AWARM AUGUST BREEZE rippled the curtains of the half-opened bedroom window, and Kathryn managed to reposition herself in bed, wishing she could go back to sleep. Her gaze fell on the shadowed contours of the cradle in the corner, an unexpected gift from Miss Maudie earlier that week. The baby blanket Kathryn had knitted was draped over the side, as were two sets of booties she’d finished recently. A sudden movement in her belly got Kathryn’s full attention. Apparently her little one didn’t know it wasn’t dawn yet. Kathryn pushed herself up, then slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, glad for the convenience of the indoor water closet.
Today was Friday, and the hours stretched before her unspoiled. Miss Maudie had decided she’d been working too hard and had insisted she take the entire day to rest and relax. Kathryn hadn’t argued. The weight she’d gained in the past month, along with the heat of late summer, made her uncomfortable, but she tried not to complain.
She lit an oil lamp and sliced pieces of bread and cheese, then sat down at the small breakfast table. Kathryn picked up the letter she’d penned the evening before, fully expecting nothing to come of it. While her father had never openly rejected her, even after her marriage to Larson, his continued lack of initiative to be involved in her life had been deterrent enough. But Kathryn felt certain her mother would have wanted her to give the relationship with her father another try, especially now.
She sealed and addressed the envelope and tucked it into her Bible. After dressing quickly, she snuffed out the oil lamp, grabbed the Bible and a blanket and left the cottage.
While she still missed the seclusion of her cabin in the foothills and the beauty belonging to the mountains and the stream, she’d discovered a bluff a short distance beyond the corrals that afforded a semblance of privacy and a spectacular view of the sunrise. It was no more than half a mile away, and Kathryn easily found her way in the pink light of dawn.
She spread the blanket, sank down, and placed her hands over her unborn child, cradling it as best she could. In little more than a month, she could actually be holding the precious gift. The doctor she’d seen all those months ago had said late September, but Kathryn hoped it would be a little early.
Lying back on the blanket, she watched the fading smattering of stars gradually surrender their brilliance. Thank you for my relationship with you, Lord. For my child, for a safe home, even for MacGregor’s willingness to loan me the money so I can keep my land.
She hadn’t spoken with MacGregor since signing the loan papers, and he’d been clear on the point that the agreement was to remain between the two of them—along with Kohlman, who would personally handle the transfer of funds. Kathryn had read through the thick document, but admittedly, some of the legal jargon had gone over her head. MacGregor encouraged her to have an attorney in town review it, and when the lawyer she met with gave his approval, she’d signed. Her child would have a legacy from his father after all.
As the sun rose, Kathryn continued to count her blessings. But no matter how many times she counted, Jacob kept returning to the list.
The man remained a mystery to her. Last Sunday on the way home from church, he’d been more talkative than she could remember, which surprised her because he’d been so quiet at the Carlsons’. Except with Lilly. That sweet girl could draw a laugh from him with hardly any effort, and Kathryn loved hearing Jacob laugh.
A bird trilled a morning song nearby, and Kathryn turned onto her side to lessen the ache that had started in her lower back. Jacob was so different from Larson, yet there were similarities. She loved Jacob’s laugh, his gentleness with the stock, his quiet manner . . . and the way he looked at her. Two days ago she’d felt someone’s stare and had turned to see Jacob standing by the corral, watching her. Having been discovered, he’d smiled and waved before disappearing back inside.
Somehow it felt wrong for her to think of Jacob and Larson in the same breath. She would give anything to have Larson back, but that would never happen. She would see him again some day, she held hope. But not in this life.
Dawn gradually spilled over the prairie and turned the pewter sky a cloudless blue. Kathryn read for the next hour in the book of John. The words of Jesus drew her in. I am the good shepherd, and know my sheep, and am known of mine. As the Father knoweth me, even so know I the Father: and I lay down my life for the sheep. “You know me perfectly, Lord. Help me to know you that well.”
As she read on, she sensed a stirring inside her. My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: And I give unto them eternal life; and they shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand. She liked that thought especially—that no one could snatch her out of His hand. “No matter what happens to me, Lord, you are with me. I may lose everything else—like Larson and our life together—but I will always have you.” After reading a while longer, she decided to head back.
