Courting Kate (37 page)

“On the way home yesterday.”

“Yesterday? Luke was here, not you.”

“I went into town.”

“And...?” Tanner prompted.

“And I saw Kate.”

“And...?” Getting anything out of Mark when he didn’t want to tell it was like trying to pull teeth out of a closed mouth. “Then I came home.”

“Tell me about Kate.” Tanner set his bowl aside and waited. “Oh, all right.” Mark dug his boot toe into the dirt. “She’s leaving.”

Tanner felt like Mark had punched him in the stomach. “When?”

Mark shrugged. “She might already be gone.”

Why? Why now, when he thought they had things settled? Maybe she was upset because he hadn’t been in to see her since that night they had made love. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to. He wanted that more than anything. He also knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to leave her house until dawn. And with Fuller breathing down his neck, he simply couldn’t spare the time. He’d thought she’d understood.
 

“She sent the dog back with me.”

“Then she really is leaving.” His appetite gone, Tanner got up and walked into the darkness, his mind pondering what Mark had told him. Maybe he could stop her, if he had the strength to saddle his horse. But exhausted as he was, he’d probably fall off the saddle before he got ten feet down the trail.
 

He cursed himself for not asking more questions. Was she pale? Was she upset? Had she said where she was going? Had she left any word for him?

Tanner returned to camp, but his questions remained. Having done the dishes, Mark had already left for home.

He crumpled onto a stump and stared into the dancing flames of the campfire. How could she leave like that? How could she throw everything away, rejecting not only him and his love, but all chances for a life together.
 

She’d said she wouldn’t marry him. That it wasn’t necessary.

It was necessary—to him. Why couldn’t she see that?

Maybe she just didn’t care.

* * *

After she had talked to Mark, Kate had waited, hoping against hope, praying, straining to hear that one familiar footstep. That one familiar voice calling out her name, asking that she stay.
 

More than a week had passed since the night they had spent together, two more days since she’d talked to Mark.

Tanner hadn’t come.

Not that it would have done any good, she told herself. Things wouldn’t have changed. She wouldn’t marry him to ease his conscience, or because he felt an obligation. At least she wasn’t pregnant— her monthly had arrived right on time. She wouldn’t have to marry because of a child. She would only marry for love. And it would have to be a two-way love. Even though she loved him more than life itself, the feeling wasn’t returned.

Tanner had shared her bed, shared her passion. But he had never told her or given her any reason to believe— that her affection was returned. And even if they did wed, she was certain that later he would resent having made the sacrifice.

She had been waiting until the last moment, but now, fearing the Wells Fargo office might close, she left her house and hurried to the building. Gathering the last of her courage, she stepped up to the scarred wooden counter. “One ticket to Portland, please.”

“One way or round trip?” the agent asked. Thin and pinch- faced, the man looked sour as he waited for her answer.

“One—” Kate swallowed, hoping he didn’t notice the break in her voice. “One way,” she said softly.

He told her the price.
 

She placed the required amount by the window, then waited until he slid the ticket over the counter.
 

“Schedule’s on the wall,” he said, anticipating her question.

“Thank you.” She placed the ticket in her reticule and checked the timetable. Tomorrow morning at six. Her heart leaden, she left the building. It was done.

Now all she had to do was say to her goodbyes to the doctor and Jeanne. She dreaded that final meeting.

She’d bid Chauncey goodbye yesterday and the occurrence had left both of them in tears.
 

The crusty old miner had sobbed like a baby, then he pleaded with her, begging her not to go. When he’d seen she wouldn’t change her mind, he’d accepted the news with silent reproach. Overwhelmed with guilt, she had promised she would return for a visit. He’d vowed to come to Portland and see her; but both of them knew that neither would be the case, that this would be the last time they would ever meet.
 

She headed back to her house and went inside. Her footsteps echoed on bare floorboards, resounded off the unadorned walls. Already the place had a sense of abandonment, a sense of loneliness, especially now that she’d sent Fluffy to the mountain.

Her trunk was packed, ready to be picked up at dawn tomorrow and taken to the stage station. Other containers, holding cooking utensils and the like, would be stored at Madame Jeanne’s. After Kate was settled, she would send for them. Taking one last, long look around, she picked up her carpetbag, then closed and locked the door.
 

She paused on her steps and raised her eyes to the mountain, saying a final farewell to the boys—to Tanner. She had thought the boys might come in to say goodbye, but then she hadn’t told them exactly when she was leaving, only that she was. Now, remembering her goodbye to Chauncey, she was glad they hadn’t. She might not have found the strength to leave.

She inhaled the pine-scented air, only vaguely aware of a freight wagon rumbling behind her, its harness jingling as it progressed down the street. Somewhere in the distance a mule brayed, a peculiar melancholy sound.

In contrast, from a nearby yard, children’s voices raised in a squabble, then quieted at a mother’s scolding.

The savory smell of onions and boiled corned beef and cabbage drifted on the air. Not from Madame Jeanne’s, she thought. The Frenchwoman considered such fare common. Her dishes were basted with wine, topped with delicate sauces. Always delicious, always served with elegant French flair. She would miss Jeanne’s cooking, and her friendship.

If only things had turned out different, she mused. But they hadn’t. She could stand here and drown in self-pity, and make herself late for the supper she would be sharing with Dr. Thomas and Madame Jeanne, or she could wipe her eyes and get on with her life.

Turning her back on the brooding mountain, she picked up her carpetbag, walked down the alley and crossed the street.

