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One man ducked into the barn. The one closest to the wagon held his hat against his chest. “How do, ma’am? I’m Tipper Benson. That was Lucky.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Benson.”
Noah grabbed the sack that contained her few possessions, gestured for her to follow and guided her toward the house. The front porch shaded the entire front and curlicue trim enhanced the beams and the rails. Noah opened the front door and led her into the cool, dim interior.
Kate observed her new surroundings with interest. The enormous rooms held an assortment of upholstered chairs and oak tables. She noticed a stone fireplace with a plain wood mantel and rugs on the wood floors. Noah pointed to the stairway, so she gripped the railing and preceded him. An empty plant stand stood on the landing next to a window with a view of the side yard. They reached the top and faced a long hallway with doors on either side.
“That’s mine.” Noah pointed to the first on the left, but kept moving.
He didn’t slow until he reached the door farthest from his and on the right. He gestured for her to enter the room ahead of him.
Kate stepped inside. The dark floor was polished to a shine and showed no sign of wear. A small settee and overstuffed chair—also appearing unused—sat on a large round rug beside a warming stove.
The bed was a big four-poster with a high headboard and a flower-sprigged coverlet that matched the curtains. A tall bureau sat against one wall, a wardrobe on another.
Noah glanced around and set down her bag. “Marjorie keeps it clean.”
“It’s the nicest place I’ve ever stayed,” she said with all sincerity and a touch of awe. “I’ve been in houses this nice when I delivered laundry, but I only dreamed of living in one.”
Noah Cutter was obviously a very rich man. Land and cattle and a home like this. And Levi had been his only family.
“Rest,” he said. “I’ll bring water.”
And with that he was gone.
Kate looked around the room, strolling over to peer at her windblown reflection in the mirror above the washstand. She removed her bonnet and absently tucked in stray hair.
A few minutes later he entered with a bucket and poured water into a pitcher on the washstand. Without another word, he turned and left, closing the door behind him.
After setting her bonnet down, Kate removed her coat and wandered to the window. In the yard below, she saw Noah stride toward the barn.
What a strange man.
What a strange predicament.
Removing the clothing she’d slept in, she used the water and a bar of lovely smelling soap she found on the stand. The ceramic bowl was so large, she stood in it and used the pitcher to rinse. The process wasn’t as good as a bath, but getting clean felt heavenly.
From the stand, she gathered toweling that smelled of the sun and dried herself, then rummaged in her bag and donned clean underclothes.
After hanging the towels to dry, she tested the mattress, found it soft and comfortable and stretched out to rest her weary body.
Noah grabbed two full plates from the warming oven in the meal house and carried them to his kitchen. It was his habit to take his meal home and eat alone, and no one questioned the act now.
He didn’t know what to do about Katherine, though. The house was dim and quiet, so he set their meals on the table and climbed the stairs.
At the end of the hall, he tapped.
Tapped again.
“Yes?”
“Supper.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll be down in a moment.”
He struck a match and lit an oil lamp on the wall so she could find her way on the stairs.
True to her word, she showed up in the kitchen almost immediately. The wrinkled dress she wore had two rows of frills at the hem and another around the bodice, like something he imagined a young woman would wear to a summer picnic.
The only light came through the isinglass window on the stove. He pointed to a chair, and she sat.
Noah pushed a plate in front of her.
Katherine picked up her fork. “Thank you.”
He sat at the opposite end of the table.
“Shall I light the lamp?” she asked.
“No.”
“All right.” She took a bite of the stew. “I guess I slept longer than I expected to.”
“You were tired.”
She nodded. “Perhaps tomorrow I’ll have a chance to look around and meet some of the hands.”
“Most’ll be bringing cows down out of the hills.”
“What for?”
“Branding.”
“I see. I can do laundry, you know. It’s what I do well—best actually. I won’t mind taking over that chore.”
“Marjorie earns extra doin’ laundry. Wouldn’t take her job away.”
“Oh. Of course not. Well, I could make our meals. I’m not a very good cook, truly, but I can learn.”
“That’s Fergie’s job.”
“Oh.” She glanced around the room, perhaps hoping to see something interesting in the shadowy corners.
“Coffee?” he offered.
“Yes. Thank you.”
He got up, poured two tin mugs from the pot on the stove and sat one in front of her.
“I should be doing this for you.” She smiled hesitantly and glanced up, but he turned away and strode to the far side of the table.
“Room all right?” he asked.
“The room is lovely, thank you. I guess it wasn’t Levi’s—I mean, since it’d decorated with flowers.”
“No.”
“Well, it’s very nice. Thank you for the warm water, too.”
He should have thought she’d want a bath and offered to fill the steel tub. “You want a bath, just ask. I’ll fill the tub for you.”
