“I love you too, honey.”

  The resentment Katy felt toward Rowe knotted her stomach and made it almost impossible for her to finish the meal. He had not only won her sister over but little Theresa as well. Damn him! When she found a way to leave this blasted town, Mary and Theresa would go with her, and she would like to see Mr. Garrick Rowe try to stop her.

  CHAPTER

  Six

  The town had come alive.

  Before, there had been only the sound of the wind whipping around the vacant buildings, rattling the loose windows, rippling over tin roofs. Now, coarse masculine laughter, boot heels on the boardwalks, hammer against steel, and the sound of an axe striking wood drifted up to the funerary. Within a few hours, the men had built a stockade for the animals and made a cookshack out of the building next to the long bunkhouse. Supper smoke was in the air.

  As the sun vanished, darkness came quickly to the town in the valley. Lights shone from the windows of the saloon, the bunkhouse, and the stone building where Rowe had made his headquarters. In the funerary, after more than two months of loneliness, Theresa was excited about the sudden population and asked endless questions.

  “Will they stay, Mamma? Do you think they’ve seen Papa? What did they bring in the big wagons? Will more wagons come and . . . bring little girls?” She stood on a stool while her mother washed her face, hands, and feet, then slipped her nightdress over her head.

  Listening to Theresa’s chatter, Katy put the last of the just washed supper dishes on the shelf and flipped a clean cloth over the necessaries left on the table. An unexpected rap on the door caused three heads to turn toward that solid slab of wood and the bar that lay across it. Katy picked up the rifle, checked the load, and went to the door.

  “Who is it?” she called.

  “Rowe.” There was no mistaking the voice, or Theresa’s squeal of joy on hearing it.

  Katy lifted the bar. The door swung back and Rowe’s big body filled the doorway.

  “Good evening,” he said, ignoring the rifle pointed at his midsection. “May we come in?” His eyes, with a faint glint of amusement, held Katy’s.

  She nodded and lowered the rifle.

  “Mr. Rowe!” Theresa squealed. “Did ya come to make my swing?”

  “Not tonight, Sugarplum. Maybe tomorrow.”

  “Maybe never,” Katy murmured softly, but it brought his dark eyes back to her. He gave her an amused grin before he stepped over the threshold and entered the room.

  Katy returned his grin with a haughty stare, then looked past him to the faces of the two men who had removed their hats and come in to stand beside him.

  “Ladies, I’d like you to meet Anton Hooker.” He indicated a tall, bookish-looking man with thin blond hair and wire-rimmed spectacles.

  “Good evening,” Hooker said politely.

  “And Hank Weston, the foreman.” The big red-haired man shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, plainly uncomfortable. “The ladies are Miss Katy Burns and her sister, Mrs. Stanton. The young lady is Theresa.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Mary lifted Theresa down from the stool and came forward with her hand extended, giving their guests a generous and cordial reception. Katy stood where she was and nodded her acknowledgment to the introduction, very much aware that Rowe’s dark eyes were on her again. “Won’t you sit down?” Mary was saying.

  “Thank you.” The men stood hesitantly after Mary was seated, waiting for Katy to sit down, but she shook her head and leaned against the front wall of the building. They each took a chair. Theresa ran across the room and climbed upon Rowe’s lap as soon as he was seated.

  “Theresa, you shouldn’t,” Mary admonished.

  “It’s all right, Mary,” Rowe said, settling the child on the side away from his injured thigh. “I like to hold pretty girls.” He looked at Katy over Theresa’s head. She stood stock-still, head tilted back, arms folded. The lamplight made a halo of the shiny blond hair that had come loose from the pins and hung in disarray around her face. Blue-gray eyes stared back at him with a mixture of suspicion and exasperation in their depths. Puzzled by her hostility, he raised his brows in silent question.

  “We got gooseberry pie.” Theresa placed her small hand on Rowe’s cheek to turn his face toward her.

  “I suppose you ate it all.” His fingers gripped her small midsection and she giggled happily.

  “We saved a piece for you—a big piece cause Mamma said you was big. But Aunt Katy said you—”

  “Theresa remembered your saying you liked gooseberries,” Mary said quickly.

