Kaitlin's Silver Lining (9 page)

His presence in her
house resurrected old insecurities. She had an obligation to her fellow
suffragists and to herself. Women deserved the same rights as men, and she felt
compelled to fight for those rights, but with Bryce underfoot, she toyed with
ideas that seemed anti-productive. Romantic inclinations did not fit into her
plans for the future. What had happened to her healthy dose of anger? Already,
her temper calmed as she entertained a different direction with her thoughts.

Bryce tempted her to
question her goals. Even tempted, Kaitlin didn’t know what to do about these
spiraling emotions. Her hand touched the frizzy curls that framed her face.
Honesty was a quality she could do without right now, because if she thought
for one minute she could attract a man like Bryce Stanton, she would be lying.
Bryce was beyond her reach, and it was best she put the idea from her mind
right now.

Ten

Sarge Kanatzer gazed
at the snow-covered peaks that towered in the distance. He’d made so many
terrible mistakes in his lifetime, he didn’t know how to make things right.
Beside him, Betsy Blue howled at the wind. The gray-haired dog provided
companionship on lonely nights like these. Sad to think his only real friend
was a flea-bitten cur of unknown origins. At least the mutt proved faithful.

“Wishin’ again,
Sarge?” Bangles Demsy, his foreman, sauntered up the steps.
Sarge.
The
nickname, a muddled shortening of his given name, Sergio, was a sharp reminder
of the distinction between the two men. To his workers, he was like a sergeant,
their boss and nothing more. He’d always thought he’d wanted things that way,
but lately doubts plagued his heart.

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong
with wishin’,” Sarge groused.

“No word?”

“None. She ain’t
comin’ back. I’ve gotta accept that, but it’s hard.” He glanced at his foreman,
wondering how the man took to this sudden confidence. He wasn’t used to sharing
himself with others.

Knowingly, Bangles
smiled. “A man needs friends, Sarge. The way I see it, you don’t have any, cuz
you never wanted any. Me? I don’t care either way. You wanna change our
relationship and make it more, I’m game. I figure I’ve been workin’ for you
long enough to say this to you.”

“Twelve years is a
long time. You’re a good man,” Sarge said. He wasn’t going to deny or accept
Demsy’s statement. Twelve years was a long time to create the barrier existing
between him and his men. He couldn’t tear it down in one night.

Bending, Sarge struck
a match against his boot and lit a cigarette. Inhaling the rich tobacco flavor,
he stared out at the starless sky. Empty. He felt as empty as this night sky.
Bangles leaned on the rail beside him, quietly contemplating the same dark
void.

“I gave her a piece
of land to add to the land she already owns. Deeded it over to her without any
strings attached. I was hopin’ it would entice her to come home. That was a
year ago.”

“You ever think to
apologize?”

“For what? I’m not in
the wrong here. That gal doesn’t know her place if she thinks I’m gonna stoop
so low,” he snapped. He jammed the cigarette into his mouth, realizing he
barked at the wrong tree. Bangles knew just how to draw stuff out of him he
didn’t want to share. Damn the man.

“You have no humility,
and a man without humility will go to his grave lonely. Seems to me, you ain’t
learned much in the forty years you’ve been runnin’ this ranch.”

“I don’t recall
askin’ for your opinion.”

“Naw. Guess you
didn’t.” Bangles ground out his cigarette and sauntered down the steps of the
main house. “Reckon’ I’ll see you in the morn. I’ll be turnin’ in now.”

Wait,
come back.
That’s what he should say, but the words stuck in his gullet.
Humility? Bangles knew nothing of the inner turmoil that kept Sarge silent.
Pride. Pride made men great. He had a lot to show for his labors. He was a
proud man, one who couldn’t show weakness. To show weakness would give his
enemies, his competitors, ammunition that could destroy him. He tossed the
cigarette on the ground. It sizzled in the snow, the embers slowly dying. He
was slowly dying.

Sarge stalked back
into his empty house. A fire blazed in the large fireplace, giving off a warmth
incongruent with the way he felt. Meandering over to the hearth, he knelt and
poked at the embers. He rose slowly and gazed at the mantle. Kaitlin’s image
stared back at him, damning him with her icy blue eyes. At twelve, she’d shown
signs of being as stubborn as he. To this day, he regretted this flaw she’d
inherited from him. Without it, she might be here at the ranch where she
belonged.