She stood and bent to gather the blanket. A sudden tightening in her abdomen doubled her over. She sank to the ground, panting. The pain gradually receded but the next one hit seconds later. Gasping, she fisted the blanket in her hands until her knuckles turned white. The tightening eased, but she braced herself for another.
Nothing came.
Letting out the breath she’d been holding, she glanced over her shoulder. The roofline of the main house crested above the stables and bunkhouses in the distance. She called out but doubted anyone would hear. Putting a hand to her forehead, she felt the cool layer of perspiration.
It took her twice as long to walk the short distance back, but at least the cramping didn’t return. She went directly to the stables and heard the sound of feed hitting a tin trough. She spotted him in the last stall, hefting a burlap bag to his shoulder.
“Jacob?”
He turned. “Kathryn!”
The alarm in his voice made her stop. In the dim light, she could almost make out the outline of his eyes. He wasn’t wearing his glasses. She took a step, curiosity driving her forward, but he quickly turned away.
Jacob dropped the bag and mumbled something Kathryn couldn’t hear. Seconds later he walked from the stall, feed bag in hand, glasses in place. “How are you this morning?” His brow creased as he came closer. “Are you all right? You look pale.”
“I’m worried about . . . my baby.” Another pain, a small one this time, twinged her abdomen and fear overcame her awkwardness at speaking about such private things. “I went for a walk this morning and started having pains. They’re not as bad now, but I think something may be wrong. I was wondering if you could take me into town to see the doctor.”
Jacob dropped the feedbag and looked up to the loft. “Gabe!”
Seconds later, Gabe peered over the railing, smiling. “Morning, Miss Kathryn.”
“I’m taking Mrs. Jennings into town. Can you take care of things here for a while?”
“Sure, Jacob. No problem. You take care of Miss Kathryn.”
Kathryn carefully eased back on the doctor’s table and slipped her hand down and around the full swell of her belly. She whispered a prayer in her heart, assuring her baby that all would be well, then tried to believe it herself.
“You’ll feel a bit of pressure during the examination, Mrs. Jennings.” Dr. Frank Hadley’s voice heightened the quiet of the small room off of his office. “Try and relax. It’ll be over soon.”
Kathryn blew out a shaky breath and in the same instant, wondered if he’d say the same thing if he were the one on the table. But at the sudden spasm in her loins, her humor fell away.
Oh, God, I’m scared. Please don’t let anything happen to my baby.
She clenched her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe slowly. In and out. In and out. Every muscle in her body seemed to constrict. Concentrate on something else. She thought of Jacob waiting on the other side of the door and felt unexpected comfort. They’d passed the cemetery moments ago on their way into town. If Jacob didn’t mind, she hoped to have some time to visit there before they headed back today. Larson, I wish you were here with me now. To watch our child grow inside me. Then to hold our son or daughter—
“You may feel a slight twinge now, Mrs. Jennings,” Dr. Hadley said quietly from the end of the table.
Kathryn winced at the momentary discomfort and felt a tear trail down the side of her temple and into her hairline. After all the years of praying and waiting for a child, this was not as she had dreamed it would be. Instead of her first child’s birth being filled with wonder and hopeful anticipation, fear had swiftly marched in and set up camp in every corner of her heart.
Nothing can snatch you out of my hand.
So real was the whisper, Kathryn almost felt the soft breath of it on her face. Her whole body trembled.
Dr. Hadley’s hands stilled. “Are you all right, Mrs. Jennings?”
“Yes,” she answered softly, still cherishing the hushed echo of the voice. Yes, I will trust you, Lord. I’m safe in your hands.
Then a feeling swept through her, one not new to her. Kathryn knew the thought was ludicrous—she’d buried him months ago— but it still felt as though Larson were alive. With everything in her, she could still feel him, see his handsome face, his dark hair curling at the back of his neck, the strong line of his jaw, and those blue eyes that captured her so completely.
“Please, Mrs. Jennings, you must relax.” The doctor’s voice intoned a firmness it hadn’t before.
“Yes, sir.” And she tried to comply.
Though Dr. Hadley’s manner was gentle enough, the necessary intimacies of soon-to-be-motherhood were unnerving and foreign. She’d come to marriage a virgin, and Larson’s touch had been her only experience. He’d been a patient lover, exquisitely gentle, even in the midst of passion.
