Chapter Thirteen

The Nylans were just sitting down to supper when Johnny Fitzpatrick rode into the yard and called for Jessica. In spite of her mother’s protests, Jessica went outside to greet him.

“You going somewhere?” she asked when she saw the gear tied to his saddle.

“I gotta talk to you, in private,” he said, glancing past her to where her parents and several of her siblings hovered in the doorway.

Not bothering to seek permission, she strolled down the porch steps and out into the yard where Johnny sat his horse.

“Invite the boy for supper, at least,” Lulie called in annoyance.

Johnny swung down from his saddle as Jessica approached.

“What’s so gosh-awful important?” she asked without much concern.

“I got fired.”

“Fired? What on earth for?”

“For fighting with Davy Connors. He asked if he could draw my picture, and I remembered what you said about him and—”

“You didn’t tell him, did you?” she cried in alarm.

“Well, yeah, I had to when Mr. Connors broke us up. I couldn’t let him think I lit into Davy for no reason. Besides,” he added righteously, “he oughta know what his brother is.”

“Goddamn you, Johnny Fitzpatrick, if they put your brains in a jaybird, he’d fly backwards!”

Johnny flushed, but he refused to retreat. “I know I got you in trouble, too. Connors said he’d kill me if I ever told anybody else about Davy, and he said he’d take care of you, too.”

“What’d he mean, he’d ‘take care’ of me?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t reckon we wanna find out. That’s why I come by. He paid me a hundred dollars, Jess. We could go off together, to Dallas or someplace. Maybe even New Orleans. Whadda ya say?”

Jessica thought fast, weighing the possibilities. Any chance she had with Davy was gone now. If she stayed around here, her future would hold only another cowboy like Johnny and Sam Connors’s wrath. In a city, there would be lots of men.

“All right, only I can’t go now. My folks’ll kill me if they find out. I’ll meet you someplace tonight after they’re asleep.”

They had barely settled on a rendezvous when Gus Nylan called to Jessie to hurry up.

“ ’Bye for now,” she whispered, backing away. “Goodbye, Johnny. I’ll miss you,” she called for her parents’ benefit. She waved as he rode away.

“What did he want?” her father demanded.

“Sam Connors fired him and he came to say goodbye.”

“Why didn’t he ask me for a job, then?”

Jessica shrugged. “I reckon he’s tired of Crosswicks.” She wandered back into supper, already deciding what she would take with her when she went.

Catherine had just finished her meager dinner, too excited over Sam’s expected visit to eat much, when she heard a horse out in the yard.

“Catherine!”

She started at the sound of Sam’s voice, instantly realizing he was upset. He certainly wouldn’t have come so early unless something were amiss. She hurried outside to find him approaching her door with determined steps. “What’s wrong?” she asked, stepping aside so he could enter her room and following him back inside.

“Davy got into a fight today with Johnny Fitzpatrick.”

She flinched from Sam’s accusing glare, wondering why he seemed so angry with her. “A fight? What about?”

“Jessie Nylan told Johnny that Davy is one of those fellows who only likes boys.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes. I see I don’t have to explain it to you, I guess they have lots of those fellows in your art school. And of course Johnny believed it, because everybody knows only sissies draw pictures.”

“Good heavens, is that what he said?”

“You’re damn right that’s what he said, and that’s what a lot of other people are thinking, too, which is why Davy’s not going to Philadelphia and why he’s finished with drawing and painting and all the rest.”

“Sam, you can’t mean it!”

“The hell I can’t! I let Davy take lessons from you so I could get on your good side, but I can see now I was a fool. You’ve wasted his time and filled his head full of crazy ideas, and now people are starting to think he’s strange. Now it’s going to stop.”

Catherine fought the rage building inside her, knowing they would accomplish little if they were both angry. “Don’t you think that should be David’s decision?”

“I’ve let him and you make the decisions so far, and look what happened. From now on, I’ll be in charge. If you’re going to be my wife, you’d better get used to it.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” she reminded him furiously. “And even if I were, I have no intention of obeying you or any men. As for David, you know Jessica only said those things out of spite. No one else thinks David is ‘strange,’ and you have absolutely no right to ruin his life...”

“Ruin his life!”

“Yes, ruin his life by forcing him to give up art. He’s only your brother, Sam, he’s not your son!”

“But he is my son!”

The words hung between them in the deadly silence for a long moment while Catherine stared at him in horror, trying to make sense of his claim. “Your—your son? But how?...You and Adora?...” Suddenly, she glimpsed the pain she had seen before, the hurt he usually kept so carefully hidden, but he covered it quickly with righteous indignation.

