Loving Katherine

“I’ve given her a good case of leavin’ alone, Charlie,” he said dryly, casting his eyes heavenward. Somehow it seemed likely Charlie’d headed in that direction, he thought, remembering the gray-haired soldier who’d made little fuss over his Bible reading or the quick words he spoke over his meals.

“Wish you were here, old man,” Roan muttered, turning his attention to the bridle he was mending. The sun beat on his back through the dark cotton of his shirt and he relished the heat with a lifting of his shoulders. Tugging at the bit, he assured himself that the leather would hold, then, putting it aside, reached for the halter that awaited his care.

He was about done. The month was up and he’d set his hand to every chore he could find, aside from the house Katherine guarded so closely. He’d ask her politely about it before he left, in case she needed something done that wouldn’t hold over the winter. Fat chance she’d give me space to work inside her sanctuary, he thought with a grin. She guarded it like a smuggler’s cave.

His eye was caught by a flash of color and he looked up to see her quickstepping across the yard in his direction. The apron she wore was yellow, bright against her dark dress, and he wondered for a moment where she’d dug it from. Every other single piece of clothing he’d seen on her looked like they’d been cut from the same cloth…dark and somber.

“New apron, Katherine?” he asked teasingly.

She shook her head impatiently and he straightened abruptly, rising from the stool he’d dragged into the sunshine.

“What’s wrong?” His eyes moved over the yard, up the hill to the small cemetery, and then darted across to the rise just east of the garden. Satisfied that no immediate danger threatened, he turned his attention to her face, puzzled by the expression she wore.

A mixture of panic and embarrassment painted her features and her hands were linked tightly against her waist. “I feel foolish,” she blurted, her teeth biting against her lower lip.

Relief flooded him and he grinned at her admission. “Can’t imagine that, Katherine.”

“I’m not generally easy to fluster,” she told him, her fingers flexing as she relaxed the grip that had fused them so tightly. Lifting one hand to her forehead, she brushed aimlessly at the tendrils of hair blowing about her face.

“Well, I’d say somethin’ disturbed you in a big way,” he allowed, amused at her dithering.

Her mouth pinched tightly and she glared at his teasing grin. “It’s not funny, Roan Devereaux!” she spouted. “There’s a whole family of mice underneath my cupboard!”

His eyes danced with delight. “Is this the same woman who threatened me with a shotgun and came within an inch of runnin’ me off her place?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I didn’t think there was a thing in this world that could put the fear of God in you, Katherine Cassidy. I’m glad to see I was wrong. You’re pret’ near as human as the next one, after all.”

She stiffened and narrowed her eyes. “I’m not afraid,” she denied stoutly. “I just don’t know what to do with them.”

He hooted with laughter. “Well, I doubt they’re big enough to warrant a shotgun blast. Reckon a swat with the shovel would take care of the matter.”

She shuddered visibly. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Well, you could always make pets out of ‘em.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sniffed. “I should have known better than to expect any help from you.” Her skirts tangled about her legs as she spun around and headed back to the house, her face crimson with embarrassment.

His hand on her shoulder effectively halted her progress and the warmth of his breath next to her ear caused another shiver to cascade through her.

“Aw, come on, Kate,” he coaxed softly. “Don’t take on so. I can handle most any kind of problem around here you can throw at me, so long as you don’t get all huffy and stomp off.”

Her head dipped and she caught a deep breath. “Just let go of me, Roan Devereaux, and go clean out that nest of critters before your dinner burns to a frazzle.” Her voice trembled just a bit and he peeked over her shoulder, bending lower to scan her flushed countenance.

“Well, we sure can’t have that, can we?” he said softly. And he then bent even lower to drop a quick kiss against her cheek. “Consider it done, ma’am.” His hand squeezed gently for a moment before he dropped it from her shoulder.

“I don’t want to know…” she began, calling after him as he climbed the steps to the porch.

“Why don’t you go gather the eggs or somethin’,” he suggested from the doorway, turning to face her. She was worrying her bottom lip again, and he fought the smile twitching at his mouth.