He wanted her back;
he wanted her to take her rightful place beside him. She was his daughter, by
damn. The Silver Saddle Ranch would be hers one day, and he needed her. He had
nothing of himself to leave behind except this legacy.

He slammed the
colorized daguerreotype of his daughter face down on the mantle. He’d never
particularly cared for the gaudy look of the painted color. “I’ll not accept
this burden of guilt you would bring to my door, girl. So help me, I’ll not.”

Eleven

Bryce tugged at his
boots, wishing he had a bootjack. The left one slipped off easy, but the right
gave him a fit. Nerves. That’s all it was. He’d wasted the day getting ready to
call on Emma only to have his attentions rebuffed. And to think he’d lost out
to a dang saloon owner. He fell back on the bed as the right foot finally came
free from the tight leather. He hated nerves. They always made his right foot
swell.

Prying eyes gazed
down upon him with little sympathy. The expressionless faces were a bit
unnerving. He stared back at the porcelain figures, daring them to continue
their silent vigil. A long shelf extended from one side of the wall to the
other, full of dolls in varying sizes, all dressed in lacy frocks. The doll
collection surprised Bryce, as it seemed to add a more feminine dimension to
the rigid woman who owned them.

He tore his eyes away
from the mocking eyes and rubbed his throbbing foot. Kaitlin’s little protest
party hadn’t helped his temper any. At first he’d been amused by her show of
rebellion—until he’d seen Charley right there in the thick of things. He got
mad just thinking about it. He never did finish discussing the matter with
Kaitlin. Once they got home, the grand finale had crept up on them, topping a
really bad day with a bang. He continued to massage his swollen appendage,
working out the knots that had formed from just this one day of aggravation.

He dropped his leg
and leaned back on Kaitlin’s bed. What in the world did Emma see in an old fogy
like Farley Kaufmann anyway? He stared at the ceiling, surprised to see cobwebs
in the corners. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be. Kaitlin and Maggie weren’t
exactly model housekeepers.

Emma, on the other
hand, kept an immaculate home if memory served him right. Her room wouldn’t be
cluttered with worthless dolls. A mental picture of Emma baking in the kitchen
set his heart to pumping. His thoughts continued to take him into a
make-believe world as she placed a plate full of buttered biscuits, roast
smothered in gravy, mashed potatoes, and black-eyed peas in front of him. Three
or four kids would run in, their endless chatter filling the empty spaces. At
night, he would carry her to bed and...

He closed his eyes,
the daydream making him pleasantly hard. The soft scent of lilacs wafted over
him, reminding him of Kaitlin. Cool blue eyes seemed to intrude from nowhere
and shattered the image of Emma’s warm body next to his. How could he be so
foolish, lying on Kaitlin’s bed and dreaming of Emma? He opened his eyes once
more to the army of dolls that guarded Kaitlin’s room. Hmm, not Kaitlin. Katy
seemed a more fitting handle for the strange woman. Calling her Katy gave her a
softer, more feminine persona.

The hard ridge in his
pants pushed against the seams, demanding release. Fool or not, he’d wanted
things to work between him and Emma. He conceded he’d been more in love with
the idea of marriage than with the woman. Mentally, he’d prepared himself to
take on the responsibilities of a wife, physically needing the warm and willing
arms of a lover and a friend. How he hated giving up the dream that was Emma,
though he knew in his heart he hadn’t loved her.

“Uncle Bryce?”
Charley called from the other side of the door.

Bryce grabbed the
pillow and set it in his lap to hide the tell-tale signs of his wandering
thoughts. “Come on in.”

Charley peered around
the doorframe. She’d put on a flowing white nightgown that swallowed her. He beckoned
her forward with a smile. She sat on the foot of his bed, her pretty features a
mask of forlorn displeasure. He frowned.

“Spit it out, girl.
No sense in holdin’ on to what’s botherin’ you.” Bryce rested his hands on the
pillow.

“I wanna go home now.”

“Why? I thought you
were enjoyin’ your time here.”

