Eden Page 17

  “I surely do appreciate your thinking of me,” Katie said, aware that her voice trembled as she spoke. The time before supper would be long, she knew, for she felt the need to see John, to know that his anger was not directed at her. But for now, she must put it aside and think about the task at hand.

  Deeming that she had a good half hour until she needed to begin frying chicken, Katie sat down at the table and took up the book she’d been entrusted with.

  She inhaled the scent of the text she held, her thoughts calming as she felt the binding, the fresh pages of text. Books. They had an odor of their own, an aroma like no other. That of new paper perhaps, of dried printer’s ink, of the binding and the glue that held it together. She inhaled the rich smell, taking it in as she might a nourishing meal, and escaped for a moment into the world offered by the kindness of Mrs. Rice.

  For it was just that to her. Nourishment for the soul, and Katie’s soul was starved for such a thing. Her hands were clean, her fingers careful as she opened the first page and cast her eyes on the letters that formed the words on the page.

  Her fingers trembled as she held the page in place, and she saw the look of pleasure cast in her direction by Mrs. Rice. “I know some of these words already,” she ventured, pointing at several familiar arrangements of letters. Jane told me a lot of stuff and I got so I could figure it out by myself, too.”

  “I’m sure you have, Katie. You have a sharp, open mind, and learning comes easily to you. I’d be pleasured to teach you right along with Jane if you like. I’ll be out here on a regular basis, anyway.”

  Hope filled Katie’s heart with a surge of joy. “I want to learn so bad, Mrs. Rice. I really do. There’s so many of John’s books in there in a box that I’d like to open up and find out all the things he already knows. All those things he’s already read. I could kinda get to know him better if I know what’s already in his head, I think.”

  “I think you already know John Roper quite well, Katie. At least all the important things about him. He’s a fine man.”

  “He’s a good man,” Katie said emphatically, thinking again of his quick movements as he’d taken her from harm’s way.

  “Do you think I’ll ever have a husband like Katie does, Mrs. Rice?” Jane asked in a small voice. “I’d like to do something with my life, like teaching or having a family of my own.”

  Mrs. Rice smiled widely, nodding her head. “I can see you at the State college, gaining your certificate in just a few years, Jane. I’ve already written to the powers that decide such things, asking for a scholarship for you. Your mind is sharp and keen and by the time this year is over, you’ll be ready to consider such a step. We’ll speed up your studies a little, throw in some more math and science and before you know it, you’ll be ready to pack your things and go off to school.”

  “Where will I live?” she asked, wonderingly, as if her mind could not contain such thoughts.

  “They have dormitories for the young women there, and the dean will help find work for you to do to help earn your way. And the state will hopefully pay for enough of your schooling to make it easier for you to earn your certificate. Two years will do it if you work hard.”

  “Oh, I’ll work like a piker, Mrs. Rice. You know I will. I can’t wait till the day I get to stand in front of a class of young’uns and start to teach them all the things they need to know about reading and writing and doing sums and learning the right way to speak and say their words. I want to teach them how to sing songs and say poems, like the ones you read to us in school.”

  “You’ll do all of that one day, Jane. Your goals are in place and opportunities will be opening up. Just you wait and see.”

  JOHN STOOD ON the porch, listening, thinking that he really should let his presence be known to the three females inside his kitchen, but too filled with pleasure at their words to move. He settled down with his back against the upright post, folding his hands on his knee and thinking of the one small creature inside that house that was his to call “wife.” The girl he’d thought was devoting herself so fully to him and his comfort.

  The girl whose actions were at the center of his thoughts, his mind scanning her behavior behind the barn. That Clay had touched her was a given, for he’d seen the man’s hands on her waist, lifting her against himself. Just how much Katie had cooperated with the man was the question, for if she had encouraged Clay in any way, shape or form, John would consider it as treachery, as a mar against their marriage.

  He tried to recall each moment of time as he’d watched Clay speaking to her, her responses to the man and the way in which she’d pushed at him and tried to escape his touch.