“I can see you’ve already decided I was the villain. After all, what kind of man would seduce his father’s wife? Well, you’re wrong, Catherine. I was seventeen years old, not much older than Davy is now, when my father brought her home.

“He’d gone to New Orleans on business. Adora was some kin to my mother’s family, a cousin or something. Her parents were dead and her brother had gambled away the family fortune. She was twenty-one—already an old maid—and they were thrilled to find somebody who’d take her without a dowry.

“I’d never seen a woman so beautiful. I could barely remember my mother, and I’d hardly been around any women at all. Naturally, I fell in love with her, and she encouraged me. My father was a busy man and couldn’t pay her the attention she thought she deserved.”

“But you didn’t have to—to—”

“No, I don’t suppose I did, but then, neither did she. My father went away on another trip. He was gone over a month. It was summer, and Adora made me take her on picnics so we could be alone. I’d never been with a woman before, so I didn’t really know what was happening the first time. I figured she’d stop me before things went too far, but she didn’t want to stop me.

“Afterwards, I felt terrible for what we’d done to my father, but she said she loved me and somehow that made everything all right. I started thinking we’d run away together. It never occurred to me she would refuse, but she did. My father was due home soon, and I told her we should leave before he got back.

“She laughed at me, told me she didn’t want a penniless boy when she already had a rich husband. I was furious. I told her I’d tell my father everything, but she wasn’t afraid. She said she would deny it, and then she told me she was carrying my child. If I told, my father wouldn’t believe me, but he’d throw me out and I’d never see my son. If I kept her secret, I could stay. Even though I could never claim the child, at least I could be with him. So I stayed, and when they both were dead, Davy was all mine.”

“Oh, Sam!” she cried, hardly able to bear the pain she saw in his eyes. How had he borne it all these years? How had he watched his own child growing up without once acknowledging him?

“I’ve kept him safe for fifteen years, and I’m not going to let you ruin him, now, Cat. You see, I am his father, and I know what’s best for him, and I have the right to protect him. That means he stays here and becomes a man.”

For a moment, Catherine had wanted to throw her arms around Sam and comfort him, but his cold belligerence wiped all such desires from her mind. Instead, she felt her fury building again. How could he be so unreasonable?

“Have you told David your decision?” she asked as calmly as she could.

“Not yet, but he won’t argue, not when I tell him what Johnny said. And you won’t mention Philadelphia or painting or anything like that to him ever again. Do you understand?”

Catherine had never been so furious in her entire life. Quaking from the force of her anger, she could barely speak. “I understand perfectly, and I want you to leave my house this instant.”

He seemed surprised. “Cat, this doesn’t change things between you and me.”

“It most certainly does!”

“I thought you’d understand when I told you the truth,” he said, obviously puzzled by her anger. “You always claimed I didn’t have the right to make Davy’s decisions, but I do.”

“No one has the right to make the wrong decisions for anyone!”

“This isn’t the wrong decision!”

“Yes, it is!” she cried, but quickly regained her control. “However, as you have pointed out to me, I have no right to make decisions of any kind where David is concerned. But I do have the right to decide whom I shall marry, and nothing on this earth could induce me to marry you!”

“Cat!” he protested, reaching for her.

“Don’t touch me!” she fairly screamed, raising her hands defensively and backing away. “Get out of here, right now!”

“Cat, listen to me. I didn’t mean—”

“I can’t force you to leave, but if you don’t, I’ll start screaming,” she said, her voice less than steady. “People will hear me, and I’ll tell them you broke in here and tried to attack me. I swear I will.”

Something in her face must have convinced him she was telling the truth. “All right, I’ll leave, but I’ll be back when you’ve had a chance to calm down so we can talk things over.”

“There’s nothing to talk over,” she insisted.

“I think there is,” he said infuriatingly. He turned on his heel and left.

Catherine held herself together until she heard his horse leaving the yard, then she collapsed onto the floor and surrendered to her tears. Huge wracking sobs shook her and tears poured down her face as she called Sam Connors every name she knew. He was the most overbearing, domineering, insufferable, cruel, and hateful man she had ever met, and she despised him to the depths of her soul.

Slowly, inexorably, time passed and exhaustion overcame her. Her sobbing stilled to an occasional hiccup, leaving her mind free to analyze what had happened.

