Nine

“Your parents named you Tanner, but you don’t work leather?”

Tanner chuckled. “Never thought about it before.”

Kate fought the urge to put down her fork and bury her stained hands in her lap.

“And you,” Matt turned his gaze on her, “you made the belts your brothers and cousins wear?”

She nodded stiffly.

“Saddles, too,” Caleb chimed in.

April giggled. “You don’t wear saddles!”

“Some days, I think they ought to.” Kate bit her lip once she’d blurted out that statement.

Tobias bumped her with his arm as he shrugged. “At least she didn’t say muzzles.”

While everyone else at the table chuckled, Matt didn’t. He continued to stare at her. Kate couldn’t read the look in his deep brown eyes. The rest of the meal, Matt didn’t say much. Kate took a few more bites and set down her fork.

“Whats’a matter?” Tobias focused on her plate.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Sure you’re not turning sick?”

Lovesick. “I’m fine.”

“We both tasted the food while cooking.” April pushed her plate away. “I’ve had all I’m going to eat, too.”

While their brothers swooped over and swiped the rest of their food, Kate gave April a smile of gratitude. April knows I’m fond of Matt, and twice tonight she’s kept me from making a fool of myself. Beef and rice is one of her favorites, and she’s going hungry just to help me.

A short while later, with bubbles surrounding his muscular forearms, Matt grinned at Kate as she dried a plate. “Not much to wash, really. Supper tasted so good, I fought the temptation to lick my plate. Your brothers and cousins scraped every last grain of rice off theirs, too.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” Kate shot April a look. “It’s April’s recipe. Compared to how she cooks, what I make is only fit for slopping the hogs.”

“I haven’t tasted Miss April’s cooking, but I’m still going to disagree.” He felt around in the bottom of the water and pulled out one last spoon. “Speaking of hog slop, do you add the dishwater to it?”

“I’ll do it!” Kate set down the plate so fast, it almost cracked.

“Actually, I need to add a little cornmeal first.” April bustled over and grabbed a scoop. “Especially since we didn’t add any dinner scraps, the hogs’ll need this. Kate, why don’t you pour in that last bit of milk, then let Mr. Salter use the pitcher to dip out the dishwater?”

“Good idea.”

Matt cleared his throat. “I mean no familiarity, but I’d rather be called Matt. It was part of the deal Miss Kate and I made when I offered to wash the dishes.”

“It doesn’t seem equitable for us to call you Matt and have you use ‘Miss’ in front of our given names.” April kept stirring cornmeal into the slop and tacked on, “Don’t you agree, Kate?”

“Absolutely.”

Matt shook his head. “My mama drilled a few things into my thick head, and she’d be spinning in her grave if I lost my manners at all, especially around ladies. I’d be making a false promise if I said I’d address either of you in such a way. I reckon the only woman I’ll ever call simply by her first name is the gal I’ll wed.”

Oh. He’s just as much as said he’s not interested in me. And why would he be? Tobias was right—men don’t want women who are boisterous and disheveled.

“You can add in the milk and dishwater now.” April stepped back. “By the way, Kate, Peter needs laces for his boots. Do you think you could make him a pair?”

Kate nodded.

Once Matt added the dishwater to the slop, he lifted the heavy bucket. “I spied the pigpen on the far side of the barn.”

“I’ll take this.” Kate tried to pull on the handle.

“No, you won’t. No reason for a woman to tote when a man’s willing to help her out. Besides. . .” He paused, and a smile tugged at the right side of his mouth. “I’m trying to come up with an excuse to talk you into showing me your workshop.”

“I already said I’d repair the tear in your glove.”

“And I’d be much obliged. Now you turn loose of this slop bucket, Miss Kate.”

“Kate isn’t sure she ought to let you near Frenzy.” April looked down at her hands and frowned at the blisters. “I’d be happy to do the chore, myself, but—”

“You wouldn’t dare. Doc and Polly would have a fit!”

Matt chortled. “They’d have to stand in line behind Peter.”

