The Texan's Dream (18 page)

Newton continued, “Maybe we should teach her to shoot so she won’t make such a mess in the kitchen when she does murder you.”

“I already have,” Jonathan grumbled.

Newton suffered another fit.

TWENTY

KARA RAN ALL THE WAY TO HER ROOM AND CURLED on the floor against the far side of her bed. She’d never been so humiliated. Jonathan talked to her as if she meant nothing to him, like they were making some kind of deal. It wasn’t as though she were a woman of the streets and he was negotiating a price for service. He expected favors because she’d said they were friends. Friends!

He didn’t deserve to have a friend.

He didn’t deserve to be kissed! She wished she could take them all back.

He didn’t even deserve to have her as a bookkeeper. No, she reconsidered. He deserved that. In the months she’d been here she had managed to calculate the books into worse shape than they were when she arrived.

When she thought over all he had said, anger replaced tears. Where on earth would he get such a lamebrain plan? Yes, she kissed him a few times, but of course she hadn’t meant to. It had always been an action she’d taken without thought, in the heat of the moment. It had always “just happened.”

Kara remembered something her neighbor back home used to say about girls who claimed getting pregnant “just happened.” The old woman would shake her finger at Kara and say, “Ain’t nothing that just happens that involves taking off your clothes. Lightning don’t strike leaving you naked.”

Kara’s anger turned inward. She had been a fool, lying to herself, not owning up to her actions and her feelings. No wonder Jonathan was confused. She told him she was engaged, but she didn’t act the part. She’d already done what he suggested—touched him, been near him, kissed him. And all the while denying feelings were involved. If she hadn’t planned it, or thought about it, then she wouldn’t have to admit any guilt or responsibility.

The truth slammed against Kara’s heart. She didn’t love Devin O’Toole. She never loved him. He’d merely been a means to assure herself that someone cared about her, wanted her. Even when he said he would marry her one day, he’d been joking with her father and not looking at her.

Kara cried, realizing she was just as locked away in an imaginary world as Angela. She hadn’t been honest about her life. Telling herself she loved Devin. Telling herself she didn’t feel anything for Jonathan.

Between her tears, Kara saw her door open slowly. Dawn tiptoed in as silently as a breeze. The woman wore her newly made leather dress, complete with beads and braid. Her hair was combed free, blond against the warm leather. Before, she’d looked broken, a crumpled spirit in her “white women’s rags.” Now, she stood tall, radiant.

Dawn didn’t say a word but knelt beside Kara and pulled her into her arms. The gesture was so unconditional in its acceptance, Kara cried even harder.

Dawn stroked Kara’s hair and whispered softly. It didn’t matter that Kara couldn’t understand the words. She understood the meaning.

A moment later Jonathan opened the door. Both women glanced toward him.

Dawn said something sharp and angry to him in Apache.

For a second, he looked like he’d been slapped. “Wonderful! You don’t understand a word and you still take her side.”

He slammed the door without bothering to translate his words to Apache.

Kara gulped down a giggle. If
she
was confused, she could only imagine how Jonathan felt. He claimed he knew little about women and their last conversation had proved his words true.

In the morning she would apologize for her behavior and for her flirtations. He only offered what he thought she wanted. Tomorrow, she’d tell him how wrong he’d been. She didn’t want the game of loving at all. And she didn’t want the pretense as she had with Devin. She wanted real love, and Jonathan made it plain that he never wanted ties.

No matter how attracted to one another they were, they didn’t match.

If it were a choice between a complete kind of loving or nothing at all, Kara would take nothing at all.

In a strange kind of way, by asking for “an agreement” Jonathan was more honest with her than she’d been with him.

Dawn smiled as she wiped away the last of Kara’s tears. It didn’t matter that they understood none of each other’s words. They were friends.

Kara complimented the dress. Dawn beamed with pride. She tugged on Kara’s hand urging her to follow. Once they were in Dawn’s room, the young mother showed her the things she was making for the baby.

When Kara finally went back to her own room, she decided to pack. After making a fool of herself, she couldn’t stay. She would ask one of the men to take her into Brady, and from there, catch the stage to Fort Worth where she could buy a train ticket. She knew Jonathan would be fair about paying her for the months and probably let her keep the clothes. She would promise to send money back to square the debt as soon as she found other work.