Sam was David’s father. This explained so much that she had no cause to doubt it. The truth appalled her, but she also remembered Sam’s pain and knew he had suffered for whatever sins he had committed. She thought about what Johnny had said and wondered if David knew the terrible lies Jessica had told. How shattered he must be to bear the shame and know his love for art had caused it. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, certain Sam would never dream of offering him solace. No, sympathy wouldn’t fit in with Sam’s very narrow view of manhood. He would force poor David to conform to his own standards and crush every instinct for creativity the boy possessed. How could Sam be so cruel to his own son?

His son. And Catherine carried his second child. Had she thought Sam incapable of hurting his own child? What a fool she was! She had allowed her love to blind her to his faults, but she was blind no longer.

And she knew her only hope for protecting her child from Sam’s domination was to escape.

“Catherine, come in,” Twila said in delight, finding her friend at the back door. “Mathias and I were just finishing supper. Won’t you join us?”

“No, thank you. I’ve already eaten.”

“Is something wrong? You look a little... Have you been crying?”

Catherine gave a nervous laugh. “Of course not, but I suddenly realized how foolish it is of me to stay alone at the school at night with these killers on the loose.”

“Oh, my! You’re absolutely right! I never thought—”

“So I was wondering if I could sleep in your spare room until the term is over.”

“Yes, of course. You’ll be staying with us all summer, anyway, and—”

“No, I won’t.”

“Won’t?” Twila echoed in confusion, then her eyes brightened. “Don’t tell me you and Sam—”

“No!” she said, too quickly. “I mean, Sam and I have decided we don’t suit. I’m afraid I’ll be going home at the end of the term.”

“Home? You mean to Philadelphia?”

“Yes,” Catherine said, thinking the city wasn’t her home any longer but knowing of no other suitable destination. At least she had some friends there.

“Oh, my!” Twila said again, obviously at a loss. “I can’t understand... I mean, I thought for sure... Oh, my!”

“Please don’t tell anyone just yet. I don’t want to spoil the commencement festivities.”

“I won’t tell a soul. Oh, Catherine, I don’t know what to say. Have you told Davy? He’ll simply die when he hears.”

“I’ll break it to him as gently as I can,” she promised, knowing Twila’s prediction wasn’t much of an exaggeration. On top of everything else, her leaving would seem like desertion to him, but she couldn’t allow herself to think of David’s pain. As Sam delighted in reminding her, David was not her responsibility, and she had her own child to consider.

“Well, come on in. We can at least tell Mathias, can’t we?”

“Not yet, please,” Catherine said, softening her refusal with a smile. “The fewer people who know, the easier it will be to keep the secret. I’ll go back to the school and get my things.”

“I’ll send Mathias to help you carry them, then.”

While Catherine waited for Twila to fetch her husband, she sagged wearily against the door frame. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about Sam coming to her at night and trying to convince her to change her mind. As soon as school was out every day, she would come over here. She wouldn’t be alone for a minute, not until the stage carried her away from Crosswicks forever.

Sam reined up when he came to the turnoff to the Nylan place. Maybe he should confront Jessie right now, before she could do any more damage, but the very thought of seeing her repelled him. Besides, he was still far too angry and couldn’t trust himself not to do her physical harm for the lies she’d told about Davy. No, he’d come back tomorrow, when he’d had time to cool off.

As he rode on toward the Spur, his thoughts drifted once again to Catherine. He’d done little else since leaving her except try to figure her out, but with no success.

What did the woman want, anyway? She’d known from the beginning Davy was a rancher. Couldn’t she see what a waste of time it would be to send him off to school?

And when he remembered what Johnny Fitzpatrick had said, the red haze of fury engulfed him again and he wondered how he had managed to restrain himself from beating the words back down the boy’s lying throat.

But no one else would tell the lie and no one else would even think it, not once Davy packed up his paints for good and took his rightful place on the Spur.

All Sam had to do now was deal with Cat. He supposed she was just spoiled, like a lot of women, used to getting her own way. She didn’t like being thwarted, and Sam couldn’t blame her. On the other hand, he couldn’t let her have her way in this, either. She’d have to learn who was the boss.

Of course, he realized now he’d been too straightforward with her. Like with a high-spirited filly, the use of force only made her more stubborn. She’d have to be broken with gentleness. He’d have to humble himself and apologize and sweet-talk her, but he didn’t mind. Remembering the way she felt in bed beneath him, he knew no sacrifice was too great to win her back.

When he reached the ranch, he found Davy brooding in his room.

“Where’d you go?” the boy demanded when Sam appeared in the doorway.

“I went to see Catherine. I thought she oughta know what happened.”

“Oh, God! You didn’t tell her what he said, did you?” he asked in horror.

