Silverton: Claims On The Heart (13 page)

Kathleen patted his hand. “This isn't St. Louis. Things are different here. Just be glad no one was hurt.”

They finished eating and cleaned up the dishes.

Papa went off to doze in his chair.

Kathleen sat embroidering pillows for the sofa when she heard a knock on the door. Surprised that anyone would venture out on such a damp night, she rose and peered out.

Martin was standing there, snow falling onto the shoulders of his great coat and collecting in the depression atop his hat.

Kathleen opened the door hesitantly. “Martin, what a surprise. Come inside.”

He stepped in and shook his hat and coat outside the door to remove the melting snow. “I was walking by and remembered the wine I left with you. I don't suppose you could spare a small glass for a weary traveler before he goes back into the cold?”

“Of course. I'll get the glasses.”

Papa had roused. He pointed to the other chair beside the hearth. “Sit close and warm yourself. I could do with that wine myself. Is it still snowing?”

Martin nodded. “Worse than ever. If it keeps this up we'll have two feet on the ground by morning.”

Kathleen returned with the bottle and glasses. She poured the men a generous portion and herself a small amount to sip. Then she settled on the sofa. “What brought you to this end of town so late in the evening?”

Martin waved dismissively. “I had papers for a client to sign. Boring business stuff, I'm afraid.”

Kathleen wondered if he'd concocted the story as a way to drop by.

“Did you hear those hooligans shooting up the town this afternoon?” Papa asked. “Should have been arrested.”

Martin looked grave. “I heard about it and I agree with you. If we don't come down hard on behavior like that, the town won't be fit for the kind of people we want to draw here, women and children and decent hard-working men.”

Kathleen listened for a while as they discussed the need to keep law and order. “Speaking of hooligans, Mr. McAllister was attacked a couple of days ago.”

“Really?” Martin raised his brows showing polite interest.

“Yes. He was walking home past Blair Street.”

“That can be a rough street.”

“You know lots of people in town. Maybe you could help him identify the attackers.” She studied him, looking for any sign of guilt as Collin's accusations rang in her mind.

He swirled his wine. “I doubt it. Fights break out all the time. It could have been any one of dozens of men.”

She glanced at her father. The combination of the warm fire and wine had sent him dozing. She decided to forge ahead. “Collin believes you're behind the attack. He said you warned him to stay away from me.”

An angry flush crept up Martin's neck. His hand tightened on the glass belying the calm tone of his voice. “We did have words about you. I asked him if you knew about his background. He grew up in Kerry Patch. That's a rough neighborhood, you know.”

Kathleen nodded. “I've heard about Kerry Patch. I grew up in St. Louis. It doesn't make him a bad person because he grew up there and was poor.”

“No,” Martin answered slowly. “It's just that I don't think he's changed his ways, brawling and wasting his money. I would hate to see a lady such as you get caught up with such an unruly character.”

Her mind rejected his words. They didn't agree with what her heart knew about Collin. She stiffened. “I think I'm a good judge of character, Mr. Long.”

Martin obviously stifled his irritation, but not before Kathleen saw it flicker in his eyes. “You want to know what I really think he's up to?”

Kathleen nodded.

“I think he was beaten up in a robbery attempt and decided to make the most of it. He's accused me of being behind it to destroy my chances with you.”

Kathleen thought it over. Would Collin have done that? The men were obviously jealous of each other. It was possible, she supposed. Her head started to ache.

Martin reached over and took her hand. “I'm telling you I had nothing to do with it. Tell me you won't let this come between us.”

She tried to smile. “I won't. I'm really getting tired, though, so maybe…”

“I should be going anyway.” He released her hand and stood.

Kathleen walked with him to get his hat and coat.

He paused in the doorway. “I have a surprise planned for you.”

Kathleen wasn't sure she wanted any more surprises. “What is it?”

A grin broke across his long face. “If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise.”

Papa roused as Martin opened the door. “Going so soon?”

“I'd better. It's snowing pretty good.”