Chapter 25

Three days had passed since Mark had told Tanner that Kate would be leaving, three days in which Tanner hadn’t done anything about it, because, in spite of his bandaged hands, he’d been forced to continue felling trees. Even though he was powerless to prevent her from going, Kate was always on his mind. And it wasn’t only Kate that worried him. He couldn’t get rid of Mark. Tanner had asked his brother to go home; when that didn’t work, he’d ordered him.
 

Mark had left only long enough for Tanner to get over his anger, then like a bad penny, when Tanner was busy working, Mark had turned up again.

Because he had neither the time nor the inclination to beat his brother into submission, Tanner had reluctantly accepted his presence. Then, afraid Mark would get hurt if he continued to stay underfoot, he had grudgingly allowed the boy to strip the fallen trees of branches. Tanner also vowed that at the first sign of carelessness, the first mistake, he would send Mark packing if he had to tie him to the mule.
 

But Tanner was gratified to see that, unlike Luke who still hadn’t grown into his feet, Mark was not only agile, but cautious. Mark took no chances and accomplished the job with a minimum of excess movement.

Feeling somewhat better about the idea of allowing Mark to help him, Tanner knew his brother would be a good woodsman someday. And having Mark with him had proved one more advantage: now Tanner didn’t have to do the cooking, and he didn’t have to eat cold food.
 

With Mark’s help, the felling was going smoother and quicker, and Tanner began to hope he might meet the deadline after all.

Higher up on the mountain, in the other area where Tanner had been working, it had been necessary to drag each tree to a logging deck. Here, after the trees were cut and bare of limbs, the mules would pull each of them to the skid trail, where the logs would be released and allowed to slide down a long muddy ravine to the water. If everything went as it was supposed to, the downed timber would float downstream and end up in a dammed- up area on the creek. When Tanner had gotten the logs that far, his job would be done.

Workmen hired by the mine would collect them from the pond and load them onto the huge lumber wagons. Teams of stout oxen would pull them to the mill.

His task had been long and arduous, and knowing what he knew now, Tanner wondered if he would have the courage to commit himself to do such a thing again. It had been the means to an end, he decided. The bank held his mortgage, and the timber contract provided money to pay it. Simple as that. He’d really had no choice. It had been a matter of survival.

Today he and Mark had risen at dawn and paused only for lunch. It was now mid-afternoon, that time when the woods grew quiet, as if its inhabitants were napping, waiting for darkness. It was also a time when the slanting sun rays struck Tanner straight in the eyes. He squinted against the glare and drove the ax blade into the tree, shooting chunks of bark and pitchy wood into the brush below. He made the last cut on the big fir, then tossed the ax off the platform. He waited.

The tree didn’t fall.

Shielding his eyes, Tanner stared upward to where the tops of the lofty branches brushed the sunlit sky. Although he couldn’t see for certain because the timber was so thick, he thought one of the other trees must be holding it. His heart pounding, he extended his hands and pushed against the trunk, hoping it wouldn’t ricochet back and trap him on the springboard. It didn’t move.
 

A gust of wind caught in the lofty tops and whipped the upper branches. The tree swayed, tilted, swung on its axis. But it still didn’t fall.

Tanner held his breath and waited. On a bet, he’d once driven stakes into the ground with his falling trees. He’d been that accurate in his cutting. But this one was different. He knew the fir would fall—eventually. What he didn’t know was which way it would go.
 

“Tanner, I’m done skinning this one. You want me to do something else, or fix supper?”

Mark.
Tanner swung his gaze from the tree to his brother. Ordinarily where Mark was standing would have been safe, but not now. Not with this tree. It could very easily fall right on top of him. “Mark, get out of here!”

Another gust of wind lashed the branches into a violent frenzy. The tree swayed, sighed.
 

Mark froze, staring at the treetop as if mesmerized by the tree’s motions.

“Run!” Tanner yelled.
 

Coming to his senses, Mark whirled.

Tanner jumped from the springboard and raced after him.
 

With an agonized groan, the giant fir twisted free. It plunged to earth.

Tanner felt a rush of air, heard the cracking of wood. Stinging, needle-tipped branches whipped his back, his neck, his face. Then a crushing blow drove him to ground. Wind left his lungs as a heavy weight slammed down on him. A bone snapped. Pain shot up his leg.
 

The ground vibrated beneath him as the giant settled over and around him. Wood chips, dust and debris sifted to earth, pelting his body, filling his nostrils and his eyes.
 

Then silence.
 

Tanner fought the dizzying pain and tried to raise his head. “Mark?” He prayed his brother had made it free.
 

“I’m all right,” Mark called back. “If I can get loose from this mess. How about you?”

Tanner couldn’t answer. A wave of red-rimmed agony carried him into darkness.
 

* * *

“Tanner?” Mark untangled himself from the last of the branches. He ran along the length of the tree. His gaze searched frantically. Then he saw his brother under the dense foliage, pinned to the ground by a heavy limb. “Tanner!”
 

Tanner didn’t answer. Didn’t move.

“Tanner!” Mark tore through the sharp-needled limbs. Yanked a branch aside. He bent and felt Tanner’s neck for a pulse. A faint heartbeat fluttered against his fingertips. His own heart began to beat again. He was alive. But how badly hurt?
 

Tanner wasn’t bleeding from the mouth or ears, but the limb lying across his back might have broken some ribs. Heaven only knew what else might be wrong. He had to free him before he could tell.
 

He located the ax, then returning to Tanner’s side, he quickly removed the smaller limbs. Only when he was certain he could cut the big branch without dealing his brother even more injury did he sever it from the tree and pull it aside.

Now that Tanner was uncovered, Mark noticed the unnatural angle of his right leg. Broken for sure.