Sam sighed wearily, knowing how humiliating this was for him. “I had to, Davy. This is all her fault, filling your head with strange ideas and making people think—”

“It’s not her fault! It’s Jessie’s fault! She’s the one who—”

“Yeah, Jessie told the lies, but Johnny believed her because he said that only sissies draw pictures.”

“Oh,” Davy murmured miserably.

“I paid him his time. I told him I’d kill him if he ever told another soul, and I told him I never wanted to see him around here again.”

“But Jessie’ll tell!” he wailed.

“I’ll have a few words with her and with her folks tomorrow. She won’t say anything to anybody.”

Davy covered his face with both hands and groaned.

Sam felt his agony and laid an awkward hand on the boy’s shoulder, wishing he knew a more effective way to comfort him. “I already told Catherine you aren’t going to take any more lessons. You don’t even have to go back to school if you don’t want to.”

“Sam?” he said in a muffled voice.

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to be alone.”

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat and said, “Sure.” He gave Davy’s shoulder a squeeze and walked to the door. “Did you get any supper?” he asked before he left.

“I’m not hungry.”

Sam nodded. He wasn’t hungry, either.

Two small children were playing in the dust outside the Nylans’ house when Sam rode into the yard the next day. They ran as he approached, darting into the house like frightened rabbits, and soon Lulie Nylan appeared in the doorway, holding a baby on her hip. The two little ones clung to her skirts and peered at him cautiously.

“What do you want?” she demanded before he could even call a greeting.

Sam reined up and glanced around. Except for Lulie and the kids, the place seemed deserted. “I’d like a word with Jessie, if you don’t mind.”

“She ain’t here.” Lulie’s eyes were cold and hard, almost accusing.

“When’ll she be back?”

“I don’t reckon she will be back,” Lulie spat. “She ran off with that Johnny Fitzpatrick, and it’s all your fault!”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because he come by here last night after you fired him and told Jessie to meet him somewhere. If you hadn’t of fired him, he wouldn’t of left, and if that snooty brother of yours didn’t think he was too good for a girl like Jessie, she wouldn’t have run off with a no-account cowboy, either!”

Sam felt a small surge of relief to realize Jessie was no longer a threat to Davy and had evidently not shared her lies about the boy with her folks. “I’m sorry, Miz Nylan. I had to fire Johnny because he got in a fight with Davy over Jessie. I reckon I should’ve come by last night. Maybe if you’d known, you could’ve watched her closer. Did Gus go after them?”

“Of course he did, but he won’t catch them. They got too good a head start.”

Although Sam had no desire to see Jessie return, the rules of neighborliness compelled him to offer his assistance. “Maybe I could help with the tracking...”

“We don’t need your help, Sam Connors. We don’t need nothing from you and your kind.”

“My kind?”

“Yeah, you big ranchers who think you’re so high and mighty you can run right over the rest of us. You’ve hated us since the day we first come here. You think because we ain’t as rich as you, we’re trash!” The baby on her hip began to squall, and she bounced it absently.

“Wait a minute,” he tried, but she wasn’t listening.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me and mine, like we wasn’t no better than the dirt under your feet. Well, my Gus is worth ten of you any day, and I’m glad he brought those Taggerts here. I hope they kill every head of cattle you own!”

The baby howled and the other two children began to cry.

Feeling the heat crawling up his neck, Sam turned his horse. As he rode away, she flung more invectives at him but the children drowned them out. At least he need feel no obligation to help bring Johnny and Jessie back.

When David didn’t come to school on Friday, Catherine was frantic. Surely he hadn’t bent so totally to Sam’s will that he had given up school, too.

She announced to the children that the following Wednesday would be the last day of classes and began drilling them on the recitations they would give when their parents came to commencement. The day dragged, and Catherine developed a splitting headache.

When the children had finally gone, she quickly gathered up her things to go to Twila’s house. Envisioning a cool rag across her throbbing forehead and Twila fussing over her, she had started for the door when she heard a horse in the yard.

For one awful moment, she thought Sam had come back, but when she saw David through the window, she cried aloud with relief.

“David!”

He stopped in the doorway, looking miserable and defeated. “I’m sorry I missed school today.”

“I was afraid you weren’t coming back,” she said, going to him.

“Sam said I didn’t have to, but that’s not why I didn’t come. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Oh, David.” She wanted to take him in her arms but settled for taking his hand in hers. “Sam told me what happened, and I want you to know he’s wrong. No one thinks you’re... strange.”

“Johnny did. Do you know what he said about me?”

