A Good Man for Katie (13 page)

She smiled and nodded then rose from her seat to remove the crystal cover from the cake platter. She cut two slices, a big one for Chase and a smaller one for herself and brought them to the table. Chase sank his fork into the velvety darkness of chocolate cake and took a bite. A sigh escaped him as the richness melted on his tongue.

After he swallowed, he said, “I’ve come to ask a favor, Pru. I’d like to take Sarge back to Crystal Springs with me.”

“Of course. He’s your dog.” Her gaze drifted to Sarge, who still rested his huge head on Chase’s leg. A wistfulness reflected in her beautiful eyes and he knew she’d miss the furry beast, even if he was always in her way. “I knew his stay with us was only temporary, but what will you do with him? He can’t possibly stay in the boarding house with you.”

“There’s a woman I think would benefit from having him around.”

“A woman?” One eyebrow rose and the corners of her mouth tilted upward. “Who is this woman? Why would she benefit from having Sarge around?”

A flush warmed his face and he concentrated on the cake before him. “Her name is Kathryne O’Rourke. Katie. She reminds me a great deal of you. Smart. Funny. Kind.”

“I see,” Prudence murmured, her lips widening into a grin that had the warmth on his face growing hotter.

“She has a way of finding trouble.” He took another bite of cake and swallowed before he spoke again. “The first time I met her, she was trapped in a runaway stagecoach, then last night she was accosted by three men as she was walking home after dark. Fortunately, I was there both times to help her, but I can’t be there all the time.”

“Of course, I understand. I’m sure Sarge will be happy with Katie.”

The dog whined and raced to the door, his nails clicking over the hard wood floor. Tail wagging, he turned circles in front of the portal.

“The colonel must be home.” Prudence rose from her seat and moved to the stove to pour another cup of coffee.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Alex opened the door and slipped inside. He said not a word, but a bushy white eyebrow cocked over one eye.

“Colonel.” Chase rose as well and saluted.

“Sit, please. Finish your cake.” He moved further into the room, stopping briefly to pet the over-anxious, glad-to-see-him dog, and kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Are you hungry?” she asked as she smoothed her hand along the side of his face.

“Famished.” He kissed her again then pulled out a chair and sat with a long, drawn out sigh.

“Bad day?” Prudence spoke as she used a dishtowel to pull a plate out of the warming box of the oven and place it on the table. “Careful. It’s hot.”

Chase witnessed the normal, every day exchange, saw the deep love between them and turned away. Instead of pushing them away from each other, the death of their son had brought them closer, a joined force against such deep grief. Jealousy, raw and unbidden, surged through him, made his hand clench around his fork. What he wouldn’t give for a small measure, just a token, of the love they shared.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” She dumped her uneaten cake in the trash and put the plate in the sink. “It was lovely to see you again, Chase.”

“You as well, Pru. And thank you.”

Alex nodded as he watched his wife leave the kitchen, his eyes shining with love, then, as if caught showing such an emotion, he cleared his throat and turned his attention to Chase. “Did anyone see you?”

“Just Prudence and Sarge. No one else. I snuck into camp while the men were in the mess for dinner.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way. The less anyone knows what you’re up to, the better.” He cut a piece of ham and popped it in his mouth, savoring the taste before he asked, “Have you eaten?”

“Your wife kindly offered me a meal but I’ve already eaten.” Chase pushed away his half-eaten cake and glanced at Sarge, who lay sprawled between them on the floor, one paw touching his chair, tail thumping in a rhythmic beat. He couldn’t help the grin that twitched the corners of his mouth as he forced his attention back to Alex. He gestured toward the plate. “Please, before it gets cold.”

“I didn’t expect to see you this soon, but I’m glad you’re here. It’ll save me a trip.” He dug his fork into the mound of mashed potatoes and shoveled them in his mouth. “Do you remember Jonas Pierpont?” he asked after he swallowed.

Chase nodded. He did indeed, having met the captain several times at Fort Whipple. A good man in all the ways that counted.

“He resigned his commission and opened a gunsmithery in Prescott. A few days ago, someone sold him two rifles.” Alex continued to speak around the food in his mouth. “He believes they’re army issue, believes they might be part of the shipment stolen when Jeremy—” He cleared his throat, as if the mere mention of his late son’s name caused him pain.