  Smile lines bracketed Rowe’s wide mouth. He glanced at Katy’s expressionless face, then smiled into the trusting face of the child. Theresa snuggled against him, her head on his shoulder, her thumb in her mouth. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable cuddling the little girl in his arms in the presence of his friends. In fact, he seemed to be rather pleased that she had run to him and climbed onto his lap. It was another strange thing about Garrick Rowe for Katy to note and file away in the back of her mind, to ponder over later when she had the time.

  “Come sit down, Katy. Hank and I have a business deal to put to you and Mary.”

  Out of consideration for the guests, Katy refused to show that she was irritated at Rowe for inviting her to sit down in her own home. She pulled the stool out from the table and moved it so that he had to turn his head to look at her. She sat down and folded her hands in her lap.

  “I never imagined a funerary could be made to look so homey.” Anton Hooker spoke with a clipped Northern accent that brought back memories of the war to Mary and Katy.

  “Necessity,” Mary said. “When we were left here alone we explored all the buildings we could get into without breaking a window and discovered this one was the best suited for our purpose. Of course, if the owner should come back, we’ll vacate.”

  Hooker looked at Rowe as if he expected him to say something, and when he didn’t, Hooker said, “Rowe explained your reason for being here. You’re mighty lucky. This area is full of outlaws, not to mention Cheyenne and Sioux who are mad enough at George Custer to take hair wherever they can get it.”

  “Oh, dear! An Indian uprising? It seems there’s no end to the violence out here.”

  “I’ve not heard of any sizeable raids this far west,” Anton Hooker said. “It would take a considerable force to come up against the number of men we have here.”

  Anton Hooker was talking, but Katy watched the foreman, Hank Weston. He had dark red shaggy hair, a clean-shaven face, shoulders and biceps that bulged with muscles, and large freckled hands. He had planted his heavy boots wide apart, rested his forearms on his thighs, and twirled his hat between his spread knees. His light blue eyes were focused on Mary. Katy had always thought that Mary was extremely pretty. She was soft and sweet and biddable and undemanding; the type of woman a man wanted. Uneasiness coiled in her stomach as she felt a sudden premonition that Hank Weston might be thinking that she and her sister were women of loose morals. He hadn’t said a word beyond his first greeting, but his eyes had been busy, first roaming over their home, and then over Mary’s generous curves and soft brown hair. Damn him!

  Anton Hooker was too much of a gentlemen to stare. He was more Mary’s type, Katy found herself thinking. He looked as if he had some refinement and would understand the predicament of two lone women in such a place as this. She decided to appeal to him.

  “Mr. Hooker, my sister and I have been stranded here for more than two months. We want to go back to Laramie as soon as possible. We’d be grateful if you would arrange for an escort to take us to Bannack or to Virginia City where we could take the stage.”

  All eyes turned to Katy. She could feel the heat of Rowe’s gaze, feel him willing her to look at him. Her eyes were on Anton Hooker. He glanced at Rowe then at Hank Weston before bringing his eyes back to her.

  “That isn’t a decision I can make, miss. You’ll have to speak to Rowe about that.”

  Katy refused to look at Rowe. “Surely you can’t refuse to let us ride out in one of the freight wagons when it goes out for supplies.”

  Anton stirred nervously. “We brought supplies for several weeks, miss. At any rate, it wouldn’t be a safe trip. You’re safe here—”

  “Being safe is not the issue, Mr. Hooker,” Katy said firmly. “There’s nothing for us here. We want to go back to Laramie.”

  “Don’t badger Anton, Katy.” Rowe shifted the now-sleeping child in his arms and moved his chair back so that he could look at her. “I’m the one you’ll have to deal with.”

  Katy’s blue eyes swept over Rowe in a manner that could only be contemptuous. “Ah, yes.” Coolly uplifted brows asked his intentions.

  “For the time being, you’ll have to stay here in Trinity.”

  Outraged astonishment was plain on Katy’s face. Her eyes spit blue flame. “Genghis Khan has spoken,” she said calmly, choking back her temper.

  “Perhaps he has.” Rowe grinned wickedly.

