Loving Katherine

Roan grunted in reply, snatching his hat on the way out the double doors into the sunlight.

Already it had started, he thought gloomily, catching sight of sidelong glances as he passed small knots of townsfolk. Noting the speculative look on the face of the local lawman as he neared the jail, he slowed his steps.

“Sheriff?” he said, greeting the robust man cordially.

“Yessir, I’m Sheriff Doober.” The man straightened from his post against the wall. “You the feller asked about the whereabouts of the Cassidy place a while back? Heard from Evan Gardner you was stayin’ out there. He was kinda upset, bein’ an admirer of Katherine and all.”

“I was there. Now I’m leavin’. My name’s Roan Devereaux. I’m an old friend of Charlie’s,” he told him, hand outstretched in greeting.

With a degree of reluctance, the lawman met his grip. “Heard tell you got away with one of Charlie’s mares,” he said, his words tinged with admiration.

“Mares aren’t Charlie’s anymore,” Roan corrected him. “They belong to Miss Katherine now, and yes, I made a deal with her for one of them.”

“She’s kinda low on stock, ain’t she? What with sellin’ one to the banker for his daughter pretty soon, she’ll be scrapin’ the bottom of the barrel.”

Roan nodded. “Pretty close. She’s got one more filly she’s workin’ with and the yearlings she’s trainin’.”

“Looks like she’d think twice before she sold off her breeding stock,” Sheriff Doober said.

“Want to ride out there with me and ask her about it?” Roan offered quietly.

The other man shook his head. “No, I don’t reckon I do. Just makin’ conversation.”

Roan nodded and walked on, feeling himself the center of attention. The town probably hadn’t had this much excitement in years, he thought with a suggestion of good humor. It sounded like Katherine had a reputation for being stingy, least when it came to her horses.

He made a quick stop at the dry goods, where Orv Tucker, the owner, agreed to store his purchases in the back room till morning. “Won’t be no trouble at all,” he assured him.

Across the street was the hotel, the tallest building in town, with elegantly carved wooden curlicues and flourishes garnishing its framework. As though expecting his arrival, the clerk met Roan with an ingratiating smile, assigning him a room with much fuss and ado. Extolling the virtues of the establishment, the clerk ushered him up the stairs, unlocking the door with a flourish.

“Yessir, we’ve got the finest rooms for fifty miles,” the young man boasted. “Our dining room’s known all over the area. Why, we get folks come from miles away just to eat dinner here,” he said, beaming with pride.

Roan waited patiently, nodding agreeably, then herded the enthusiastic clerk out the door.

“I’ll send up a pitcher of hot water,” came the final word from the young man as he stood in the hallway.

“You do that,” Roan answered, already stripping off his shirt. He turned the glass knob once more and stuck his head through the open door. “In fact, make that a whole tub of hot water. Might be the last chance I get for a good bath for a while.”

A marked contrast to the short cot and the quiet barn, he found the hotel to be a mixed blessing. The bed was comfortable but the sounds coming through the open window kept him awake half the night.

“Didn’t know the saloon would be open till all hours,” he grumbled to the desk clerk in the morning. “Man can’t get a decent night’s sleep.”

“Should have closed your window, sir,” the clerk ventured mildly, counting the coins Roan had given him.

“Felt like I was in a tomb, with all that velvet hangin’ all over the place,” Roan growled. “Can’t sleep without fresh air.”

Breakfast was plentiful in the hotel dining room. Ignoring the speculation he encountered on several faces, he plowed through the plate full of ham and potatoes he’d ordered. It wasn’t near as good as one of Katherine’s meals, he thought, wiping his mouth with the linen napkin.

He deliberately set his mind to other things, her image too vivid for comfort. “Forget the woman,” he told himself beneath his breath, marching down the wooden sidewalk. “She can take care of herself just fine. You got other fish to fry, Devereaux.”

Thurston Wellman, busy harnessing a mare, nodded to him as he strode into the livery stable. “Got you what you need all right. It’s over there.”

The packsaddle lay across a sawhorse outside his mare’s stall, and Roan noted its age with concern.

“It’s in good shape, Mr. Devereaux,” the man assured him as he hurried over. “I checked it out first thing this morning, and it’s good and sturdy. Only cost you a dollar.”

