A Good Man for Katie (33 page)

As if she floated on air, Kathryne returned his coat and went inside, her insides fluttering as if a thousand butterflies had been set free.

****

Chase lounged on the bench once more, his duster buttoned to his neck, legs stretched in front of him. He caught the sweet fragrance Kathryne wore, now transferred to his coat. Content for the moment, he scratched Sarge behind an ear, sending the pooch into dog heaven.

“Nice evening.”

He looked up to see an older man step through the door. White mutton chops connected to a big woolly mustache across his face. He carried himself well in his military uniform, his ribbon- and medal-festooned chest puffed out, back ramrod straight.

Chase recognized the four stars adorning the uniform and immediately rose to his feet and saluted. The action was purely involuntary and he felt his face warm as the word “Sir” fell from his lips.

“At ease, son.” The general chuckled and waved his hand. “Where did you fight?”

Every muscle in Chase’s body tightened as the man’s gaze settled on him and a slight smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “How did you know?”

The man shrugged then took a seat on the bench next to him and pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. “I recognize a military man when I see one, son.” A match flared to life and smoke swirled around his head as he puffed his cigar alight.

“In answer to your question, I was a scout. I went wherever they told me, sir.”

“Who was your commander?”

“Colonel Barstow.”

“Alex?” The man nodded with approval. “Good man. Lovely wife, as I recall.” He said nothing for a long time, content to just sit and puff on his cigar. Even in the darkness, Chase could see the twinkle in the man’s eyes as he held out his hand. “General Galen O’Rourke. I saw you dancing with my daughter and couldn’t help wondering why you didn’t come inside.”

“I can explain, sir.”

The general shook his head. “No need, Mr. Hart—or should I say Hunter. Emeline told me everything.” He emphasized the word
everything.

“Everything?” He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him a little dizzy, a little disconcerted. “Does Katie know?”

“No, she doesn’t, but she will find out. On that you can depend. My advice? Tell her now, before she finds out some other way. My daughter has a way of learning things she shouldn’t.” The general continued to smoke, the end of the cigar glowing red as he puffed. After a long time, he said, “I understand I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“For?”

He sighed deeply as he stood and quickly dislodged the burning ember of his cigar with his fingers, flicking the glowing tip into a pile of snow before placing the un-smoked portion in his pocket. He turned to Chase and extended his hand. “Saving Kathryne’s life. More than once, I’m told.”

Chase rose as well and grasped the hand offered him. They shook, but the general didn’t release him. Instead, the man’s grip tightened just a bit. He didn’t blink and his stare remained steady as he asked, “Are you in love with my daughter?”

Without hesitation, despite the gleam in the older man’s eyes, despite the strength in which the general grasped his hand, Chase stated, “Yes, sir, I am.”

“That’s all I wanted to know, son, but remember, if you hurt her, there will be no place on God’s green earth you will be able to hide.” He nodded and went back inside the town hall, the door closing quietly behind him.

Chase let out his breath in a long sigh as he took his seat on the bench. Sarge laid his head on his lap and Chase ran his fingers through the dog’s thick hair. “I believe I’ve just passed muster. What do you think?” And for reasons he couldn’t explain, his heart felt lighter.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Rain poured from the heavens, the heavy drops forcing the branches of the hardy trees to bend beneath the weight, saturating everything, melting the remains of snow from the last storm. Streets ran with water, turning the roadway into ribbons of thick, slippery mud, which sucked at one’s feet. The only one who seemed to enjoy the weather was Sarge, who bounded into the puddles with unabashed abandon.

Kathryne juggled the cake, her umbrella and several gaily-wrapped packages tucked under her arm as she made her way around the house to Emy’s kitchen door. She heard voices coming through the window closed against the rain and the chill, which meant she was late. But how could she be? The clock on the town hall tower had yet to strike eight with its melodic chimes. She wasn’t late. If anything, she was early. She wanted to help Emeline with the big traditional breakfast they always had after opening their gifts.

The dog followed her up to the back porch, tail wagging, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. Mud coated his paws and belly, his fur soaked. “You stay here, Sarge. I’m sure Emy doesn’t want muddy paw prints all over her nice, clean floor.”

