Rekindled (25 page)

“That’s my favorite Christmas song, Miss Kathryn,” Gabe said after the music stopped.

She nodded. “Mine too, Gabe.”

Larson had always told her those peddlers sold mostly junk, but his smile always lingered as he watched her converse with them. And on the rare occasion when she actually bought something, she anticipated and almost looked forward to the long-suffering shake of his head as he helped her back into the wagon. But the gentle squeeze of his fingers around hers had conveyed his true opinion.

Larson had shown his love for her in so many ways. Quiet, unadorned ways. Kathryn only wished she’d been more aware of them at the time.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T
HE FENCED BOUNDARY OF Casaroja began about twenty minutes out of town, and it companioned Kathryn and Gabe for the rest of the hour-long ride. Kathryn couldn’t help but anticipate what the house might look like. In her mind’s eye she imagined the home she and Larson would’ve someday built together. But her mouth dropped open when Casaroja’s main house came into view.

Situated on a bluff of land rising gently from the eastern plains, the home was far grander than her imagination had indulged. No wonder Miss Maudelaine had smiled at her question about finding the place.

Two stories high with red brick, white-painted wood, and gray-stained eaves, Casaroja rose from the dusty brown plains like a pearl in a pool of dross. The massive white columns bracing the expansive upper porch glistened in the golden summer sun. Miss Maudelaine had been right—Casaroja was impossible to miss.

Gabe drove the wagon around to the back of the house. He helped her down, then carried her trunk to the back porch.

“I’ve got to get back to town, Miss Kathryn,” he said, climbing back into the wagon.

Kathryn nodded, wishing he could stay awhile longer. She felt . . . safe with him.

“You take care of yourself, Miss Kathryn. And your baby,” he added quietly, his mouth turning in that knowing way of his. He looked toward the house, then to the stables and fields. A gleam lit his eyes as though he knew a secret she had yet to discover.

“What is it?” Kathryn finally gave in, wondering at the grin on his face. She narrowed her eyes inquisitively.

He shook his head. “I’ll be back to visit you soon.” He gave the reins a flick.

Kathryn brushed the road dust from her black dress, still taking in the wealth of this place. Not only the main house, but the rows of bunkhouses, the stables and corrals. Even a separate livery, where the blacksmith was hard at work, if the dull pounding coming from within was any indication. An enormous field lay east of the house with workers bent over perfectly furrowed rows of soil. Kathryn couldn’t help but think of what her and Larson’s ranch might have been like one day, if only . . .

The back door swung open, drawing Kathryn’s attention.

Miss Maudelaine appeared, looking pleased. “Welcome to Casaroja, Mrs. Jennings. You’re just in time to be helpin’ with dinner for the ranch hands.” The older woman glanced around. “But how on earth did you get here, darlin’? I hope you didn’t walk all this way.”

The lovely Irish rhythm in her voice coaxed a smile from Kathryn. “No, ma’am, I got a ride. The wagon just left.”

Miss Maudelaine’s hands went to her hips. “I usually hear a wagon comin’ up the road. I must have been lost in my work. There’s never a lack of it around here. I have a surprise for you,” she added with a lilt, pointing to a small white house some short distance away. “That’s the guest cottage our employer built for me a few years back. But as I’ve gotten older, I find bein’ in the main house is easier on me, plus it helps me keep up with the servants.” She winked. “I had it cleaned for you, thinkin’ you might enjoy the privacy and extra space.”

Kathryn stared, speechless, at Maudelaine and then at the white cottage trimmed in gray to match the main house. It was perfect, and far more than she’d anticipated.

“But, dear, if you’d rather stay in the main house, I can have a room fixed up for you.”

“No, it’s beautiful!” Kathryn said after a pause. “I just didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Miss Maudelaine’s smile conveyed her pleasure. She extended her hand and raised a brow in question. Kathryn nodded in approval, and the woman laid a hand to her swollen belly.

“You’re small for bein’ as far along as you told me. You must be carryin’ that little one close to your heart, lass.”

