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Kat cut through the tough stem and threw it behind her onto a growing pile of fruit tree suckers. She sat back on her heels and looked up at the crabapple tree already arrayed with magenta buds ready to burst open. The tree looked like it could breathe again. She rose to her feet and stepped back brushing dirt from the knees of her pants as she did.
"Much better! What do you think, Mama?" she said aloud. She hoped her mother would have been pleased to see that her hedge of crabapple trees, once so lovingly tended, was still thriving.
On either side of the trees, red peony stalks poked from the damp leaf-covered ground with a promise of pink and peach blooms yet to come. She lifted her dirt covered hands to her face and breathed in the pungent fragrance of moist, awakening soil, and closed her eyes with pleasure.
A voice, deep and sonorous, called across the yard. "Dr. Meriwether?"
She stepped from behind the row of trees and saw the man standing at the corner of the house. He seemed hesitant to walk farther into the garden, and waited for her to cross to him.
Kat recognized him as she drew closer. It was the man who'd gone to the trouble of driving her the few yards to the boarding house.
Jonathan tipped his hat as she approached him. "Dr. Meriwether, I was hoping to find your father home."
She brushed her hair from her face with a dirty hand. "He's not here at the moment. He had some house calls to make this afternoon. May I be of service?"
He shifted his weight and brought a hand to the back of his neck. "Well, it's my friend, you see. He needs a bit of doctoring."
Kat started for the office. "Oh, is he in the office now? I can help him."
"No. He's still at the cabin. He couldn't ride here, because of the injury, you see."
Kat turned back, waiting. He dropped his gaze to the dirt, apparently unwillingly to elaborate.
"Well then, let me get my bag and we'll ride there." She started for the door again. "I'll just be a minute."
"Are you sure your father won't be home soon?"
There it was again. She swung on him, ready to defend herself, but stopped when she saw his face. The look of discomfort made it clear to her that he was embarrassed, but why?
"What is the nature of his injury? Can we afford to wait for my father to return?" She had regained her composure and the question came levelly.
Jonathan blew out a breath of resignation. "He got into an argument with a mule."
Kat waited, resisting the urge to smile.
He pulled his hand across his face, and then seemed to have come to a decision. "The mule bit him."
"I think I can handle such an injury, even if he requires stitches."
Jonathan rubbed his chin. "You see, I think he'd be awful embarrassed if a woman treated him. It isn't...it's a problem of where he was bit."
Kat arched an eyebrow, even though she'd only wanted to maintain an expressionless professional demeanor. "So where is the bite?"
He cast his eyes to his boots and mumbled, "The mule got him in the caboose." Jonathan looked up when she did not respond, and searched her face for comprehension. "The derrière." His Texas drawl made the word sound more like three words - dare e air. The air portion hung there awkwardly.
Kat refused to let this moment pass too quickly, but this last word was almost too much for her to restrain her amusement at his discomfort. Where had he learned such a word, she wondered. She waited to see what further creative description he could pull from his vocabulary.
His face worked. A line creased the space between his eyebrows. "His backside." He made a vague wave of his hand in the direction of his hips.
"Oh! You must be trying to tell me he was injured in his buttocks."
His lips drew a thin line across his face. "Yes, ma'am."
"You might have simply told me that."
Kat was fairly certain she saw the tug of a smile at the corners of his eyes.
"I'll get my bag."
"But it's late, Dr. Meriwether. It's a bit of a ride up to the cabin. You'd be coming back in the dark I imagine. I'm sure we can wait for him."
She turned and looked at him, noticing for the first time how unusually dark his eyes were, a shade of gray, shaded by black lashes.
"I'm not sure your father would approve," he said.
Kat lifted an eyebrow at that. "Mister...," she paused, "Winthrop, yes?"
Jonathan nodded.
"Mr. Winthrop, I stopped needing my father's approval quite a few years ago." She turned on her heel and walked into the office feeling a most unbecoming sense of satisfaction at having the last word.
