Katie Rose (8 page)

“Miss Emily, I’d like you to meet Darrel,” Thomas said formally. “He’s looking for work as a stable boy, but he can do just about anything: toting wood, cleaning, you name it. He worked here once before, when your father owned the place. I thought you could make use of him, being out here alone.”

“Hello, Darrel.” Emily was distracted from her thoughts about Thomas and she smiled stiffly at the small boy. About thirteen or fourteen, the lad appeared capable and bright. He seemed not at all
self-conscious about being in the house, in spite of the lurid paintings and furnishings. He peered curiously over Emily’s shoulder.

“Why don’t you help yourself to some milk and biscuits in the kitchen?” Emily said, blocking the boy’s view. “I want to talk to the Reverend Hall a moment, then I’ll be back for you.”

At the mention of food, the boy’s face lit up. “Thank you, ma’am.” He looked to the preacher for approval.

As soon as Thomas nodded, the boy scampered through the door. Emily turned to the preacher, her mouth pursed. “I appreciate your good intentions, but I have no horses and no need for a stable boy.”

“I know.” Thomas shrugged, as if he had been expecting her protests. “I spoke to the boy’s father. He is quite willing to let you compensate the lad when your business starts paying. You did say you intend to reestablish the millinery shop, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He began lecturing her in a solemn church tone. “Miss Potter, it isn’t safe for you to be alone out here. You saw the condition of the house. I’ve told you about the gold. You need someone living on the property, someone who could at least send for help if it should become necessary.” He hold up his hand when she started to protest once more. “Don’t thank me, I consider it the good Lord’s work.”

Emily felt as if she’d been run over by a train. This man was arrogance defined! If he hadn’t obviously been intent on helping her, she would have given
him a piece of her mind for meddling in her life. Still, she supposed she could use the boy for toting parcels and helping with the repainting. She forced down her annoyance.

“I’m sure I can find work for the boy. If it’s all right with his father, I’ll feed him until I can afford to pay him. Now if you don’t mind—”

“Not at all. In fact, I was just thinking how good a hot cup of tea would be with a fine Christian woman like yourself. You drink tea, don’t you?” The preacher smiled, and Emily noticed again how good-looking he was, and how his eyes crinkled at the corners, making them seem even more intense. That odd little thrill raced inside her again, reminding her what it was like when he touched her.

But just as quickly Emily dismissed the notion. She couldn’t forget her suspicions about Thomas’s role in this case, no matter how he made her stomach flutter. Still, until she knew who he was, she couldn’t be rude. Reluctantly she led him to the kitchen, where Darrel was happily eating a biscuit. Crumbs on the table indicated it was not his first. Thomas gazed around the kitchen approvingly as Emily filled the teapot.

“Looks like you’ve done a lot with the place already,” he commented.

“I’ve managed to clean up most of the broken furnishings, but I’ve got a long way to go,” she said. “Once I sell a few hats, I can paint and wallpaper, and maybe replace a few pieces of furniture.”

“I’m surprised your father didn’t leave you some
money,” Thomas commented. “Aside from the gold, he should have had something. The income from the house should have at least provided a good living.”

Emily’s nose wrinkled as she realized the meaning behind the preacher’s words. Had her father been living off Rosie and the girls? But if he’d had the gold, why didn’t he just use that? It all seemed to grow more confusing by the moment.

The tea kettle whistled, and Emily began pouring the hot water into the teapot as Thomas took a chair. She tried to ignore the fact that his physical presence nearly overwhelmed her. Unwillingly her mind went back to that moment in his arms when her body had tingled upon the simple contact. She shook her head. First she was seeing ghosts, and now she was having thoughts about seducing this charlatan minister!

She was so deep in her reverie that she splashed her hand with the hot water. Waving it in front of her, she tried to stop the burning pain, but the cool air just seemed to make her skin sting more.

“Did you hurt yourself? Let me see.” Thomas’s voice lost some of its remoteness as he held her hand under the gaslight and examined the red patch. “Looks like a scald. Let’s put some cold water on that. Darrel, hand me that pitcher.”

“No, I’m fine,” Emily protested, but it did little good. Thomas ignored her, gently pouring cold water over her fingers. The pain was soothed instantly, and Emily sighed in relief as the ache became a bearable throb. “Thank you,” she breathed gratefully.

