Wild Kat (2 page)

“Mama
would have your hide for leaving her kitchen this dirty.”  Kathleen turned back
time putting the room back in its spotless condition.  Her mother would be
proud and that satisfied her.  She took her father’s shotgun off the wall. It
was clean as a whistle.  She loaded it and went looking for supper.  She was starving
and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table.

Three
kills in less than an hour, the gray rabbits were clenched in her fist. 
Kathleen skinned, gutted and prepared them for her stew.  She chopped root
vegetables and put them all in a pot to simmer.  She rolled out biscuits and
baked them. She took two quilts and a pillow and got a bowl of stew and some
biscuits to hide in her hayloft.  She heard the wagon just as she finished
sopping up the last of the broth.

Thomas
tied the horse to the rail and began unloading the wagon.  When he came out of
the house he yelled “Hello!”  She watched him walking toward the barn and hid
under the hay.

“Hello.” 
He called once inside.  Thomas looked in the stalls and the loft seeing the bed
she made.  He saw no one and climbed down.  “Somebody moved into our barn
Toby.” 

“Well,
if you can hear me thank you for cleaning up and for supper.  I guess your
living in my loft is okay as long as you earn your keep.”  Kathleen smiled in
her hiding place under the hay.  She came out when he left and stifled a sneeze.

Early
the next morning he milked the cow again and fed the chickens.  There’s
breakfast on the stove.  I am going to the south field for the day.  I sure
would like dinner waiting on me.”  Thomas called up to the hayloft waking
Kathleen.

She was disoriented at first
but scurried under the hay when she realized who was speaking to her.  Hearing
nothing else she peered down at the yard.  He was loading the wagon with tools.

The
sun was high already as Kathleen watched him ride away with his dog.  She drew
herself a bath and soaked for awhile.  After she dressed in Julie’s faded
overalls she took her fishing rod down to the creek to catch supper.  She
returned early in the afternoon with her line of fish.  After she cleaned them
she left them to soak on the counter.  She sliced and peeled apples for a pie
and boiled potatoes.  Her pie cooled on the windowsill while she fried the fish
and mashed the potatoes, green beans simmered on the back of the stove.  She
gazed out the window, no sign of him yet.  After fixing herself a plate she
left him a note and went to the loft. She watched him go inside the house and
wondered what he would say to her note.  Once inside the house Thomas read her
letter.

“Look
here Toby we got mail.  It says we need flour, sugar, salt and dungarees. 
Twenty-five inch waist.  There’s a little bit of a fellow living in our barn. 
Long as he keeps cooking this good I do not care, do you boy?  Let’s see
there’s a bunch of things he must be ready to can.  I swear we must be out of
everything!  I’m not sure why we need half of it either.”  Thomas shoved the
last of the fish in his mouth.  “Delicious.  Sorry boy you’ll have to eat left
over stew.  Also says here to stay out of my own hayloft if I want to keep
eating this well.  That is all right I guess.”  Thomas put his dishes in the
washtub and left them for his new house servant. He gathered his laundry and
linens leaving them by the door to be washed.  He penned a note back to the
little fellow, and went to sit on the porch.  He stared at the barn wondering
who lived there.  He wondered how it was that they chose his barn.  Thinking of
how desperate they must be to live in a hayloft.  They would probably leave
when he brought the clothes.  Two meals and some heavy cleaning, they did save
him plenty of time.  He needed a wife to help around the house. It was a lot to
manage with the crops, and the fixing and mending of everything that had fallen
apart from lack of use.  He had spent months on the storm beaten barn and roof
on the house.  The smoke house was nearly ready to collapse when he bought the
place and the orchard had several fallen trees that had to be cleared.  He was
just beginning to catch his breath.  The inside of the house had suffered
because of it but what could he do?  The animals needed a place to sleep, and
so did he.  They needed to eat and they came first.  His new loft tenant must
think him to be a horrible slob but then who asked for his opinion anyway?

