Not the Marrying Kind, page 15
Her father’s face turned blood-red. “Katherine, don’t be impertinent.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it, Pa,” she said, caught off guard by her father’s angry response. “I was merely pointing out that most likely Judge Morse is mistaken, or well, that is, maybe he’s confused, or—”
“Katherine, that’s enough.” Her father barked the words across the table. Everyone fell silent.
“Yes, dear,” her mother added, her eyes silently pleading for her daughter to be on her best behavior. “We’ve had quite enough trouble for one day, and on a Sunday, no less.”
Morse pushed his chair away from the table and clambered to his feet, his bulk making even that simple action difficult. He leaned his weight on the table for support, nearly upending it before he managed to get to a standing position. He motioned for Willie to rise, too. The obese boy had nearly as much trouble as his father.
The judge nodded. “We’ll be heading out now, let you folks get back to your usual routine.” He peered at his son’s face, then reached out to physically inspect the damage the boy had sustained. “That’s a real shiner there,” he commented, nodding toward the nasty purple bruises around Willie’s left eye. “Not sure if Doc Graham can do much for that nose, either, but we’ll pay a call on him when we get back to Denver. Now, you folks, take care,” he said turning to Kat’s parents. “We thank you for your hospitality and for your efforts to ease Willie’s suffering,” he went on, directing the last remark to Amanda. “I’ve got a bad feeling about those two. Like father, like son, they say.”
Again, Kat held her breath, wondering if her own father would speak up. It surprised her that he remained silent. It wasn’t like him to let even the slightest infraction of God’s laws slip past unchallenged, and lying was most definitely a major violation of the spiritual code by which Dirk Phillips lived. Maybe he hadn’t heard. Or maybe he just didn’t want to stir up more trouble. Like Mama had said, there’d been enough of that already.
“I’ll see you out, Judge Morse,” she offered. The sooner the man left, the sooner she’d feel at ease again.
“Thank you, Katherine.” He smiled, then turned back toward her father. “I’ll do a little checking on that Barron fellow soon as I get back to my office. I swear I’ve heard that name before.”
* * * *
Kat loved seeing the sun come up each morning. She’d always been an early riser, eager to step out of the stuffy rooms of the house to greet each new day. Normally, she embraced each dawn with a smile.
But on that particular Monday morning, she wasn’t smiling. Still out of sorts from the events of the previous day, she stood at the edge of the porch staring off into the distance, looking for the dark shadow of a horse and rider.
She had a few questions for Joshua Barron. Questions like why a federal judge might have reason to believe—no, to insist—that he’d heard his name before. Questions like why Joshua had clearly wanted to beat a hasty retreat the moment Judge Morse arrived. And there were other questions, too, that had nothing to do with Joshua but which weighed heavily on her mind. She’d replayed things in her mind a time or two, and she kept getting stuck on some of the things Benjamin had said, things that didn’t quite fit together in her brain. She couldn’t figure out exactly what was wrong, though.
Joshua would have the answers. All the answers, but where the hell was he?
Bright and early had come and gone. He should have arrived at the Rocking P long before now. She lifted a hand to her brow and scanned the horizon again. No sign of him.
His failure to show up disappointed her, but his irresponsibility would not cause her to fall short of her goals. His absence would not deter her. She’d said all along she didn’t need Joshua Barron. She didn’t need any man.
As she made her way toward the corral, Benjamin hurried after her. “What are you doing, Miss Kat? Where’s Joshua?”
“He’s obviously got something to do this morning that he considers more important than working for me.” Was her speech a bit more clipped and curt than usual? If so, Benjamin made no comment about it.
“Are you planning to ride out without him?” The boy looked worried. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Good, bad, whatever. I don’t have any choice, Ben. We’ve still got to bring in the last few head to fill the contract.” She saddled her horse. Benjamin mimicked her movements, throwing the old saddle over Paint’s back. When Kat mounted, Benjamin swung up onto the pony. She squared her shoulders and turned to him.
