Rekindled (42 page)

All civility vanished from his expression. “You go see whomever you like in the mornin’, dear. I’ll drive you there myself.” He laughed and shook his head. “And were you referrin’ to the copy that you kept in your trunk, by chance? The trunk in the corner of your bedroom? Come now, Mrs. Jennings, did you really think I would loan you that kind of money? I told you the night we had dinner what a risk you were.”

A chill snaked through her. “You lied to me? The entire time?”

His mouth tipped in a smirk. “Hard to believe, isn’t it, Mrs. Jennings? And me bein’ such a fine gentleman and all.”

Kathryn felt like the fool she’d been. But her injured pride lashed out. “Perhaps I’ll contact an attorney I know and ask him to investigate this for me. Maybe suggest that he inquire about Berklyn Stockholders.”

MacGregor’s eyes went dark. “You may contact whomever you like. I told you ranching was no business for a woman. I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “You can show yourself out now. I’ll give you till tomorrow afternoon to have your things removed from Casaroja, or I’ll have them removed for you.”

Numb, Kathryn closed the office door behind her. What a fool she’d been. Matthew Taylor’s suspicions had proven right—she never should have trusted MacGregor. She felt her way down the darkened staircase, and even though the pains had receded, she still had trouble catching her breath. Her throat ached with emotion and her cheeks were damp with tears. All she could see was Larson’s face. His dream was ruined, and it had been her doing.
I’m so sorry, Larson. Please forgive me
.

Wanting to avoid any servants who might still be awake, she left by way of the front entrance. The cool night air hit her face, and she gulped big breaths of it. Her first instinct was to go to the stable, but it was late—even the bunkhouses were dark.

Besides, Jacob wouldn’t welcome her anyway. Not after last night.

Kathryn locked the door to her cottage, wedged a kitchen chair beneath the doorknob, and crossed to the bedroom. She noticed the trunk in the corner and, on impulse, bent and began rummaging through the clothing, searching. If only she could remember, if only she could . . .

Growing frantic, she shoved the top layers of clothing aside. Then she felt it. She held the shirt to her face and breathed in. Her throat constricted. Only the smell of cedar. Nothing else. She pulled another of Larson’s shirts from the trunk, and another. But his scent was gone.

Kathryn crawled into bed fully clothed. She took the music box from her pocket, turned the key, and lifted the lid. As the Christmas tune played, random images filled her mind. The cabin draped in each of the four seasons, the towering blue spruce standing sentinel outside the kitchen window. She pictured Larson returning from having bathed in the stream, his damp hair reaching to his shoulders, droplets of water clinging to his muscled chest. She saw her mother’s smile and could almost remember the sound of her laughter. Almost . . .

The images faded, and another face came into view. One with a timid, misshapen smile that communicated a tenderness words never could. She closed her eyes and could almost feel her hand being covered by his smooth, scarred one.

The land was lost to her now, but strangely that wasn’t what hurt her most. This pain went far deeper. Somehow, it felt as though she were losing Larson all over again. The music box fell silent on the bed beside her, its last notes sounding appropriately hollow and desolate in the silence. Kathryn turned onto her side and pulled a pillow close to her chest, weary for sleep but needing even more to escape.

A pounding on the door brought her fully awake. She blinked to clear the fuzz from her mind and ran a hand over her eyes. Sunshine streamed in through the bedroom window. It must be morning, but it felt as though she’d only drifted off moments ago. She pushed herself up off the bed and made her way to the door.

More pounding. “Kathryn, are you all right?”

Jacob
. Hearing his voice triggered relief. Kathryn removed the wedged chair and opened the door to see Jacob and Miss Maudie standing on her doorstep. Worry clouded Miss Maudie’s expression. Jacob simply looked her up and down.

“Are you all right?” he repeated. The gentleness in his voice gave Kathryn hope that perhaps their friendship might be repairable after all. It was surprising how deep the hope of that bond ran through her. “Miss Maudie came to get me when you didn’t show up this morning.”

“I’m fine, Jacob. Miss Maudie,” she added, nodding. If Maudie hadn’t been there, Kathryn might have been tempted to walk straight into Jacob’s arms.

Miss Maudie held out an envelope. “This just came for you, dear. The clerk said it was urgent.”

Kathryn took it.
Willow Springs Bank
was stamped on the outside. She ripped it open, already anticipating the contents. As she’d suspected, Mr. Kohlman was requesting a meeting with her.
Urgent,
the note said. How urgent could the meeting be when she’d already lost her property?
Nothing can snatch me out of your hands, Father,
she reminded herself.
I’m trusting in that
.

Jacob stepped closer. “What does it say?”

“It’s a request from Mr. Kohlman to meet him at the bank this morning as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get a wagon from the lower stable and be back shortly.”

As Jacob hurried away, Miss Maudie laid a hand to her arm. “Kathryn dear, perhaps you need to leave this business for later and get some rest for you and your baby.”

Kathryn ran a hand through her hair. A tempting thought, yet Kohlman’s request sounded pressing. Besides, the pains she’d experienced had stopped, and if the baby came while in town, Doc Hadley would be there to help. Kathryn searched Miss Maudie’s face, deciding that MacGregor hadn’t told the woman about his ordering her to leave Casaroja. Kathryn debated whether to get the dear woman involved, but what could Miss Maudie do? Besides, it would only create tension between them, and Maudie had been nothing but kind.

Kathryn forced a smile. “I’ll head into town and see what Mr. Kohlman wants first. Then I’ll come back. I don’t think I could go back to sleep right now anyway.”

Miss Maudie’s eyes lit. “Have you had any signs of the baby’s comin’ yet?”