“It doesn’t matter. He only believed Jessie because he likes her.”

“They ran off together.”

“What?”

“Sam went over to the Nylans today to warn Jessie to keep her mouth shut, and she was gone. Johnny went by her place before he left last night. They talked about something, and this morning she was gone. Her folks think they ran off together.”

Catherine sighed. “Then you have nothing to worry about. Now no one will ever hear those horrible lies.”

“Sam wants me to give up painting anyway.” Catherine’s throat constricted at the sight of his agony, and she could not speak.

“He says—” he swallowed loudly, “he says folks think I’m strange because I draw pictures.”

“No one thinks you’re strange.”

His blue eyes filled with tears. “I don’t want to quit, Miss Eaton.”

“Of course you don’t,” she said, succumbing at last to the urge to embrace him. Although he towered over her, she took him in her arms and patted his back as if he were a child.

He refused to surrender to his grief, however. After a moment, he straightened, pulled away from her. “I want to go to Philadelphia to school.”

“Then you should talk to Sam. Tell him—”

“No, he’ll never let me go, not now, but if I don’t ask him, I can just go...”

“You can’t run away!”

“Why not? I’ve got some money saved up. Sam pays me wages out of my half of the Spur. It’s the only way, Miss Eaton.”

He was probably right, but as much as she supported David’s desire to paint, she couldn’t encourage him to run away from his home.

She grasped him by the arms. “At least give Sam one more chance before you do anything so desperate, and wait awhile, until you’ve both gotten over what happened yesterday.”

David nodded, but she wasn’t sure if he really agreed or if he was simply placating her. After a minute, he drew a ragged breath and said, “Aren’t you going to somebody’s house this weekend?”

“I’ve been staying with the Shallcrosses at night lately. I decided it was too dangerous to stay alone at the school and I didn’t feel much like visiting, so they’re keeping me this weekend, too.”

“I’ll walk you over to their house, then.”

Twila invited him in for freshly baked cookies, and by the time he left, he looked much less miserable. “I’ll be at school on Monday,” he promised as he bid them farewell.

Pleading a sick headache, Catherine went to bed early that night and spent most of Saturday in the Shallcrosses’ spare room, having instructed Twila she would not be receiving visitors. Twila came up soon after the noon meal to inform her Sam had been by, asking to see her.

She could tell from Twila’s disapproving look that she thought Catherine should give him another chance, but of course her friend had no idea what their fight had been about or how irrevocable their differences were. Since Catherine couldn’t tell her, she stoically resisted the guilt Twila tried to make her feel.

When Sam approached her after church the next day, she turned away and asked Mathias to escort her home, saying her headache had returned. Only three more days, she told herself, and then she would leave Crosswicks and Sam Connors forever.

David returned to school on Monday, as he had promised, and helped her with the preparations for the final celebration. The children all drew pictures with which to decorate the walls and took turns practicing their “pieces.”

If Sam came to the school at night in an attempt to see her, she never knew, but he stayed away during the day until Wednesday, when all the parents came to see their children perform.

The school was packed with mothers and fathers and younger siblings. Each student came forward in turn and recited, exhibiting varying degrees of nervousness. David had selected Longfellow’s “Children,” feeling himself justified by his advanced age in saying the lines, “ ‘In your hearts are the birds and the sunshine, In your thoughts the brooklets flow, But in mine is the wind of Autumn and the first fall of the snow.’ ” Catherine found the last lines the most poignant. “ ‘For what are all our contrivings, And the wisdom of our books, When compared with your caresses, And the gladness of your looks? Ye are better than all the ballads, That ever were sung or said; For ye are living poems, And all the rest are dead.’ ”

She couldn’t help remembering what Sam had said about his father and Adora: “When they died, Davy was mine.” David was his living poem, and all the rest were dead. She glanced at Sam, but his face revealed no emotion whatsoever. Did he sense that David was slipping away from him no matter how hard he tried to hold him?

When the program was over, the children served cookies and punch to their visitors. Catherine avoided Sam by chatting enthusiastically with some of the mothers. After a few minutes, however, David’s voice rose above the noise of the crowd.

“Attention, everyone. We have something special for Miss Eaton.”

All eyes turned to the front of the room where David had propped a cloth-covered canvas on her desk. Catherine felt eager hands urging her forward and she walked toward David, wondering what on earth he had painted for her. For one awful moment, she thought it might be the portrait of Sam she had encouraged him to do, but then she recalled that David had no idea she and Sam had been lovers. The very last thing he would give her was a portrait of his brother.