Kat didn't bother to change out of her pants, but pulled on her leather jacket for the return ride, anticipating a drop in temperature. She also changed into her riding boots and shoved her father's hat on her head, her long braid draped over one shoulder. After securing her bag to the Morgan, she pulled herself into the saddle. Jonathan led the way down the hill, through town and beyond toward the foothills.
After following him for a while, she let Blue catch up to Jonathan's horse, falling in beside him on the wide trail that skirted the river. "So where is your ranch? I grew up here and know the area fairly well."
"Timothy and his son, the boy you saw me with last week, have settled in a place the locals call Schmidt's Valley."
She checked the frown before he could see it.
"You know it?" he asked.
"I do. I used to spend quite a bit of time up there when I was young."
"Hmm. It's mighty pretty right now. I think it'll be a good spread for them."
Kat grew quiet. She felt the jealousy of familiarity, and a touch of mourning for the lost solitude of her valley. A narrowing of the trail gave her an excuse to drop behind Jonathan's bay.
She watched the tilt of his shoulders as they swayed in rhythm with his horse's gait. Relaxed heels, easy poise, and gentle hands all bespoke a lifetime of equine companionship. A man could spend every year of his life in a saddle and not have that natural kinship that he betrayed with every softly murmured, "Ho, there," or near invisible cue of his knees or heels. As she watched the mostly silent dialog that constantly flows between a good horseman and his partner, she felt the edge of her jealousy wane. There could be worse people to call her valley home.
Kat found the trail grow more familiar, gentle switchbacks taking them to the higher elevation with open vistas at each turn to the valley floor. Kat's Morgan seemed impatient with the bay's slow pace and she had to rein her in from attempting to pass on the narrow trail. At one point the bay huffed her disapproval, lifting her hind quarters in a low hop, just a hint of warning. Jonathan chuckled softly and checked her attitude with a feather light twitch of the reins.
"Easy, Jessie." Jonathan glanced back over his shoulder, giving Kat's smaller mare a closer look. "She's an uncommon breed to find out here, a little flashier than I'm used to seeing. A morgan, right?"
"Yes. My father gave her to me."
"What is she? Fifteen hands? She couldn't be much more, I'm thinking."
"Fifteen and two inches."
"She's a sturdy little thing, even if she does have some flash." He turned his head back to the trail.
Oddly, she could think of nothing more to say, but felt a bit offended by his suggestion that her roan mare was flashy. The description seemed like disapproval. She was lively, and liked to step out, but flashy?
She hadn't noticed before just how broad his shoulders were. The jacket, stretched tight across his back, did little to hide the bulge of his biceps. She calculated that most of his weight must come from lean muscle. As her eyes moved up from his shoulders to the thick cords of his neck, she argued with herself that her interest was nothing more than clinical. Abruptly, she pulled herself back from such thoughts and she sat up straighter, pulling brutally at her ear until she winced with the pain.
Thankfully, they broke from the tree line into the open grassland before she could inflict any more pain on herself. Rays of afternoon sun still warmed the valley floor. Smoke curled from the chimney and the boy stepped out onto the porch at the sound of their approach. He grinned broadly at Kat as he took hold of Blue's reins. "I'll tie her for you."
The lead in his hands, Adam slipped to the other side of Jonathan and whispered, "Father isn't going to be too happy about this."
Jonathan stepped down and handed his reins to Adam. "I suppose not, but his back end won't care in the long run."
Adam snickered at that and walked both horses over to the water trough.
Timothy was lying on his stomach in the far corner of the room. He looked up at Kat and groaned. Kat wasn't sure if it was because he'd seen that she was a woman or that he had just experienced a stab of pain. She was fairly certain it was the former.
"Dr. Meriwether this is Timothy Hindricks. Timothy?" Jonathan waited for Timothy to lift his head to look at them. At last, he did and gave her a thin smile to cover his embarrassment.
Jonathan wore an apologetic expression. "Timothy, this is Dr. Meriwether."
"Didn't know there were two of you," the big man said.
Kat laughed lightly. "Well, there's just the one of me. If you're referring to my father, he was out on another call. I think I can help if you'll let me."
Timothy let out a heavy sigh and dropped his face to the pillow again. The voice came to them muffled, "Guess, I don't have much of a choice."
