Pennyroyal Christmas (A Ruthorford Holiday Story Book 1) (3 page)

When Brenda got to the door, she stopped and turned, seemed lost in thought for a moment. Kat saw a barely perceivable shake of her head, as though she thought better of something, then the smile. “Come on by, when you get in town.”

“Thanks. I will.”

****

Kat knew he’d come. Sooner or later. She sat on the granite outcropping and watched Tramp sniff along the stream’s edge, catching the horse and rider out of the corner of her eye. Her heart’s rhythm kicked up a little faster as he edged his way down the embankment toward her.

She looked up as though just seeing him and lifted her hand in a friendly wave. The beautiful sorrel picked his way toward her, ignoring Tramp as the big dog ran up, sniffed at the front hooves and raced away. “Tramp, mind your manners,” she called. The dog raced to her and sat, panting, his tag brushing against the boulder behind him.

Rowe stopped and dismounted. She slid off the rock and walked toward them. The sorrel stood about sixteen hands, its coat gleaming copper in the sun. As she approached, the horse lifted his head. She blew gently, lifted her hand, and he pushed his soft muzzle into it. “Is this…?”

“Pharaoh. Yeah, it’s the same horse. His Dam is long gone but he’s sired some good stock.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“He’s getting up there but he’s still strong and full of spirit.” Rowe rubbed his hand down Pharaoh’s neck. “Want to go for a ride?”

“I…” she stammered, “I can’t. I’ve never…”

“Never?”

She shook her head.

“Come here.” He pushed the black Stetson back on his head.

She liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Not letting her fear show, Kat stepped over to Pharaoh. “Grab a handful of mane,” Rowe said, showing her. Don’t pull. Just steady yourself. Give me your foot. I’ll lift. You swing your other leg over.”

“You sure about this?”

“Absolutely.” The next instant she sat atop the horse. She felt his arm as he gripped the mane and swung up behind her. Pharaoh didn’t move. Tramp on the other hand was barking and racing back and forth.

“Behave, Tramp,” she said, her voice slightly lower. The dog stood watching.

“Just relax. Go with the flow.” She felt Rowe’s breath on her neck as he spoke.

The horse walked along the stream bed, then started up the embankment. The angle slid her tightly back into the V of his thighs. She could feel the increased rhythm of his heart against her back.

She wiggled forward.

“Don’t…please,” he groaned.

She froze.

They reached the pasture and, from atop Pharaoh the rolling land spread before her, painted in the colors of fall. The trees in the pastures and the woods surrounding the land burst with ambers, reds, and golds.

“It’s beautiful. I’ve never been up here.”

“I never tire of it.” He voice was soft and deep. Kat felt it burn through her like warm whiskey.

They came to a fence and he dismounted. When she started to follow, he held up his hand. She stayed atop the warm horse and watched Rowe unlatch and open a gate, his muscles straining against his shirt. He walked back and led them through, never looking up. It wasn’t until he relatched the gate that he spoke.

“Why didn’t you call?” he asked as he led the horse down a path in the woods.

The memory of his father’s voice and words played through her mind. She decided to tell the truth. “I did. Your father said I shouldn’t call back.”

Rowe stopped, turned and looked up at her, all the while gently stroking the horse’s muzzle. His eyes narrowed as he studied her.

She shifted under his gaze. “He said my parents didn’t want us to see each other again and he had to abide by their decision,” she added, not wanting him to think badly of this father.

He turned and walked the narrow path in silence, leading them forward. It broke into a clearing and ahead she could see her cabin.

“I didn’t know this trail led back to here,” she said, twisted around and looked back behind her. If you didn’t know it was there, the path seemed not to exist.

They approached the cabin. He walked back to her and raised his arms. “I came this way many a night after you left.”

She slid into his arms. For just the briefest span of time, the world stopped and they took in the feel of one another. He stepped back. It took all of her will not to step forward.

“I didn’t know,” she all but whispered.

As they walked up the steps, he seemed lost in thought. “They yelled a lot,” he said finally.

“I wouldn’t know. They sent me to my aunt’s. Except on rare occasions, I never saw much of them again.”

He frowned at her.