“Yes, I’ll do that.” Relief was alive in her voice as she spun away and headed quickly to the henhouse. He watched till she slipped inside the wire fence, shooing the clucking hens before her, preventing their escape from confinement.

By the time she pushed the henhouse door open minutes later, holding her apron tightly to protect the eggs she carried, he’d disappeared from sight. She hesitated, unsure whether he was still in the house, her eyes scanning the garden and beyond for a glimpse of him.

“Roan?”

“Go rescue your dinner.” He was somewhere near the other side of the house, his voice carrying on the breeze.

“Yes…all right,” she said quickly, intent on putting aside all thought of his solution to the problem.

She picked at her food, waiting for the sly digs to begin, certain he wouldn’t be able to resist at least one reference to her being so softhearted. But she waited in vain. He ate swiftly and well, silently offering his plate for seconds, devouring the chicken and dumplings with obvious enjoyment. He sat back finally, a sigh of satisfaction the first sound to escape his lips since the meal began.

“Had enough?” She looked up, still shifting the carrots around on her plate.

His raised eyebrows saluted the movements of her fork. “Looks like you aren’t much for your own cookin’ today, Katherine.”

She placed the utensil beside her plate and folded her hands in her lap. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood for chicken. I didn’t seem to work up much appetite this morning.”

“Well, you can just heat up the leftovers later on,” he told her. “It’ll save you cookin’ supper after while.”

“I’d have to add a mess of vegetables to the pot and call it soup,” she said with a quick smile in his direction. He wasn’t going to tease her, she realized, and her smile widened.

“A pan of cornbread would go real well with that,” he suggested hopefully. “You sure do make good pone, Kate.”

It was the second time he had shortened her name today. She considered him. Leaning back in his chair, he looked utterly relaxed. It was an illusion, she knew for a fact. Rarely did Roan Devereaux allow himself to be off guard. As if he were aware of every movement within his range of sight and hearing, he kept watch. That he could do so and still maintain a conversation puzzled her.

Another puzzle was his calling her “Kate.”

“My father used to call me that,” she said quietly.

“Kate?”

She nodded. “No one else ever has, just Charlie.”

“I didn’t mean to be too familiar. Sometimes you just look like…like you ought to be Kate.” His eyes were dark, their regard warming, and his mouth was pursed as he studied her.

“I don’t mind,” she said quickly. It was a familiarity that pleased her somehow. And she fought against the pleasure it brought her. He’ll be gone… before you know it, he’ll be gone, she told herself. And you’ll miss him.

That admission was a new one. So hurting was it, she rose and gathered up the plates and forks, carrying them to the sink and depositing them with a clatter in the tin dishpan waiting there. She couldn’t afford to miss him, she thought, blinking away the hot tears burning against her eyelids.

“Katherine?”

She heard his chair scrape against the floor and she blinked furiously, determined to hide any evidence of weakness. Not on your life, Roan Devereaux, she thought furiously. You’ve already known me for a softhearted female once today. I’ll be switched if you see me being foolish again.

“It’s time to be movin’ on,” he mused beneath his breath as he pounded the last nail into place. The stall door hung straight, the latch was in place, and for the life of him, he couldn’t find another thing to do in the barn.

On top of that, Katherine was looking better to him all the time, and he surely didn’t need a woman to complicate his life right now. At least, not on a long-term basis. And Katherine was definitely not a bed-’em-and-leave-’em woman.

He watched her from the barn door. Watched as she took the last of his clothing from the line she’d strung between the cabin and the milk house. His gaze was fixed on the heavy rope of hair that caught the sunlight and gleamed with hidden fire. Prettier than a spotted pony and twice as spunky, he thought with a subdued chuckle. She’d be a prize for the right man. One willing to look beyond her fierce pride and drab demeanor.

“Katherine,” he called, reluctantly heading in her direction. “How about if I take a look inside the house and see what needs tending before I head out of here? Thought I’d see what I can put to rights for you.”