“I’m helping you out,” he said with a toothy grin before she could even ask. “It’s the least I can do. I might not be as big as Joshua, and I know I’m nowhere near as strong, but I’ve got grit, Miss Kat. Grit and gumption.”
“Yes, you do.” Pleased by his willingness to ride with her, Kat jerked her head toward the range. “Let’s go find those beeves.”
As she rode through the gate, she heard hoof beats coming from the back of the house. To her shock, her father had saddled up Boaz—he’d named his horse after the biblical figure and claimed the name meant swiftness—and was headed their way.
“Pa! What do you think you’re doing?” Kat wheeled her horse around and trotted back toward the corral.
“Foreman show up?” he asked, looking about.
“No, but that’s my problem, not yours. You can’t come riding along with us. You shouldn’t even be on horseback. If Mama knew—”
“Dirk Phillips! Get yourself back here right now!”
Mama did know. And Mama obviously didn’t like it any better than Kat. With her long skirts swishing around her legs and her boots leaving deep indentations in the soft earth, Amanda stomped across the pasture toward her husband and daughter.
But Pa wasn’t waiting around for his wife. As Kat watched in horror, he pressed his knees to his horse’s flanks and set off toward the range. Swift of foot, indeed.
Benjamin reacted first. Kat followed.
“Pa! Stop it. Come back!”
No use calling his name. Either he couldn’t hear her or, more likely, he heard her just fine but refused to listen.
She raced toward Benjamin. “Get around ahead of him. We’ll try to corner him and make him stop.”
Veering around toward the left, she dug her heels into her mare’s sides, urging the horse into a reckless gallop. Pa was slowing down. Between her and Benjamin they should be able to catch up and stop—
“Pa!” Kat screamed as he dropped the reins and slumped forward in the saddle.
Benjamin moved in, grabbed the reins and rode alongside, bringing the horse and its unconscious rider back toward Kat who stood in the stirrups shouting for help. Thank goodness her mother had already hitched up the carriage horse and was headed toward them in the buggy.
Kat slid down and rushed the few yards to her father’s side, reaching him just as he sagged from the saddle and hit the ground. She went to work on him at once, loosening his shirt collar and pressing her hand to his neck.
“Dear God, Kat, is he alive? Is he still breathing?”
“Yes, but his pulse is weak. Mama, do something,” she begged.
“Nothing much I can do to help the old fool other than get him back to the house and put him in his bed. From there, it’s in the Lord’s hands.”
Benjamin joined them, and together the three of them picked the stricken man up from the ground and carried him to the wagon. His breathing was shallow and labored, but at least he was still with them. His eyelids twitched and opened, then he let out a choking noise and closed his eyes again.
“Pa! Come back! Don’t you dare go dying on us.” Kat slapped at her father’s cheek. Relief flooded her when he opened his eyes again.
“It’s not my time,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “Reckon God doesn’t want me quite yet, otherwise I’d already be gone.”
“Just hush up,” she scolded. “We’ll have you home in a few minutes.” She climbed into the wagon and cradled his head in her lap.
“I’ll bring the horses.” Benjamin looked as pale as Kat’s father.
“Thanks, Ben. Put them all in the corral, then come inside when you’re done.”
Still shaken, she sat beside her father as the wagon moved over the rough pasture and thick grasses. Blaming herself for what had happened that morning would be too painful, far more than she could bear. Blaming Joshua Barron would be easier. Like water trickling down the mountainside, she followed the path of least resistance, silently cursing the man with each breath she took.
Before they could get him inside, Kat’s father blacked out again. Working together, Benjamin, Kat and her mother carried him into the house and laid him out in the entry way. A quick application of smelling salts soon brought him back to consciousness. Kat’s mother checked his vitals, offered up a prayer, and within moments Dirk Phillips was back on his feet once more, as obstinate as ever.
He turned toward his wife and the young boy at her side. “Go on now, both of you. I want a word alone with my daughter.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he silenced her with a stern look.