“Just a few pains last night.”

“If you feel up to it, you and Jacob should stop by the harvest festival in town later today. The whole town turns out for it. Mr. MacGregor hosts a barbecue, and I’ll be helpin’ with that most of the day.” She patted Kathryn’s arm one last time. “If you need anything, send Jacob for me.”

Thanking her, Kathryn spotted Jacob leading a team of horses from the stable. She quickly changed into a fresh dress, ran a brush through her hair and, for the baby’s sake, ate a piece of bread slathered with butter. A heaviness weighted her chest as she thought of the day ahead and of having to face Kohlman again, but the thought of having Jacob by her side made it bearable.

She’d done her best to keep the land, but her best wasn’t good enough in the end, and she knew she had to let it go. Nothing she could say to Kohlman this morning would change that.

Wagons already cluttered the field behind the church and choked the streets of town, even though the festival supposedly didn’t start until noon. Miss Maudie had been right—it looked as though everyone in the surrounding area would be in attendance, along with every cowboy in the territory.

Kathryn glanced at Jacob sitting on the wagon bench beside her, glad he was there. “I see it fits well enough.”

He reached up and touched the cap she’d knitted for him. “Like a glove,” he answered, laughing softly. “I’ve been wearing it.”

“I’ve been noticing.”

He shot her a quick look. “And I’ve been thanking God for its maker.”

Kathryn sat speechless even after he’d turned around, wondering exactly when this gentle man had stolen so quietly into her life and captured her heart. Looking down, she twisted the gold band still adorning her left hand. How could she love two such different men with such unquestionable certainty?

“This is about as close as we’re going to get to the bank.” Jacob set the brake and climbed down. “They have the road roped off ahead.”

He offered Kathryn his hand and steadied her full frame as he lifted her down. Unlike that day at church, his hands didn’t linger about her waist this time.
As though I still have a waist,
she thought with brittle humor.

“Would you like me to go in with you? Or . . . I can wait outside.”

Looking up at him, Kathryn caught her faint reflection in his glasses and couldn’t help but think of Sadie. Sadie had seen a part of Jacob that remained hidden to her. “I’d love for you to come with me, if you don’t mind,” she said, taking his proffered arm. Warmth spread through her as he drew her close and maneuvered a path through the crowded streets.

When they entered the bank, they found the lobby unusually quiet. Kathryn counted five employees and even fewer customers. She spotted Miss Stacey, Kohlman’s secretary, across the lobby.

Miss Stacey rose as they approached. “Good morning, Mrs. Jennings.”

Kathryn greeted her, keenly aware of the moment the woman looked at Jacob, because a frown replaced her smile before she hastily looked away.

“I’ll let Mr. Kohlman know that you’re here.”

“Thank you, Miss Stacey,” Kathryn answered, then turned to Jacob.

He smiled.

Clearly he’d grown accustomed to this reaction from people. Kathryn regretted, again, her first response at having seen his face. But as she looked at him now, admiration for him filled her, and she wanted only one thing. She’d already seen past his scars to the heart of the godly man within; now all she wanted was to look into Jacob’s eyes.

Harold Kohlman rose from his desk, his brow creasing in obvious disapproval. “Mrs. Jennings, this meeting is of a most personal nature. Perhaps this man would prefer to wait outside.”

Larson bristled at Kohlman’s tone. “The name is Jacob Brantley, and Mrs. Jennings prefers me to stay.”

He hadn’t expected such a strong physical reaction toward Kohlman, especially since so much time had passed. Larson knew the man’s first concern was managing his bank, but for some reason, a resentment rose inside Larson when he thought of Kohlman foreclosing on his land. He glanced at the clock on the office wall. Tomorrow at this time, the land he and Kathryn had worked for the past ten years was going up for auction to the highest bidder. And somewhere along the way, Kohlman had signed the papers enabling that to happen.

Larson led Kathryn to one of two chairs situated before Kohlman’s desk. Kathryn turned, and he followed her gaze to a man looking out the window. Dressed in a tailored gray suit, the gentleman reminded Larson, from the back anyway, of businessmen he’d seen back East years ago.

“Very well. Let’s get started,” Kohlman huffed, clearly displeased. “Mrs. Jennings, if you’ll be seated. Mr. Childers, if you’ll join us, please.”

The man at the window turned, and Kathryn let out a soft gasp. “Mr. Childers!”

She rose and went to him. He embraced her as he might have a daughter. Larson stared, not knowing what to make of it. He didn’t remember ever having met the man, but looking more closely at Childers, he couldn’t help but be reminded of William Cummings, Kathryn’s father.

“Kathryn, child.” Mr. Childers’ smile came softly. “Well, hardly a child anymore, I see.”

Kathryn hugged him again, then drew back. “What’s brought you all the way from Boston?”

“You, my dear. You are what’s brought me here.” His smile dimmed, and sadness accentuated the fine wrinkles lining his face. “Your father sent me.”

Kathryn’s expression simultaneously showed joy and shock. Larson took a step forward, unable to fathom that Cummings had finally decided to pursue a relationship with his daughter. After all these years . . .

Quick introductions were exchanged. Larson shook Childers’ hand, and then Childers led Kathryn back to the chair and sat in the one opposite hers.

“How is Father? I wrote to him a month ago, thinking that perhaps he might want to see me again now that . . .”

Larson’s throat tightened as Kathryn let her sentence trail off.
Now that she’s alone and with child, and that her husband he never approved of is dead
. She’d paid a high price in so many ways for marrying him. She’d left so much behind to follow his dream—a dream that now lay in ruins.