Forcing herself to smile, she stopped beside David and eyed the covered canvas.

“I painted this, of course,” David explained to the assembly, “but all the kids pitched in to buy the canvas, so it’s a present from all of us.”

He whipped off the cover to reveal a portrait—not of Sam at all, but of her. She stood in a very authoritative pose in front of the school, and Catherine realized this must be the way she looked when she was summoning the children to class.

A bittersweet pang clenched her heart as she realized how much she would miss the school and the children. To her mortification, her eyes filled with tears and she had to cover her mouth to keep from crying.

Recognizing her distress, Mathias Shallcross rescued her. “Don’t it look just like her?” he asked of the crowd.

A murmur of agreement arose from the parents.

“Yes,” Twila supplied. “She’ll have something to remember us by when she goes.”

Catherine froze. She barely heard Opal Refern’s laughing reply. “Where do you think she’s going, Twila?”

“I... uh...” Twila cast Catherine a look of despair. She knew she’d broken her promise, and she was helpless to repair the damage.

The crowd immediately sensed the truth, and Catherine knew it must show on her face. She cleared the tears from her throat and gave them all a sad smile, glad for the moisture still clouding her eyes so she did not have to see Sam Connors’s expression too clearly. “I’m afraid Twila is right. I’m going to be returning to Philadelphia soon. I... there’s sickness in my family and they need me at home,” she improvised.

Not daring to look at Sam, she turned to David instead. She had expected to see the shock of betrayal, but instead his eyes shone with satisfaction and triumph. Oh, dear! He thought she was going back to Philadelphia because of him! She had no opportunity to speak with him, however. Instantly, the women surrounded her, lamenting her departure and asking questions for which she had to invent answers. The next time she looked around, Sam was gone. She didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed by his departure.

After what seemed an eternity, the crowd began to disperse. Plans had been laid for a farewell party for Catherine on Saturday night, and each departing couple said they would see her there.

At last only she and David remained at the school. He smiled conspiratorially. “You couldn’t stand the thought of me going to Philadelphia alone, could you?”

“David, you mustn’t run away,” she insisted. “I know Sam will change his mind. Just give him some time.”

“But if he doesn’t, you’ll be there to help me, won’t you?”

“I’ll help you in any way I can,” she promised, although she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep her pregnancy a secret from him if he followed her. She would have to disappear from his life and keep her promise by watching over him through her father’s friends.

Together they finished straightening the room while David chattered about his plans. Catherine barely heard him as she considered her own plans. She would have to leave soon, immediately after the party. Every day she stayed posed a danger that Sam might be able to contact her and shatter the fragile defenses she had built around her heart. Although she was certain she had made the right decision, she wasn’t sure she possessed the strength of will to resist him.

“Do you want me to walk you over to the Shallcrosses?” David asked when they were finished.

Catherine shook her head, knowing she needed a few minutes alone before facing Twila’s abject apologies for having revealed her secret. “I have a few more things to do. Thank you anyway.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he said with a grin. “We need to make arrangements to meet in Philadelphia.”

She barely managed a coherent reply, and when he was gone, she sank down wearily into a nearby chair. Poor David would be so hurt when she vanished from his life. Even knowing he would soon forget her gave Catherine little comfort. Oh, why did every one of her choices involve hurting someone?

After a few minutes, she gathered the strength to return to her room. Perhaps she should begin packing so she would be ready to go when the time came. As she walked toward the door between the classroom and her bedroom, she thought of all the things she must still do. She was already through the door when she saw him.

“Sam!”

He stood in the middle of the room, his arms crossed in silent challenge, his eyes glittering with suppressed rage. “Sick relatives, Catherine? You told me and Davy you didn’t have any family left.”

She fought down the wave of panic. He wasn’t going to hurt her, after all. She had nothing to be afraid of. She lifted her chin defiantly. “I couldn’t very well say I was leaving to get away from you, now, could I?”

Something flickered in his eyes, and she wondered if she had hurt him. If so, he gave no other indication. “Are you leaving me or are you running away with Davy?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“I heard you in there, making plans.”

“You heard David making plans. Didn’t you hear me tell him he should talk to you first?”

Sam laughed mirthlessly. “Oh, yeah, I heard you all right. ‘I’ll help you in any way I can,’ ” he mimicked.

Heat scorched her cheeks, but she refused to be intimidated. “If you don’t allow him to go, he’ll run away, Sam, and then you really will lose him forever.”

This time she did hurt him, but he recovered quickly. “So what am I supposed to do? Stand by and smile while both of you run off to Philadelphia?”

