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Kat and her father sat on the grass at the edge of the field watching a group of men and boys playing a peculiar game of baseball. Each team seemed to be playing by a different set of rules. Neither seemed to match up with the two games she'd witnessed in Boston. But when they weren't arguing, they appeared to be enjoying themselves.
Kat took a sip of cool tea. She wished she could enjoy the afternoon, but her thoughts had been ambushed by the earlier events of the day. Liam had spoiled it for her, calling her back to their earlier lives of animosity. She'd thought such childish bickering would have been a thing of her past. Now it took on an added degree of ugliness.
Nathaniel glanced over at his daughter who had been quiet since the shooting competition. "I didn't know Liam would be entering the contest. I hadn't seen him in so long, I thought perhaps he'd moved on."
"I saw him earlier, last week in fact." She drew her knees up to her chest and leaned a cheek against her hand, looking sideways at him. "He said some fairly unpleasant things. It seemed at the time a threat. I don't know. Maybe it was my imagination."
Nathaniel closed his eyes, uttering a low groan.
"What is it, Papa?"
He shook his head slowly, casting his gaze toward the distant snow-capped mountains stretching north. "I'm afraid we've got ourselves into a terrible situation, Kat. Liam, Gilford Hall, and now this new man...Gilford said something today that would be hard to take as anything less than a threat. I'm becoming more convinced he's a part of these stage robberies, using his guise as a lawman to control the road to and from the mines."
The frustration that had been building burst from her with a fury. "Why doesn't someone suggest actually holding an election for sheriff instead of just standing by and allowing him to take control? This town was founded by some very strong, self-determined men. I don't understand why they aren't standing up to him."
Nathaniel shrugged, looking chagrined. "We all got old."
As Kat looked into her father's weary eyes, she regretted her tone that sounded more like an indictment than she'd intended. These were the men she'd looked up to all her life, men who'd carved a civilized community from a wild frontier. In less than three decades, this valley had been transformed from a battleground to a pleasant place to raise a family. Yes, there were still skirmishes with renegade Indians and the constant threat of sickness and drought, but they had brought a form of civilization that she'd grown up expecting to last for many more decades. They had established law and order. Now, it seemed they were moving backward.
"What are we going to do?" She left the question hanging there for a while, wanting to hear him supply the answer as simply as he'd supplied them to her as a child. Fix it, Papa. You are the one I depend on.
Nathaniel heard the disappointment in her voice. "I don't know, honey. Wish I did."
Kat saw the tear hanging in the corner of his eye and reached over to touch his hand.
"Did you know that Jonathan Winthrop was once a Texas Ranger?" he asked.
Kat's eyes opened a bit wider; hearing the rumor from her father added weight to its credibility. "Rumor, or did he tell you?"
"I asked him. He seems young to have quit a job like that."
Kat shifted her gaze to the game, where three of the older men were arguing with a youth about his uncertain status on third base. "And you are wondering if he might be the answer." She said it without a hint of how she viewed the solution.
"Maybe. Maybe, if we asked him, explained our situation."
A vision of Jonathan's somber gray eyes, clouded by some hidden pain, came clearly to her mind. Undoubtedly that haunted expression gave evidence to the reason the man had walked away from his profession. What right did she or anyone have to ask him to open the wound?
Trailing someone without his knowledge was one of Jonathan's many skills. He was legendary for it, trailing men for days, then suddenly appearing in their campfire light, a warrant for their arrest in his hand. Sometimes the warrant was served. Sometimes not. But he always found his man and brought him in, except once.
Keeping a short distance behind the men, Jonathan managed to keep up with them without giving his presence away. It helped to have a horse with as much experience as Jessie. A few miles from town, Ethan Hall halted his horse, calling to the flat-faced man. There was a dangerous moment of silence as they faced each other on the shadowed edge of wood. Then Hall spoke low with the tremor of scarcely bridled rage.
"You were given instructions to stay at the cabin, until we came to you."
"And I told you. You ain't my boss!"
"You think my father is going to ride out and show he has any connection with you? You're a known trouble-maker. He has to keep up some kind of pretense to be legit. I'm taking a risk being seen with you!"
Jonathan sensed the volatility of the flat-faced man, wondering that Hall was pushing him this hard.