The doctor stood. “Have you noticed any bleeding, Mrs. Jennings?”
Panic tightened Kathryn’s chest. Bleeding? “Is something wrong with my baby, Dr. Hadley?”
“No, no, your baby is fine, I assure you.” He lightly touched her knee. “But you were right to come in and see me.” With kindness, he leveled his gaze. “Now, has there been any bleeding?”
Seeing assurance in his eyes, Kathryn calmed. “No, there hasn’t.”
“Good. I’ll check one more thing, and then we’ll be done.” He reached beneath the sheet and gently probed her upper abdomen.
The child inside her protested, and Kathryn drew in a breath, marveling again at the miracle of life so quickly overtaking the space inside her. She wondered too, with a brush of fear, what it would be like when the child decided to push its way into the world.
Finished with his examination, Dr. Hadley crossed the room and washed his hands in the basin. “Would you like me to call your husband in before we talk?”
Kathryn sat and repositioned the sheet over herself for privacy. “Oh, Jacob’s not my husband,” she corrected. Then seeing the rise of the doctor’s brow, she quickly added, “My husband died earlier this year. Jacob is my friend.” She covered the unborn baby with a hand. “But that’s why this child . . . my husband’s child . . . is especially important to me.”
Dr. Hadley nodded with understanding, a sad smile turning his mouth. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Jennings, but you needn’t worry about yourself or your child. The pains you experienced this morning are normal. They’re your body’s way of preparing for the baby’s birth. You’re a strong woman in excellent health, and the baby appears to be fine. A strong, healthy heartbeat, and right where he, or she, needs to be for almost eight months along.” He encouraged her to eat plenty to nourish the life inside her and to get ample rest. She could maintain her normal routine but was to rest immediately if fatigued.
“Well, Mrs. Jennings, if you don’t have any other questions for me, I’ll leave you to dress. I’ll be happy to help deliver your child when the time comes. And if you need anything, please call on me.” He closed the door behind him when he left.
Kathryn carefully stood and moved behind the screen to dress. Stepping back into her dress, she felt the bulge in her pocket and pulled out the music box. She gently rotated the key on the side and set it on the chair as she finished dressing.
The fragile notes seemed especially slow, as though the very act of striking the chords inside presented a strain. The music box wasn’t of the finest quality, but Kathryn hoped the parts weren’t already failing because she played it so often. As she buttoned her bodice, she listened to the tune. Somehow the slower, stuttered syncopation better matched the cadence of her mood today.
When she emerged from the exam room, she found Jacob standing by the window, waiting for her.
He stepped forward. “Are you all right? Is the baby . . . ?”
She smiled. “I’m fine and the baby is too. The doctor said what I experienced was normal.” She looked down. “I’m a bit embarrassed to have made you bring me all the way into town for nothing.”
“It wasn’t for nothing. We know you’re all right and that your baby is too.”
Kathryn laid a hand to Jacob’s arm. What a gentle, thoughtful man. “Thank you, Jacob.” When he covered her hand with his, the tingle from his touch moved through her body. Surprised by her response to him, she gently withdrew her hand. “Well, we can head back now, if you’re ready.”
He paused. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
Concern layered his soft, raspy voice, and Kathryn would have given much to see his eyes at that moment. “Yes, I’m fine, Jacob. Really.”
He headed to the door, but the sound of one opening behind her drew Kathryn’s attention.
Dr. Hadley appeared. “Ah, good, Mrs. Jennings, you’re still here. There was one more thing I wanted to tell you. Moderate walks are fine, even encouraged. But please ask someone to accompany you from now on. It wouldn’t do for you to be alone and have a recurrence of what happened this morning. Especially as your time approaches.”
“Certainly, Doctor. Thank you.”
Kathryn accepted Jacob’s help into the wagon and noticed a smile tilting the left side of his mouth as he climbed up beside her.
“Personally, I’ve always enjoyed a good walk,” he said, then gave the reins a flick.
Kathryn couldn’t help but chuckle at his implication. How was it possible? The closer she looked at the man beside her, the more she got to know him, the less she saw his scars.