“It looks like a bad burn. Blisters could develop,
which means a chance for infection. You really should let me put something on that. I have some salve in my room at the boardinghouse. I can bring it over.”

Emily looked up at him. Suddenly she realized that he was rubbing her wrist. His hands, lightly callused like fine sandpaper, felt wonderful against her bare flesh. A strange awareness raced along her skin, and Emily swallowed hard at the unfamiliar sensations. The starch of her prim collar seemed to scratch her flesh, and her corset felt as if it were laced far too tightly.

Fidgeting with her collar, she spoke quickly. “Why don’t I accompany you instead? That will be quicker.”

She had to resume her logical thinking, which had deserted her in his presence. But in the dim recesses where her brain still functioned, she realized it wasn’t a good idea to stay here with him. In addition to not knowing who he was, he posed another kind of threat, one that at the moment seemed even more eminent.

“Are you certain?” he asked, an understanding twinkle in his eye. “I’m not sure that’s proper, seeing as I’m a single man of the cloth. And Mrs. Haines isn’t too fond of female callers.”

“I’ll wait outside,” Emily replied. It hadn’t escaped her, even in her current state, that she could at least verify where he was staying. Besides, if he were innocent, who could be a better escort than a preacher? No one in their right mind could find fault with that, especially if she stayed demurely on the porch. The burn on her hand twinged. Thomas
Hall, Emily decided, was becoming a distraction she couldn’t afford.

Thomas accompanied Emily into town, certain what she was up to. She was as suspicious of him as he was of her, and had figured out a way to confirm his cover story. He had to admire her methods.

She walked stiffly beside him, careful not to brush against him. A smile curved his lips when he thought of the charming blush he’d seen on her cheeks when he’d massaged her hand and felt her racing pulse. Miss Potter wasn’t all cold logic. Yet knowing she had reacted to him physically didn’t help much, for there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing at all.

His amusement changed quickly to frustration. Having this woman so close to his bedroom didn’t help his control over the odd attraction that was sparking between them. All he could picture was Emily sprawled out on Mrs. Haines’s patchwork quilt, that chestnut hair tousled about her naked shoulders, her eyes smoky with passion. She would be so soft, so sweet, begging him to touch her, kiss her, make love to her.…

He quickened his pace, heedless of the fact that she was a good three steps behind him. The last thing he needed was to have erotic thoughts about Emily Potter! Yet the vision wouldn’t leave him and his blood was beginning to pound in his veins. When he reached the house, he saw her puffing to catch up to him. Opening the door, he gestured to the porch. “Wait here.”

Emily nodded, obediently standing beside the door.
She was so pretty, her face flushed from exertion, her hair loosening from its knot to allow a few curls to frame her face. Perspiration gleamed on her forehead, and she looked like a woman who’d just had a good tumble. He couldn’t help his short-tempered growl as he headed into the house. Insanity must have propelled him to do this. Why should he care if her hand got infected? The woman thought the worst of him, and didn’t appreciate anything he did for her. Moreover, he still wasn’t convinced she was innocent in the matter of the gold. Why then did Emily continue to concern him?

“Reverend Hall! There you are!”

Thomas gritted his teeth and turned slowly in the foyer. He wanted nothing more than to fetch the salve, get rid of Emily, and relax with a hot bath and a cold beer. Although drinking wasn’t considered one of the deadly sins by everyone, it wasn’t in good form for him to appear in the saloon so soon after his arrival in town. Yet he needed a drink. Emily Potter was beginning to get under his skin.

Mrs. Haines accosted him, oblivious to his tired yawn, then thrust a shawl-covered mound toward him. It was then he noticed another woman, her face partially hidden by her bonnet. As he took the proffered bundle, the other woman smiled shyly.

“This is Mrs. Olson, and that is her new baby boy!” Mrs. Haines declared. “Isn’t he beautiful!”

Thomas gazed down into the reddened face of the newborn. A thatch of black hair stood up from his head, and his tiny fingers poked aimlessly at his blanket.
The baby stared at him cross-eyed, then began to gnaw at his fist. When that didn’t appease him, he rooted at Thomas’s chest, apparently looking for his next meal. Like most newborns, he resembled nothing more than a wizened old man, and Thomas forced an awkward smile.

“Beautiful. Yes, absolutely.”