“The game’s over, Kat. You can’t run this ranch on your own, and I was a fool to let you try.”
“But why did you come after me? Why did you try to stop me? You could have died.” Kat shuddered each time she thought of her father collapsing and falling from his horse. “Nothing like this will ever happen again. I give you my word.”
“I know it won’t happen again. Like I said, the game’s over. The deal is off.”
“That’s not fair.” Kat stood in front of her father, her hands clenched at her sides. “You can’t expect me to succeed unless I have decent help. You’re the one who hired Mr. Barron,” she reminded him. “Needless to say, I’m firing him. I don’t ever want to see the man again.”
She wouldn’t wince when she terminated his employment. Kat had no use for unreliable ranch hands. But she would regret not seeing Joshua every day. She liked him. She’d actually come to think of him as a friend. Obviously she was a rotten judge of character. Another woman might have seen right through the man and known he couldn’t be trusted.
Her father shook his head. “You know how much I love you, and believe me, there’s nothing I want more than your happiness. I’m afraid I’m an old fool where you’re concerned, Katherine, too willing to give in, too willing to let you have your way at times. I’m to blame for what happened, not you. I put myself in jeopardy, and I’d do it again. That’s the trouble.” He linked his arm in hers and took a few halting steps. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t run this place, and neither can you,” he said, holding up a hand to ward off any protest. “It’s time for both of us to move on.”
Kat knew she was losing the battle but still clung to hope. She turned to her last line of defense. “What about the beef contract?” For years, the Rocking P had supplied the government with cattle. Although her father counted pride as a grievous sin, he nevertheless exhibited a certain amount of it whenever anyone spoke of the important role he played in maintaining the peace between the ranchers and the native tribes of the area. He wouldn’t be keen on giving that up.
He stopped. His head jerked around, their eyes met, and Kat knew she’d found his weak spot, all right. For a moment, she held her breath, thinking maybe he would change his mind. Maybe he’d be willing to give her another chance—a fair chance, this time.
A weary exhalation rattled from his chest. He sagged against her for support, nearly knocking her off her feet.
Kat stiffened and somehow managed to keep them both from falling.
“Pa, are you all right?” A foolish question if ever there was one. No, her father was not all right. He was a sick man. And he spoke the truth.
He couldn’t do it anymore.
Neither could she.
It was, indeed, time to move on.
“No need for you to worry about the beef, Katherine,” he said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Wes Randall will be more than happy to take over. He’s wanted that contract for a long time.”
“Can you do that? Legally? I mean, the government signed the agreement with you, Pa, nobody else.”
“And I’ll sign an agreement with Randall.” He patted her hand. “Randall’s a reliable fellow. He’ll see that the government gets that beef on time.”
“Pa, please—” Her last tearful entreaty faded into silence.
Her father reached up to place a hand at her cheek. “I need to know that you’ll be all right after I’m gone. I need to be sure you’ve got someone to look out for you, someone to take care of you and support you. You belong with a good husband.”
“I belong here on this ranch.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ve got to accept my decision. I’m too old to fight and too tired to argue anymore.”
The discussion was over, Kat knew. “Let me help you to your study,” she said in a quiet voice. She guided him gently, and he shuffled along beside her.
When they reached his study, he let go of Kat’s hand, crossed the room to his favorite chair and slumped down into it.
“Will you be all right?” she asked, reluctant to leave him. “Can I get you anything?”
His face brightened, and a slight grin appeared. “You know what I want.” He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. “All I want is a little place in town where I can sit on my porch in the evenings, look out, and see my grandchildren at play.”
“Pa, I—”
His eyes opened, he bent forward again, and his hands gripped the edges of his chair. “I need that, Katherine. Can’t you understand that, honey?” Tears welled in his eyes. “The Good Book tells us all our days are numbered, and right now, I reckon my number’s a bit shorter than most. I don’t have much time left, and I know it.”
She couldn’t bear to hear him talk that way. “Hush, Pa. Everything’s going to be all right.” With quick steps, she went to him. Her hands trembled as she propped the chair’s thick pillows behind her father’s back. “Are you comfortable now?”