The relief Larson felt at discovering that Kathryn’s baby was all right, that Kathryn was all right, still coursed through him. But when she’d laid a hand to his arm a moment before, a reckless seed of hope had taken root inside him—entirely without consent. A hope that perhaps Kathryn might someday learn to see past his ugliness to the man he’d become, to the husband who still loved her and who would love her child, if given the chance.
In a way, he felt a kinship with the tiny life growing inside her womb. From reading the Bible, he’d come to know that God didn’t love her baby any less because of the way it was conceived. He sighed to himself, wishing he’d learned that sooner in relation to his own life.
“Jacob, would you mind if we made a brief stop before leaving town?” Kathryn’s voice sounded hesitant. “If you can spare the time.”
“Sure, where to?” Anything to prolong being with her.
She slipped something from the pages of the Bible she’d left on the buckboard. “I’d like to stop by the post office and mercantile, and then . . . visit my husband’s grave.”
It took him a minute to process her question, and Larson noted again the hesitance in her tone. “Sure. . . . I’d like to visit his grave with you, if that’s okay.” Her smile was answer enough.
He waited in the wagon while she went inside the post office and then the mercantile. Visiting his own grave with his widow wasn’t something he’d thought he’d ever do, and frankly he was surprised that he’d even suggested it.
Kathryn walked from the mercantile minutes later with a bouquet of fresh flowers wrapped in paper. Larson climbed down to help her.
“Kathryn!”
They both turned. Seeing the man walking toward them, a mixture of jealousy and dread curdled Larson’s stomach.
Kathryn’s face lit when Matthew Taylor hugged her. “Matthew, it’s so good to see you. How’ve you been?”
Taylor’s hands rested a mite too long on her shoulders before releasing her.
“How have you been is more like it.” Taylor’s gaze swept over her. He shook his head. “You look beautiful, Kathryn.”
A blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you.” Then she glanced back at Larson. “Matthew, I’d like you to meet a good friend of mine.”
As she made the introductions, Larson measured the man beside him. Things he’d not noticed about Taylor before, and would rather not have noticed now, caught his attention. The man’s broad-shouldered stance conveyed undeniable strength and command. His hair was thick, cropped close at the base of his neck, and his jaw was freshly shaven and smooth. Larson imagined women might consider Taylor handsome and wondered if Kathryn did.
“Jacob and I work together at Casaroja. We both started working there about the same time and . . .” Larson thought he detected a slight frown in Taylor’s eyes. Did Taylor disapprove of Kathryn’s working there? “Jacob manages the stables at Casaroja,” she continued, drawing Larson into the conversation with a look. “Matthew Taylor used to work on my husband’s ranch.” She looked down briefly. “Things were hard after Larson died, and Matthew helped me get through a very difficult time.”
Yeah, he helped you, all right, and himself. Larson forced himself to meet Taylor’s eyes, waiting to see disgust there—waiting for the reaction that would give him reason to hate Matthew Taylor all the more.
Taylor extended his hand. “It’s good to meet you, Jacob.” His grip was firm, his eyes taking in the obvious scarring but returning only warmth. No condemnation. “So, Kathryn, you work at MacGregor’s ranch now?” he asked, turning his attention back. “Exactly how did that come about?”
“Actually, I believe it’s by God’s design that I’m there.” Her smile looked coerced. “It’s been a very good situation for me, and the pay is excellent.”
Taylor’s look held doubt but he finally nodded. “Well, that explains why I haven’t seen you around town. And I’ve been looking,” he added softly.
The man’s obvious affection wore on Larson. First because it was his wife Taylor was looking at, and second because the look in the man’s eyes appeared to be genuine. And the glow in Kathryn’s face didn’t help. If not mistaking the signs, Larson guessed that Matthew Taylor truly loved Kathryn. But even if he did love her, it didn’t make right the wrong that he and Kathryn had done together. If he was the father.
“I’m sorry, Matthew. It all happened so fast. I got the job and then moved out there soon after. I’ve been busy with work since then, and being so far out of town, I . . .” She stopped abruptly. “Honestly, Matthew, I think I just needed some time away from . . . everything.”
“. . . from you,” is what Larson heard her saying. Seeing Taylor’s expression, Larson knew he’d caught her meaning as well. Larson recognized the look in Taylor’s eyes—that of a man clearly trying to gauge a woman’s feelings and wondering how much to reveal, how much to risk.