She shrugged and opened the door to the cabin. “Want to come in?”

“Can’t. Got some things I need to do. But, I’ll take a rain check,” he added quickly.

“Okay. Thanks for the ride. It was fun.”

“You know you shouldn’t leave the cabin unlocked. It’s not like it used to be. More strangers.”

“Thanks. But, I seriously doubt they’d get past Tramp.”

They both turned to see Tramp sitting in front of Pharaoh, the horses muzzle down, and both of them nose to nose, as if in deep conversation.

Kat laughed. “Okay, that doesn’t make the most convincing guard dog picture.” She spoke softly, “Tramp.”

He turned and came to her side immediately. She absently scruffed his fur. “You’ll guard me, won’t you?” He leaned into her.

Rowe adjusted his hat and tried not to smile. “If you say so. Still, keep the doors locked.” He walked back to the roan and mounted in one swift motion. “Just so he won’t have to worry.”

With one last nod, he turned and cantered down the road. She stood at the door, watched until he was out of site, and felt Tramp’s cold nose against her hand. “Yeah,” she said absently, “me, too.”

Chapter Two

Teresa set the tea between the two wicker chairs on the porch. They seemed to be getting a lot of use lately, what with Rowe…and now Brenda. She watched Brenda dab at her eyes.

“You sure you don’t want to go inside. We can go upstairs for some privacy—”

Brenda waved it away with a shake of her head. “No. I’m fine. I just need to talk.”

Still standing, Teresa poured the sweet iced tea and handed it to her friend. They’d known each other most of their lives, Brenda being like a big sister, as well as baby sitter, to Teresa. Their bond went deep. Teresa sat back and took a deep drink. “What happened?”

“I went to see Kat.”

Teresa watched as tears fell down the soft cheek. She reached out and took her hand. “And?”

“She doesn’t know. She hadn’t opened her mail. There’s a packet from her lawyer in that pile.”

Teresa raised a brow.

“I’m the postmistress, for crying out loud. I didn’t open it,” she defended but added, “I just wanted to be there to explain.”

“Brenda, I can’t think of anything the lawyer would have sent that would—”

Now it was Brenda’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh,” Teresa stated, “the cabin. I’d thought she’d already know.”
 

Brenda interrupted with a wave of her hand. She took a deep breath. “Me, too. I guess I just hoped.”

“What? That Elizabeth had told her daughter?” Teresa looked sad. “Somehow, I couldn’t see that happening. Not and protect her at the same time.”

“I guess. Oh, Teresa, what am I going to do?” Brenda turned beseeching eyes to her.

“I’d wait. Let her get settled. Get reacquainted with us.”

“Oh, why did they leave it up to me?” she asked no one in particular but let her eyes wander down Main Street. It was quiet now, the trees adorning the sidewalks and the median with their cloaks of fall colors.

“Brenda, obviously, they didn’t expect to die. Maybe it’s for the best—you being the one.” Teresa followed her gaze and took a deep breath. This was her favorite time of year. Although it had been overly warm, the weatherman promised a cool down within a week. Fall was here, it just didn’t know it yet. She wanted a nip in the air for Thanksgiving.

Brenda nodded and stood. “I better get back. The post office isn’t going to run itself. I just wish…,” she let the words trail off.

Teresa stood and took her friend into a hug and added, a chortle in her voice, “…and if frogs had tails….”

“…they wouldn’t bump…,” she stopped as a car pulled up in front of the post office. “Gotta run,” she bounded down the steps.

Teresa watched Brenda until she disappeared inside the building. She was always amazed at the amount of energy that woman displayed. She gathered the tray and headed back inside. After all, there was the Thanksgiving Gathering to finish planning. She’d have to remember to extend the invitation to Kat this year. With a million thoughts whirling through her mind, she let the screen door slam behind her.

****

Kat pulled into Merc’s, which had originally been The Ruthorford Mercantile, but had evolved over the years into just Merc’s, including the sign, which, if you looked really hard, still displayed the “The” on one line and “Ruthorford” on the next, and the rest of “antile.” The only part repainted for decades was Merc.