Hall pressed the point. "We won't be here much longer. This town isn't going to roll over, despite what my father thinks. So just sit tight. You and Noah stay in the cabin, until I come for you. We'll light out with what we have, then set up somewhere else. But you have to give me more time to convince my father."
Reeling back in his saddle, the flat-faced man gave out a dangerous laugh. "You're such a papa's boy, aren't you? Your papa has no intention of leaving this valley. And as for these town's folk takin' him on, well you're as blind as my great granny. That just ain't goin' to happen. I grew up here, remember?" He took a breath before starting in again. "The ones you need to be concerned about are that girl and her father. The doctors." He spit out the word like a curse. "If they blab what they suspect happened with the guard, the game's up, little boy. All the pieces are goin' fall down on your head."
Hall answered him in a soft voice, eerily devoid of any emotion. "I've got it under control." Weren't those the words he'd heard his father say?
"You think so? Well, I could take care of her. Just give me the word, Hall, and I'll take very good care of her."
The pieces were in place, the corners, the edges, were all in place. Jonathan knew that a few missing pieces from the middle didn't make that much difference. How they'd done what they'd done, where they'd taken their stolen goods, didn't matter. He knew the players now, and it all seemed too horribly familiar.
He waited until the flat-nosed man, the man he'd called Liam, was gone. He waited as the younger Hall turned his horse's head back to town.
He had it under control. The truth that Jonathan knew from experience was that neither of them had it under control. He was beginning to doubt that anyone ever would or could. Fate or Providence always had its say in the end. Jonathan backed Jessie off the trail, following a game trail back to Snowberry. If it were within his power to do so, he would do his duty, not as a Ranger, but as a man who had the gift and the call to protect the innocent.
Ethan combed his hair with nervous fingers, dusted his clothes with his hat, and put on his most appealing smile, the one he used to bait. He located her near the stand erected for the musicians and strode purposely to her.
Kat had taken Adam's hand, before Ethan could approach her. She smiled encouragement into his eager face. Knowing it was his first, she led him through the dance. She could see that he was smitten with her and so she treated his attraction seriously, not wishing to wound his tender heart. They danced, awkwardly at times, as Adam tried to find his feet and match them to the rhythm of the tune.
Ethan waited. His hands seemed restless, clenching and unclenching, almost in rhythm to the music. He'd always hated waiting. His certainty at controlling the situation was in jeopardy. As he watched her, he had to fight the voice within telling him to run. With a volatile man such as Cahill in the picture, his father wasn't even in control. If he were to get on his horse right now, he might be able to get to the cabin without Liam seeing him. Maybe he'd take at least one bag of gold before heading out. California might be a good place with a man of his talents. There were still places there where he might be safe from those who knew him.
The music ended. Adam bowed to Kat and she curtsied to him. Ethan quickly maneuvered around a pair of laughing youths. In his haste he caught his heel in the young lady's dress hem. When he'd extracted himself, he had to relocate Kat amidst the other dancers. Spotting her, he started in her direction.
Kat watched Adam return to the table where his father was waving him over for dinner. There was a light tap on her shoulder, and she turned, half expecting to see Ethan Hall again. When she looked up at Jonathan, a little gasp involuntarily escaped her lips. She laughed to mask her embarrassment at the reaction.
"Mr. Winthrop, I wasn't expecting to see you. My father thought he saw you leave." Kat worked to restore her composure, which seemed constantly at risk when she was anywhere near him.
"I did."
"Well, I'm glad you came back." Oh, what a stupid thing to say.
The music lifted again to a slower beat. Standing at her side, Jonathan made no attempt at further conversation. She wondered if she should ask him to dance, and then thought better of it. Suddenly, Jonathan seemed to thaw from his frozen state and come to himself. "Would you care to dance, Dr. Meriwether?"
"Only if you call me Kat. Most of the townspeople can't remember to call me Dr. Meriwether, and I doubt they ever will. Most of them still think of me as the tomboy they once knew. It's hard to shake those impressions. My father will always be Dr. Meriwether. I think I might one day persuade them to call me Dr. Kat. I can live with that." She was talking fast, unable to slow her tongue as it raced ahead of her purposeful, practiced restraint. What had happened to the discipline of recent years? Hadn't she overcome her impulsive youth, acquiring through her aunt's guidance the less opinionated demeanor of a lady, carefully measuring her thoughts before expressing them?