Apparently not sure of his wager, Taylor only nodded. “So the two of you are in town for the day?”
This was the chance Larson had been waiting for. “Actually, Kathryn and I were about to leave.”
Kathryn glanced at him as though surprised to hear him speak. “Yes, we were just heading back. Jacob was kind enough to bring me into town to see the doctor this morning.”
Taylor frowned. “There’s nothing wrong, is there? With you or the—”
“No, everything’s fine,” she assured him, and laid a hand to his arm.
Larson saw the gesture, and suddenly it didn’t mean quite what he thought it had before. Kathryn looked at him and as though reading his thoughts, gently withdrew her hand from Taylor’s arm.
“The doctor said I’m fine, and that the baby is too. I was being overprotective.”
Taylor glanced at Larson, a shy look in his eyes. “Would you mind if I spoke to Kathryn for a minute? Alone?”
You bet I mind. “No, not at all.” Larson walked to the other side of the wagon and climbed to the bench.
As Taylor spoke, his voice grew more urgent, and Larson heard bits and pieces of the conversation between them.
“. . . maybe things moved too quickly between us, but it was unfair for you to . . . I don’t care what people are . . . You know I still feel the same way. . . .” Finally, Taylor sighed. “At least tell me you understand what I’m saying to you.”
“Yes, I do, Matthew. Thank you,” Kathryn answered. “But this way is best, at least for now.”
Larson stole a glance behind him. From the look on Taylor’s face, he clearly didn’t agree.
Taylor briefly leaned close and whispered something to Kathryn and then stepped back. “If it’s all right, I’d like to pay my respects to your husband too.”
Larson couldn’t believe it. Here Taylor wanted to pay his respects, and the man hadn’t even waited until Larson was dead and buried before staking claim to his wife. Larson silently willed Kathryn to say no.
“Of course, Matthew. You’re welcome to join us.”
His grip tightened on the reins. Taylor helped Kathryn into the wagon and then climbed into the back himself. Whatever else Taylor said had apparently moved Kathryn, because Larson saw the sheen in her eyes.
He waited in the wagon while the two of them visited his grave. He’d visited it already, and he certainly didn’t care to do it again with Taylor standing over him. Larson’s eyes narrowed as he watched them. How many men got the chance to die and then come back to life and see the choices their wife had made? It sure had a way of putting things into perspective. Larson huffed a laugh, not feeling the least bit of humor.
Kathryn knelt by the makeshift headstone and laid the flowers down. Taylor stood wordless by her side. Why was Kathryn visiting his grave anyway? And with the very man she’d so quickly abandoned him for? Taylor was obviously willing to take Kathryn as his own and to take responsibility for his mistake, yet Kathryn refused. Somehow that didn’t make Larson feel any better.
He shook his head. None of it made any sense. No matter how he worked it in his mind, this didn’t fit the picture of the woman Larson thought he’d known all these years. A stirring started deep inside him. More importantly, it didn’t fit the portrait of the woman he’d been given the chance to know and love again, for the second time in his life.
Kathryn snuck a glance at Jacob seated on the pew beside her. He wasn’t singing with the rest of the congregation, but somehow she felt him following along. He’d dressed up more today than she’d ever seen him before, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done it for her. The possibility coaxed a smile.
“Please be seated,” Patrick Carlson said when the song ended. “Turn in your Bibles with me to Matthew chapter five. We’ll be reading from the Sermon on the Mount. . . .”
Kathryn opened her Bible. Balancing it with one hand, she shifted on the hard pew to ease the dull ache in her back. The Bible slipped and landed with a soft thud on the wooden floor. Jacob retrieved it along with the papers that had fallen out. It was a bit foolish, but she still couldn’t part with the documents found in Larson’s coat pocket, despite the papers being crinkled and the writing indistinguishable.
Jacob gathered them but then paused as though staring at one in particular. After a moment, he handed them back.
Kathryn leaned close. “Thank you,” she whispered, catching a faint scent of musk. Jacob’s thin beard was neatly trimmed. Looking at the knit cap covering his head, an idea came to mind and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. Making a mental note, she started to slip the papers back into her Bible, but she stopped when she read the faded letterhead.
Her stomach dropped.
Printed across the top—in barely legible faded type—was the name Berklyn Stockholders.