Kathryn smiled, warming at the truth of that statement.

Maudelaine hesitated. “Might I ask you a personal question, dear? And please don’t be takin’ any offense in my askin’ it. I have a reason for my pryin’, I assure you.”

Unable to imagine what the question might be, Kathryn told her to go ahead.

The woman smiled softly. “Would this be the only dress you have to wear during your mournin’ time?”

Looking down, Kathryn smoothed a hand over the dusty skirt of the black dress she’d worn every day since Larson’s funeral, noting the obvious wear along the hemline and sleeves. “Yes, ma’am. I made it myself and would’ve sewn another, but I’ve had other obligations to meet, and . . . Well, I’m sorry if it’s not—”

The woman gently touched her arm. “Don’t you dare be sayin’ you’re sorry to me, dear. I told you there was a reason for my pryin’. My younger sister, God rest her soul, was about your size, and after her husband passed on . . . Well, let’s just say she wore the widow’s color for a long time, and she was with child too. If you’re willin’, I’ll go through some of her dresses and pick a few for you to make good use of. They’ve been packed away for years but have plenty of wear left in them, to be sure.”

For a moment, in the company of such generosity, Kathryn found herself too moved to speak. “That’s most kind of you to offer. Yes, I’d appreciate that very much. Thank you, Miss Maudelaine.”

The older woman made a tsking noise. “Oh, there’ll be no ‘Miss Maudelaine’ for me, dear. I’m Miss Maudie here at Casaroja. That’s what all the servants and ranch hands call me.” She turned and led Kathryn toward the cottage. Pulling a key from her pocket, Miss Maudie continued, “Even Mr. MacGregor calls me that.” Kathryn slowed at hearing the name. “Mr. . . . Donlyn MacGregor?”

“Yes, dear. He owns Casaroja, and you’ll meet him soon. He meets everyone who works on his ranch. It’s a strict rule of his to know his employees.”

While picturing her meeting with her new employer, Kathryn took in the magnificent surroundings again. Larson had never mentioned Casaroja or even the name MacGregor for that matter, but something didn’t make sense to her. Why would a man like MacGregor, who had all of this, want more land?

“Are you all right, child?” The older woman looked back from the cottage’s small porch.

Kathryn nodded and joined her. “Have you known Mr. MacGregor long, Miss Maudie?”

“Oh my, yes.” Her voice grew quiet and her expression indicated she might say more, so Kathryn waited. But then Miss Maudie turned and made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Mr. MacGregor has done very well for himself. He built all this from nothing, I’m proud to tell you. I dare say that not one thing he’s set his cap to has remained out of his reach.”

Kathryn followed Miss Maudie inside the cottage, wondering at the hint of motherly pride in the woman’s voice. The cottage was pristine in every way. From the shiny oak paneled floor to the yellow and white flower print curtains adorning the windows. The kitchen sat off to the right with a separate sitting area opposite it, and a bedroom ran along the back. It far exceeded Kathryn’s expectations and needs.

“Miss Maudie, this is lovely! Are you sure this is included in our agreement? I fully expected to be sharing a room with at least one other woman.”

The older woman put up a hand. “Nonsense, this has been sitting empty for some time now and needs to be used. In fact, Mr. MacGregor insisted that you have it. There’s even a water closet off the bedroom there.” She chuckled. “And if memory serves right, that should come in handy in the wee night hours.”

“So you have children, then?”

A shadow crossed Miss Maudie’s face, and she cleared her throat. “No, actually . . . I don’t. None of my own, but I was very close to my sister when she was with child.”

The light in her eyes dimmed despite the smile on her face, and Kathryn wished she could take the question back.

“Well, it’s time to be gettin’ dinner on.” Maudie turned. “We feed fifty-seven ranch hands morning, noon, and night around here, and I can sure use another pair of hands.” She glided a fingertip along a side table, then held it up for inspection before rubbing her fingers together. “You take an hour to get settled, Mrs. Jennings, and then come help me in the main kitchen. We’ll go over your specific duties after dinner in the study.”