Roan nodded. “Sounds fair,” he allowed, digging for the coin in his pocket.

“Hear tell Evan Gardner is het up about you gettin’ the mare from Miz Cassidy,” Thurston confided in an undertone.

“None of his damn business,” Roan said with a grunt, lifting the mare’s saddle to her back.

“He’s been tryin’ to make her his business for a while now. He’s a determined son of a gun. I’ll put my bet on Katherine, though. She’s a spunky little gal.”

“Yeah, she can handle that shotgun like a trooper,” Roan agreed. The saddle was cinched and he slid the bit into the mare’s mouth, fastening the bridle in place.

“I’ll bring the stallion in,” Thurston offered. “We’ll have you ready to go in no time at all.”

“Yeah,” Roan said glumly, aware that his early morning enthusiasm was rapidly evaporating.

“I did what I could, Charlie,” he said beneath his breath. “I got her all fixed up and things are up to snuff out there. Hell, I got to get on my way.”

The stallion didn’t take well to his status as a pack animal, nudging against the mare’s flanks and nipping more than once at her hindquarters. Roan cast him a look of sympathy as he jerked on the lead rope.

“You got to behave, boy. You got the better end of the deal, totin’ my gear. Just leave this filly alone. She’s gonna let loose with one of those heels, and you’ll be wearin’ a horseshoe across your nose if you’re not careful.”

He stopped long enough when the sun was overhead to tear a heel from the loaf of fresh bread Orv had given him. After cutting a thick slice of cheese from the chunk in his pack, he stowed the food securely and set out once more. There was no sense in stopping till near nightfall. He might even make it to the river by then.

According to the map he’d carried about for over a year, Tucker Center was just a ways east of the big river, and once he reached the Mississippi, he’d be home free. He’d just follow it south, almost all the way to River Bend. Home. His eyes narrowed as he considered what awaited him there.

“Might be nothin’ left for you, Devereaux,” he grumbled. “They probably won’t thank you for makin’ the trip. The damn horse’ll probably get a warmer welcome than me. Pa was always on the lookout for a good piece of horseflesh. He’ll appreciate Katherine’s mare.”

Katherine. He shouldn’t have spoken the name. A dull ache beneath his breastbone nudged him. A vision of dark hair glimmering in the sunlight and blue eyes sparkling with intelligence filled his mind. He shook his head, willing the memory of her to vanish, but to no avail.

“I did what I could,” he growled, as if her image accused him. “No woman is gonna tie me up in knots. She’s set for the winter, anyway. By spring, she’ll probably…”

The angry face of Evan Gardner sprang before him. “What happens when you’re not here anymore, stranger?” As though he heard the question aloud, Roan swore, biting the words off savagely. “He’s a determined son of a gun,” Thurston Wellman’s voice echoed in his head.

“She can face him down any day of the week,” Roan growled, nudging his mare into an easy lope, the stallion falling in behind. The thought was not the comfort he’d hoped for. Once fresh in his mind, the memories of Katherine would not be dislodged, and he turned over each glimpse of her as it appeared before him.

Her stubborn chin, the creamy look of her skin where her throat met the collar of her dress. The strong, well-formed hands that were equally as capable whether she held a skillet or the lead rope of a yearling foal. His mind dwelt for a moment on the surprising softness of her mouth as it had opened beneath his own, and he tilted his head back to gaze at the cloudless sky.

“Damn woman…I don’t need to be thinkin’ about you,” he snarled impotently His mind’s eye envisioned the bulky form of Evan Gardner, imagining the man’s mouth intruding where Roan’s had been the first to venture.

“Never been kissed, Katherine?” He’d known when he asked, known that he’d been the first to taste the sweetness of her mouth. Damn. Evan Gardner’d better keep his hands to himself. Not to mention his slack-jawed…

He pulled the mare to a halt, his hands tight on the reins. With a grim foretaste of disaster, he sensed Katherine’s vulnerability. The whole damn town was probably waitin’ for Gardner to move in on her, he thought glumly. They probably all thought it was the best thing for her, havin’ somebody to look after things there.

He lifted his eyes once more to the brilliant blue sky, watching as a hawk circled and swooped beyond the next rise in the trail. Damn it all, Charlie. I can’t just ride off and leave her to fend for herself. I reckon I shoulda just ridden south from Ohio and stayed out of this mess.