Silverton: Claims On The Heart (12 page)

By the end of the evening, she was discouraged to find they shared no common ground. She enjoyed hikes in the woods and church socials. She wondered if Martin could forget his business long enough to enjoy such simple pleasures.

As he finished his second cup of coffee she studied him. If they were to marry, would they sit together in the evening exchanging opinions and ideas the way her parents had done? Or would he sit buried in his business paper?

On the way out Martin detoured to steer her towards a group that had just been seated. He put on a cordial smile. “Mayor, it is a pleasure to see you this evening. You look well.”

“Never been better. We're out to have a good time while we can. This time of year, you never know when a blizzard might keep you in.”

Martin nodded sagely. “You never know.”

The mayor's gaze lit on Kathleen.

“I'd like to introduce my lovely lady, Miss Kathleen Morris, recently arrived from St. Louis.”

Kathleen offered her hand.

The mayor clasped her fingers in a gentle grasp. “It's nice to meet you, my dear.”

“I'm glad to meet you, too. I've admired your house since I first saw it.”

He grinned sheepishly. “The wife would have some of the credit for that. She had strong ideas about what she wanted.”

The pretty woman on his right elbowed him chidingly. “You like it as well as I do.”

He patted her hand. “Of course. But it's hard not to tease you.”

The lady rolled her eyes. “He's incorrigible.”

The other two couples laughed in sympathy, and Martin added a chuckle of his own. They introduced their companions and had a moment of small talk before Martin bade them good evening.

He seemed very pleased with himself as he escorted Kathleen to the hat check to retrieve their belongings. He winked at her as he helped her with her shawl. “Nice to have friends in high places, eh?”

“I'm sure it's helpful to your business,” she replied, feeling a little put out with him for introducing her as
his
lady.

The wind had died down. The air was frosty and still. A black velvet sky sparkled with stars.

Kathleen breathed deeply of the pine scented air. It reminded her of the way their house had smelled every Christmas in St. Louis. A pang of homesickness welled. Up in this high mountain valley she was very far from St. Louis. Life was different here, brash, yet precarious. She was sure the weak or timid didn't last long before turning tail and running home.

But there was no hightailing it for Kathleen or her father. No matter how cold or difficult things became this was home now. She and Papa had the store and their own fine house. They would make new memories, good ones.

As they walked along Martin told her a little about the people who had businesses in the shops they passed. When the shops thinned out at the end of the block he gestured towards a vacant lot. “I plan to put up some new buildings and lease them out. I've already been to the bank. Of course, I had no trouble getting the loan. The bank president and I agree that this town is sure to grow.”

Kathleen decided to voice what was on her mind. “Do you have any real friends here? Not people who are useful to you, but real friends.”

Martin slowed his pace. He seemed perplexed by her question. After a moment, he said, “Of course, I have friends. I have men who would do anything for me. For a price,” he added with a laugh.

Kathleen frowned. His answer seemed too close to the truth to bring her comfort. “And you believe if you have enough money it will buy anything you want?”

He took her elbow and turned her towards him. “Not everything, but a lot. I won't apologize for being a good businessman. You have to be tough, to have grit, to get ahead in this country. I don't have any patience for the low-lifes who lie on their bellies and complain. They deserve to be fodder for the mines and mills.” He took a deep breath, and by the dim light passion flared in his eyes. He took her by the shoulders. “It's no sin to want a good life for myself and those I ask to share it.” He bent and, before she could react, his thin lips bruised against hers in a moist and fervent kiss.

She pulled back, wanting to wipe away the dampness.

He released her. “I don't play games, Kathleen. I've made it plain that I want you for my wife. I could give you a good life. But I don't like to be kept waiting. So think it over and do the smart thing. We could be good together.” He stood outside and watched her make her way into the house.

Kathleen felt shaken as she locked the inside latch of the door. Her heart was still pounding, not from any passion on her part, but from the sudden shock of his boldness.