As if he understood every word, Sarge sprawled on the porch and rested his muzzle on his paws. His eyes followed her as he gave a long sigh.

Kathryne dropped the umbrella on a chair beside the back door, struggled with the doorknob and finally managed to let herself into the kitchen…without dropping the cake or the packages. She slid the plate onto the counter, grateful Sarge hadn’t tripped her as he usually tried to do.

She kept the packages in her hand, her intention to sneak them under the tree in the parlor before anyone noticed, but the voices and the serious undertone of the conversation stopped her.

She recognized Emy’s soft pitch and Terry’s deep rich timbre. “I know who killed Evan, but without proof, Dad, I have nothing.”

Is that Chase? What is he doing here? Did he just call someone Dad? Who is Evan?
The questions jolted through her mind, rapid-fire and she stilled, every muscle in her body taut.

“Then find the proof, dammit!” another voice exploded, one Kathryne did not recognize.

“Now, Charles, remember what the doctor said.” A woman’s soothing tone tried to diffuse some of the man’s anger.

“Damned sawbones!” the man exclaimed, but then his voice lowered. “Your brother deserves to have his killers brought to justice.”

Curious, Kathryne crept closer to the door between the kitchen and dining room. She pushed the swinging door open just enough so she could peek through without being seen. Chase sat at the dining room table as if he’d sat in that chair many times, comfortable and at ease. Emeline sat across from him, tears in her eyes, but not from fear. In fact, if she wasn’t mistaken, Emeline showed a great deal of concern for the man she once claimed was an outlaw. Terry sat next to her, his mouth a thin line. The general and her mother were there as well, her father’s face reddened, his facial hair standing out in stark relief. Virginia also had tears in her eyes and her face seemed too pale in the lamplight.

As her gaze darted around the room, Kathryne noticed a man and a woman she didn’t know, both about the same age as her parents. The man seemed vaguely familiar, but she wasn’t certain why.

“I know, Dad. I…it isn’t as easy as you think. And it’s been doubly hard because of my reputation in this town.” Chase directed his comment to the man.

Dad? The man was Chase’s father?
No wonder he seemed familiar. They shared the same features, the same coloring, although gray liberally streaked the older man’s hair.

Redness crept up the man’s face. Even from here, peeking through the crack in the door, Kathryne knew the man struggled with his anger…and lost. “Then tell them who you are!” Again, the man’s voice exploded, accompanied by his fist pounding on the table. Coffee cups rattled with the force. “Dammit, son! Tell them you’re not a hired gun, an outlaw. Tell them you’re a captain in the United States Army investigating your brother’s murder, and be done with it!”

“He’s trying, Uncle Charles, we both are, but there are other factors to consider.” Terrence reached for Emy’s hand and twisted his fingers with hers. “If we’re not careful, Evan’s killers could come after any one of us. One of them has already tried and Chase was shot.”

Uncle?
Which meant Chase and Terrence were cousins—and Emeline knew, had always known. Kathryne sucked in her breath as her stomach twisted. Tears flooded her eyes and collected where her glasses met her cheek. They
lied
to her. All of them. Even her own parents, for they obviously knew as well.

She must have pushed the door wider without realizing it. All she heard in her head was a droning buzz, as if she stepped into a giant beehive. Suddenly, her hands were empty, the brightly covered packages spilling to the floor.

Conversation stopped as one by one they looked at her. Emeline gasped and raised her hand to her mouth. Terrence flushed to the tips of his ears, but said nothing. Her father rose from his seat, but didn’t come any closer as her mother grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. The man and woman Kathryne didn’t know simply stayed seated, their mouths shaped in O’s. Each face staring at her showed guilt and remorse.

The only one who moved, and moved quickly, was Chase. His chair fell backward as he jumped up, her name on his lips. “Katie!”

Kathryne opened her mouth though words were impossible at this moment. She turned on her heel and stumbled toward the kitchen door, back the way she’d come. The portal slammed behind her as she gained her balance and ran down the steps.