  Perhaps Katie had lured the man on, perhaps she’d smiled at him and tempted him against his better judgment. It was possible, he decided. For Katie was friendly, had made quick friends with the men who had helped with the garden plot. She’d been trying her wings, making her own place here, and maybe she’d thought to see if she could entice Clay into paying her some particular attention.

  He felt a chill of anger touch him as he considered what might have brought about the scuffle he’d come upon behind the barn. And he looked down at his fists, knotted against his knees, the scuffed surfaces showing bruises already forming, blood at the surface, and knuckles aching from the pounding they’d given to the man who still lay on the floor of the barn.

  Bill Stanley would be fit to be tied when he found that two of his men had had a fistfight, although John knew he’d gotten the best of the deal, with only one small mark on his jaw from Clay’s left fist. Anger had fueled his strength and Clay had suffered at his hand, with both eyes blackened and his nose bleeding and probably broken.

  Now he faced entering his own cabin, seeing his wife and the other two women who worked in his kitchen. He must put on a good front, not bring his fury to bear on the women who were inside, for he could not bring himself to embarrass them by his anger. He would save that for a private time with Katie, when he could bring out into the open all of his thoughts and fears.

  How he’d come to this place in his life, he didn’t know, didn’t understand and was usually thankful for. He’d felt that the presence of Katie was a blessing and he knew a moment of thanksgiving that it was so. Still a small part of his mind wondered if she was all she had purported to be, if she was indeed honest and faithful to him.

  From inside he heard the shuffle of feet, the movement of a chair and then Katie’s words of warning. “Land sakes, it’s getting right on to suppertime and I’m sitting here, lollygaggin’ like I got nothing to do. John will be in right shortly, hungry as a bear, and I won’t have his supper ready.”

  But, as it turned out, she did. John went into the cabin and washed quickly, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, watching Mrs. Rice and listening to the women speak of the meal they prepared. Mixing the dressing and then browning the chicken took a mere half hour, and the peas cooked quickly and then rested atop the warming oven to stay hot while Katie finished the chicken in the big oven. Fresh bread was sliced, a jar of applesauce opened and a pat of butter appeared from the pantry.

  Jane mashed the potatoes deftly, adding cream to the mix, a dab of butter and sprinkling a dash of pepper over the top of the offering. “Looks pretty that way, don’t it?” she asked with a grin, settling the bowl on the table. “I like to make the food seem kinda special sometimes. Agnes always says I’m foolish, but I don’t care.”

  “You don’t have to care one whit about what Agnes says or thinks anymore anyway,” Katie told her. “You can do whatever you want here, and John won’t give a good gol dern. He just likes folks to be happy.” Her eyes touched John’s as she spoke, and he caught a glimpse of the fear she held within. And wondered if she hid some bit of treachery within that slender frame, if there was a need within Katie for approval from other men. Wondered if she had been somehow intrigued by the attentions of the ranch hand. He’d sure hung around the garden enough over the past week or so, and even though John hadn�
��t seen any sign of her encouraging the man, the possibility was there.

  And then he heard Jane’s words as she spoke to her sister. “You’re so lucky, Katie. And so is John. I think this is about the nicest place I’ve ever been in my life. Everyone is nice to each other and you don’t even have that sad look in your eyes anymore.”

  Perhaps Jane was right, John thought. Maybe he was looking for trouble where there was none to be found. And for a moment, he vowed to withhold his doubts lest he cause discord where there was no reason.

  Mrs. Rice finished bundling up her paperwork in her bulging bag and turned to the girls. “It’s a peaceful place, Jane. A place where you can grow and be yourself and know that you are loved and accepted. And that’s what all of us need. I’m so pleased that you’re here. I was so worried about you. About Katie, too. Even though I didn’t know her as well.”

  She settled her bag near the door, looking up at John “I just spoke of you a few minutes ago, John. I’d like to think that Jane could come to school on a more regular basis if it can be arranged. She’s doing well, but I’d be able to use her in the classroom, helping with the younger children sometimes, and I think it would be good for her training.”

