Courting Kate (27 page)

“The weather’s nicer now, and it’s not so cold at night. I think it might be a good idea if we take a turn or two staying in that toolshed across from her place,” Tanner said. “Keep a watch on her house at night. See if anybody’s bothering her.”

“From what you’ve told us, that might be a good idea,” Mark said, glancing at Matt. “What do you think?”

“Something’s spooked her. Tanner, since you’re working so hard these days, let me and Mark take care of this. If anything serious comes up, we’ll let you know. Otherwise, we can handle it.”

“I would feel better,” Tanner said.

“Are you gonna talk all night? I’m hungry,” Luke complained from the kitchen doorway.

“Keep this between us,” Tanner warned, knowing that Luke would insist on helping out. He also knew that, as before, Luke would fall asleep.
 

“You’ve got it,” Mark said softly. “I’ll get my gun and be on my way.”

“I’ll pack you a sandwich,” Matt said, rising from the table. “Give you something to do while you’re watching.”

“Watching for what?” Luke asked. “Where are you going?”

“Hunting.” Mark flashed Tanner a grin. “Who knows what kind of varmint I might catch.”
 

* * *

Tired of her own cooking, Kate went across the street to sample some of Madame Jeanne’s excellent French cuisine. After a meal of
coqauvin
and a glass of wine, Kate spent a few moments in conversation with her friend. Then, saying goodbye, she returned to her own dwelling.

She’d put in a hard day with scarcely any rest the night before; now she was practically asleep on her feet. She’d made a point to be home before dark, but now the long night stretched out before her.
 

She’d let the dog loose before she left, hoping that by allowing him a good run, he would be content to spend the rest of the night inside. But now, having reached her doorstep, she wondered at the wisdom of that decision. Fluffy wasn’t waiting on the steps as was his usual custom. In fact her pet was nowhere in sight.
 

“Fluffy. Here, boy,” she called, first in one direction, then another.
 

He didn’t come.

She waited for a few minutes, uneasily noting that the sun was fast disappearing behind the horizon. When it set, night would fall like a black shroud. As a child she had been afraid of the dark. As an adult she liked it even less. Now fully aware of the dangers that might be lurking just out of sight, she was terrified.

“Fluffy. Come on, puppy,” she called, louder this time.

Still no response. Either he was out of earshot or too preoccupied to pay her any mind.
 

Her nervousness made it impossible for her to remain outside any longer. She inserted the key into the lock.

The door swung open of its own accord.

Gasping, she jumped back. Then, her heart pounding, she cautiously peered into the room. Had she forgotten to lock it?

No. She’d checked it. The house had been secure.
 

A faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. Someone had been here. She swallowed. Could still be here. “Hello. Is anyone there?” she called, hating the tremor in her voice. “Hello.”

“Miss Kate, something wrong?”

“Oh-h!” Kate wheeled. “Dr. Thomas.” She clasped a hand over her thundering heart. “I’m so glad to see you. I locked my house and went to supper. When I returned a few minutes ago, I found my door open.”

“Hmm. Better let me take a look.” The doctor opened his medical bag and removed a pistol. He stepped to the doorway. “If anybody’s in here you’d better show yourself right now,” he called out in a no-nonsense tone. He entered the house and lit the lamp. He checked the corners, the closet and under the bed. Then he came back to the door and motioned her inside. “Nobody here now. You’d better take a look around and see if anything is missing.”

“I don’t have anything worth stealing.” She checked her meager store of belongings. She had deposited all of her money in the bank. Everything else seemed to be in place. “Maybe it wasn’t locked after all. Maybe the latch didn’t catch.”

“Let me have your key, and I’ll check it.” He inserted the key into the lock and tried it several times. “It seems to be all right.” He frowned. “I don’t want to scare you, but could be somebody else has a key.”

Her eyes widened. “Would that be possible?”

“It’s an old building. The lock is a standard size. Most any key of the same type would fit it.”

“Oh, my. That never occurred to me.” The idea that anyone could break in was bad enough. But the knowledge that they could enter and leave at will...
 

She thought about all the nights when she’d been asleep, depending on the security of the lock. Of course, she’d also had her dog to give warning.

Remembering her pet, she glanced up at the physician. “Have you seen Fluffy tonight?”

“No, can’t say as I have. Is he missing?”

“Not really. I let him out for a run, and he hasn’t come back yet.” She forced a smile. “I’m sure he’ll return most any time.”

The doctor frowned. “I hate to leave you alone like this, but I have a patient that I have to see.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, with a lot more assurance than she felt.

“Lock up tight,” the elder man ordered. “On the way back if I run into your dog, I’ll bring him by.”

“Thank you. But I’m certain he will have returned home before then.”
 

“Good night, Kate.”
 

She followed the doctor to her doorstep, then she called her dog again. Finally, when the night closed around her, she scooted back inside. As she turned the key and slid the bolt, she wondered why she bothered. If intruders really wanted to get in, the flimsy fixture wouldn’t keep them out. And once inside, without the dog, she would be at their mercy.
 

* * *

Mark had barely made it into the toolshed when the doctor and Kate came out the door. Was Kate sick? Maybe that was why she had been so uneasy. Taking a seat on an upended barrel, he peered from the edge of the doorway, listening to her call the dog. She didn’t look sick to him. Maybe it was some female complaint. While he didn’t know much about that, he had heard other people talk about them.

Finally she went back inside and closed the door. Then the house plunged into darkness.
 

It seemed strange she would go to bed with her pet still outside. The dog hadn’t come when she called. Where was the mangy critter? Fluffy was very protective of Kate. Even on the mountain he rarely left her side.

Could something have happened to him? Mark scoffed at that idea. He had the feeling that beast could have gone up against a bear and come out the winner.