“I’ll pay him a visit, find out who sold them to him.”

Alex nodded. He didn’t speak for a long time, but his steady, unblinking gaze remained on Chase. The misery within his dark brown eyes brought a lump to Chase’s throat. “Do you know who murdered my son?”

“No, sir. Not yet.”

He placed his fork on his plate, as if the thought of food suddenly turned his stomach. “Are you getting any closer?”

“It’s been difficult at best, sir. I’m not exactly welcome in Crystal Springs, but I have my suspicions.” Chase concentrated on keeping the frustration out of his voice, but he heard it just the same. He wondered if Alex could hear his irritation as well. “I just need to find the proof. Toward that end—” He drew a scrap of paper from his pocket and passed it to Alex. “—I need to know whatever you can find out about these people.”

Alex unfolded the note and read the names. His bushy brows drew together, forming a furrow on his forehead. He folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket as he rose from the table and scraped the remains of his dinner into Sarge’s bowl. The dog, never one to miss a scrap of food, scrambled to his feet, almost knocking down Alex’s vacated chair in his excitement. “Easy, boy. You’re not starving,” he said, speaking to the beast as if he understood every word. Sarge glanced at him then stuck his nose into the bowl, devouring the ham, mashed potatoes and green beans in mere seconds.

“I’ll get you the information as soon as I can. I’ll leave it in the usual place.” He referred to an abandoned cabin high on a hilltop not far from Crystal Springs they’d agreed to use to leave messages for each other. Alex put his dish on the counter then proceeded to fill the sink with hot water from the reservoir attached to the stove. “Are you going to finish your cake?” he asked as he reached for the plate on the table. “What about your coffee?”

Chase shook his head and rose from his seat. “I should go before someone sees me. I’ve stayed too long as it is. Come on, Sarge.”

“You’re taking the dog?”

“I’ve already made it right with your wife.”

“What are you going to do with him?” Alex rolled up the sleeves of his uniform in preparation for washing the dishes.

Warmth heated his face as when he explained his reasons for taking Sarge.

Bushy brows rose and anger flashed in his eyes as the colonel stared at him. “A woman? You’re supposed to be finding my son’s killer.”

Chase flinched beneath the sharpness of Alex’s tone. “I will, sir, but it will take time. I just can’t walk into town, guns blazing, and kill everyone I believe is guilty.” A long sigh escaped him, filled with all the frustration he felt. “I know your orders were to find the bastards and kill them. My father’s were the same, but that’s not the way it should be.” He laid his hand on Alex’s shoulder. “I need to do this right, but rest assured, Jeremy’s murderers will get exactly what’s coming to them.”

The man before him seemed to shrink but nodded his understanding. “Be careful, son,” he said after a long time.

“Yes, sir.”

“Take this with you.” Prudence entered the kitchen, face flushed, and thrust a burlap sack into his hand. “They belong to Sarge.” She grinned then cast her eyes toward the dog. “It’s his blanket and a bone he’s been chewing on.” She bent low and retrieved the bowl from the floor. “You can take this as well.” She washed and dried the bowl quickly, placed it in the bag, scratched Sarge behind the ears one last time and made a quick exit but not before Chase saw the tears gleaming in her eyes.

“I’ll have to get her another dog,” Alex murmured. “She grew quite attached to this beast.” Chase turned toward Alex and knew, just by his expression and the way he smoothed his fingers into Sarge’s soft fur, Prudence hadn’t been the only one who’d become attached. “Corporal Crowley has a litter of puppies he thinks are Sarge’s offspring. I’ll bring one home for her,” he said then, as if remembering he had a guest, Alex straightened. “Safe journey, son.”

“Thank you, sir. Come on, Sarge.”

Chase left Alex’s house as the sun dipped into the horizon, casting long shadows on the ground. He patted his thigh twice. Sarge fell into step beside him, as he’d been trained.

The men of Camp Verde were still in the mess hall—he could hear their voices raised in conversation—and realized with a suddenness that made his heart hurt, he missed the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers.

Soon, he could put all this behind him. Once the murderers of his brother and his companions were brought to justice, he could move on with his life. He and Sarge slipped into the shelter of the trees beyond the camp where Champion waited and Chase breathed a sigh of relief. Once again, he had successfully visited the colonel without being seen, but he couldn’t help wondering when his luck would fail.

