Rekindled (32 page)

The inaudible answer reverberated inside him, and a shiver of understanding raced up his spine. How he regretted the years of selfishly seeking his own path, of not knowing God’s Word and not caring that he didn’t. He’d failed to treat Kathryn with the gentleness and respect she deserved.

He remembered the way Abby looked at Isaiah when Isaiah wasn’t watching, and Larson yearned for the chance to win Kathryn’s heart all over again. So that she might look at him that same way.

His gaze dropped briefly to the child growing inside her. Was he partly to blame for what she’d done? For her wandering? Had his sin somehow contributed to hers?

As he had in younger years, Larson wondered how God felt about a child born without a proper name. Were the sins of the father and mother passed down to the child? He knew the public disgrace of their sin certainly was, but did God mark the child with the sin? The scornful looks the townspeople had given him and his mother, the names they’d called, were forever in his memory. And these were the same people he’d seen walking to church on Sundays. Some of the men’s faces he knew especially well.

“So . . . do you think you’d like to go, Jacob?”

Hearing Kathryn’s question pulled him back. Her head was tilted to one side as she obviously waited for an answer.

“Ah . . . sure,” he heard himself say. She smiled and he panicked. What had he just agreed to?

“Then I’ll meet you here this Sunday morning. And you’ll see if Gabe wants to go to church with us too?”

Church?
Larson had to stifle a laugh. The last time he’d been to church had been with Kathryn, years ago, and he’d hated every minute of it. So Isaiah had been right after all, the Lord
did
have a sense of humor.

He looked into Kathryn’s eyes and saw the hope there. He also saw his past—a past he couldn’t change. But he sure had a choice now, and this Sunday he would take his wife to church.

Kathryn stepped down from Donlyn MacGregor’s carriage and looked up at the restaurant, then back at the driver. “Are you certain this is the right place?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s eight o’clock sharp, and Mr. MacGregor is already waiting for you inside.”

The bellman opened the restaurant door, and Kathryn nodded her thanks. Once inside the lobby, she quickly realized this was not the business meeting she’d anticipated. Women patrons wore gowns of fine silk, and the men dressed in suits much like the one she’d fitted for Mr. MacGregor. Kathryn fingered the cotton of her own homespun black dress as her boots sank into the plush pile of the Persian rug.

“Mrs. Jennings, how fine of you to join me, and you’re right on time.” Donlyn MacGregor appeared at her side and gently looped her arm through his. He wore the very suit she’d tailored for him weeks ago. “You’re lookin’ radiant this evening.”

“Mr. MacGregor, I hardly think this is a proper place for—”

A waiter appeared and bowed slightly at the waist. “This way, sir, madam.” He led them away from the room of candlelit tables and down a hallway to a private alcove with windows overlooking the mountain range. The evening sky was awash with color. “I’ll return in a moment, sir.”

Thankful for being spared the embarrassment of walking through the restaurant, Kathryn carefully withdrew her arm from MacGregor’s hold. “Mr. MacGregor, I thought I was clear about not having dinner with you tonight.”

“Ah.” He raised a finger. “You declined having dinner with me at Casaroja. You never said anything about dining out, lass.” He held a chair for her, his eyes glinting.

Kathryn gave him a pointed look. “I was under the impression that we were going to discuss your offer . . . in a more businesslike setting.”

He flashed a smile that she imagined many a woman had succumbed to previously. “Let me see, I believe your exact words were ‘a more public place’ and ‘to leave the door open next time.’ This is definitely a public place, Mrs. Jennings, and . . .” He pointed to the door. “I left it open for you. Besides, more deals are decided over a meal of prime rib and fine wine than over any desk, I assure you. Now if you’ll kindly wipe that frown from your lovely face and be seated, we can get started with our meeting.”

Smoothing the frustration from her expression, Kathryn took a seat. A waiter appeared at her side with a napkin. She nodded, and he laid the lace-edged cloth across her lap. In a flash, memories of the formal dinners and parties she’d attended in her youth came back with startling clarity. Candlelight flickering off fine crystal, its glow reflected in gold-rimmed china, white-gloved servers . . . All reminders of a life she’d willingly traded long ago. But how differently her life had turned out from what she’d planned.

