Deeply Devoted (17 page)

Vapors of heat rose in the distance throughout the surrounding landscapes, proof of a hot, dry summer to come. Every passing week, as temperatures climbed with no rain in sight, Catharine stood at the kitchen window and watched as Peter stood in the wheat field praying for rain. She knew he was worried, and all her reassurances that the rain would come didn’t help. Even the flowers they’d planted hadn’t grown as fast as she’d expected them to. Though she watered them every day from the well, the wind quickly dried the plants out.

Peter walked deeper into the field and further away from the house, so she didn’t bother him. Catharine peeked at the chicken she had roasting, decided it was cooked, then replaced the lid and shoved the pan back in the oven to stay warm. It was early yet for supper, but at least everything was ready for her family. Walking out to the front porch, she was glad to be out of the warm kitchen and decided to head down the lane in search of the cool water that Crow Creek offered. She made a mental note to remember to apply lotion to her hands tonight before bedtime. The last few days she’d felt fatigued, and the heat of the kitchen made her stomach feel weak. Putting her feet in the cold stream would be refreshing and just the thing she needed before supper.

Trekking down to the creek, she was thinking about another short trip to town. Occasionally now Catharine rode into town by herself or with her sisters, since Peter felt confident that she knew the way and could do the trip in a couple of hours. Each time she looked expectantly for a letter at the post office, and each time she was disappointed when there wasn’t one from Amsterdam, but she pretended indifference when the clerk handed her the mail. Amazingly, she hadn’t run into Clara, though she did make the trip to town and back as quickly as possible.

After sliding off her brogans and socks, Catharine tucked her skirts into her waistband and waded into the creek. The water rushing over her feet and ankles cooled her instantly. Carefully, she stepped over rocks and downed tree limbs until she finally reached a nearly flat, smooth rock to lie on while allowing her feet to dangle in the water. Gazing up at the blue sky through overhanging tree limbs, she relaxed and listened to the sounds of buzzing insects along the creek bed and the stillness around her. Her eyes became heavy and she drifted off.

She heard a voice calling her, but her mind felt thick and her sight was foggy. She lifted the wrought-iron latch to the gate and stood in the warm rainy mist, pulling her cloak around her and staring down at the fresh mound of dirt. Each time she visited, the pain lessened a little. Would it ever leave? She pressed her hand to her mouth to quiet her sobs.
Why did this have to happen, Lord?

The voice calling her name became louder. It took a moment before Catharine realized she’d been dreaming, and in reality Anna was calling her. She sat up, blinking, and looked over at the water’s edge to where Anna stood, one puppy in her arm and the rest of them nipping at her heels.

“Didn’t you hear me, Cath? You must have been in a deep sleep.”

“I think I was. I just can’t seem to get enough sleep these days and I’m always tired. This farming life is demanding.” Catharine traipsed back through the creek to Anna, who held out her hand to assist her up the bank.

“Supper’s ready. Peter’s washing up and Greta sent me to look for you.”

Catharine picked up one of the pups and snuggled it against her neck. “I do enjoy the pups, Anna, but soon we’ll have to find homes for them. Peter’s orders.”

“I like them too,” Anna replied when they started down the path to the house. “It will be hard to pick just one—Cath, have you been crying? Your eyes are red.”

“
Nee.
It must be from the heat of the kitchen. I was in there most of the afternoon.” She lowered her eyes and looked at the puppy with its innocent eyes. No need to burden Anna or make her worry. Once she’d been as carefree as her sister, but that was before Karl Johnsen.

The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the curtains billowing inside the bedroom, and by the time Catharine awoke, Peter’s side of the bed was cold. She couldn’t believe no one had awakened her. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she struggled into her robe and hurried to the kitchen. Greta was already at the stove, struggling to scramble eggs in a skillet with a flame that was too hot, and Anna was just lifting what looked to be very toasty toast out of the oven.

“Morning, everyone! Why on earth didn’t you wake me? Where’s Peter?”

“Right here,” he said, slipping through the back door. “Somethin’ burning?”

“No, but nearly,” Anna said. “I wanted to help out and give Catharine a break. She’s been extra tired the last couple of mornings.”

“Aren’t you sweet!” Catharine gave her a quick hug. “Need help, Greta?”

Greta moved quickly, flipping bacon in the pan next to the eggs. “I think I’ve got it. Why don’t you have a seat?”

Peter pulled a chair out for her and, with a wide sweep of his hat, bid her to sit down. He picked up the coffeepot to fill the Blue Willow cups, then took a chair himself.