“I’m bringing you to a nice lady, Sarge,” he said to the dog as he climbed into Champion’s saddle. Sarge sat on his haunches and gazed at him, his head tilting to the side, ears twitching, soft brown eyes filled with adoration. “You’ll like her. Her name is Katie, and she’s very sweet.”

Chapter Nine

She liked living alone and answering to no one, but sometimes at night, Kathryne wished someone was with her. Like tonight. Right now. After helping Emeline with her pie, the both of them covered in flour, then cleaning up the kitchen, the wind had picked up and howled through the little valley where Crystal Springs nestled. At times throughout the afternoon and early evening, the trees bowed and bent beneath the strength of the gale.

Kathryne sat at her desk, coffee cup in hand, and watched the trees around the little schoolhouse bend and sway. The wind had not died with the coming of night. Indeed, it seemed to blow harder. Several branches of the evergreens around her home scraped against the outside walls and windows. The sound spooked her, especially after the other night.

It didn’t help that she had been jumping at shadows all day, either. Nor that she’d seen Shep Turner twice since “the incident” while she and Emeline shopped, and both times he’d been glaring at her, fury smoldering in his eyes.

The shiny new locks on her doors offered some comfort, but not enough. She didn’t know who had installed them—they’d simply been on her doors when she came home from shopping, but she had her suspicions. There were only two people who would do such a thing. Either Terrence, Emeline’s husband, or Chase and she suspected the latter rather than the former.

A smile crossed her lips. Chase Hunter certainly didn’t fit the description of a cruel, heartless outlaw, at least not in her opinion. Kathryne flinched as another gust of wind screamed through the trees. Tomorrow, she’d talk to Mr. Jacobs, who sometimes did odd handyman jobs around town as well as run his blacksmith shop, and see if he had time to trim the branches, but for tonight, she’d have to do her best to put the creepy sound out of her mind.

She checked the lock on the front door one more time, then took a last sip of her coffee as she walked into the kitchen and rinsed out her cup. Thanks to Chase’s lessons, the beverage was no longer bitter and she actually enjoyed having a cup or two after dinner.

Kathryne crawled into bed, propped the pillows up behind her, and pulled the quilt over her, almost up to her chin. She picked up the book from the bedside table and tried to read, but the branches scraping against the window made concentrating impossible. She jumped each time, losing her place in the story.

Are you sure it’s just branches scraping against the house? What if it’s a bear?
Or worse?
What if it’s Canady? Or Shep? What if they’ve come back to finish what they started?

The questions popped into her mind. Once there, they took hold and refused to be pushed away.

With a groan born of frustration, and the unreasonable fear growing, she climbed out of bed, slipped into her robe and wandered the house, lighting lamps in each room to chase away the darkness. She checked the locks on the doors one more time. The scraping sound became more insistent. She checked the windows as well, making sure they were closed tight, making sure the simple locks were in place before she settled in her chair and pulled a crocheted afghan around her.

If the general could see her now, he’d admonish her. He had always preached reasonable thinking and problem solving and yet, none of his lessons had taken hold when it came to the wind.

Thunder had never bothered her. She’d never been afraid of the big crackling booms that sometimes shook the house on its foundation. Rain and snow? Loved them both, but wind…wind was another story. She hated the sound, the lonely howl as it buffeted everything in sight.

“Enough!” Kathryne spit the simple word and stood from her chair. She blew out the lamps, except for ones on the kitchen and bedside tables, and crawled into bed. She removed her glasses, placed them on the table beside the bed and tried, oh how she tried, to go to sleep.

Despite her resolve, she couldn’t. She lay beneath the blanket, eyes wide open, listening to the creaks and groans of the house and the persistent scratching, which seemed to grow louder…and moved from the side of the house to her kitchen door. There were no tree branches long enough to scrape against the wooden portal, no matter how powerful the wind.

Frustrated, Kathryne once more scrambled from her bed. With no pistol or rifle to protect herself, she picked up the next best thing—a cast-iron skillet. Armed, ready to face whatever foe waited on the other side, she flipped the lock and flung open the kitchen door.