Kathryn stepped forward. “Please, Miss Maudie, call me Kathryn.”

“Kathryn it is, then,” she said, her eyes softening. “And may I add . . . I’m thankful you’re here, lass. You’ve a brightness about you, despite what you’ve endured of late. I’ll enjoy watchin’ the wee babe grow within you, and I’ll be here to help you when your time comes.” She gave Kathryn’s hand a squeeze. “Now get some rest, then meet me in the kitchen at four o’clock. I’ll have a man tote your trunk here later.”

The coordination of dinner in the main house that night was a sight to behold. Miss Maudie ran a tightly scheduled crew. Everyone had a job, and though Kathryn understood her basic responsibilities as housekeeper, she quickly learned another important duty—to do everything Miss Maudie said, exactly when she said it. A poor girl by the name of Molly dawdled once too often during the evening and paid the price dearly. Miss Maudie never raised her voice, but her disapproving expression earned immediate respect and a swift change in behavior. Kathryn vowed to never be on the receiving end of that unpleasant look.

Expecting to see Donlyn MacGregor during the course of the evening, she discovered with relief that he was away on business. No doubt their meeting would come soon enough, and she didn’t look forward to it, nor did she particularly like the idea of being in his employ. But this job seemed like a godsend, and to think of it in any other light left her feeling selfish and ungrateful. She thought again about MacGregor’s offer to help her and wondered what it would mean being indebted to the man.

Returning to the cottage later that evening, well after dark, she made it through the darkness and to the bed before collapsing on top of it. Her hands were chapped from washing stacks of dirty dishes, and her legs ached from standing so long in one place. Plus the amount of cooking she’d done before that! And to imagine, this happened three times a day! Despite her exhaustion, Kathryn thanked God for His provision of this job and a much more suitable place to live.

She didn’t have to wonder what Annabelle and Sadie were doing at that moment, and she hurt because of it.
Lord, please be with them, and the other women. I wish I could have made more of a difference in their lives while I was there. Keep chipping away on Annabelle’s heart, Lord. She’s got such a soft heart beneath it all. . . .

As Kathryn lay there, loneliness crept over her. She pulled the music box from her pocket and lifted the lid. Unable to see the inscription in the darkness, she ran her fingers over the words she knew so well.
For all your heart’s desires
. In slow arching circles, her hand moved over her abdomen, caressing their unborn child.
But you were my heart’s desire, Larson
.

She turned the key three times and the simple tune filled the silence, sprinkling it with soft tinny notes. Over and over the song played, repeating itself, until finally it slowed to intermittent chimes, then nothing. A familiar pang tightened Kathryn’s throat, and she turned onto her side.
Father, it feels as though half my heart has been ripped away. I have so many questions about what happened to him. And no answers
.

A rapping on the front door brought her head up. She sat slowly to avoid the dizziness that was becoming less frequent, then picked her way through the darkness. She looked out the side window first.

A man stood on the porch, with what looked like her trunk at his feet. Smoothing her hair and dress, she went to open the door.

Larson had recognized the trunk immediately, and he’d wanted to tell Miss Maudie to ask someone else to take it to the cottage. But from the ranch foreman’s frank appraisal days ago, Larson knew he was at Casaroja by God’s will working through that woman’s kind nature. And he aimed to please them both.

As he stood on Kathryn’s front porch, waiting for her to answer the door, a bead of sweat trickled between his shoulder blades and inched down his back. She hadn’t recognized him before, and it had been daylight then. He had little to fear now. So why did his heart race?

He adjusted the smoky-colored spectacles he’d purchased before leaving town from the same old peddler who had sold him the music box. He didn’t know if they would keep Kathryn from seeing who he was, but they did help mask the pain he felt every time someone stared at him. He still saw their shock, but at least they couldn’t see how deeply it wounded him.

He heard footsteps and fought down the panic rising in his chest. Again, he questioned God’s wisdom in his coming to Casaroja. He was so close to Kathryn here. But wasn’t that why he’d taken the job? To be close to her?