Climbing out of the Jeep, she rolled down the window a little, and gave a quick, “stay,” to Tramp, whose tongue lolled in anticipation of adventure. He sat back down in the rear with a yawn, just to let her know that wasn’t his first choice.

She headed into the general store. It didn’t seem to have changed in the many years she’d been away. She’d loved it then and felt the affection rise within her once again. They still sold penny candy out of big glass jars. Of course, a sticker showed it was now five cents. The scarred wood floors echoed as she walked down the aisle of smelly hard cheeses, pickles in barrels and other wonders. It went on back forever and contained most anything a person could want. She grabbed a basket and quickly filled it with what she needed, adding some doggy bacon strips for good measure.

As she walked to the checkout, Kat spotted the old timey chest drink cooler and pulled up the lid.
Sure enough
. She pulled out a Red Rock Ginger Ale and set it on the counter. Nothing burned like a Red Rock.

“Find everything you need,” the elderly gentleman inquired and studied her. “Hey. Aren’t you the Chance girl?”

She smiled and nodded.

“I know Brenda’s happy to see someone back out at the cabin. Welcome back. Got everything you need?”

“This place is just like I remember it,” Kat said and offered a bright smile, changing the subject.

“Oh, we’ve modernized.” He waved toward the computerized cash register, inconspicuously nestled next to the big old brass antique one prominently on display. “We get a pretty good tourist trade in the summer and fall now. They like the ambiance.”

He packed her goods in a paper bag and pushed it toward her. “Want to open an account. Don’t know, but your parents account might still be in here.”

“You’re kidding? After all these years?”

“Nope.” He pulled a large ledger from under the counter and flipped it open. “Yep. There it is, Douglas and Elizabeth Chance. Daughter, Kateri.”

She just stared at him.

He looked up and caught her expression. He squinted as if he was pondering something, then his eyes widened. “Oh….” His voice softened as he spoke. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Obviously uncomfortable, he rushed on. “I’ll just start a new one for you.” He flipped a couple of pages and added Kateri Chance in pen under a list of other names beginning with C.

“Thanks,” she said and picked up her bag.

“Have a nice day,” he called after her as she left.

She climbed into the Jeep, set the package on the seat next to her, and pulled out the ginger ale and the bacon strips. Tramps muzzle met her hand before she could turn around.

“Try not to drool, okay?”

He wiggled back down and started nibbling. For such a big dog, he sure knew how to savor a treat. She took a swig of the ginger ale and coughed as it took her breath away. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” she rasped out and started up the Jeep.

She turned out of the parking lot. As she approached Main Street, she stopped. On impulse, she turned right instead of left and headed down Main. Ahead of her, the sidewalks, the median and the storefronts were all decked out in fall finery. Pumpkins, bales of hay, corn stalks, and mums of every variety adorned the strip. She passed a couple of large old Victorian houses separated by large drives and a side street lavishly decorated and festive. Then began a row of shops. A beautiful brick building with black shudders and a bright red door had windows filled with artfully displayed décor, the colors chosen with a warm fall feel. Nice place to visit. Then there was a toy store, set back just a bit with a little picket fence. Next was a set of three: a fudge shop, a designer boutique, and a stationery store.
Wow, a stationery store.

Her eye was drawn across the street. A huge old Victorian brick building, set off by brick and iron gates on either side, dominated the row. Its windows gleamed, light glistening off of colored bottles, stones, and merchandise. THE SHOPPE OF SPELLS. She remembered that place. It was also the town’s pharmacy. And the man and woman who owned it had a really cute son. She didn’t see any movement inside. There were pieces of paper taped haphazardly on the door. She remembered now. People would leave messages taped on the door when they were closed. You didn’t see that in the city.

Farther ahead, where the median ended and the lanes came together, the Abbott Bed and Breakfast was dressed with pumpkins and chrysanthemums lining the walk and the wide steps leading to the porch. Fall wreaths hung from the sconces on either side of the door. Across the street, dwarfed by the imposing inn, sat the tiny little Victorian post office. As she made a U-turn, she glanced through the paned windows of the post office and saw Brenda puttering around the front. She raised a hand in greeting, but Brenda had turned and was walking toward the back. Kat stepped on the gas and headed back to the cabin.