Chase caught up to her on the sidewalk leading to the gate that marked the beginning of Emeline’s property and grabbed her arm. “Katie, I—”

She stopped, looked at the hand on her arm then up at his face. She said not a word—she couldn’t over the lump in her throat as his expression blurred from the tears in her eyes and the rain falling on her glasses. It didn’t matter. Pain showed on his face…it couldn’t compare to the deep, unrelenting ache in her heart.

She pulled away from him and ran as fast as her feet could carry her. Mud up to her ankles sucked at her shoes, and puddles soaked the hem of her skirt, but she kept running, berating herself for a fool with every step as the steady downpour soaked her to the bone. Sarge raced beside her, thinking her mad dash a game, his joyous barks echoing in her head. She ignored the stitch in her side and gasped for breath against the ache of betrayal. And she had been betrayed. By all of them, every single one, but the worst…Chase.

He caught up to her again on the bridge, his long strides outpacing hers and once more, tried to stop her. “I’m sorry, Katie. I—”

Hurt beyond words, Kathryne brushed past him and reached the cottage. She let herself in and slammed the kitchen door, the window rattling with the force. She leaned against the wooden portal, gasping for breath, bile rising to the back of her throat as her stomach clenched. The quivering started when she heard his footsteps pound up the back stairs. “Go away!”

“I never meant to hurt—”

Kathryne took a step away from the door and the hypnotic sound of his deep rich voice, her backside pressing up against the kitchen table. She took a deep shuddering breath. “But you did,” she yelled through the door. “You lied to me. You all lied to me, made me believe…” She closed her mouth and swallowed over the constriction in her throat as the doorknob slowly twisted. She’d forgotten to flip the lock.

Chase entered the cottage, his hands held high. Water dripped from his hair, his clothing, into a puddle on the floor, adding to the growing mess from her own clothing. He didn’t move away from the door, but she could tell he wanted to hold her in his arms. “Hear me out, Katie.”

She looked at the clock on the wall. “You have five minutes, although why I’m giving you that, I don’t know,” she said as she unbuttoned her wet cape and spread it over the back of a chair then faced him once more and folded her arms across her chest.

“I can explain.”

Oh, how she longed to turn away from him and never see him again, regardless of what he had to say. Given what they’d been through though, she owed him a chance to enlighten her with the truth. “Then start. Your time is running out. Let’s begin with your name. Is it really Chase Hunter?”

A flush stole up his face and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed—hard—though his gaze never left her. “My name is Charles Hunter Hartridge, but I’ve always been called Chase.” He paused and took a step closer to her. “May I sit?”

“Do whatever you want. I no longer care.”

He winced beneath such hateful words, but said nothing. He grabbed two dishtowels from the drawer where she kept them and placed one on the table in front of her then pulled out a chair and took a seat. She didn’t reach for the towel, but remained standing, every memory they’d made together running through her mind as water dripped from her hair.
I’m such a fool. Why is it I always fall for the wrong man? A philanderer, a thief, and now a liar?

“I’m not an outlaw, Katie, as I’m sure you heard,” he said as he dried his hair.

Kathryne didn’t move.

Chase rose from his seat and grabbed the coffeepot from the stove. The pot was still warm. He swirled the liquid, judging how much was still there then grabbed two cups from their hooks above the stove and brought them to the table. He poured and said, “It’s a long story, Katie. I know you only offered me five minutes, but if you want to know the whole truth, it’ll take much longer. You might as well sit down.”

She remained on her feet, arms still crossed over her chest, more to control the pounding of her heart than anything else. She sniffed, trying so hard to hold her tears at bay, but in truth, the task seemed beyond her control.

He took a deep breath then rose again, the chair legs scraping the hardwood floor, and left the kitchen. She heard him stir the embers in the fireplace and add a few more logs then return to his chair. She felt his steady gaze on her, felt the heat of his stare and her heart rate doubled. “Please, Katie.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly became her undoing. Kathryne sighed, wiped the tears from her eyes, finally grabbed the towel from the table and took a seat across from him. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t see the expression on his face and not feel his pain as well as her own.