“Come back soon and have another sit by the fire,” Papa invited.

Martin assured him he would, and then disappeared into the swirling white mist.

Kathleen closed the door behind him, wishing she could close out her thoughts as easily. Her head was still throbbing. She intended to go straight to bed and forget all about Collin and Martin.

 



 

After her morning bath, Kathleen kept her promise to bake an apple pie for Collin for Saturday. She eased the crust into place and slid the pie into the hot oven. As she dusted flour off her hands and tied her apron onto the hook, she wondered if Collin's injuries had healed.

She cringed as she remembered the bruises on his handsome face, the cut on his lip that had pained him to eat. If Martin was really behind it all, then he was despicable. She could never respect a man who bullied someone else out of his way.

Yet, Martin had made allegations of his own.

She had thought about them all week. He'd suggested that Collin had used a random attack to put Martin in a bad light. If so, it was Collin whom she should distrust. She couldn't come right out and accuse him of it because he'd deny it, and she'd never really know. She'd have to bide her time and hope the truth would come out.

She sighed as she went to straighten the parlor. Patience was a virtue, but it wasn't one that she possessed in abundance. She hoped Collin was wrong about Martin. Not knowing whom to believe was a strain.

When the pie was baked, Kathleen set it on the dining room table to cool, its sweet spicy juice bubbling through the slits in the crust. She made coffee and then poured it into her mother's china coffeepot. She laid out saucers and cups, too.

Papa claimed the kitchen and the warmth left from the oven for his Saturday night bathing.

She was sure he wouldn't tarry too long before coming to claim his slice of pie.

Collin arrived precisely on the stroke of seven.

The wind blew its frigid breath into the parlor as she let him in. Kathleen shivered, anxious to see his face as he hung his coat.

A purple bruise was fading on his right cheek. His eyes were no longer swollen and the cut on his lip had nearly healed. He smiled as he sniffed the air. “I could smell apple pie from a mile away. It's my favorite. And I never even tasted one until I was grown and on my own.”

Kathleen‘s heart clenched in pity. It must have been hard for him, growing up so poor in Kerry Patch. Were there many times when he had not had enough to eat? What would it be like to put meals on the table for him each day when he returned from the mine, to bake his favorite foods and care for his needs, to see his green eyes light with appreciation at her efforts? She shook the thoughts aside. They were dangerous thoughts. She must not let her sympathy for his circumstances cloud her judgment. She must keep her mind clear until she knew the truth about the men.

Her thoughts seemed to scramble as he stood facing her, so close that she could see that he had shaved smooth, the scent of his lotion still lingering on his skin. He reached up and softly touched her face. “My ministering angel. It cheered me when you came to see me.”

Her heart began to thud. “Vic told me you were hurt.”

“You were good medicine.” He continued to stare down into her eyes.

“I'm glad you're better.” She was afraid her breathless voice betrayed her pleasure at having him near. Had he waited as anxiously all week to be with her as she had to be with him?

“My lip was the worst. It doesn't even hurt anymore. See?” He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

She hadn't meant to let him kiss her. Yet his warmth seemed to suck the chill from her bones. She pulled away reluctantly. “I should serve the pie while it's still warm. Papa will be joining us in a little while.”

Her father was singing in the kitchen. The occasional splash of water explained what he was doing.

Collin grinned at Kathleen.

Kathleen went into the dining room, sliced and dished up their dessert. She handed him pie and a mug of hot coffee and they returned to the parlor to sample their treat.

Collin dug into the flaky crust and smiled as the sweet taste of cinnamon and apple touched his tongue. “Best I've ever had.”

Kathleen laughed at his over-zealous enthusiasm. “I'm glad you like it, but you don't have to flatter me.”

“I like the pie and I like the pie maker. Take a walk with me tomorrow after church. If it's cold we won't go far. The colors are changing on the trees along the creek and I want you to see them.”

She smiled. “I'd like that. I'll wrap warm. If it's this cold in September, I can't imagine what it will be like by Christmas. I'll have to keep the house warm with lots of baking.”