She
watched from the darkness, his stare was intense.  What dreamy eyes he had,
they seemed to soak her in.  She wondered if he could see her.  Raising her
hand to wave she watched. He did not wave back.  He must be thinking over what
she said.  Next time she would offer to buy the farm from him.

He
left for town early the next morning.  She was right behind him.  Kathleen hung
a three point deer from the hook and pulley over the barn door to drain. With
her laundry soaking she gathered eggs and churned butter.  It had been so long
since she had eaten good eggs and gravy that she planned on it for supper.

In
town Thomas read off his list to the clerk.  “Those will not fit you.  You are
a thirty-four easily.”  He said after the dungaree order.  “Not for me, a
little fellow is living in my barn, he left me a note and this is his list.” 
One gray haired old man at the checkerboard cackled.  The opponent shushed him
and shot him a glare.

“A
man you say?”  Jacob the storekeeper adjusted his wire rimmed spectacles and
watched Thomas with curious milky sky blue eyes.    He sucked his cheeks in to
mask his grin.

“Yes.”
Thomas watched the two old geezers playing checkers.  Their laughter sounded
either like he missed the joke or he was the joke, and whichever it was Thomas
was not amused.

“Are
you sure?” He peered at Thomas over his spectacles. His bushy gray eyebrows
raised just a hint.

“Yes.” 
Thomas answered uneasy now.  The smell of the pickle barrel grew more intense. 
Brine filled his nose and turned his stomach to just queasy.

“Seen
him them?”  Jacob shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

“Well,
no” Thomas wondered what he was hiding.  Hands in pockets usually meant that.

“Isn’t
a man, take these moccasins, my compliments.”  Jacob hurried about the dusty
store.

“If
it isn’t a man, what is it, an Indian?”  Thomas looked at the moccasins.  Jacob
thought about it a Moment, choosing his answers carefully.  His hands
readjusted in his pockets.

“Some
might say that, I say it’s a cat.”  He tried very hard to hide his smirk.

“A
cat?”  Thomas’ eyebrows rose, the smell of the pickle barrel souring his
stomach further.

“A
wild cat, and if you aren’t careful she’ll slit you throat where you sleep.” 
He tried to evade the questions as well as he could.

“I
am sorry Jacob but I am confused, you are talking nonsense.”  Thomas was
growing impatient with the older fellow’s games.

“Nope,
you’ve got a wild cat.  You take my word for it.”  Jacob’s hands were out now
and hung loosely at his sides.  Thomas’ eyes narrowed.

“This
cat is a woman?”

“Yup. 
The prettiest kind too.  Long black curls, big green eyes like emeralds, unless
she’s angry then they turn yellow, and a figure that makes men dream.”  Jacob
gestured a woman’s figure with his hands and whistled through his teeth.

“And
she’ll slit my throat?”  Thomas swallowed hard.  The checker players were cackling
loudly now.  Tears streamed from the first one’s eyes.

“If
you aren’t careful.  She can hunt better than any man can, she learned from
them Indians.  They call her Running Deer, because you cannot hear her in the
woods.”

“How
old is she?”  His mood brightened.

“Should
be sixteen if she is living in your barn.  That means she has been sprung from
the orphanage, and you are living in
her
house my friend.  I’d be mighty
damn careful if I was you.”  Jacob laughed, his whole slender body shaking.

“Pretty
huh?” Thomas threw a flour sack over his shoulder.

“Beautiful
and sweet as honey, unless you cross her.” Jacob hurried to keep up to Thomas
as he strode from the store to the wagon.

“What’s
her name?”

“I
told you, Kat.”

“Now
Jacob, nobody is named cat.”  Thomas admonished him looking over his shoulder
at the old gent.

“Kat,
its short for Kathleen Whitley.  Like I said be careful, or she will have her
house back and you will be taking up new quarters six feet under.  She already
has Lawson over at the bank shaking in his boots.” Jacob giggled.