When he looked up, he saw Emily standing on tiptoe outside, doing her damnedest to see what was going on. He frowned at her sharply, then turned back to the women with a preacherlike smile.

The baby, hearing an unfamiliar male voice and having no success in finding his dinner, screwed up his face and inhaled. A moment later, he let out a yell that pierced eardrums and made teacups rattle on the shelves. Appalled, Thomas tried to bounce the infant, but his only reward was another scream.

“Why, that’s odd. All babies loved Reverend Flatter. Never held a one that he couldn’t quiet. You remember Reverend Flatter, don’t you Mrs. Olson?” Mrs. Haines asked, her eyes narrowing as the baby continued to fuss.

“Oh … yes.” The woman watched Thomas manhandle her baby, her eyes wide with apprehension.

Thomas felt incredibly foolish as the baby wrenched himself into a knot, in preparation for another bawl.

“Yes, and a wonderful man he was.” Mrs. Haines was beginning to wax poetic. “Like I said, he loved babies, and they just loved him.”

“Well, it seems I don’t have Reverend Flatter’s talent in that area,” Thomas said miserably as the baby
squirmed. “Here.” He thrust the offending creature at his mother. “I have a friend outside who needs medical care. I was bringing her a jar of salve.”

“Oh, bring her in!” Mrs. Haines reached for the door.

“That’s all right, she can wait outside,” Thomas tried.

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Haines waved a hand in dismissal. “This will take a few moments. She can’t stand out there in the heat like that. Come in, Miss?…”

“Potter. Emily Potter.”

Emily walked triumphantly through the door to stand next to the women, obviously relishing every moment of his discomfort. Thomas glared at Emily, then shifted his gaze back to Mrs. Haines. “What will take a few moments?”

Mrs. Olson looked at him in confusion, pressing the child back into this arms. “Reverend, I was hoping that you … I mean, he is newborn, and we want to save him from the fires of hell and all.…”

“Hell?” Thomas stared at her while the baby let out another squall, more robust than the first ones.

“He needs to be christened, of course,” Mrs. Haines said briskly. “You do perform them, don’t you?”

Thomas wrestled with the baby, trying desperately to keep from dropping his charge. An odd grin of satisfaction curved Emily’s lips.

“Of course, Reverend,” Emily agreed politely. “You must christen this child at once! God forbid anything should happen to him.”

Thomas shot her a murderous look. Forcing a
smile once more, he looked at the other two women pleadingly. “But don’t you think it would be better to wait until my mission is established? I mean, for his sake.” He gestured to the screaming baby with his chin, since his hands were full holding on to the little creature.

“Not at all.” Mrs. Haines looked as offended as if he’d suggested the baby didn’t deserve a christening. “One can never be certain in these times what will happen. I told Mrs. Olson you’d perform it without delay.”

“I see.” It seemed he had little choice. The three women eyed Thomas steadily, one with suspicion, the other two in expectation. He felt as if he were being tested, and God help him if he didn’t pass. “All right, but it will have to be the short version. Then you can bring him back later and we’ll do it again. Is that all right?”

Mrs. Olson nodded, relieved, Thomas supposed, that he wasn’t dooming her son to eternal damnation. Fumbling in his coat, he grimaced as he realized his prayer book was upstairs. To fetch it would only prolong his agony.

“Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name,” he mumbled quickly.

Emily’s brow lifted and she silently mouthed “Our Father?”

Thomas ignored her, and lowered his voice, muttering a prayer. The cadence had a pleasing effect, and the older women appeared satisfied by the time he ran out of phrases.

The baby, however, screamed indignantly, drowning
out his words, and Thomas felt something wet penetrate his shirtsleeve. It trickled down his arm and off his little finger. Swallowing hard, he finished quickly. “I christen thee …”

“Francis Olson.” The baby’s mother beamed.

“Francis Olson, in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, Amen.”

“Amen,” the two women repeated. To his amazement, Mrs. Olson was smiling at him.

“I’ll take him now. He must be hungry. Thank you so much, Reverend.”

Thomas handed the baby back to its mother, silently groaning at the wetness of his coat. Emily squelched a giggle, but when he glanced up at her, she was straight-faced. Mrs. Haines noticed the dark stain spreading across his jacket, and her usually harsh face softened. She gave him a blissful smile.