“But Frenzy,” April said woefully. “She’s been in a wicked temper for days now. She’s our meanest sow. Kate, you’d better go along. Make sure the gate to the pen isn’t loose. You know how the lock’s slipped the last few days.”

“You ladies oughtn’t fret over such a thing. I’ll be sure to repair that at once.”

“Thank you.” April looked entirely too pleased with herself. “Kate’s workbench is in the stable, and the men keep all of the woodworking tools just to the right of her place.”

Thousands of times, Kate had walked beside a man—her father, uncles, brothers, and cousins. But walking through the barnyard with Matt felt different. His loose-hipped gait testified to years spent in the saddle, and the square set of his shoulders showed confidence that he could handle whatever life threw his way. He switched the slop bucket to his left hand, away from her. Kate couldn’t tell whether he’d done so to put the smelly thing farther away from her or if it was so Matt could walk a little closer.

He looked down at her, and his brows rose in silent query.

Kate didn’t want to tell him what she’d been wondering, so she blurted out, “How did you know about giving the hogs dishwater?”

Matt hitched his shoulder. “I thought most everybody knew the lye in the water cured hogs of worms. Now that I think it over, I’m not sure when I learned about that fact. Growing up around animals, those bits of wisdom are passed on.”

Whew. So he didn’t think I’m crass for asking such a dumb question. “So you grew up around animals—farm or ranch?”

“A little horse ranch. Nothing near as splendid as this spread.”

“Where?” She winced. “Sorry. I’m prying.”

“Nothing wrong with asking simple questions. Wyoming. My dad was the foreman. Worked solid, made the place turn a profit for the widow-woman who owned the spread.”

“Why leave a place like that?”

“The widow up and married. Her husband didn’t want someone else giving orders.” He stopped at the pen. “You’d best step back, Miss Kate. No use risking you getting splattered when I pour this into the trough.”

“I’m already a wreck.”

Matt looked her from neckline to hem and back again. Shaking his head, he murmured, “I disagree. You look like a woman who’s not afraid to work hard for her family.”

“I—” Horrified, she stammered, “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment, Matt.”

“I know.” He grinned. “Life’s taught me women don’t seek praise on their appearance unless they’re dead certain every last bow and flounce is perfect.”

She looked down at her smudged apron and the dust-covered hem of her rose calico dress, then forced a laugh. “Not a single bow.” Oh, no! I hope he doesn’t think I meant beau!

“Some men admire gals who prance around like live fashion plates. Me? I’d ruther see a woman whose smile warms a man to the toe of his boots and whose rumpled apron bespeaks a willingness to pitch in alongside her loved ones.” He pivoted and poured the slop into the trough. “Sooo-eeeEEE! Sooo-eeeEEE! Pig, pig, pig, pig!”

The hogs squealed and trampled through the muck. Matt chuckled. “I didn’t need to call them, did I?”

“No, but you might win a hog-calling contest. Your pitch is great.” Kate giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Promise you won’t tell?”

He lifted one foot and rested his boot on the first slat of the pen. “I like to know what I’m giving my word about. If it’s illegal or unethical, I couldn’t agree.”

“I was thinking. . .” She laughed again. “My brothers looked just like that, pushing into the kitchen for supper tonight!”

Amusement lit his eyes and lifted the corners of his mouth. “Can’t say as I blame them. Had I known chow was that tasty, I might have jostled my way to the head of the line.”

❧

Giggles spilled out of Kate. They weren’t the practiced twitters of young ladies who played coy. Hers were so honest and refreshing, Matt was thoroughly enchanted. He didn’t want to walk her back to the house yet, so he decided to string the conversation along on a topic she could speak about with ease. “So you do leatherwork.” Something flashed in Kate’s eyes, but Matt didn’t know how to read it. “Never seen such handsome belts. You do quality work.”

“Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder.

“Nice diversionary tactic, that glance.” Matt reached over and gently tugged on her sleeve. “But you don’t have to hide your hands behind your back.”

She let out a small sound of despair.