“A
woman huh?  Well, she makes a great rabbit stew.”  Thomas patted his belly.

“She
should, her mama won the blue ribbon every year at the county fair for her
cooking.”

“Sounds
like she’d make a good wife.”

“Yep,
if you can catch her although I have my doubts about that, you just don’t seem
quite clever enough. No offense meant.  Lots of luck Thomas.  It will take one
hell of a man to tame Wild Kat.”  Jacob cackled as loudly as did the other old
men, Thomas could hear them from outside the store.

Thomas
rode home in silence so Toby slept.  He wondered what she looked like, what she
really looked like.  A woman that sounded that ornery must have an ornery face
no matter what Jacob said.  The dusty rutted road bounced the wagon
uncomfortably.  Why she didn’t introduce herself and why would she want
moccasins?  He decided he must see this beauty Jacob went on and on about. 
Thomas waved at a passing wagon.  Wilson Lewis looked like he was on his way to
visit the whore he supported in town.  Thomas avoided situations like those,
they were always trouble.  He tipped his hat to Wilson who tipped his own in
return.

Thomas
found another note when he got home next to his supper.  “I cannot afford
another pig.  She sure does not mind telling me how to spend money.  Toby this
young lady is trying to bankrupt me.  She’ll have to buy her own damn pig, that
is all there is to it Toby.”  Thomas wrote her a response.

I do
not have extra money for pigs and dungarees.  If you need a pig so badly you
will have to buy your own.  Also Jacob sends his regards and these moccasins. 
I know you are Kat Whitley and this
used
to be your house.  You’re
welcome to stay in the barn as long as you keep up the work but by fall I
expect you have some place besides my hayloft to live.
He
signed his name and left the note on the pile of goods she wanted.

“No
money my behind!  My eggs and gravy just do not taste good without sausage,
bacon or ham.  The fool cannot make little pigs without big ones.  We’ll see
about this.”  She said to his note.  She knelt before the stairs at the rear of
the kitchen. Reaching under the first step’s edge, she pulled the hidden pins. 
She lifted the first three steps up and descended the hidden ladder.   After
lighting a lamp she could see papa’s pride sitting quietly covered at the far
end of the tunnel.  The dirt walls were lined with jugs of his special juice,
five years of must and dust filled her nose and she sneezed violently.   Papa
found two things early in his marriage.  This farm produced the best corn in
the county and there was nobody to sell it to unless it was packaged properly. 
He found he could sell almost an acre’s worth on the cob and forty acres worth
in jugs.  His grandfather’s recipe sold best.  He paid off his farm and built a
bank account to be proud of.   Kat hauled three jugs up to the kitchen and
closed the hidden trap door. 

After
skinning the deer she butchered it and carried the pieces to the smokehouse.  “Will
not be long before I have ham for supper.”  She told the deer carcass.

Yes,
I am Kat Whitley and I prefer to be left alone.  You can thank Jacob for the
moccasins.  Take these jugs to him and tell him I want two pigs, opposites. 
Tell him he can throw in a pair of buckskins.  The county should be damn thirsty
by
now.                                                                               

“How
do you like that Toby?  She has no money so she pulls out whiskey.  I wonder
where she got it?  Girl’s been busy too, she has done cured that buck, and
polished the floors.”  Thomas ate his roast happily.  He wondered how hard it
would be talking her into marriage.  At this point he could not have cared less
what she looked like. His house was clean and polished and his belly full.   Anybody
that worked this hard and cooked this good was worth keeping around.

Early
the next morning someone knocked on the back door waking Thomas.  He stumbled
through the house half-asleep expecting to see a beautiful young girl.  Instead
a giant Indian stood on the other side.  He was as big as Thomas and wore a
long braid with beads and feathers sticking out of it.  His buckskins were worn
but looked comfortable.  He wore beads on a string around his neck and a
chambray shirt.  Thomas looked him over curiously but he felt no fear. He did
not think the Indian was there to hurt him, if he were he would not have
knocked.