  John knew his expression was dubious. “I fear to let her ride to school alone, ma’am. She’s not able to take care of herself should someone lie in wait for her or meet her along the way. I feel better if I just ride in with her a couple of days a week and then come back to bring her home later.”

  Mrs. Rice pursed her lips. “I understand that. I truly do. I just know that she needs everyday learning. But I’ll bow to your better judgment on this matter. I’m sure you’re more aware than I of the circumstances.”

  “We’ll see how things go,” John said easily, pulling out his chair to sit at the table. His eyes ran over the food already there and then at Katie, who was dishing up the chicken from the big pan she’d taken from the oven. She drained it for a few moments on a large piece of brown paper salvaged from store wrappings, allowing the grease to soak from the tender surfaces of the meat, then brought it to the table. A little more of the grease was poured from the pan into the skillet where she’d stirred gravy to a creamy, aromatic finish, and now she poured it into a large bowl and carried it, steaming, to the table.

  “You sure can cook, Katie,” John said, giving in to the urge to touch her hand as it lay on the table while she looked over the presentation and considered her meal. No matter his thoughts, he could not seem to keep from establishing his claim on her, and he silently cursed himself for his weakness where she was concerned. “That chicken looks good enough to eat,” he said with a last look in her direction.

  Her response was a smile that teased. “That’s exactly what I expect you to do with it, John. I know how much you like fried chicken.”

  His thoughts went to the owner of the ranch, recalling a conversation they’d shared only this morning. “Bill said he’s gonna have the fellas help Berta slaughter a bunch of the young roosters in a couple of weeks, while they’re still nice and young, and he wondered if you’d like to can up a few of them for soup later on in the year.”

  Her eyes lit and she grinned. “I never canned chicken before, but I’ll bet Berta can help me with it. She’s so smart. She does things better than Agnes ever did, makes the food taste so much better and look nicer. Half the fixing of food is the way it looks anyway, once you’re ready to put it on the table.”

  John spoke in tones that bore traces of the anger he struggled to keep under control, and he stifled it as best he could. “Well, yours is getting cold, Katie. Come sit down now. You’ve got it all finished, haven’t you?”

  She nodded, pulling her chair out and settling next to him. Across the table, Mrs. Rice was waiting, her hands folded neatly in her lap, Jane next to her, grinning to beat the band, and Katie thought that life was grand, indeed. At least she sincerely hoped it was, for John was a puzzlement to her right now, what with his jaw so tight and his eyes so cold.

  He bowed his head and offered brief words of thanksgiving for the meal and Mrs. Rice smiled at him as he finished. No words were needed, Katie thought, for the teacher’s look of approval said more than a hundred nice phrases could have.

  They ate, John answering Mrs. Rice’s queries, speaking of his books, with Mrs. Rice’s encouragement, telling of the classics he’d carried about with him over the years, comparing notes with her on the authors he enjoyed best. If her looks of surprise as he spoke pleased him, it was not obvious, for John was accepting of his own worth, and Katie knew that he was confident in his knowledge. He didn’t brag or boast, but John was intelligent, and he knew it.

  She felt pride fill her as she watched and listened to him talk of his travels, of the places he’d visited in his young life. Of the parents he’d left behind and his mother especially, who had influenced his life.

  “Did you never want to do anything other than work on a ranch?” Mrs. Rice asked, her query not degrading his choice of work, but a measure of curiosity, as if she knew he was capable of most anything he chose to lay his hand to.

  “I was raised on a farm, a ranch really, for my father ran a herd of beef and raised horses. I’d thought to be a ranch hand and worked my way north from home. Took me a couple of years to get this far, and my job here was a stopgap for me for a while,” he admitted. “But I enjoyed working for Bill Stanley. The men here are good company and hard workers. When the foreman went on to his own place and Bill offered me the job and this cabin to live in, it was like a new door opening and I knew that all my years of working with livestock and men was just leading up to this. It’s been a good opportunity for me. If things go well, maybe sometime in the future I’ll find a place of my own.