Kathryn waited patiently through the appetizer for her employer to steer the conversation toward business. She was thankful now that she’d eaten such a small meal earlier that evening. The baby had been more active than usual, and she’d simply not been in the mood to eat much.

When he hadn’t addressed the matter at hand by the time their meals were served, she decided to do it for him. “Mr. MacGregor, while I appreciate this lovely dinner and your company, I would like to discuss your offer to help me keep my land.”

MacGregor took a sip of wine and studied the stemmed glass in his hand. His blue gray eyes looked almost black in the dim light. “Why don’t we start by you tellin’ me exactly what it is you’re wantin’, Mrs. Jennings?” His soft brogue came out light and teasing.

Matthew Taylor suddenly came to Kathryn’s mind, followed by a twinge of doubt about dealing with Donlyn MacGregor. Matthew’s warning rang clear in her memory, along with distrust of her employer’s overtures of friendship. MacGregor had introduced her to Mr. Kohlman, sent flowers when Larson’s death was made public, and offered her a job at Casaroja. And he was making an offer to lease her land to graze his cattle. Weighing what she knew about him, Kathryn still found him lacking. Yet MacGregor was the only person she knew who had the financial backing at his disposal to help her.

Upon reflection, she couldn’t help but wonder if Matthew’s warning had been motivated by his affection for her in some way. She pushed the nagging doubt aside, determined to convince Mr. MacGregor to help her.

“I’ve received a notice from Harold Kohlman about the formal auction of my land. If I don’t pay the amount due, it will be sold at an auction in Denver. I only have about two months to obtain the funds I need to pay off the loan.”

He rocked his head up and down slowly. “Have you spoken directly with Harold Kohlman about this? Perhaps something can be worked out between the two of you.”

Kathryn took a sip of water to wet her throat. “Yes, I’ve spoken with him, but he’s unwilling to make a concession of any kind.”

“You sound bitter toward the man.”

“Not bitter,” she said, regretting the harshness she’d let harden her tone. “But at my last meeting with him, he—”

MacGregor leaned forward. “Did he say something to upset you, lass?”

Kathryn wished she’d never brought it up. “I’m sorry for implying anything like that, Mr. MacGregor. Honestly, I’d rather keep the topic of our conversation tonight limited to the two of us.”

“Nothin’ would please me more, Mrs. Jennings.” A smooth grin tipped his mouth. He glanced at her plate. “Is there something wrong with your meal? You’re for sure not eatin’ much.”

“No, it’s delicious.” She picked up her knife and began cutting her steak. “But what I’d like for you to consider, Mr. MacGregor, and I have carefully thought this through”—she looked directly at him—“is for you to advance me the money to pay off my loan with the bank. I promise I’ll pay you back every penny within five years.”

He nodded in the way an adult might to a small child spinning a fantastic yarn. “And how much money are we talkin’ about?”

Ignoring his paternal look, Kathryn finished chewing the bite of steak in her mouth and swallowed. “Fifteen thousand dollars.”

His eyebrows rose as he repeated the sum. “That’s an enormous sum of money, Mrs. Jennings—especially for someone with no collateral. I’m not aware of any bank that would be makin’ that kind of unsecured loan to a man, much less a woman.”

“Yes, I realize that. But within five years, if the price of beef holds steady, which I believe it will,” she quickly added, “I’ll pay you back the entire amount.”

“With interest, of course,” he said, cocking a brow.

“Yes, of course.” But Kathryn hadn’t remembered to calculate that and mentally scolded herself at the oversight. She wondered if he would be fair in his percentage.

“So let me get this straight. You’re wantin’ a fifteen-thousand-dollar loan, which you’ll be payin’ me back over the next five years, in order to revive a ranch you lost because you lacked the ability to make it successful in the first place? And you havin’ no cattle, no ranch hands, nothin’ to begin it all with.”