Glancing up, he nodded his thanks. “I’ve made up my mind, you know. Nothing you do or say will change it. You’re going to marry Reverend Kendrick, like it or not.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m riding into town tomorrow to speak to him. I’m giving him my blessing.”
From the doorway came another voice. “You’re doing no such thing, you stubborn old goat. Tomorrow, I’m taking you to Denver to see the doctor.” Amanda Phillips marched into the study. She went to her husband and busied herself re-adjusting the cushions on the chair.
Kat watched her mother’s loving ministrations and thought of her own attempts to help her father. That’s what women did, she realized. They instinctively sought ways to bring comfort, to ease pain. Maybe she did have a little womanliness about her, after all.
Or maybe not. Maybe her mother had only stepped in to correct Kat’s fumbling efforts.
Amanda glanced back toward her daughter. “You go on upstairs now. Don’t be bothering your father again. I think you’ve caused enough problems.”
Kat’s throat went dry. She hadn’t meant any harm. She only wanted to help. Her stomach churning, she fled from the room.
* * * *
Joshua spent the day in Denver, stopping first to pay a call on Judge William Howard Morse, Sr. and offer a further apology for Willie’s broken nose.
“Knew I recognized your name, Barron.” The judge waved a sheaf of papers in front of his face, fanning himself in the afternoon heat. “Everything’s in order, of course.” He stopped waving and set the papers down on his desk. “I think you’ll find our system of justice here to be carefully administrated, if I do say so myself.” He thrust his shoulders back, and Joshua thought for a moment the man might actually crow. Fortunately, the breath rushed out of him and he sank down into his chair. He tapped the papers again. “State of Missouri notified all federal judges of your release. So long as you keep your nose clean, you won’t have any problems in our territory.”
“I wasn’t released, sir,” Joshua corrected. “I was exonerated.”
“Same difference, really. You’re a free man.”
“Yeah, right. Same difference.” Not really, of course, but Joshua had no desire to antagonize Morse, especially not in light of the fact he’d lied to the man the day before and had accepted responsibility—more or less—for the bloody, broken nose the man’s son had suffered.
Considering himself lucky to still be anywhere close to the official’s good graces, Joshua hurried out of the judge’s office. Cody had given him the names and addresses of several fancy upstairs houses, but Joshua had no desire to visit with the working girls.
Instead, he spent the rest of the day riding aimlessly through the streets of the town, taking note of the signs of growth and development he saw. In time, Denver might make something grand of itself, Joshua thought, pleased to be part of the vast Colorado Territory and all it promised for the future.
Folks in Denver were progressive, he noted, as he rode down Arapahoe Street where the town’s first public school was nearing completion. He stopped and chatted with a couple passing by, feeling their excitement and the energy that hummed through the air.
At once, the words of the old counting game came to mind.
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief.
“Doctors, lawyers, merchants, and chiefs,” Joshua recited aloud, seeing a tall, carved Indian figure standing outside a tobacco shop. A good place to stop, he decided.
He went inside, bought a couple cigars for himself and one for Dirk Phillips. They’d be closing their deal in a day or two, and the Rocking P Ranch would officially belong to him. He was thinking of calling it the Crooked B…or maybe the Circle B. He hadn’t decided yet.
When he’d been set free from prison, released after years of wrongful incarceration, the state of Missouri had seen fit to give him a nice little settlement. Hush money, in a sense, that’s what it really was. Governments were funny that way, didn’t really like folks talking about mistakes they’d made, didn’t really want Joshua telling the tale of how he’d been kept holed up in the Missouri State Penitentiary for three long years even though he’d done nothing wrong. Of course, the fact he’d threatened to sue the state had sped the process up a bit, and he’d ridden away from Jefferson City with enough cold, hard cash to make a new start for himself. Almost enough to make him forget the miseries he’d suffered during those three long years. Almost, but not quite. Some things a man couldn’t forget too easily.