He gave her a wan smile, but she felt the warmth of it down to her sore toes. "Then Kat it is. But then I suppose you should call me Jonathan."
He extended his hand. She slowly placed her fingers in his. His other hand slipped naturally around her waist, the warmth of it spreading up to her neck and into her cheeks. Oh, please no blushing.
The fiddler slowed his pace as the dancers tired of their more gymnastic reels. Jonathan led her confidently in and out of the other dancers. He held her with such firmness, causing her to feel at times that her feet were scarcely touching the ground, his arms alone carrying her through the dance. They moved together, weaving effortlessly through couples revolving in their own worlds, like constellations of two. Faster than the rhythm of the music, faster than the spinning earth beneath her feet, her heart beat against her ribs at a most unhealthy rate.
Chemistry, she told herself, this was dangerous chemistry, the kind that could become unstable. This argument in her head, this warring of her body and her mind was something familiar. She'd fought it for four years and her mind had always won. But the pleasure of being held so firmly in Jonathan's arms, made her doubt that she would win it this time. She had an impending impression of danger here and at the same time an overwhelming sense of safety. It was similar to the safety she felt in her father's arms, but something more, something far better.
She felt the tingling warmth of his hand slide from her waist to her back, as he pressed her close to his chest. Now the pounding of her heart was compounded by the thumping of his, as if one was trying to speak to the other in some secret language unknown to the human ear. He turned with her in a tight circle, making her head spin, his chin now resting lightly on her head, his new growth of whiskers prickling her scalp. Closing her eyes, she yielded to his leading, trusting him to carry her through the dance.
The freedom of the reel she'd danced with Ethan called out the joyful exuberance of her youth, the eagerness to relish what life could bring. It was a dance she could have performed without a partner, dancing with life itself. But this was vastly different, stirring the passions long suppressed. Unlike the foot-stomping excitement of the first, this dance required a partner, a man such as Jonathan Winthrop.
Too soon, the music ended. Jonathan held her a moment longer, before stepping back, releasing his hold upon her. Her fingers retained the memory of the warmth of his hands for another moment, then the coolness of the afternoon returned to send a chill through her body. How much better it would be to stay in his warm embrace.
Looking up into his eyes, those somber dark eyes, she wondered at the terrible wound that had emptied them of joy. The doctor she'd been trained to be considered what remedy would cure him. What would heal the wounds? More than that, she wanted so very much to be the one to do it.
Jonathan pulled his gaze away from her, knowing this was the very distraction that he could not afford if he were to protect her. To keep his wits about him, he sensed his need to distance himself from her, away from her lavender scented hair and dark searching eyes. This had been unexpected, this charge of attraction that seemed to flow through every nerve ending.
From the corner of his eye, he glimpsed the young Hall leaning against the side of the church. His body conveyed nonchalance but his eyes were fixed upon Kat. As much as Jonathan wished to fade into the crowd, keeping his vigilance from a distance, this was not the time to leave her side. He brought his attention fully back to Kat. Aware that he didn't dare take her in his arms again, he extended his arm to her and asked, "Would you care to take a stroll, Dr. Kat?"
She smiled and wrapped her arm through his. "Just Kat."
Placing his hand lightly upon hers, he led her to the edge of the church lawn where the prairie began, stretching a mile to the river and another mile to the western foothills. The last rays of sunlight glowed in hues of orange and pink behind the distant mountain range, making the shadowed outline of peaks more distinct by contrast to the light.
He glanced behind to see if Hall had followed them. Catching no sight of him, he turned back to look down at Kat. Long fingers of soft light seemed to caress her face, slipping golden highlights through the locks of her hair. She looked up at him with her searching brown eyes. Embarrassed, he looked away.
Not trusting himself to look at her just now - not until his pulse had slowed, he said, "You must love your father very much to come back here. I'd have imagined there were many places with more to offer. . .towns that'd been grateful for a doctor."
Jonathan felt her eyes on him. She took her time in answering, making him wonder if he'd touched a nerve.