“How about another piece of cake, Jacob? I’ll throw in a fresh cup of coffee.” Hannah Carlson rose from the porch swing.
“No, ma’am, I can’t eat another bite.” He stood and walked to the edge of the front porch. “But it was delicious. Thank you for such a fine meal.”
Hannah’s look turned conspiratorial. “Then I’ll just wrap it up and you can take it with you for later. I’ll put one in for Kathryn too.” She glanced at Kathryn’s tummy. “You’ll be hungry later tonight.”
“Oh please, Hannah, don’t. I don’t need it.” Kathryn laughed along with everyone else, but only on the surface. She loved the child inside her more than anything else on earth, and nothing would ever change that. So how could she explain feeling bigger than a barn and not the least bit attractive? As though her attractiveness should matter. But it did matter for some reason. Especially today.
Kathryn looked across the porch at Jacob. He didn’t smile or nod, so she had no idea whether he was watching her or not. Her thoughts turned back to church this morning, and she wondered again why Larson had been carrying a letter from Berklyn Stockholders with him that day. What kind of company was it? She guessed it involved cattle markets somehow, since Donlyn MacGregor had also corresponded with them. But MacGregor’s letter from them had mentioned something about water rights. If only she’d had more time while in MacGregor’s office that day. She would check with the bank about Berklyn Stockholders. Certainly someone there would know. But she wouldn’t ask Kohlman. The less she had to do with that man, the better.
“Kathryn?”
She looked up to see Jacob standing beside her chair.
“It’s time for us to head back. Are you ready?”
For a moment she wished Jacob would offer his hand and help her up. But his hands were stuffed into his pockets, away from sight—like his eyes and his emotions. Hidden. Like so much of him was to her.
“Yes, I’m ready,” she answered, seeing her faint reflection in Jacob’s glasses when she would have much preferred to see him.
Halfway to Casaroja, a warm breeze swept down from the north across the plains, bringing with it the sweet smell of rain. Gray clouds gathered in the northwest, piled high one atop the other over the steep rocky range. The farmers and ranchers would welcome the rain, but Kathryn hoped she and Jacob would make it back to Casaroja before the thunderhead unleashed its fury. While the rain didn’t bother her, being caught in a thunderstorm on the prairie was another thing altogether.
Closing her eyes, the distant memory of another summer thunderstorm made her skin tingle. She could still hear the claps of thunder crashing overhead. Without warning, gusting winds had swept down late that afternoon as she and Larson traveled back from Denver, and Larson had sought refuge in a ravine he’d stayed in before. He’d made sure she was safe in the cleft of an overhang before going back for the horses. When he disappeared into the driving wind and rain, she feared he wouldn’t find his way back to her. How could he? She could barely see two feet in front of herself. Once he returned, she’d asked him about it. Larson had shrugged as though it was something he’d never considered before. “I just know the way . . . in here,” he’d added, lightly touching his chest. Half wanting to smack him for treating her fear so casually, she had sought the reassurance of his arms instead. And through the night, even as the storm subsided, Larson had chased away her fear and any chill that might have come.
Kathryn’s eyes filled with tears, and her chest tightened painfully. Her skin tingled again, but this time with the longing for Larson’s touch. For the chance to again look into his eyes and see the fire that burned there for her.
“Are you all right?” Jacob asked, quiet beside her.
She turned to find him watching her. Whether he noticed her tears or not, when she nodded he just looked back to watch the road, and Kathryn felt strangely bereft. She remembered the many times in the past when she’d wished Larson would have held or touched her at a moment like this. She could’ve asked him to and he would have, no doubt. It was silly, she knew, but somehow it wasn’t the same if she had to ask. And she wasn’t about to ask Jacob to do such a thing. It wouldn’t have been proper, nor would—
Jacob’s hand covered hers on the bench between them.
Kathryn closed her eyes, and tears slipped down her cheek. A part of her heart long cordoned off slowly opened, and she gasped softly at the loneliness hoarded inside. The warmth from Jacob’s hand seeped into hers. She shivered and gripped the buckboard tighter, hoping he wouldn’t move it away. He didn’t.
Neither of them looked at the other, yet it felt as though they were joined somehow. Connected in a way Kathryn had never been with another person before.