Then what?

He grinned. A lady dog, of course. The worthless mutt had gone courting.
 

Kate must be scared to death,
he thought. When she’d been on the mountain, he remembered, she had always tended to the outside necessities before it had gotten dark.

Even though he didn’t relish spending the night in an uncomfortable toolshed, Mark was glad he was there. He only wished he could reassure Kate, tell her he was watching over her and that she had nothing to fear, but he didn’t dare. Not just because Tanner had told him not to, but because he knew Kate was too proud to admit to a little thing like fear.

He shifted to a more comfortable position to avoid a nail that was sticking up between the barrel staves. Sleep tugged at his eyelids, but remembering Tanner’s comment about Luke, Mark fought back a yawn. If he’d known he would be expected to stay awake all night, he could have sneaked a nap that afternoon. As it was, he’d spent the day chopping stove wood. Now his muscles ached, and he was not only exhausted, but bored.

Maybe if he ate something... He was poking about in the grub sack when a faint movement caught his eye. Nothing that he could really see, more like sensing a vague change in the alley shadows.
Wind in the trees? Or maybe the dog?

All thoughts of food forgotten, Mark narrowed his eyes, trying to penetrate the gloom.

Whatever it was seemed intent on blending with the darkness. It moved again.
Too tall for an animal. A man.
 

Mark slid his hand down and picked up his rifle. Silently he eased from the shed and crept toward the observer.

The man stood in a patch of shrubbery, his gaze riveted on the pie shop.
 

While he couldn’t see the man well enough to identify him, the smells seemed familiar. Pipe smoke, garlic, wool and... whoever it was could have stood a bath.
 

Mark edged closer. He planted the tip of the gun barrel in the man’s back. “One move and you’re dead,” he said softly.

“Mark? That you, boy? For God’s sake, don’t shoot. It’s Chauncey,” the old man said in a hoarse whisper.
 

Mark lowered the tip of the gun. “What are you doing sneaking around Kate’s?”

“I might ask you the same thing!”

“Tanner sent me. He was worried about her.”

“Shh!” The miner glanced around. “Can’t talk here. Let’s go over yonder.” The old-timer pointed to the toolshed.
 

Once they were inside, Mark asked for an explanation.
 

“I ran into Doc Thomas earlier. He said somebody broke into Kate’s house tonight while she was out to supper. Scared her pretty bad. Doc had to go out to see a patient, and I promised I’d keep an eye on things. Make sure whoever it was didn’t come back. On top of that her dog’s missin’.”

“Somebody broke into her house?” Mark’s fingers curled around the gun stock.
 

“‘Pears so.” The miner sighed, then shuffled his feet. “I don’t know how you’re going to take this, but things ain’t been the same for Kate since she came back from the mountain. Some of the fellers got the idea that she and Tanner had been carryin’ on.”

“That’s a damn lie,” Mark said vehemently. “Who were these fellers? Maybe I ought to have a word with them.”

“I already did, and I thought I had the matter settled. I love that little gal like she was my own. I let it be known that I’d kill anybody that messed with her.” The old man patted his waistband, letting Mark know that he, too, was armed.
 

“Somebody broke in. And now the dog’s gone. I wonder...” Mark put his hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Chauncey, would you mind sitting here for a spell? I want to see if I can locate that hound of hers.”

“Take all the time you need, boy. She shore sets a store by that critter.”

His rifle cradled in his arms, Mark left the shed. Moving in the silent way Tanner had taught him, he stayed to the shadows and made his way down the street.

Mark checked every street, every yard; calling softly so that he didn’t have all the animals in town setting up a din.

He looked everywhere he could think of, even venturing into Chinatown, a place most white men wouldn’t go after dark. But there was no sign of the dog.

Maybe the animal had returned to Kate’s on his own. Then again, maybe not.

“Fluffy. Fluffy. Come on, boy.”

Still no answer.

He stood at the end of the street, debating about what to do next when an odd noise caught his attention. “Fluffy?”

It came again, so faint that if he hadn’t been listening, he wouldn’t have heard it.

Didn’t sound like a dog. Didn’t sound like anything he’d ever heard.

He stared into the darkness and made out the shadowy bulk of an abandoned barn. Whatever it was, was in there. Holding his rifle ready, he followed a path through the tall dead grass, trying to make as little noise as possible. Although half the building was in a state of collapse, somebody had secured the latch. Mark slid the timbered draw bolt and opened the door enough to slip inside.

He stood in the darkness, tense, ready. He heard the sound again. Now he knew it was an animal in pain. “Fluffy?”

He eased forward, tracing the sound to a boarded up stall. He set his rifle to one side, then ripped off the boards. Wary of what might be waiting inside, Mark lifted the gun. He stepped through the opening.

A bulky, light-colored shape lay against a pile of dark straw. The stall smelled of old manure, mold, wet fur—and blood.

“Fluffy?”

The animal whined and made an attempt to rise.

“Damn!” Mark lay the gun aside and reached inside his coat pocket and removed a match. He struck it, filling the air with the scent of sulphur, then he looked down.

Fluffy, his fur covered with blood, his eyes glazed with pain, peered up at him.
 

“Oh, damn.” Sick, Mark knelt and ran his hand over the matted, russet-tinged fur. Shot. From the amount of blood he guessed the dog was more dead than alive. “Easy, boy,” he crooned, when the dog made an attempt to get up.

The match burned the end of Mark’s fingers, and he blew it out. He needed more light. He ducked back through the boards and felt an upright timber at the edge of the stall. Hanging on a nail at head height, he found a rusty lantern. He shook it and heard a faint slosh of oil. He felt in his pocket for the last of his matches, lit it and touched it to the wick.