“I'll remember to come often.”

“You know what I'd like to do for Christmas?” Enthusiasm sparked as she voiced her thought.

“What?”

“I'd like to have a taffy pulling party. When I was a little girl my mother let me invite my friends at Christmas every year and we'd make taffy. Nothing puts me more in a holiday mood. Would you come for a party?”

The way things were going, she couldn't invite both Collin and Martin. However, she couldn't imagine Martin enjoying what he would surely think to be a juvenile activity. Martin's idea of a good time sometimes differed from her own.

“It sounds like fun. I'd love to try it,” Collin said.

“It's loads of fun. One year, Cassie Baker got toffee stuck in her hair. She had long brown curls. I'd always been jealous of them. But I felt sorry for her when her mother came to get her. She had to cut the toffee out. I think Cassie blamed me though I had nothing to do with it.” She was babbling. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to bore you.”

“I love hearing you talk about your childhood. I can imagine you all happy and excited with all your friends around.” He leaned towards her. “I always want you to be happy, Kathleen.”

Papa came in wearing a clean shirt and fresh woolen pants. His face was scrubbed rosy and his hair was still damp. He gave Collin a suspicious look. “I hope I'm not intruding.”

“Of course not, Papa.” Kathleen smiled.

“Not at all,” Collin agreed.

“I'm glad you're up and around,” he said. “I heard you got hurt.”

“Thanks. I missed a couple of days of work, but I'm all right now.”

Papa restated his feelings about the rowdy element of town before cutting himself a piece of pie. He joined them, taking his well-stuffed chair beside the fire. “You going to stick with the mine through the winter?” Papa asked Collin.

Her father had been outspoken about his belief that Collin might take off at any time going whichever way the wind blew. He didn't want Kathleen to get her hopes up about him and get hurt.

“I don't know. The mine's been laying off some men. I've been lucky to be kept on. It's just a matter of time until the silver plays out.”

Papa frowned. “I hope you're not right. This town depends on the silver mines.”

“Maybe there's more than silver down there. Could be there's some gold.”

Papa speared a bite of pie. “There'll be new veins, you'll see.”

“Could be,” Collin agreed, yet he didn't sound too sure. Collin explained some things about mining, how they'd followed the slant of the vein off the main face. “We've been drilling and blasting, but it's been awhile since we've hit pay dirt.”

Papa shook his head. “I'm glad it's you down there instead of me. I don't think I'd like it.”

“You get used to it.”

They chatted about the differences in weather between St. Louis and Silverton.

“Thank you for the pie and the companionship.” Collin stood. “I need to go before the snow gets worse.”

Kathleen wrapped him a piece of pie and walked him to the door.

He shrugged into his bulky coat. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded.

Papa was watching them, though he appeared to be nodding.

“Promise to be careful on the way home,” she whispered.

“I will. I'll stay out of dark alleyways.”

“I don't know what to think of the feud between you and Martin.”

He opened the door and a blast of cold air entered. “It's not a feud with me, only him,” he said as he slipped into the night.

Kathleen shut the door and drifted back into the parlor where she and Papa sat in companionable silence until they grew drowsy and headed to their beds.

The next morning, Kathleen was careful to arrive early to church to sit with Nancy on one side and her father on the other. With tensions high between Collin and Martin, she thought it best to distance herself from both of them.

When Martin arrived he was sporting a frown. He sat at the end of the aisle on the other side of Papa, his expression dark.

Collin spotted them and took a seat in the back of the church.

Nancy wore a huge grin on her face. “I know a surprise.” She squeezed Kathleen's hand. “Oh, it will be such fun.”

“A surprise for you?”

“No, for you, you goose. From Martin.”

Kathleen cast back into her memory and remembered that he had said something about a surprise. She hadn't thought too much about it at the time. Now it made her feel vaguely uncomfortable. Surely, he wouldn't go so far as to propose. She worried about it all through church.