Curling his fingers around the cuff of her sleeve, he drew her hands out in the open. “It’s just stain, isn’t it?”

Kate nodded. “Yes.” Her chin went up a notch. “I’m more splotched than not.”

“I disagree.” He flashed her a smile. “I’d say you’re more not than splotched. Besides, what does that matter?”

“It’s ugly. Not very ladylike, either.”

That same fleeting look crossed her face, and Matt realized she’d just revealed her vulnerability. “I disagree. The stain on your hands is only skin-deep. The devotion you show to your family by doing that fine work is soul-deep. To my way of thinking, nothing’s more beautiful than a woman who loves with all her heart.”

Her eyes widened, and a flush of pleasure tinted her cheeks. Funny, how something so inconsequential mattered so much to women. But Matt was glad the truth he’d spoken made her feel good. He looked down at the empty pail. “I’ll rinse this and set it out on the back porch.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“No reason why I shouldn’t. No job is beneath a man’s dignity—that’s what my granddad always said.”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

“He never had more than two years’ schooling, but Granddad was blessed with wisdom that came from the Lord.”

“Kate?” They turned in tandem toward Paxton’s voice. “When you make the bootlaces for Peter, make an extra length.”

“How long?”

Not why, but how long? Matt noted how she just took it as a matter of course that the requested item was needed and didn’t demand a reason.

“Not all that long. Maybe eight inches.” Paxton scuffed the toe of his boots in the dirt as a guilty flush colored his cheeks. “I broke the loop on the fishing basket.”

“You went fishing without me?”

Matt couldn’t be sure whether Kate was outraged or teasing. She wasn’t like any other woman he’d ever met.

Heaving a sigh, Paxton kicked the dirt. “Didn’t go for long. It was a waste of time. Nothing was biting, unless you count mosquitoes.”

“I have a scrap of leather that’ll yield a thong long enough to do the repair. Here. Go rinse out the swill bucket and bring me the fishing basket.”

“Salter—”

“Offered to fix the gate on the pigpen,” Kate cut in. “I’ll show him where the tools are since I’m heading toward my workbench.”

Paxton accepted the smelly bucket. “Watch out for Frenzy. She’s the runty-looking sow. Her name warns you of her temperament.”

“Obliged for the warning.”

Paxton stared at Kate and smirked. “Ever notice how the little ones are always the scrappiest?”

“Nothing wrong with having plenty of spark and spirit. Miss Kate, do I need to fetch a lantern from the kitchen for you so you’ll have light to work by?”

She shook her head. “There’s one on either end of my workbench. You can have one if you think it’ll take long to fix the latch.”

“Doubt that’ll be necessary.” He walked alongside her toward the far side of the barn. Kate’s gait matched her personality—her zest for life showed not only in her bright eyes and friendly smile, but in her high-stepping prance that made her sway and bob as though she heard a lively march and couldn’t resist matching the rhythm.

Sliding the barn door wide open, Matt asked, “Ever do custom pieces for neighbors and friends?”

She headed toward a cluttered table that had a pair of well-ordered shelves above it. “Sure. I’ve often made gifts for them.”

He drew near and took the matches from her. She could have easily lit the lantern herself, but Matt didn’t like a woman doing things for herself when he could do them—especially Kate. From the moment he’d arrived, she’d been in motion, always doing things for others. It wouldn’t hurt for someone to show her the same kindness.

The match sizzled, then Matt held it to the wick as Kate held up the hurricane glass. The wick caught, and Kate settled the glass sleeve in place. Matt reached up and barely grazed her left cheekbone.

“It’s not stain. Really, it isn’t.”

“I’m partial to freckles.” He stepped back. What was it about Kate that had him acting this way? He’d never dallied with a gal’s affection, and he wasn’t about to—but this was different. Kate was different. But I can’t be completely honest with her. I’m on assignment, and I have a job to do. If the rest of the family is as forthright and upright as everyone I’ve already met, I’m going to need to move on to continue my search.

