good shape. I had the trip to Missouri, the extra ticket for Anthony, the man I hired to watch my place who also stole my wagon, my plow, my—”

“I’d need more than the cost of a ticket to Breton to compensate. You’ve made it impossible for me to go back there.”

“But the cost of going to Georgia—”

“Then you should continue paying my room and board until I find a job.”

He licked his lips. “But you said you don’t have many prospects.”

“Exactly. Or you could pay until you . . .” She would not beg, she
would not
. “Until
I
marry someone.”

He groaned so quietly she barely heard him over the dog’s panting and then ran a hand through his hair. “Mrs. Langston’s costs too much. Maybe someone from church could offer you a spare room until you find something.”

Was it wrong to want to kick him in the shin? Except she was fairly certain Silas cared about her far more than he was letting on. She probably shouldn’t ruin that by doing something she’d regret. “Sure. You find me somewhere cheaper to live, and I’ll move.” As long as she could stay in Kansas long enough for him to realize he was a dope and he and Anthony needed her. But how would that happen if she was out of sight? Maybe there was another option. . . . “Since I can’t find a job, I think you should hire me, then I’m paying for my own lodging.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have the money to pay you indefinitely. And when you someday leave for another job, another man, another state, don’t you realize what that would do to Anthony? It’d be better for you not to be so close.”

“But I don’t intend to leave him. I love him.”

His fists clenched, though it seemed not so much from anger, but more from an internal struggle. “I know you do, but—”

“How is that not enough?” If he didn’t look so conflicted and heartbroken, she’d spit in his eye.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his shoulders hung as limp as wet clothing on a line. “I hope you know I’m only trying to look out for Anthony.”

“I do.” She tried to smile but failed. Which hurt more—that
he continued to refuse her though he seemed to be wavering or that he thought she wasn’t good enough for Anthony?

Silas let out a shuddery breath. “I’ll have enough money to get you a train ticket to Georgia at next harvest.”

Anthony’s lithe form poked his head out from behind the barn, but the second she looked over at him, he disappeared.

“Or maybe even in the spring, after we’ve made it through winter and—”

“I still need somewhere to live until then, Silas. You can’t leave me floundering.” She stepped closer and put a hand on his arm.

He closed his eyes, as if her touch would make him cry.

Who knew such a strong man would have such difficulty getting over the ache inside? “You’re stubborn—you know that?”

One eyebrow raised, popping one eye open to look at her.

“And stubborn’s good. It’ll help you stay sober, but it’ll also keep you from good things too, just as much as it’ll keep you from the bad.”

Whether he liked it or not, she’d be back. He wasn’t the only stubborn person in Salt Flatts.

Chapter 20

“Anything else for you, Miss Dawson?” Mrs. Hampden put Kate’s three spools of thread into a small brown sack.

“A job.” She forced herself to look the mercantile owner’s wife in the eye—to make it harder for the woman to say no again.

“I’m sorry, but I still haven’t need of you. My children are old enough to do most anything I need done.” The petite older woman scooped the change off the counter. “You’ve put your advertisement on the board, yes?”

Kate flicked a glance toward the flyers posted at the front of the store. How often were those looked at? “I have. Has anyone asked about mine?”

“No.” She handed Kate the sack of thread. “Would you like me to ask the out-of-towners when they’re in? You might have to live with them depending on how far out they are.”

“Just as long as it’s not a single man.” Nowhere had she advertised herself as a bride, yet she’d still garnered two more proposals in the last week.

“Of course.” Mrs. Hampden gave her an odd look.

“It’s just . . . Aren’t there enough women in Salt Flatts for
your men to court? Why are so many proposing without asking me a single question?”

Mrs. Hampden grimaced. “I guess they’ve heard you came here to get married for convenience, and since you’re pretty, they must hope you’d be willing to consider another.”

“Well, if you hear about anybody else wanting to ask me, tell them I’m only interested in a job.”

Mrs. Hampden smiled. “Of course.”

Considering there was another woman in line, Kate moved out of the way, but stopped to look at the woman dressed in a coarse blue silk with a matching feathered hat. Surely she’d overheard—might she have pity and offer her a job?

But the lady plopped her canned goods on the counter without even a glance toward Kate.

Trying not to slump as she walked out of the store, Kate pursed her lips. She’d have to do as Eliza suggested and start a business of her own to have any hope of staying. But there were already two seamstresses and a tailor in town—who all sewed better than her—three laundresses, and no hope from any of the school board members for a position until she got a proper school license.

“Excuse me, miss?” A gruff voice sounded behind her on the sidewalk, so she turned, offering the blond stranger tipping his hat a tentative smile.

His face lit with more than the pleasant expression of a man welcoming a woman to town. His roving eyes made her shiver almost as much as when she’d waded into the cold waters of Dry Creek with Anthony and Silas.

She glanced down at the bag of thread she’d just bought but couldn’t think of how to use it as an excuse for not responding. “Good afternoon, sir.”

He pulled off his dingy, sweat-rimmed hat and held it in front of him. His posture appeared solicitous, yet his eyes were unnerving. “I hear tell you’re looking for work.”

She took in his shiny boots and his clean—though not pressed—suit. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Ned Parker, ma’am.”