Charley shrugged.
“Maybe. I just wanna go home now.”

“You gotta have a
better reason than that.” Bryce set the pillow aside, no longer needing its
protection. He leaned closer to Charley.

“I don’t like her.”

“Who? Kaitlin? Why?”

“I don’t know. She
stares at me weird. And she has some funny views about things—things my momma
would have disagreed with.”

“Seemed like you were
havin’ a good time tonight holdin’ that flag,” he said. In fact, Charley had
seemed downright disappointed when he’d hauled them all home.

“Well, I kinda liked
the singin’ part, and the streetcar ride was fun, but I didn’t like standin’ in
the cold, and I wouldn’t have gone in the first place if’n she hadn’t made me.”

“Made you?” His
temper sparked anew. Katy had no right dragging a child to a saloon, especially
if that child hadn’t wanted to go. “You mean Kaitlin forced you to go on that
march?”

“She said I needed to
learn early to stand up for my rights, to voice my opinion. Thing is, my
opinion don’t line up with hers. I don’t cotton to the notion of women votin’
and men not drinkin’. It don’t seem right.”

“She forced you to
go.” The statement was redundant, but he’d said it again more to convince
himself Charley wasn’t spinning tales. He studied his ward’s face, knowing the
child enjoyed stirring up trouble.

“Charley, give it to
me straight. You know how I dislike lying. Did Kaitlin threaten you?” He
squeezed her knee. “How did she force you to go?”

Charley twisted the
hem of her nightgown, refusing to meet his eyes. He doubted the truth of her
story until she glanced his way, tears glistening on her eyelashes.

“Charley, tell me
true. What did your aunt do to make you attend that gatherin’?”

“Please, Bryce. Let’s
just drop it.”

Her manipulation hit
home. She knew just how to make him dance to her tune. She had a way of giving
him just enough information to make him angry, and then back off until he
badgered her for more. By the time she finished telling him the story, he would
likely be past the boiling point. Yet, knowing she fed his temper, he continued
to let her work her wiles.

“No droppin’ it now,
girl. You started this, and I aim to finish it. I want to know what Kaitlin
did.”

Charley wiped at her
moist eyes. “She accused me of havin’ no ambition, of being lazy. She said no
woman worth her salt would just sit back and take what men dish out.”

“And?” Bryce didn’t
really see how that was so bad.

Charley must have
thought she’d lost her audience. She took a deep breath, and he knew, as surely
as he knew a heifer from a bull, whatever Charley said next would be the
catalyst that would send him over the edge. He’d had a bad enough day today,
and he needed the release. He needed a reason to vent some of his anger and
frustration, and bless Charley for giving him ammunition.

Charley took a deep
breath. “Aunt Kaitlin said I weren’t welcome to stay if I didn’t support her
cause. She had no use for a worthless child.”

“Worthless child?”
That did it. Charley didn’t need to lie as far as he could see. Katy, on the
other hand, could have very well said those things to Charley. She was just
stodgy enough to badger the girl, and he wasn’t going to allow it to continue.
He had yet to discuss Charley’s inappropriate presence at the saloon anyway. He
might as well lay it all out on the table. Yep, that saucy woman was about to
get a piece of his mind.

Bryce jumped up from
the bed, his anger riding just below the surface. Charley got up to follow, and
he turned back to her. “You stay here. I don’t trust myself to stay rational,
and I’d rather you not witness the dust devil I’m about to stir with my words.”

Charley sat down for
a minute and got back up again. She followed at a distance, and he said nothing
more to discourage her. He was too focused on setting things right with Kaitlin
to worry about Charley.

His forceful knock
upon Maggie’s bedroom door rattled the entire doorframe. “Kaitlin! Katy
Kanatzer, I want to talk to you.”

“It will have to
wait. I’m getting ready for bed.” The muffled answered fueled his temper more.

“This can’t wait,” he
boomed.

Maggie opened the
door a crack, and he pushed himself through just in time to catch a glimpse of
Katy’s shapely ankles before the billowy nightdress settled into place. She whirled
to face him, the stain of anger high on her cheekbones.

“Mr. Stanton, you
will remove yourself from our room at once.”

“Not until we get a
few things straight.” He craned his neck, determined to make his temper known.