  “Anyway, I went to town that night, stopped by the saloon to celebrate with a quick drink…something I don’t do frequently, by the way,” he added with a quick look up at Mrs. Rice.

  She nodded, encouraging his words, as if she were eager to hear his tale.

  “Anyway, I saw Katie right soon after I got in there, kinda like she fell almost into my lap, and it was the biggest surprise of my life, finding her there. I knew she marked a changing point in my life.”

  “You did?” Katie’s words of astonishment burst out without thought. “I didn’t think you knew that right off, John. You were just feeling sorry for me, I figured.”

  He glanced at her, and his smile was taut, as if he held back his thoughts. “I wasn’t about to walk away from finding a woman to work in my house. You were what I needed right then, Katie. I had a cabin to take care of and no one to lend a hand at it.”

  Mrs. Rice cut in, as if she could not resist adding her own bit of thought. “I’d say that you did the right thing, John. Katie was meant to be there that night, as were you. Some things we really don’t have any control over, you know.”

  Katie spoke softly, awe coating her words. “I’m just thankful things worked out the way they did.”

  “Does John take you to church?” Mrs. Rice asked, although Katie was positive that the woman knew very well that such a thing was not in the cards yet.

  “Not yet, but we’ll go one day soon, I think,” Katie answered. “He promised me he would and he always keeps his word.”

  John flushed, overcome by her words of praise on his behalf, words that made him ashamed of the anger that still filled his heart. “I don’t know about all of that, ma’am, but I know that my mama taught me to be good to folks, and always treat others the way I’d want them to treat me.

  “By the way, Mrs. Rice. I’ll be escorting you back to town after supper. I don’t like the idea of you being out alone after dark.”

  With a quick smile, the teacher agreed to John’s plan, and between the four of them, they made short work of the chicken dinner.

  JOHN WAS LATE COMING back to the cabin that night, having ridden his gelding beside the teacher’s buggy, all the way back to town, to ensure that she safely reached her destination. The breeze was soft
, with the chill of early spring in the air, but the promise of warm days to come, and Katie looked up as a waft of fresh air washed in the kitchen door.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” she said. “I was just about to get ready for bed.”

  “You tired?” he asked, his eyes regarding her with interest. “You’ve been working hard lately, what with the gardening and fixing things up around here.”

  “I’m sleepy, not tired,” she said. “And that sounds foolish, but it’s like my body needs to stop working for a while and just spread out on that bed and soak up the night.”

  Jane sat before the fireplace, a book open on her lap, her eyes on the pair who spoke quietly by the doorway. “Why don’t you go on to bed, Katie. I’ll get my pallet ready and lie down soon anyway. I can read by the fire so long as it stays bright. By then it’ll be time to sleep, anyway, and maybe I’ll move to the sofa.”

  The bedroom was dark, but the light of a candle lit beside the bed was sufficient to see what she was washing, and Katie stood before the dry sink and poured warm water from John’s pitcher into the bowl provided there. She stripped to the waist, standing in the dim light, washing industriously at her upper body and arms, rinsing and drying with pleasure on the soft cloths John had purchased at the general store for her use.

  He watched her from the bed, indulging his senses in the joy of watching her lithe figure, her firm young arms and the soft flexing of the muscles on her back as she moved. She was so feminine, so very different from himself. Her body was formed as was his, true, with arms and legs and a torso that held all the inward parts that functioned to make her a living being. But she was more elegantly put together, her skin more finely pored, softer, her body pale against the darker flesh of her arms, and he admired the difference, knowing the soft feel of that tender skin against his own.

  Her hair hung long against her back now, with the braids and pins removed, the length waving in silken luxury against the slender waist, the fullness of her hips, yet covered by the dress and petticoat that were caught on the cusp of her womanly form. There where her hips widened and curved into the lush lines of her bottom, covered now with layers of fabric, soon to be naked beneath the white gown she would don over her clean flesh.