After they were all seated and Peter said grace, he cleared his throat. “While you’re all sitting here together, I just wanted to thank you for pitching in with the farm work. I know it’s not what you’re used to, and I apologize for that.” He stared down at his untouched breakfast, then looked up and continued. “To tell you the truth, I would consider hiring some help when I sell the crop this fall, but I’m concerned because of our weather. It’s drier than ever, and the temperatures are warmer than normal this time of year. I expect I’ll plant winter wheat or alfalfa this year after the harvest.”

“I didn’t mean to complain if I did, Peter.” Catharine placed her hand reassuringly on top of his.

“You didn’t complain, Catharine. Each of you was thrown into a different way of life. Just the same, I wanted to express my thanks to all of you. You have made my life more than interesting.” He smiled warmly at Greta and Anna. “I never had a brother or sister. I’ll make it up to all of you somehow.”

“I’ve learned a few things about how to run a home . . . not that I’d choose to,” Greta said.

“It’ll prepare you for your future as a wife.” Catharine smiled at her sister.

Greta laughed. “
Nee
, I’m going to have servants to do the big chores when I get married.”

Peter raised an eyebrow at her. “Then you’d better think twice about marrying a private in the army. They make little to nothing.”

Greta bristled. “Oh, but he’ll get promotions and have a future as a colonel or general in the army soon.”

Catharine looked at Peter, indicating not to say more.

“I hope Bryan will do just that.” Catharine had her doubts, but she would let Greta have her dreams. Besides, Bryan wasn’t even courting her officially. No need to worry about that just yet.

Anna ate the last of her eggs, then sneaked a piece of bacon beneath her chair. “And I want to thank you for letting me have the puppies.”

Catharine leaned down and peered under the table. “Did you let those puppies inside? You know they’re only allowed on the porch.”

Anna’s face blanched. “Uh . . . I—”

Peter shook his head. “Anna, I’ll have to ask you to remove the puppies and take them back to the porch.” His tone held no nonsense.

Anna shoved her chair back and bent down to scoop the puppies up. They squirmed from her hands and ran in every direction, yapping playfully. One accidentally knocked over the ash bucket by the hearth, and another walked right through the ashes, then ran out of the kitchen and down the hall, leaving footprints in his wake.

“Oh dear!” Anna shrieked, chasing the pup.

Greta popped up. “I’ll get this one,” she yelled as the runt of the litter bounded across the kitchen hardwood floor. The puppy slid directly into the sewing basket Catharine was using to re-cover the dressing table chair. It tipped over, spilling its contents, and the other two puppies gleefully hopped in, sending spools of thread and ribbon every direction. The runt held a piece of ribbon in his mouth and ran around the kitchen while the other two chased after the length of pink ribbon. Greta began to laugh, realizing her futile attempt to catch the little pups.

Catharine started to laugh too until she saw the I-told-you-so look plastered across Peter’s face. “This was exactly what I feared would happen,” he said with irritation.

Catharine shoved back her chair to help Greta as they hopelessly chased three furry balls of fluff. There went Anna’s hope to keep all four puppies now. Of that Catharine had no doubt.

Days passed, and if possible, the weather became even drier with every passing day. The women were continually applying lotion to their itchy, flaky skin. Catharine went about picking up the dirty clothes since today was laundry day. Anna was out with Peter to help milk the cow. Greta was assigned to polishing the huge oak staircase, a job Catharine knew she detested. But as Catharine explained, it must be done, especially with the dust they were having now.

She gathered all the dirty clothes from her sisters’ room and was just about to leave when something caught her eye in the corner of the closet. It looked like a wad of blue fabric. Was Greta making something? She pulled out the material and shook it to release the folds. To her surprise, it wasn’t fabric at all but a pretty dress, suitable for evening. She didn’t remember seeing it before, and none of them had been shopping yet. It was very enticing, with delicate lace that trimmed the cuffs and ran along the
V
of the décolletage. Where had Greta gotten this? When and how?

She didn’t have long to wait to get her questions answered.

“Cath, I’ve finished the stairs—” Greta stopped in the center of the room with a stricken look on her face. “I . . . what are you doing in our closet?” She moved slowly toward Catharine.

“Where did you get this, Greta?” Catharine got right to the point. Greta’s look of guilt didn’t surprise her.

Greta twisted the polishing cloth in her hands. “I can explain.”

“I’m waiting.”

Greta reached over and took the dress out of Catharine’s hands. “I bought it the day we spent the night in Cheyenne.”

“With what? I wasn’t aware you had any money of your own.” Catharine thought back to that day but didn’t remember seeing a package in Greta’s possession.

“I put it on Peter’s account at Warren’s Emporium, then hid it in the wagon.”

“You
what
? Without asking?” Catharine said through tight lips to keep from raising her voice.