I don’t want to move on.

But I do. It would tear Kate apart to learn someone she loves is involved in bootlegging.

“Probably all you need are a nail or two and the hammer.” She waved toward the nearby tool bench. “Just be careful. Pax wasn’t kidding when he said Frenzy riles easily.”

The latch on the pen turned out to be quite sturdy once Matt moved it up an inch. Someone else had reinforced it previously, so the nail holes were too large to anchor the latch in the same location. As he placed the hammer back into the spot he’d taken it from on the tool bench, Matt let out a low whistle.

Kate’s hands stopped. “What?”

“You’ve already almost finished that lace?” He gazed at the long leather thong hanging from her fingers.

She hitched her left shoulder diffidently. “This is the second one. They don’t take all that long. I cut a circle, then just keep cutting spiral-style into it.”

“That knife has to be sharp. I’d massacre the leather and my hands.”

“I’ve cut myself on occasion.” She started working again and tacked on, “More often in the kitchen than by working leather.”

“Beats me why you talk like that. Every last meal I’ve eaten here has tasted mighty fine, and you’ve been the cook.”

Kate shrugged. “I can turn out a passable meal. Once you taste April’s fare, you’ll understand.”

“Not that good food isn’t high up in my estimation, but a meal is gone in a short while. The saddles and belts you make last for years.”

“Ah, but the latch on the fishing basket didn’t.” She set down the bootlace, bent over a scrap of leather, and carefully scribed a circle on it.

He didn’t want to leave. Talking with Kate counted as a pure pleasure. Then, too, he hoped to glean some information from her. Matt leaned against her workbench. “I’ve seen the stuff you’ve made here on Chance Ranch. Tell me about what you’ve made for neighbors.”

“Mrs. Dorsey had me make her husband a saddle to replace the one he lost in their barn fire. My family voted to give them all of the spare halters, leads, and the like that we had on hand.”

“That’s the second time you’ve mentioned voting.”

“It’s a family rule: Anyone in the family who’s twenty-one is given the right to vote on issues.”

“I don’t mean to be indelicate, but you’re not of voting age—at least, that’s what I gathered when Caleb, Tanner, and April were speaking the other night.”

“I’m not.” She tilted her head to the side and continued to cut the leather thong.

“So everyone older than you voted to give away the work you’d done.”

“Never thought of it that way. Chances share. It would be miserly of us to keep halters and such that we don’t even use when a neighbor is in need.”

“I agree. So tell me about your other neighbors.”

“You’ve already met Peter and Johnna. They’re from the MacPherson spread. Tomorrow, we’ll have a family picnic after church. You—”

“Sis?” Tanner moseyed into the workshop and shoved his hands into his pockets. “What’re you doing?”

“Making bootlaces for Peter. Why?”

“Just wondered.” Tanner pulled his hands back out of his pockets and pulled a knife from his belt sheath. “Reckoned I ought to make more clothespins. I don’t think we have nearly enough.”

“Probably not.” She turned her attention back to Matt. “Anyway, you’re welcome to go to church with us tomorrow; then we have the picnic afterward.”

“I already asked him.”

“Appreciate the invitation. It’ll be good to worship.” Though he felt strongly about the necessity of Christian fellowship, Matt wished Tanner would saunter off. At the present, spending time with Kate—only Kate—sounded far more appealing.

“MacPhersons are coming here for the picnic,” Kate said as she finished the piece she’d started.

“We swap.” Tanner examined the small block of wood he’d picked up, then dragged a stool over closer to the lantern. “Once or twice a month we have a family get-together.”

“Judging from how Peter and April act, I’d say the family ties are going to grow stronger.”

Kate flashed him a smile. “Isn’t it wonderful? I’m so happy for her.”

“I’m not.” Tanner smirked as he hiked up his pantleg and slid onto the stool. “Well, I am, but I don’t think we ought to let her marry and move away until she teaches you more of her special recipes.”

“Kate’ll move away when she marries, too.”

Tanner let out a snort. “No danger of that.”