  For a moment her eyes, like daggers, looked into the predatory gaze of eyes as black as a bottomless pit, then she lowered her lids as alarm tingled through her. He was as hard as stone. None of the men would help them unless they had his permission. How on earth were they going to get out of this godforsaken place?

  “It’s useless to pout, Katy.” Rowe’s deep, smooth voice broke into her thoughts. “You and Mary and Theresa are as safe here as you’d be in a church in Denver. You’re free to move around the town. Hank and I will see to it that the men treat you respectfully.”

  She lifted her lashes and glared at him. A black brow over glittering black devil-eyes quirked upward. The spawn of Satan obviously thought he had all the cards stacked in his favor, and he was enjoying his control over her.

  “What’s the price for all of this protection you and Mr. Weston are providing? The . . . ah . . . er . . . usual?” She spoke coolly, refusing to look away as his dark eyes raked her face and heard her sister gasp at the blunt words.

  His lips quirked in a semblance of a smile in spite of the savage anger that tore through him. He wanted to shake her. Yet, he told himself, he had never liked a mountain that was too easy to climb, a tame horse, or a dog who followed anyone who had a bone. Life with this little hellion would be interesting.

  “Few things in life are free.”

  “What price?”

  “Regardless of whether or not you and Mary agree to our . . . ah, request, you’ll be safe here.”

  “What price?” Her tone of voice stated plainly that her patience was wearing thin.

  “First, I want to know if you, Mary, and Theresa have had measles.”

  “Why?”

  “Damn it, Katy! Can’t you answer a simple question?”

  “We had them at Myrtle Gulch.” Mary quickly interceded. “Theresa was not yet two at the time. I didn’t have them as bad as Katy. She was awfully sick.”

  Katy shot her sister a frowning look of disapproval for giving out the information, then forced herself to look back at Rowe and speak matter of factly.

  “Now I understand why you need us to stay here. You have an outbreak of measles and you want us to tend the sick. Let me warn you, Mr. Blackbeard Teach, that I could not have possibly been Florence Nightingale in my former life because, as far as I know, she is still living. Nor could I have been Clara Barton, for the same reason.”

  Rowe threw back his head and laughed.

  At this moment Katy thoroughly hated him. More than anything she wanted to slam her knotted fist into his eye with every ounce of her strength. The thought sobered her. What was this man doing to her? She couldn’t remember ever wanting to strike anyone before. When she was with Garrick Rowe, it was as if there were another person inside her clamoring to get out.

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Mary asked, looking first at Rowe’s smiling face then at her sister’s angry one. Katy’s lips were pressed in a downward arc, and her brows were beetled. “How many men are sick, Rowe?”

  “Two, so far. Hank isolated them in one wagon. He says measles broke out in Bannack while they were there, so we expect more men to come down with them.”

  “Poor things. Sage tea will break the fever and bakingsoda paste will help the itch—”

  “They’re a miserable lot with fever runnin’ high,” Hank said, and his Irish brogue reminded Katy of Pack Gallagher, Mara Shannon’s husband.

  “Of course, we’ll do what we can for them,” Mary said firmly. “Are they still in the wagons?”

  “We moved them to the house back of the livery.”

  “Is someone looking after them?”

  “I’ve been doin’ what I can.”

  “Then you’ve had measles.”

  “Not that I know of, but—”

  “Laws! You’ll be coming down with them next.” Mary got to her feet and went to the cupboard. “We’ve got sage for tea but not much soda.”

  “There’s plenty in the cookhouse,” Hank said.

  Katy watched Mary. She was in her glory when she was nursing the sick. Damn Garrick Rowe! He was playing all the right cards. Mary wouldn’t even think of leaving Trinity as long as there was someone here who needed her.

  “I’ll go see what I can do, Katy. Men die of measles if they’re not given enough water, if fever burns them up, or if they scratch and get infection.”

  “I figured you would,” Katy said drily.

  “You needn’t worry, miss,” Hank said. “I’ll see that no harm comes to her.”