“It’s really none of my business what you do. David is no relation to me, as you have often reminded me, and you and I—” She shrugged eloquently, hoping she looked more calm and collected than she felt.

“What about you and I?” he insisted, moving closer.

She felt it, that fatal weakness he always inspired in her, the desire to surrender to him, but she fought it. “You and I are finished.”

“Are we?”

He moved like lightning. One second he was across the room, and the next he took her in his arms. She struggled, but he was too strong. His mouth found hers, his lips hungry and demanding. Love tore at her heart, shredding it, until the pain brought tears to her eyes. She went limp in his arms, resisting the overwhelming urge to kiss him back.

When at last he lifted his mouth from hers, his face twisted in fury. “Damn you! What’s the matter with you? Don’t you know you could be pregnant?”

“What?” she croaked, pushing out of his arms.

“Pregnant. Surely you know you could be carrying my baby right now. What would you do with a bastard child in Philadelphia? What would you tell your friends, or won’t those people care?”

Fear clogged her throat and she could barely breathe. All she could do was shake her head in silent denial.

“You hadn’t thought of that, had you?” he accused. “Well, you’d better think of it. Adora cheated me out of one son, and I won’t lose another. You’re mine, Cat, whether you like it or not, and I keep what’s mine, no matter what the cost.”

He doesn’t know! she kept telling herself. All you have to do is placate him a little so he’ll leave before you blurt out the truth.

She hugged herself, trying to still the trembling. “You... you’re right. I hadn’t thought…”

His expression softened instantly. “Cat,” he whispered. This time his arms were gentle when he pulled her to him.

Absurdly grateful for his comforting embrace, she relaxed against him, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears burning to escape.

“I didn’t want to scare you, but you didn’t give me any choice,” he breathed against her temple. “You won’t be sorry. I’ll take good care of you, you’ll see.” A sob escaped her, and his arms tightened protectively. “I love you, Cat.”

Her control shattered and she dissolved into tears, weeping against his shirtfront while he whispered endearments and pressed tiny kisses to her face.

He loved her! And she loved him. Dear God, why couldn’t things have been different? Why couldn’t he have been different? Because as much as she loved him, she still couldn’t let him destroy their child the way he was trying to destroy David.

Slowly, determinedly, she pushed out of his embrace again. Brushing the tears from her face, she looked up at him, and the adoration in his eyes almost broke her resolve.

Almost.

“Sam, I can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t... marry you.”

Stung, he reared back, his dark eyes narrowed in fury. “You don’t have any choice.”

“I most certainly do. I’m not with child and—”

“How do you know?”

“A woman knows these things,” she hedged, hoping he wouldn’t be bold enough to ask for details. “But if we married, we most likely would have children and—”

“And what?” he demanded.

“And I don’t want them to go through what David’s going through.”

“Davy’s not ‘going through’ anything!” he shouted. “You’ve put some fool notions into his head, but he’ll forget about them in time.”

“No, he won’t!” she shouted back. “And I’m not going to see my children go through the same thing. I won’t marry you, Sam!”

“Maybe you won’t have a choice!”

This time she fought like a tigress, struggling and kicking, but her blows fell unnoticed as he dragged her over to the bed and forced her down. His eyes were wild, and the metallic taste of fear strangled her. “Sam, no! I don’t want this!”

“I can make you want it,” he said, and she knew he was right. Her body was already responding instinctively as he ran his hands over her. “If you don’t have a baby yet, I’ll give you one.”

Her breath came in terrified sobs, but she didn’t realize she was crying until he went still. His hands stopped, and his eyes, so crazed just moments before, cleared, as if he were seeing her for the first time. He touched her cheek and gently wiped away the moisture. “Cat?” he said softly.

She was quaking too badly to speak.

He glanced down at where his body pinned hers to the bed, at where his knee had forced her legs apart. “Oh, God, what am I doing?” he murmured. Carefully, he levered himself off her, rising up and collapsing against the footboard. “Cat, I’m sorry.”

She scrambled upright, pulling her knees to her chest and clutching them protectively. Sobs convulsed her, and she scrubbed ineffectually at the tears streaming down her face. “Get out of here,” she gasped. “This time... I won’t have to... lie when I say... you tried to attack me!”

He reached for her, but she flinched away. “Get out of here! Now!”

Slowly, wearily, he rose from the bed.

He’d lost his hat in the tussle, and he scooped it up from the floor. “Cat, I... please believe me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She closed her eyes against the pain, praying that he wouldn’t try to reason with her. “Just go,” she whispered.

