The High Calling (6 page)

“You crazy limey! Don’t you know a wildcat from a coon!”

“A wildcat? Was that what it was?”

Clint got to his feet, his face registering disgust. He pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to his cheek. “Yes, it was a wildcat. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Suddenly Kat began laughing. She had a great laugh, and
Clint glared at her at first, but then could not help joining her. “Well, I’ve always said never trust a limey on a coon hunt.”

“Let’s build a fire and give the dogs a break,” Kat said.

“All right,” Clint agreed.

“You’d better let me put some antiseptic on that cut,” she told Clint. “That wildcat’s claws might be infectious.”

“All right, but if there’s anybody else going up a tree tonight, it’ll be me. Not you, Parker.”

****

Kat and Parker sat together beside the fire, listening to the distant barking of the dogs. Clint had taken them out on another run. The moon lay far down in the sky, turned butter yellow by the haze in the air. Parker gazed at the tiny crystal spots in the sky while inhaling the sweet smells of the forest.

He was sitting so close he could feel Kat’s arm pressed against his and could smell the faint scent of perfume.

“I can’t get over the fact that your father is a baron,” she said.

He shook his head. “I’ve told you that really doesn’t mean much.”

“But it must mean
something.
”

“Not really anymore. There was a time when it had some importance, but movie actors are getting titles now just for making a movie! Don’t give it another thought.”

“But I bet your family is proud of the title.”

“Well, Aunt Edith is. I suppose my parents are too. They see some sort of glory in the title passing down from grandfather to father to son.”

“But won’t it please you when the title is yours?”

“I really don’t think about it much. I’m more concerned with the situation in Europe turning into a full-blown war. When a man goes up against the enemy, it doesn’t matter whether he has a title or not. The only question is, can he stand under fire? In the heat of battle, a plumber has as much courage as a baron or a duke, when it comes right down to it.”

“Do you live in a castle?”

“Castle! Bless you, no! Who would want to live in one of those things?”

Kat turned to him, her face expressive. “They seem so romantic.”

“Not when you’re freezing! The only heat comes from enormous fireplaces, but that goes right up the chimneys. And they’re moldy and damp. No, the house we live in is no castle. And it’s only two hundred years old.”

“
Only
two hundred! Why, that’s as old as my country!”

“Yes, but things are different in England. It’s a nice house, and we’ve had bathrooms put in. That was a help.”

“I’d love to see it.”

“It’s a bit of a white elephant, really. It costs a fortune to keep it going. That’s where most of the profit from the factory goes—to keep the house in decent shape. We should have sold it years ago.”

The two sat quietly listening to the dogs, the night’s darkness pressing in upon them. Suddenly a falling star made a brilliant white scratch across the ebony skies.

“Did you make a wish?” Parker asked quietly.

“I always do.”

“I don’t suppose you would tell me what it was.”

“No. It wouldn’t come true if I did.”

They fell silent, watching for more shooting stars.

“I was just thinking,” Kat said. “You don’t seem like the type of man who will stay single. I think you’ll marry someday.”

“I suppose so. My family has shoved every suitable girl at me for several years now.”

“Suitable? What does that mean?”

Parker shrugged his shoulders. “Money . . . family.”

“Is that all?”

“Pretty much. Not very romantic, is it?”

“No, it’s not. Have you ever been in love?”

“No. Not ever.”

“Me neither. Except with Brodie, of course. But I was awfully young then.” Kat got to her feet. “I’m going to look for some more wood. The fire’s going down.” She laughed as he got to his feet. “You English have such good manners.”

“That’s one of the few things we have left. England’s gone downhill in the past fifty years, but we’re still ever so polite!”

The two gathered more dry sticks and tossed them onto the fire, watching the sparks shoot up. They both reached for the same stick and their hands brushed. Giggling, they ended up throwing it onto the fire together.

Parker caught her eyes with his own. Kat’s expression seemed to grow alert with some old memory. Her gaze intensified as he reached out and took her by the forearms, and he saw her full lips swell into a smile. He could not know exactly what she was thinking, but he knew what her face was doing to him. Leaning closer, he whispered, “You’re a temptation to a man.”