Against his wishes,
Charley stood in the doorway. Bryce nodded toward Charley. “Did you badger the
girl into goin’ to that protest movement tonight?”

“Badger her? I don’t
think I understand your meaning.” Kaitlin grabbed a dressing robe and slipped
into it. Maggie stole a look at Charley. Bryce noted the smug expression on his
ward’s features, but it wasn’t enough to cool his anger. Charley had ignited
flames that had been stoked long before she’d made her accusations.

Maggie shook her
head, understanding clear in her brown eyes. “Oh Lordy, girl. What mischief did
you whip up this time?”

Bryce pointed a
finger at Kaitlin. “Takin’ Charley to that saloon was a very irresponsible
thing to do on your part, but Charley tells me she didn’t want to go, that you
forced her into participatin’. What were you thinkin’?”

Maggie scooted around
Bryce and ushered Charley out the door. “I think I’m real thirsty. Think I’ll
go on down to the kitchen and get me a drink of water. Come on, Charley. You
look thirsty, too.”

“Don’t you dare leave
me alone with this lunatic.”

But Maggie shut the
door, leaving Bryce alone with Kaitlin in the bedroom.

“Good. Now we can
hash this out without any interruptions,” Bryce said, enjoying the discomfiture
upon her stunned face.

Kaitlin put her hands
on her hips. He wished she hadn’t. It brought her nightgown closer to her body,
outlining her generous curves. His temper abated, replaced by an entirely
different emotion.

“There’s nothing to
hash out except your rude intrusion into this room.”

He glanced around the
room, liking the simple decor. “A right fine room, too. Maggie has good taste,
less cluttered than yours.”

“Say what you came to
say and get out.” She pointed a slender finger toward the door.

He glanced down at
her bare feet. The dainty toes peeking out from beneath her gown made him lose
his train of thought. His imagination drifted upward, and he wondered what else
was naked beneath the layers of material.

“Reckon I flew off
the handle a mite. It’s been a rough day.” Bryce scratched his head, suddenly
realizing just how inappropriate his intrusion into this private room really
was. “I guess Charley’s accusations lit my fuse. On the other hand, I think I’m
justified. Charley had no business goin’ on that march with you tonight.”

“Make up your mind.
You bring Charley here and all but give her over to my care. And now, you don’t
like the care I’m giving her.” Kaitlin tilted her head, and frizzy stray curls
framed her round face. The rest of her hair was tucked into a tight bun at the
base of her neck. “You’re the one who demanded I take responsibility for that
girl while you gallivanted around town. She’s too mischievous to be leaving
alone in this house.”

“You could’ve made
other arrangements, or you could’ve told me you planned to be out tonight. I
would’ve come back to watch Charley.”

She raised a brow.
“Instead of drinking yourself silly at that saloon?”

“Whoa, there.” He
held up his hands. “This fight isn’t about me. This is about you and your
niece. I can’t condone you forcin’ Charley to go on your little protest march
against her will.”

“Force is a very
strong word.” She rocked back on her heels. “That girl’s eleven, old enough to
form her own opinions.”

“Accordin’ to
Charley, you didn’t give her a choice, which makes it your opinion and not
hers.”

“I believe your ward
misled you.”

While he knew Charley
to be less than honest on many occasion, Kaitlin’s assumption aggravated him.
“How so? Are you callin’ Charley a liar?”

“Perhaps she just
misinterpreted my words, Mr. Stanton.”

He hated it when she
called him mister. He’d been staying in her house for a week now, long enough
for her to start calling him by his given name. “Sure wish you’d call me Bryce,
ma’am. Mr. Stanton makes me feel old.”

She ignored his
suggestion. “Mr. Stanton, you have entered my room uninvited, leveled your
accusations, and succeeded in making me very uncomfortable. I believe this
interview is at an end.”

“Do I have your word
you won’t take Charley on any more of these crusades?”

“No.”

The simple word
inflamed his anger again. What did she mean by no? “You know. This has been a
mistake from the beginnin’. I wanted Charley to learn some feminine charm, and
I thought a visit with an aunt might be just the thing. Instead of helpin’ her
learn how to be a lady, you want to turn her into a man like yourself.”