"No, I don't suppose you do." With that she pulled her bag to the side of the bed. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to remove your trousers."
The muffled groan came from somewhere in the depths of the pillow again. "Not as sorry as me."
Adam passed the plate of beans and ham to Kat as she sat down at the table. She wondered if his gleeful manner was the result of what he saw as his father's humorous situation or that she'd agreed to stay for dinner. Jonathan passed her a plate of cornbread. She had to admit to herself that she was ravenous. The aromas of Timothy's meal that he'd prepared - before the encounter with the mule - had made a compelling argument to stay.
"My father is a really good cook, Dr. Meriwether." Adam beamed at her as he handed her a bowl of honey.
"If anything tastes as good as it smells, I'm certain I'll agree with you, Adam."
For long moments, the three ate in silence. Both Kat and Jonathan spoke at once. Jonathan nodded to Kat to continue.
"I was just wondering when you arrived in the valley?" she asked.
Jonathan glanced at Adam before answering. "We moved a few dozen head of cattle out of Utah Territory last fall. Adam and his father plan to homestead here."
Kat gave Adam a warm smile and said, "I've known this valley a long time. It's lovely here. Summers, the floor will open up like a blue carpet with wildflowers. You know that there used to be a family of beavers at the far end of the valley near the white granite outcropping. In less than two years they turned that end into a marsh of meandering streams and little islands. And whole flocks of swan come in the fall to make their winter home here." She looked up to see both men looking at her strangely.
"As I said, I used to come here often as a girl." She took a bite of cornbread, grateful to give her mouth something to do other than blather.
"Sounds real pretty," Jonathan said after a moment. Kat felt those gray eyes on her and studiously remained focused on the plate in front of her. "There was a place in east Texas that I used to know as a boy on my father's ranch. It was special too."
He didn't elaborate. He seemed to have offered it up to ease her discomfort. She was grateful.
"And what about you, Mr. Winthrop? Are you planning to stay here?"
Jonathan, his mouth still full of cornbread, seemed to use the time chewing to consider his answer. "Well, I promised the boy and his father to help them get the place fit for next winter. After that, I'm not sure. I've ruminated a bit about Oregon."
"I see." Kat stabbed at a piece of ham and wondered why his answer bothered her. Wasn't Idaho Territory good enough?
"Make sure you thank your father for dinner, and help him change that dressing daily for the first week. If you need help, send word. However, I think he'll be very cooperative with you, if the alternative means that I return." She caught Jonathan's eye and neither one of them could restrain a knowing grin.
As she gathered her bag and pulled on her jacket, Jonathan reached for his hat. She anticipated his offer to accompany her back to town and held up a hand. "Mr. Winthrop, I'll be fine on my own. Remember, I know this valley. I know the trail."
Jonathan looked down at her, his hat still in his hand. "I'm not sure I can let you go alone."
There was something in the way he phrased it that gave her pause, something authoritative in his voice. She felt he'd said those words before with an expectation of compliance.
"Really! I insist that you stay with Timothy. He needs your attention more than I." With that declaration, she walked to the door without giving him time to protest.
Jonathan stood on the porch with Adam at his side, watching as she mounted up on the little roan. She looked back at them and reached down to pat the leather scabbard on her saddle and the butt end of the Browning Rifle. "I'm a very good shot, Mr. Winthrop."
She was a bit surprised that he'd not protested more. A secret part of her, squashed down and stuffed in a corner, was even a little sorry for it. Kat nudged her mare with her knees and started off at a fast trot down the trail.
"Certainly knows her own mind, don't she?" Adam mused.
"Hmm. Not so sure of that, but she's headstrong for certain." There was no condemnation in his words.
The waxing moon provided a small degree of illumination to the trail, but even without it, she'd have known the way. The little Morgan's sure-footed breeding made her an excellent trail horse. She reached down and slipped her hand beneath Blue's black mane, patting her neck.
"Blue, you're a prize, for sure." Flashy, indeed! She scowled into the night.