Kat did not resist as he drew her into a kiss. As he held her close he felt the quickening of her heartbeat and the pressure of her lips as she responded to his desires. But then she pulled away, and he released her at once.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken advantage.”

“You didn’t, Parker. It takes two to kiss.” Her breath was coming faster than normal, and she struggled to find the words she wanted. “I-I’m not suitable for you, Parker.”

“At the moment,” he said quietly, “I don’t care.”

“We’re not made for each other,” she said more firmly now.

“You don’t really believe that, do you, that people are made for each other?”

“I’m not sure, but I do know one thing.”

“What’s that?” he asked, already knowing what she would say.

“I believe God has something for me to do—and I don’t think it’s being Lady Braden. That’s too easy.”

“Not as easy as you might think, my dear.”

Kat looked at Parker inquisitively. He was foreign to her in
a way that was more than a matter of nationality. She sensed that he was deeply troubled, but she also did not want to hurt him, for he seemed to have a basic goodness in him. “It was my fault,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no fault to it. When a man and woman come together, sometimes that’s exactly what’s supposed to happen. I accept your reasoning that God wants you to do something, but you yourself say you don’t know what it is.”

Kat could not answer, for he had spoken the truth. With some relief she heard the crashing of brush a short distance away and said quickly, “There’s Clint coming back.”

“Yes. Well, we’ll talk about this again.”

She shook her head. “There’s really nothing to talk about, Parker.”

“I think there is,” he said quietly, then turned and watched as Clint and the dogs came blundering out of the darkness in a rush.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kat Gets an Offer

Organ music swelled from the dome-shaped radio with the orange dial, followed by the distant barking of a dog. An excited announcer came on, saying, “Ovaltine presents
Little Orphan Annie!
” Immediately a group of singers began:

Missouri looked up with irritation. “You boys turn that radio down. You’re going to deafen me.”

“Oh, Ma, we’ve gotta hear
Little Orphan Annie,
” Temple protested. The three boys were gathered around the radio, their faces almost pressed against it. Missouri and Kat could hardly stand the unbearable volume.

“You heard what I said. Turn it down! Come on, Kat, let’s go get those peas shelled for supper. I can’t stand that program anyway.”

The two women left the parlor, and the three boys, with their ears glued to the radio, listened as Little Orphan Annie set out to rescue someone.

“I just don’t see why those boys like that program. I can’t hardly stand that radio most of the time.”

Kat smiled at Missouri. “Well, I’ve noticed you never miss
Stella Dallas,
Mom.”

Missouri glanced sharply at Kat, then roughly pulled the sack of peas and plumped it down on the kitchen table in front of her. “I don’t care anything about that either.”

The daily drama had been taking the country by storm with its syrupy story line and music. The announcer always reminded listeners they were about to hear “the true-to-life story of mother love and sacrifice in which Stella Dallas saw her own beloved daughter, Laurel, marry into wealth and society and, realizing the difference in their taste and worlds, went out of Laurel’s life.”

Actually, Missouri Ann read no novels, had never been to a theater in her life, and was secretly ashamed of herself for listening to such “a mess,” as she called the soap operas. Lewis had never let her forget that he had come in upon her once when she was listening to the show and crying over the plight of Stella and her daughter. Now she pulled out a bunch of snap peas, ran her finger along one, and let the peas drum into a bowl. “That old radio oughta be thrown out anyhow. There’s nothin’ on it worth listening to.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kat said as she took a seat and grabbed a handful of peapods. “I think that new program is funny. You know—Edgar Bergen and Charlie McCarthy.”

Missouri Ann shook her head in disgust. “Imagine! Listenin’ to a dummy talk on the radio! What’s this country coming to?”

The two women made good progress on the peas as Kat told Missouri about an unusual duck she had seen on the river the day before. After a time, Missouri noticed that Kat had fallen silent. She looked up and said, “What ails you, girl? You look plumb down in the mouth.”

“Oh, nothing.”