At last she said, "I do love my father. He's been my rock for all my life." She turned her face to the hills, her words faltering and strained with emotion. "I admire him more than any man I've ever met. He's kind and compassionate, smart and witty, and brave."
He heard the hesitation and glanced down to see the tension lining her young face.
"And yes, I . . . did have offers," she said softly. "I do. . ."
Jonathan saw her slip a hand into the pocket of her dress, thinking he could hear the crinkling sound of paper as she did.
"It's complicated, isn't it? I used to think that becoming a doctor would be the key to every door I've ever wanted to open." Her fingers tightened on his arm. "It's just that I have a skill now. It's almost as though I don't possess it, but it possesses me. I'm not even sure that I have the right to say how it's used, because it's like a gift." Her breathing had changed, the words came spilling out, jumbled thoughts that had not been sorted and neatly filed. "If those skills are needed, do I have the right to say how or where? If they truly are a gift."
He waited for her to continue, but when she did not, he volunteered, "I'm not sure that it's wrong to stay or go as long as you use them."
Jonathan saw the turmoil that she was in, saw it in the tense lines about her mouth and felt it in the grip of her fingers on his arm. He didn't understand the specifics, the who or the why, but he understood the forces pulling on her. He understood them so very well.
"Oh my!" Kat took in a deep breath, looking away. "I'm so sorry. . .I don't know why. . ." She pulled away and wrapped both her arms about her, hugging her chest. She laughed lightly. "You are very easy to talk to. I think I've needed to say those things out loud. Coming back here. . .I wasn't prepared for the changes, I guess."
"What kind of changes?" He asked it, knowing some of them, assuming others.
She flung her hands out to the town. "The town has grown so much! It's doubled in size. My father's tired out. I can see it in his face, the weariness."
"Town's lucky to have a skilled doctor. Not many towns west of the Mississippi can boast to having one. Where I come from, there just weren't any. The big cities had them, but often-times it was Indian medicine that was the closest you could get to any doctoring or some snake oil salesman."
With the soft brush of her fingertips, Kat touched his arm again, creating a shock that sang through him. He mustn't allow these emotions to be stirred. They would only interfere with his ability to focus on protecting her.
Unaware of her effect on him, she continued, "But it's other changes that have me worried. Jonathan, I don't trust the sheriff or the men he has working for him. I know some of them. They were bullies when I was here, and now they're supposed to be protecting the townspeople?" She shook her head, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Wouldn't be the first time I've heard of a sheriff with a shady past." If he could get her to trust him and share what she'd learned that had the Hall's anxious, he might be able to put a few more of the pieces together. Low and quiet, he pushed his luck a bit. "But there's something else about this troubling you."
She hugged herself as though she were cold, but the warm breeze suddenly lifting across the valley belied the source of the chill. He saw the struggle in her face as she worked out her level of trust in him.
Kat tossed her head angrily. "One thing that I know is true, is that there's more violence now than before we had a sheriff. There've been fights in town. That never happened before. People are putting locks on their doors. It's the men that I know surrounding the sheriff that makes me suspect he's involved."
"I'm pretty sure that he'd say he took over the job because of the violence."
"Probably. But did you know that he wasn't even elected? And Father says no one wants to confront him about it." Fire flashed in her eyes. "Oh, if I were a man! If I were a man, I'd demand that there be an election so that the town could decide."
"And would there be any one of them willing to put himself in that position?" Jonathan asked softly.
Ignoring the question, she threw her arms around herself again. "And I wouldn't even be allowed to vote."
Jonathan wasn't holding any convictions one way or the other about women's suffrage, but he could definitely see her reason for frustration. If there wasn't a man with enough backbone to stand up to Hall, they'd just have to suffer the injustice of it. The consequences would inevitably follow. More disturbing was the threat he'd heard directed at Kat and her father, placing both of their lives in peril.
A sudden thought struck him that she was testing him. Did she know he'd been a lawman? Had she heard the rumors as well or had her father told her? Was she expecting him to confront Gilford Hall? Jonathan caught the movement from the corner of his eye and looked up sharply to see Nathaniel approaching. "Dr. Meriwether."
"I see you've been taking care of my daughter." Nathaniel winked at Kat as she reached for his arm, wrapping hers around his.