This had been nothing like the warm and exciting kiss she had shared with Collin. And yet Collin had none of the wealth and ambition to recommend him that Martin possessed.

Papa came awake from his chair beside the fire. “Did you have a nice time?”

“Yes. It was lovely. The hotel is beautiful.”

“That Martin knows how to impress a girl. And he's stuck on you.”

Kathleen tried to smile. “I suppose that makes me very blessed.” She was tired and more confused than she'd been since she arrived in Silverton. “I think I'll go on to bed.”

“Yes. You run along. I'll sit out here a little longer while the fire burns down.”

When she awoke in the morning, she crawled from her warm bed to dress hurriedly and join Papa in the kitchen.

He was just making up the fire in the stove.

Kathleen hurried to put mush on to boil and fry some bacon to go with it.

While they ate, she was relieved that he talked about what he was ordering for the store and not about Martin. She offered to mind the store while he ran the list to the depot for supplies that were to be brought back on the train.

She straightened up the house and put on a pot of soup to simmer for the lunch she planned to share with Collin. Then, she headed off for the store.

 



 

Collin stirred restlessly in his room. He sat in his chair and propped his legs up to rest on the window ledge. He had debated going to work that morning, only to realize that his eyes were still too swollen to see well in the darkness of the mine.

He wished he could bring the law against Martin, who paraded himself as a fine upstanding citizen, yet stooped to any means to get his own way. But he had no proof that Martin was behind the brutal attack. He clenched his fists. He would have to bide his time. Martin would show his hand. And then the town would see him for who he was. That's what Collin hoped would happen. And he would find a way to have Martin's nefarious ways exposed.

 



 

Late in the morning, Kathleen went to the boardinghouse with hot soup. She knocked on the door and then let herself into the parlor.

Mrs. McGee looked from Kathleen to the bowl of soup.

“I'm here to see Mr. McAllister. I heard he'd been injured.”

Mrs. McGee wiped floury hands on her apron. “The poor boy. It was a shame what happened to him. Those who did it should be locked up. But likely they'll get away with it instead.” She clucked her tongue. “When I saw him this morning, I like to have cried. I brought him up some breakfast. I don't think he ate much of it. If you wait here a minute I'll get a tray and you can carry up some roast goose and corn pone to go with that soup.” Mrs. McGee left and came back with a tray. It held a cup of weak tea and the promised lunch. “I'm sure he'll be right glad to see you. His room is upstairs. First door on the left.”

“Thank you. You're very kind.”

“No trouble.” Mrs. McGee went back to her kitchen tasks still shaking her head.

Kathleen carried the tray up the stairs. She knocked on Collin's door.

A grunt came from inside.

She took it as an invitation to enter.

Collin was sitting on a chair. He stared at her through bruised and squinted eyes. He had purple bruises on his cheeks and a cut across his lips that left them puffy. Speaking from the less swollen side of his mouth he said, “Not a pretty sight, is it?” He turned away. Perhaps he was embarrassed.

She set the tray onto his bureau. “I didn't come to admire your appearance. I wanted to see if you were all right.”

With a sigh, he turned back to face her. “It could have been worse.”

She gestured towards the food. “I made you some soup. Mrs. McGee said you didn't eat much breakfast so she sent up a tray.”

He grimaced. “She's a nice lady. She puttered over me this morning like a mother hen.”

“I'm no mother hen. But if you don't eat this soup I'll have my feelings hurt.”

He accepted the bowl she handed him and nodded an invitation for her to perch on the bed near his chair. He raised the spoon gingerly and sucked the warm soup. He managed a little goose, and then held out a chunk of corn pone to Kathleen. “Join me?”

She shook her head. “I'll have lunch with Papa when he gets home.” She let him eat a bit before the question that nagged her burst forth. “What were you doing over on Blair when you were attacked?”

“I was walking back from your house.” He looked surprised.