“I know better’n that. I reckon you’re thinkin’ about that English fella. Have you had any more calls from him?”

Parker had left several days earlier to go look at other cattle in Texas. “He called yesterday and he said he’d probably call again today.”

“I don’t know what you two talk about—him bein’ from across the water and all.”

“He’s very easy to talk to, Mom.”

“Well, he sure has been persistent.”

Kat smiled briefly. “Yes, he has.”

“You’re not serious about him, are you?”

Kat’s troubled look grew more pronounced. She slowly shelled a peapod and then looked up, meeting Missouri Ann’s eyes. “I like him a lot, but I could never marry him—even if he asked.” She shelled another pod and then shook her head, adding, “Which he won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because of his family. They’re nobility. They would never accept me.”

Missouri Ann shot her an indignant look. “Wouldn’t accept you, my foot! They’d be lucky to have a girl like you in their family!”

“It’s different over there. There are dukes and barons—and the family line means a lot.”

“Well, I can’t see how the Winslow family wouldn’t be good enough for ’em! As a matter of fact, if you remember your family history, Gilbert Winslow came over from England in the first place.”

“That was a long time ago. Things are different now.”

Missouri continued to say what she thought about anyone who would look down upon Katherine Winslow and finally shook her head. “You know I’ve spent plenty of time on my knees asking God what He wants you to do.”

“Have you got an answer yet?” Kat trusted Missouri Ann’s prayers more than she did her own. She was well aware, as was all the family, that this woman was closer to God than anyone else they knew.

“I don’t have anything pinned down yet, but God won’t let himself be pinned down. I know one thing. He’s got something for you to do.”

“You know,” Kat said, “I’ve been thinking maybe I should
get a nursing degree. As you know, I’ve just been taking general courses in college up to now, but what if God called me to go to Africa and do medical work? That would be something, wouldn’t it?”

“Do you think God might be calling you to that?”

“No, not specifically.”

“Well,” Missouri said firmly, “a body can’t just call himself to be a missionary. We had a preacher that talked about missionaries going to the heathen. He always said, ‘Some got called and sent—and some just up and went.’ And those that just up and went,” she pronounced firmly, “got themselves into a mess! No, daughter, I reckon you’ll just have to keep on waiting.”

“I’m afraid of taking a wrong path. If I—” Kat broke off and looked up at the ceiling. Missouri Ann did the same, and Kat exclaimed, “That’s an airplane!”

“It sure is! And it sounds like it’s gonna fly right in the front door!”

The two women jumped up and ran out the front door, nearly stumbling over the triplets, who had preceded them. They all stood in the yard looking up.

A bright red biplane was twisting and gyrating in the air in a most alarming fashion. Then it straightened out and headed directly for the house.

“He’s gonna land right on us!” Missouri cried out in alarm. “You boys run to the porch!”

“It’s all right, Ma. It’s Brodie,” Kat called out. She laughed as Brodie turned the plane sideways and waved at her. She waved back and saw him turn the plane upside down and then pull it into a wide loop.

“That crazy fool’s gonna kill himself!” Missouri cried.

But Brodie pulled the plane out of the loop and landed it expertly on the field behind the house. The two women and three boys scurried to the back of the house to make sure he was okay. He climbed out before the propeller had even stopped turning.

The boys ran to meet him, climbing all over him and begging him to take them up in the plane. Brodie was laughing and teasing them, but he told them, “Your ma wouldn’t let you do that until you’re at least a year older.” He put the boys down and pulled his helmet off. “Hello, sweetheart. You surprised to see me?”

“I’m never surprised to see you, Brodie,” Kat said, smiling broadly. This man brought such life and vitality with him—as if an aura of excitement surrounded him. He was the most vital person she knew, and when he took her hand, she let him kiss her on the cheek.

“You taste good,” he said. “But I hope you’ve got something to eat. I’m starved.”

“Come on in the house,” Missouri Ann said. “I reckon we can scrape up something. You boys leave Brodie alone now.” She hauled the three boys off into the house, and when the screen door slammed, Kat asked, “What are you doing here?”