"My pleasure. We've been discussing...politics," Jonathan said.
"Oh my! I wouldn't have advised that. She's got some headstrong opinions," Nathaniel teased.
"Don't we all where politics are concerned? Don't think women are alone in that."
"Suppose you're right about that. Kat's been keen on the subject ever since she read an essay by Lucretia Mott a year or so before she left for Boston. She started reading through newspapers like other women might study that magazine, Ladies' Home Journal."
"And who gave me the article to read?" Kat tugged on her father's arm, shooting back a teasing, narrow-eyed challenge.
Nathaniel shrugged and grinned.
Jonathan said, "An educated man, like yourself, was bound to raise a child with strong opinions. Seems a few men could use their brains a bit more when forming their voting opinions. I've seen too many votes cast in exchange for a mere glass of whiskey. Think a woman's vote might not be so easily bought."
"Why, Mr. Winthrop, I'd never have figured you for an advocate of women's rights." Kat delivered him the warmest of smiles, with just a hint of humor.
"Well, ma'am, I'm not too certain of that. I'm just calling it as I see it. And I've met a fair number of men that vote without giving much thought to why or who they're voting for."
Kat's smile touched her eyes. "Thank you for that, and thank you. . .for the dance." She paused before adding, "And the conversation."
"We'd love to have you join us for dinner sometime," Nathaniel said, then looking at his daughter's horrified expression, he added, "I'll cook."
"I'd be privileged. A man who's traveled as much as me, catching a good meal is something worth riding the hills for. Thank you."
Jonathan remained where he was watching them walk away. He waited for a short time, scanning the crowd for Hall. Watching his back as well as theirs, he followed them at a short distance, staying in the shadows.
After a short walk of a few hundred yards, he noticed that someone was indeed following them. On the opposite side of the street, hidden in the shadow of two buildings was the younger Hall, the man who had it under control. As if uncertain, the man stood there for a few minutes until Nathaniel and his daughter had started up the hill to home. After a time, he turned away. Jonathan waited until he saw him mount up and ride in the opposite direction. Then he waited at the base of the hill until he'd seen Kat and her father enter their home and lights appear within.
He brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Pulling his hand away almost as though he'd been stung, he looked at his fingers where the scent of lavender still clung. Remaining professionally distant would be difficult this time. Beyond the sweet fragrance of lavender, there was something about Kat Meriwether that lingered with him still.
Exhausted as she was, all Kat wanted to do was take off her ridiculous corset and tight shoes, then crawl beneath the covers of her bed to sleep. But sleeping did not come easily. To make it all the more frustrating, it wasn't life choices, concern for her father, or even the threat of impending disaster that fueled her insomnia. Those reasons would have been excusable, tragically laudable even. No matter how much she pinched her ear, she couldn't shake the pleasurable memory of Jonathan Winthrop.
She tried all the techniques that had been a part of her self-government, her discipline of higher cognitive reasoning over petty temptations. She tried thinking of those things she did not approve of in the man. There were none. She liked the musky scent of him, of leather, and horses, and the soap that lingered from his last shave. The rich tone of his voice, the measured cadence of his speech, the gentle way his hand held hers only improved her opinion of him. She liked the way his clothes stretched across his broad shoulders, the easy manner in which he controlled all that muscle and sinew to hold her tight to his chest without crushing her. And, blast it all, she even liked his politics!
In his arms she had felt so safe. In all her self-sufficiency that was one strength she never felt she possessed. She never felt completely safe. It riled her that although she might be able to win a debate, or even win a shooting contest against a man, she knew her vulnerability as a woman. But in Jonathan's arms, she felt her resolve to be completely self-reliant dissolve.
She had faced three smiles that day that held a quality of danger. One smile sprawled across the face of her childhood enemy, Liam. She wouldn't soon forget his threat. The other smile, smooth and inviting, belonged to the handsome Ethan Hall. But the most dangerous smile of all was that which touched the serious eyes of Jonathan Winthrop. His gentle smile posed the greatest peril of all. When the corners of his mouth lifted, the warmth that radiated from his heart was like the rising of the sun on a cold Idaho morning. Jonathan Winthrop was indeed a dangerous man.
Chapter 19