“I know. But I'm wondering what the fight was about.” She took a deep breath and plunged on before she lost her nerve. “I heard that a young woman took care of you, a friend of yours. Was the fight about her?”

“The girl from the…?” He broke off and then continued, “I've only seen her once before. I helped her home after she hurt her ankle outside your store. She was paying back a kindness.”

“So you're telling me that's all there was between you?”

One man took her on a picnic, the other to dinner at a fancy hotel and forced a kiss on her. Which did she prefer? She knew the answer. But her mind refused to do as her heart bid.

 

 

 

 

9

 

“The night I left your house wasn't the first time I'd met the men who attacked me. They cornered me once in front of the boarding house.”

“What did they want?” She frowned.

“To give me a warning,” he hesitated and then added, “About you.”

“Me?” Her delicate brows arch up in surprise.

“They warned me to stay away from you. Seems you were already spoken for by their boss.”

“Their boss? I don't have any idea what you mean.”

“They're Martin Long's hired men. They do his dirty work for him.”

She stared at him. Her eyes were wide. “So, you're saying that Martin ordered them to beat you up?”

Collin nodded. “That's exactly what I'm saying. That's what Long does when people don't do what he wants.”

Kathleen stared, and then shook her head. “Martin can be possessive, but I don't think he'd do something like this. Do you have proof?”

“No. But who else would want so badly for me to stay away from you?”

“No one that I know of.”

“Exactly.”

Kathleen stared out the window.

Collin gently took her hand in his own. “You don't believe me?”

“I don't know what to think.”

“May I call on you on Saturday?”

“I don't know if you should. If what you say is true then being with me puts you in danger.”

“I don't care. I'm not running like a scalded cat because Long wants me to.”

“Maybe we should wait awhile. I couldn't enjoy seeing you if I thought you might get hurt.”

He clenched his jaw into a hard line. “They took me by surprise, even though they told me they'd come again. I can take care of myself now that I know they're out there.”

She tightened her hold on his hand. “I'll bake you an apple pie for Saturday, but only if you're sure you'll be safe.”

He squeezed back. “I'll be safe.”

She withdrew her hand. “I'd better take that tray back down.”

Collin released her reluctantly. “Thanks for the soup.”

“I'll look for you on Saturday.”

“I'll be there.”

Loneliness settled around him when she left. He hadn't meant to scare her, but it was obvious Kathleen was worried about the rough element in town. She had questioned his statement that Martin had hired thugs to threaten him. He wasn't concerned if there was a fair fight. But what if someone aimed a bullet at his back?

 



 

It began to snow that afternoon. A white powder that shimmered on the mountains and turned the dusty streets to mud as the wagons slogged through it.

By the time Kathleen walked home to make supper flakes were falling so fast that she blinked hard to keep them out of her eyes. She was glad to reach home and shook out her wet wrap. She lit the lamps and stoked up a cheerful fire in the fireplace.

Papa would be wet and chilled when he came home from closing the store. He would welcome a chance to warm up in his favorite chair beside the fire.

She set a hearty meat and vegetable porridge to simmer.

He plodded into the kitchen as Kathleen lifted the pot lid to stir their supper.

He sniffed appreciatively as the pungent smell of onions filled the kitchen. “Perfect fare for a cold night like this,” he pronounced with a shiver.

Kathleen placed a mug of hot coffee in his hands and shooed him into the parlor. “Warm up while I take up supper.”

Papa was glad to oblige.

Awhile later, she called him to eat.

Papa filled her in on the news since she'd left the store. “Some rough looking characters rode down the street, shooting into the air and scaring horses. Someone went for the sheriff, but they'd already ridden away. Nobody seems to know where they're staying.” Papa's eyes sparked. “I told the sheriff they should be hunted down. That's the sort of irresponsible behavior that could get a woman or child killed. He shrugged and said he'd do what he could.” Papa buttered a thick slice of bread. “This wouldn't have happened in front of our store in St. Louis because there was a fear of the law.”