****

Kat swung her legs out of bed in quick response to Tramp’s bark. “Geesh!” she hissed and rubbed her arms vigorously. Tramp barked again.

“Coming. Hang on a minute,” she called out and looked through the clothes she’d just hung up the night before, hoping to find her warm robe. She grabbed the red flannel robe and slipped it on, pulled on some socks, and made her way to the door. “God, it’s cold,” she said and looked longingly at Tramp’s warm fur before she swung open the door.

With a yelp, she leapt back.

Rowe filled the doorway in front of her, fist raised, an armful of logs, and letters clenched between his teeth. Tramp rushed past him, setting him slightly off kilter. Kat reached out and steadied him, gently taking the mail from his mouth.

“Are you the mailman?” She asked and felt the cold wind whip under her robe. She stepped back.

“Please come in, it’s cold…,” she burred at him.

He took long strides to the fireplace, knelt and proceeded to build a fire. “Weather changed.” He talked as he worked. “Didn’t want you stranded. Called Merc’s to get some oil out here. You’re bone dry. In the meantime…,” his words trailed off as he closed the fire screen and turned toward her, taking in her boy shorts, thin tee shirt, and long legs, as well as the evidence that she was truly cold.

She pulled the robe closed around her. “You didn’t have to…,” she paused, squinted and studied him. “Do you normally deliver the mail?” she repeated, all sane thought leaving her as his aftershave teased at her senses.

“I stopped at your box on my way up. Figured you wouldn’t want to have to trudge down there—”

“Yeah, well…thank you.” She walked over and tossed the mail on top of the pile accumulating on the table.

He walked behind her, moved the top letter and held up a pretty, ornately designed rust colored envelope. “You might want to open this one,” he said and put it in her hands, slipped past her and started taking the filter out of the coffee pot.

She smiled, a quirky lift to her lips, one side slightly higher than the other, and began to tear open the envelope. “Why? Because it’s pretty or because you said so? Want some coffee?” she queried, a sarcastic note to her voice.

“Thanks, I’ll just give you a hand.”

He noticed the tiny space between her white front teeth. It had been a little bit wider when she was younger and he’d adored the way it made her look like a pixie. Now he found it sexy as hell. His breath caught has his eyes moved down from her mouth. “Might want to slip into something warmer until that fire catches. It’s cold as a….” He went back to making coffee.

“I’ll just do that.” She turned and headed back into the bedroom, grabbed jeans and a sweater and stepped into the bathroom. Her hair had worked its way out of the braid and rose like a lopsided rat’s nest atop her head. She busied herself brushing her teeth and replaiting her braid. While she worked, she heard Tramp’s bark and the door slam.

She stepped into the room to find Tramp’s face buried in his bowl, tail waving. “Make yourself right at home, don’t you?”

He’d shed his coat and black Stetson and stood tall and broad and handsome as hell. Feeling nervous all of a sudden, she picked up the abandoned piece of mail, then looked down and saw the card in her hand.

“It’s an invitation to Abbott Bed and Breakfast for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Thought as much.” He smiled and handed her a mug of hot coffee. “Every year, Teresa and Bill host a huge Thanksgiving get together for the town and us. Our own rendition of the first Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t understand…,” she began, “but…,”

“You are one of us, now. Say you’ll come. You won’t regret it. I’ll pick you up at noon. No excuses.”

“O-kay,” she stammered.

“Great.” He took one big swig of the rich brew and set his mug on the counter. “Gotta run. Chores don’t do themselves, you know.” He grabbed his hat and coat, scruffed Tramp’s head, and strode to the door, stopped, walked back over to her, placed a quick kiss on her mouth and was gone before she could respond.

Kat glanced down at the invitation, grabbed the pile of mail, a knife, refilled her mug, and sat on the sofa facing the fire. One by one, she opened and glanced at the envelopes, setting aside junk mail and opening confirmations of utilities and letters from the realtor. A contract was in negotiation on her place in Virginia. Looked like she just might get what she wanted for her place. Finally, a hefty envelope from her attorney rested on her lap. She took a deep breath and slit the top, pulling out a mass of papers. Her parents’ estate had been probated. It was being handled.