“Perhaps tomorrow morning. I would like to wash my hair.”
He nodded.
“Anything you need. Clothing.” He gestured helplessly, having no idea what women needed. “You can shop in Cedar Creek.”
“I have two nice dresses.” She flattened the ruffles at her bodice with a hand. “I was the smallest at the laundry when the owner didn’t claim them. I suspect they belonged to a much younger girl, because of the ruffles, but nonetheless I was fortunate to receive such fine quality clothing.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What do you do here of an evening?”
“Work the stock. Tally the calves and accounts. Go to bed.”
“I see.”
“Books in the parlor. Help yourself.”
She inclined her head in acceptance. Her thoughts traveled to Levi’s body, which she’d overheard Noah telling the hands to carry to the dining room. “Will there be a funeral?”
“Visitation tomorrow. Levi’s mother, Estelle, will be here. We’ll bury him early Thursday.”
“Oughtn’t someone be sitting with the body?”
“Go ahead.”
“I suppose you think it’s odd that I haven’t cried.”
“No.”
“I cried so much when Levi left that I guess I’m all cried out. That was five months ago. Maybe it just hasn’t hit me yet that he’s dead.”
Or that he was with another man’s wife, Noah thought. She’d barely fluttered an eyelash at that news. Maybe she was just a lot stronger than she looked.
Katherine stood. “I’ll wash these plates.”
“Set ’em outside the back door. Fergie’ll get ’em.”
She did as instructed.
Noah stood. “I have work to do. Good night.”
“Good night.”
He turned and entered the small room where he kept a desk and his ledgers and closed the door behind him.
Kate lit an oil lamp and carried it to the dining room, where she sat it on a long table that had been pushed to the side to make room for the coffin and an array of chairs.
She seated herself in the chair nearest the closed casket.
The baby chose that moment to give her a healthy jab and she covered the spot with her palm.
“I’m here, Levi,” she said softly into the still room. “Your baby and I are here. At your home. Noah came to fetch me. He’s a strange fellow, your brother. I still haven’t had a good look at him. But he’s very nice. And he’s making a home for us. Like you were going to do.”
She blinked and let her gaze travel the pine box. “Why didn’t you come back? I thought you loved me.” Her voice broke and her throat grew thick with tears. “I thought we were going to be a family. You said you’d find a job and come back for us. We’d have a fine house, you said.”
She recalled what Noah had told her about a man named Robinson catching Levi with his wife. The pain of that betrayal had begun to sink in.
“What you did was wrong,” she whispered into the still room. “You left me waiting. Were you ever going to come back? Were all those promises you made just lies?”
He hadn’t even been where he’d told her he was going. He’d lied. And he’d left her. Played her for a fool. He’d been attentive and hadn’t given her time to breathe when he’d been eager to kiss her and make love to her. She’d held out, sure that she wanted to be a virgin when she married.
And he’d asked her to marry him. Swept her off to a preacher and spoken the vows all pretty and nice. They’d spent two weeks together in his room at the boarding house, eating in the restaurant, making love each night. And then he’d started slipping away to play poker, staying out late and coming in drunk.
She hadn’t been happy about that and they’d fought. For another week he’d stayed close, but then he told her he was going to look for a job. He needed to get away from the city, and there was nothing she wanted more, so she’d encouraged the plan. She’d cheerfully waved him off and watched for his return. He hadn’t thought it would take more than a week or two.
Three weeks turned into four and she couldn’t afford the room at the boarding house on her own. Kate got sick every morning, bleak evidence that Levi had left a babe in her belly. She’d set aside her pride then and asked her mother to let her stay with her until Levi came back.
Her mother had harped from day one that Levi was out for one thing and once he had it he’d be gone, and Levi’s disappearance had been her opportunity to rub Kate’s nose in callous I-told-you-sos.
Kate had swallowed embarrassment and clung to her hope that Levi would be back. Her time at the laundry and at her mother’s was marked. She’d be leaving any day.
Each day her hope slipped a notch.
Each week her anger and shame increased.
Each month her desperation had grown until she didn’t know whether it or the baby was feeding off her soul.
“You lied,” she accused, her voice no longer wavering. “You used me and you lied. I want to forgive you. I should. I know I should sit here and pray for your soul and forgive you. But you know what, Levi? I don’t forgive you.”
She stood and turned her back on the coffin holding her husband’s body. “I just might never forgive you.”
And with that, she picked up the lamp and swept from the room.
Chapter Three
As he’d promised, Noah filled a tub of hot water for her the following morning. The shades were already pulled—she’d noticed he preferred them that way, and as he left the kitchen, he told her to lock the door behind him.