There must be a job somewhere for the world’s worst bookkeeper.

At dawn, she walked down the stairs with her head held high. She felt she’d grown much older during the night. If nothing else from knowing first Devin and then Jonathan, she’d learned what she didn’t want. A part-time love or a someday marriage would never do.

H. B., Newton, Gideon and Luther waited for her in the dining room. All stood at attention as she entered, then fought to see which one would pull out her chair.

For a few minutes all were silent, until Newton said, “Pass the gravy.”

He fought to keep down a laugh as the other men frowned at him, but Newton was a man who never reined in his feelings.

H. B. attempted to silence Newton by delivering a blow across the large man’s chest. If Newton hadn’t weighed two hundred pounds, he would have been knocked out of his chair.

Kara’s cheeks burned. There was no question that the men knew about the fight. She only hoped they didn’t know the details. She took a deep breath. It was either die of embarrassment, or laugh. Laughing seemed easier.

“Of course.” She picked up the gravy bowl. “Would you like biscuits tossed your direction, also?”

The roar that followed shook the windows. All the men talked at once, telling Kara they didn’t care what the argument last night was about. They were on her side.

“You should have seen the man,” Newton snorted. “He was downright calico from head to foot. Gravy spots, meat stuck to him, biscuits hanging off him.” They all roared. “And he had this look on his face as if he had no idea where the sudden food storm had come from.”

“But we knew.” H. B. nodded with the soberness of a judge. “It had to be an Irish storm.”

Newton agreed.

Snort came into the dining room, a blanket draped over his bandaged shoulder. Newton related the story again, adding several points he must have forgotten in the first telling.

Finally, when everyone calmed down, Kara asked, “Where is Jonathan?” At this point, she wouldn’t have been surprised if the men had tied him up.

“He left early to meet the supply train due in from Kansas City. One of the rangers, who rode in last night, said the wagons were camped just inside Catlin land. They should be here in a few hours.”

Kara tried to smile but couldn’t. A supply train from Kansas City might bring her a letter from Mary Ann, maybe even from her father. Enough time had passed for the letter to go through Mary Ann to Father James, to her father and back again. In a few hours she might have word that all was calm at home once more and she could return. The longer her father took to answer, the more her worries grew.

The wagons would also be heading back, offering her the ride she needed. Her time at Catlin Ranch was ending. She’d apologize to Jonathan, then say her good-byes.

She excused herself and headed toward the study. As she passed the great room, Kara noticed Angela sitting beside Cooper. He appeared to be sleeping. Kara watched Angela straighten the covers across his chest, then gently brush a strand of his graying hair from his bandaged forehead.

Not wanting to pry, Kara hurried to the small study she used as an office.

Three hours later, she was still trying to straighten the mass of paperwork so that some real bookkeeper could take over. She heard Gideon yell to pull the gates and glanced up to see wagons rolling into the courtyard.

Kara ran to watch along with everyone else on the ranch.

Angela told her that general supplies came in from Brady, but twice a year the ranch ordered their main goods from Kansas City. Among the delivery would be gardening tools, seeds and four dozen trees with their roots wrapped in burlap. Two new washtubs for the bunkhouse. A Franklin stove for the new wing that had been built last fall had also been included.

One wagon contained all manner of saddles and gear needed for the roundup. Another wagon hauled only rosewood planks to complete the chapel Miss Victoria had started years ago by the cemetery.

Kara stood on the porch, watching as men hurried from the bunkhouse to ask about shipments they requested.

The driver of the third wagon seemed to have most of the personal orders. When the crowd cleared, Kara ventured closer to him.

“Do you have anything for Kara O’Riley?” she asked. “A letter from a Mary Ann Adams, perhaps?”

“Fifth wagon,” the man shouted as he moved his team out of the way. “The one with a covering.”

Kara noticed Jonathan watching her from atop his horse, but she didn’t speak to him as she ran to the fifth wagon. His hat was low against the sun but she knew he wasn’t smiling. He was not a man given to smiling, and after last night he would probably never do so again in her presence.