He drew a ragged breath and let it out in a sigh. Then he left, closing the door softly behind him. Catherine hugged her knees more tightly, fearing she might fly into a million pieces if she let go.

Past tears now, she stared dry-eyed at the door through which he had gone. She’d reached the limits of her endurance. She couldn’t face him again. There was a stage first thing in the morning. She would be on it.

Knowing he didn’t dare broach the subject of Philadelphia with Davy, Sam avoided the boy for the rest of the day. That night he lay awake, alternately cursing himself for being a fool and cursing Catherine’s obstinacy. What had possessed him to attack her? And why couldn’t she see how wrong she was about Davy? He was certain of only one thing: He couldn’t let her go.

At last morning came, and Sam made his way, bleary-eyed, to breakfast. After giving the men their instructions for the day, he returned to the house, knowing he would have to confront Davy sooner or later. Yesterday had not seemed like a good time, but he couldn’t let the boy go on thinking he could run away to Philadelphia.

Hearing Davy’s voice, he followed it into the dining room where he was having a conversation with Inez. “She is leaving?” Inez was saying in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Davy reported. “She’s going back to Philadelphia. That’s where she’s from.”

“You are sure? She told you this herself?” Inez insisted.

“She told everybody at the school yesterday. You can ask her yourself on Saturday night. They’re having a goodbye party for her.”

“Dios,” Inez murmured as Sam came into the room. “Mr. Sam, do you know Miss Eaton is leaving?”

“She’s not going anywhere,” Sam said with more confidence than he felt.

Davy frowned, but Inez laid a hand over her heart and sighed with relief. “Ah, good! Then she told you.”

“Told me what?”

Now Inez frowned. “She did not tell you she—?” Inez hesitated and glanced uncertainly at Davy.

“She what?” Sam prodded.

“I—I cannot say.”

“What is it?” Davy asked, concerned by her obvious distress.

“I—I cannot! I promised!” she wailed, backing up in the face of Sam’s determination.

“You know something about her,” Sam accused. “What is it?”

She shook her head desperately, but Sam had already figured it out.

“She’s pregnant, isn’t she?” he asked triumphantly, and saw the answer on Inez’s face. Joy sluiced through him, but his happiness was short-lived.

Davy made a strangled sound, and Sam glanced at him, horrified to realize he had forgotten the boy was there.

“You—you—” Davy sputtered, rage splotching his face. “You son of a bitch!”

He launched himself at Sam, catching him in the chest and carrying them both to the floor in a heap. Davy’s fists flailed, landing with surprising force as he shrieked a stream of profanity. Sam threw up his hands to ward off the blows, but with little effect. Finally, he had to fight back, catching Davy’s hands and throwing him over onto the floor.

Sam used his superior weight to hold the boy down while Davy continued to rant in frustration. “You bastard! You raped her, didn’t you? Is that what you meant by ‘forcing her to fall in love with you’? I hate you!”

“Stop it! Listen to me!”

“I wouldn’t believe a word you said, you dirty, rotten—”

“Listen to your brother!”

Both of them looked up in surprise to find Inez glaring down at them, arms akimbo, black eyes blazing, “You are both loco over this woman, but do not be stupid, too! He did not force her.”

“How do you know?” Davy challenged furiously.

“Because she told me.”

Davy’s tear-filled eyes went from Inez to Sam and back again. “I don’t believe you!”

He strained against Sam’s grip and broke free, scrambling away. “I don’t believe either of you! I’m going to ask her myself!”

Staggering to his feet, he charged out of the room. Sam sat down on the floor with a thump and stared after him numbly.

“You better go after him,” Inez said. “She should not have to explain to him alone.”

Sam nodded, overwhelmed by the sickening realization of how thoroughly he had disillusioned his son. The boy despised him now. How on God’s earth would he ever win back his trust? “I’ll give him a head start. He won’t like it if he thinks I’m following him.”

He lifted his gaze to Inez again. “Did she really tell you about us?”

“No,” she replied grimly. “When she fainted, I guessed the truth.”

“Then how do you know I didn’t force her?”

“I can tell by the way she speaks of you. I say she must tell you soon so you can marry, and she say she will.”

The pain of Catherine’s betrayal squeezed his heart. He’d given her every opportunity to tell him. He’d even warned her she might already carry his child, and still she’d hidden it from him. Rage and frustration curdled inside him as he realized she intended to leave without ever telling him at all, leave and take his baby!

His baby and his son, he corrected as he hauled himself to his feet. She was going to take Davy, too.