His congenial expression contrasted his condescending tone, and Kathryn didn’t know quite how to respond to such frankness.

“Actually, losing the cattle wasn’t all my fault,” she finally managed after a moment, her voice smaller than she would have liked. Bruised pride left her with a bitter aftertaste. “I lost the cattle, true. But there’s evidence that they were poisoned.”

His eyes flashed to hers. “Evidence they were poisoned? Who would do such a thing to you, lass? And why did you not have men posted to keep watch?”

“Men were posted, but they disappeared. We don’t know how it happened, but the examiner said he thought it was intentional.”

“That hardly sounds much like evidence to me.” MacGregor laid his fork aside and leaned forward, sighing. “Mrs. Jennings, all of that put aside, do you have any idea what an insecure risk you represent? You’re an unmarried woman, with a
child
.” He accented the word as though it were distasteful. “A woman whose late husband left a pile of debt and a less than stellar business reputation for her to follow.”

Kathryn sat numbly as he ticked off the reasons on his fingers. How could he sound so kind when he was tearing her to shreds? Or did he not realize how much he was hurting her?

“Although you’re an intelligent woman, you clearly lack the expertise to run a ranch. And may I dare add, this is a man’s business, Mrs. Jennings. Hardly fittin’ for the weaker gender.” He took a bite of steak and chewed slowly. “Plus, the value of land in your region has dropped drastically in recent months.” A questioning look moved over his face as one side of his mouth tipped. “You differ with me on this point?” he asked, apparently sensing her disagreement.

“I believe good land will always hold its value, Mr. MacGregor.” How many times had she heard Larson say that?

“I’m curious, Mrs. Jennings, has anyone been showin’ interest in your property?”

She looked down at the napkin she fingered in her lap, remembering the day Kohlman had presented that offer to her in his office. Was she foolish not to have taken it? It would have meant security for her and her child. Yet how could she have? It would have—in essence—cost her the land, Larson’s land. And possibly the town’s rights to the water as well. Random thoughts collided, and she fought to make order of them.

After a moment she lifted her gaze, hoping the businessman would see her determination. “There was one offer, a while back, but I told Mr. Kohlman to refuse it. Next to my child, Mr. MacGregor, this land means more to me than anything else. I haven’t advertised it because my earnest desire is to keep it, not sell it.”

He waved her last comment off as though it were of little consequence. “There are plots of land for sale all over this area, and the simple fact is, hard as the truth may be to accept, your land is not the most desirable.”

Kathryn disagreed but kept her opinion to herself. A grandfather clock on the far wall chimed the ninth hour, and with every slice of its pendulum, her hope of keeping the land seemed to be cut into ever-thinning threads. Larson had specifically chosen that acreage of land. Remembering the first day he’d shown it to her, she could still see the pride shining in his eyes.

MacGregor reached across the table and took her hand. “I’m not sayin’ these things to be cruel to you, Mrs. Jennings. I only want you to see what potential risk I, or anyone else for that matter, would be undertaking in grantin’ you this loan.”

“I understand,” she whispered, pulling her hand back and wishing the evening were over.

“It’s late, and you appear to be tiring.” He stood and moved to help Kathryn with her chair. “I’m willin’ to lease your land for my cattle, lass. That will provide you with some additional income at least.” He mentioned an amount that seemed fair to Kathryn, but she was so discouraged, all she could do was nod her agreement.

By the time they reached the carriage waiting outside, the expensive meal had turned to ash in Kathryn’s stomach. She accepted MacGregor’s assistance up the steps and was relieved when he chose to occupy the bench seat across from her. The carriage jolted forward. She gripped the molding on the side panel with her left hand—partly to steady herself but mostly to keep from crying.

Larson, I tried to keep your dream alive. I tried. . . .
Her wedding ring cut into her palm, but she squeezed harder, suddenly furious with him for not having trusted her enough to tell her about the financial standing of the ranch. Why hadn’t he shared that with her? She’d made it unmistakably clear to him she wanted him to succeed.