When Kara came around the side of the fifth wagon, a tiny woman in a black shawl almost jumped off the bench. “Kara!” Mary Ann cried.

For a moment, Kara couldn’t believe what she saw. “Mary Ann!” she shouted. “Oh, Mary Ann.”

They hugged and laughed.

“But how? Why?” Kara had too many questions to get any one out of her mouth.

“Mr. Bayley said I could come. But I can only stay a few days. Then I have to go back with the wagons. In your letters, you talked about this place so much, I had to see it. I hope I don’t crowd you up by coming so close to Christmas? I told Mr. Bayley you were my family and I just had to come.”

“Oh, no, we have plenty of room.” She glanced at Jonathan, who was near enough to hear the conversation.

He still frowned, but he nodded at Kara, backing up her invitation.

“The children are asleep in the wagon. They made me promise to wake them when we got here.” Mary Ann looped her arm around Kara’s. “We also brought you a grand surprise.”

As the women rounded the rear of the wagon, a man backed out from beneath the canvas top. He wore the first wool, square-cut suit Kara had seen in months and carried a little round hat that looked out of place. His legs were stocky and short, his chest broad.

As he stepped down he sneezed loudly and reached for a handkerchief in his back pocket with worn workman’s hands. He blew his nose and turned to face the women.

When Kara’s gaze reached his face, her heart stopped. “Devin!” she whispered with the little air left in her lungs.

“Karina O’Riley,” he said with a nod. “I’ve come to take you home.” His words were matter-of-fact, more an order than a request. His smile one of relief.

Jonathan swung out of his saddle in one fluid movement and caught Kara just seconds before she hit the dirt. He lifted her up in his arms and turned toward the house without even a glance in the direction of Devin O’Toole. He’d watched the Irishman for the past three hours and seen quite enough of the man.

“What’s wrong with the lass?” Devin asked as he followed. “She’s a simpleton, that one, fainting at the sight of someone she’s known near all her life.”

No one listened to the redheaded man in wool. Jonathan glanced at Newton and knew the foreman’s observations were the same as his. Devin hadn’t offered so much as a handshake to his future bride.

Without a word Jonathan passed the command to Newton, for he had other things on his mind and in his arms at the moment.

After Jonathan carried Kara through the wide front doors, H. B. stepped in front of Devin like a huge human gate.

“Pardon me!” Devin tried to move around the old man who towered over him.

“You’re pardoned, mister, but you’ll not pass until the boss gives the word.” H. B.’s snarl pushed the Irishman back a few feet.

“I’ll have you know I’m a friend of the O’Riley family.” Devin’s face reddened with anger.

“I don’t care if you’re President Ulysses S. Grant and Julia B. is calling. No one enters the house without an invitation.”

Devin wouldn’t be put off so easily. “Who do you think you are?” With a deep breath he barreled his chest, like a rooster preparing to fight. The effect was ruined shortly when he had to sneeze.

“I’m Saint Peter, and you’re fixin’ to pass through the pearly gates if you don’t back off.” H. B. smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in months.

Devin backed down. “I’ll wait until Karina comes to her senses. If the woman ever does.”

H. B. widened his stance and remained rooted to his post.

Mary Ann watched the exchange. She shivered, huddling close to her sleeping children. If Devin O’Toole hadn’t been allowed to enter, she and her children might also not be able to pass. She may have traveled all this way to spend Christmas with her friend and be left to sleep in the wagon. Kara had written about the men called the Old Guard. She’d said they were old, but she hadn’t mentioned how frightening they looked.

A cowboy, who’d been yelling orders in rapid fire, stepped up to Mary Ann. Though he was easily twice her size or more, he held his hat in his hand as though bashful.

“Pardon me, ma’am. I’m Jason Newton, the foreman of this spread.” He blushed beneath his tanned skin. “I understand you’re Miss Kara’s friend. Is there any way I can be of service to you?”

Mary Ann was almost too afraid to speak. “I’m Mrs. Adams. If no one would object, I’d like to find a place to get my children out of the cold.” She looked around at the other buildings. The place was like a small town with not only a huge house but a long bunkhouse next to the barn and several other buildings encircled by a stone fence.

“Have you had any lunch, Mrs. Adams?” the big man asked.