  Katy looked at him, then at Rowe. Rowe was aggravating, but she was reasonably sure he wouldn’t force himself on her or her sister. Hank Weston was another matter. He seemed nice enough, but so did the preacher who had met her outside the house one night in Bonanza City and tried to throw her to the ground. She held him off with the little Derringer, and the next Sunday he was in the pulpit preaching hellfire and brimstone and looking as pious as ever.

  “She’ll be all right. Hank will stay close to her,” Rowe said, seeing the doubt on her face.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Katy said bluntly.

  “Katy!” Mary’s cheeks turned red with mortification. “Please excuse us. I want to speak to my sister in private.” Mary went to the back of the building and into the shadows. The men sat in embarrassed silence as Katy, with head high, followed her sister. “What in the world has gotten into you?” Mary demanded in an angry whisper.

  “Why? Because I don’t like the idea of you going out in the dark with that . . . big Irish rowdy?”

  “How do you know he’s a rowdy?” She held her hand up when Katy opened her mouth to speak. “Rowe risked his life for us. To my way of thinking, he’s been a real gentleman. I’m certain that he’d not recommend Mr. Weston if he were not a gentleman also.”

  “Gentleman! Good Lord, Mary! Miners who live from hand-to-mouth, from one hole in the ground to another, are not gentlemen. There’s thirty of them, and two of us. I don’t trust any of them as far as I could throw a cow by the tail. That includes Mr. Garrick Rowe, for all his heroics.”

  “Why? Just tell me why you’ve become so cynical all of a sudden, and what Rowe has done to deserve the cutting edge of your tongue every time the two of you are together?”

  “It isn’t all of a sudden, and there’s something about the man that gets my back up.”

  “You’re bitter, Katy. I can’t tell you how sorry I am to see that happen.”

  “Call me bitter, cynical, or whatever. If you go down to that sickhouse, we’ll all go.”

  “I’ll not take Theresa to a sickhouse,” Mary said stubbornly.

  “Why not? She’s had measles.”

  “I may be there for hours. It’s no place for a little girl. Please, Katy. The men here will be more inclined to help us if we show a little trust in them.” Mary started to leave, then turned back. “I think you like Rowe and you don’t want to admit it. That’s why you’re like a prickly pear every time you’re near him.”

  “And I think you’re out of your mind if you think I like that pigheaded son of Satan!” Katy hissed angrily.

  Mary plucked her shawl from the peg on the wall and flung it about her shoulders. “Let me use my own judgment in this. I wouldn’t do anything that I thought would put us in danger. Heavens! I’ve got a child to raise, and for some time now, I’ve thought I’ll be doing it without any help from Roy.”

  “That’s why we must be careful.”

  “I know,” Mary said softly. “Don’t worry. I’m ready, Mr. Weston,” she called and hurried toward the front of the building.

  “Mary, wait.” Katy picked up the Derringer lying on the shelf over her bed and hurried after her sister. “Take this.”

  “I won’t need it. I’m sure Mr. Weston or Mr. Hooker are equipped to shoot anyone who needs shooting.”

  “Oh, Lord! That damn Derringer again. Put it away.” This came from Rowe who had moved to the rocking chair and was holding Theresa cradled in his arms.

  The command fanned Katy’s temper. She slipped the pistol into her pocket. “You can put Theresa in her bed and go with Mary.”

  “Hank and Anton will go with Mary. I’m staying here to . . . protect you.” He tilted his head back and looked up at her with a lascivious look in his eyes.

  Before she could retort, Anton said, “It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Burns.”

  “It was nice meeting you too,” Katy murmured. Then she turned to Mary, “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

  “I’m sure. After Rowe puts Theresa in her bed, dish up the gooseberry pie. I’m sorry I didn’t make more.” She smiled up into the face of the Irishman. “I’ll make another pie for you and Mr. Hooker tomorrow.”

  Katy went to the door and watched her sister walk out into the darkness between two tall men. She turned to see Rowe getting out of the rocker.

  “If anything happens to Mary, I’ll . . . shoot you!” The words exploded from her tense lips and her eyes burned up at him resentfully.

  “I accept that. I’ll stand perfectly still so that you won’t miss.” Amusement glinted in his dark eyes. Suddenly, he laughed.

 

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