Passing beneath a fragrant canopy of pine, she heard the rustling of wings above her. She glanced up in time to see a stirring of white against the black outline of branches. An owl screeched off into the evening air, offended by their intrusion. At each sound, she jumped. It wasn't like her and she chastised herself for her anxiety.
Halfway down the trail she'd climbed earlier with Jonathan, she turned Blue's head to a smaller animal trail that she had long known as a shortcut leading to her family's small parcel of land above the town. But behind the entry still concealed from the main trail, the path looked as if it had seen some recent use. The grass was trampled and overhanging brush revealed broken branches at rider height.
To her right, the sudden rustling in a tangle of wild blackberry bushes made her startle again. With a thrill, she remembered the delicious fright of night sounds that had brought her time and again onto mountain trails on moonlit nights. How she'd missed this in the cloistered setting of the city, where nighttime sounds were the angered yowling of cat fights and baleful barking of dogs! So why was she acting like a school girl jumping at the very sounds she had grown to love?
From up ahead there came a sound of something that didn't belong. She pulled up on Blue's reins and waited, straining to hear it again. It was a voice, and not far ahead. Some instinct directed her to pull the Morgan well off the trail and into the cover of low branches. She slipped from the saddle and lay her hand gently on Blue's muzzle, willing her to be quiet.
There were two voices, one gruff and one higher in timbre and somewhat familiar. She waited as they drew nearer, her heart pounding in her ears. Certain they would hear it, she held her breath. She heard a curse from one, and then their indistinct conversation ceased as they walked within a few feet of where she stood, hidden by the damp, the boughs, and the night. The smaller man pulled up his horse and turned toward her. He swung his head to look back down the trail, and as he did, she recognized the chiseled face of Ethan Hall. Even in the faint light, she was certain it was him.
The gruff voice spoke, "What's wrong?"
"I thought I heard someone behind us," Ethan replied.
"You're just spooked. There ain't nobody back there. You got no more backbone than a slug."
Ethan spun around and kicked his horse into a trot, ignoring the man's taunt. The voice of the bigger man who had spoken, also sounded vaguely familiar, but his hat created an even deeper shadow over his face.
Kat stayed where she was for long moments, until she could no longer hear their horses' footsteps. She stepped from her cover and looked back the way they had come. Why had they been here? And why was Ethan worried about being followed?
She stepped into the stirrup and pulled herself up into the saddle again. "Come on, Blue. This mountain is just a little too crowded for me." With a light kick of her heel, the morgan sprang off at a quick pace.
At a switchback behind Kat, where the trail forked, the men pulled up. The man she had not identified took the saddlebag passed to him by Ethan. The larger man's horse skittered to the side as the saddlebag thumped against its side.
From his concealed position, Jonathan watched the interchange. He didn't need to hear their words to discern the tension between them, their tones harsh and clipped. He remained hidden until the two men split company, one heading up the mountain, the other heading back down the main trail to town.
Leading Jessie back to the trail, Jonathan knelt at the place the two men had just occupied, his hand moving over the tracks like a divining rod looking for water. The tracks confirmed his observation. Those packs they'd been carrying were heavy. Scanning the trail below him he could still make out Kat and the Morgan now back on the visible portion of the trail. He'd been impressed at her instincts to step out of sight of the unknown riders. There was something more to the girl than a head full of book education. Somewhere along the way she'd learned some practical knowledge of self-preservation.
He stored that information along with what he'd gleaned from the men who'd just passed. Pulling himself back into the saddle, he continued quietly down the trail always with Kat just ahead and always in sight.
Old habits die hard. The habits of a Ranger had developed in him a suspicious mind, a trait that had allowed him to survive when others had not. He read people, measuring words as other people might assess a person's height or weight, and he rarely trusted anyone to be completely honest. Years as a lawman had taught him that nearly everyone had secrets buried in dark places, sometimes very ugly, dark places.
This town most certainly was hiding some. Although he'd determined that it was no longer his job to uncover them, he couldn't stand by and let harm come to the girl when she'd done him a favor by coming to the mountain cabin. His years of habit acting as a protector, required he do this - to see her safely home. It was who he was, a part of himself that he couldn't put away as easily as his Winchester or unpinning his Ranger star.
Chapter 11
