Two Brides Too Many (28 page)

“I told you I’m here to claim ownership.”

“That hardly gives you the right to enter my home as you please.”

“But it does, ma’am.” His tone had suddenly changed from sugary sweet to business professional. “This is my cabin.”

“This was Patrick Maloney’s home, Mr. Whibley. And now it’s mine. I’m not sure what your business together was, but you should consider the partnership officially dissolved.”

“Ma’am, of course you’re distraught. This has to be surprising news, and so soon after your loss.”

The man either didn’t know Paddy or he was patronizing her, hoping she’d think of him as some sort of gentleman. Either way he was
lying. Kat glanced at the hillsides. Where were the miners Boney Hughes said were looking out for them?

Never mind that. She would take care of this herself.

“Mrs. Maloney, you’re alone in this rough town here without a man, and I’m simply offering you a solution to your problem. I’m willing to compensate you for Patrick’s ten percent stake in the cabin. You surely don’t want to remain here among these uncivilized miners, vulnerable and defenseless.”

As soon as he made that last statement, a solution came to Kat’s mind. She twisted to look at Nell. When she had her sister’s attention, Kat gazed toward the top of the door, hoping Nell would understand. Nell hesitated, then hurried to the table and retrieved a chair.

“Like I said, ma’am, there’s a simple answer for all of this. If it would help, I could prove the cabin belongs to me.”

He couldn’t. He had to be lying.

When he reached into his pocket, Kat flinched. She hadn’t considered the man might carry a pistol. As soon as he pulled out a charred silver flask, she bristled. It was the same one the sheriff brought to the boardinghouse the day after the fire.

“You took that from my trunk.”

Grinning, he flipped it over and held it out to her. “Look at the inscription on the back near the bottom of it.”

Kat snatched it from his hand and studied it.
L.P.W.

“Stands for Lewis P. Whibley. My father gave it to me.”

Those were this man’s initials, not Patrick Maloney’s. She shook her head. Well, maybe the flask was his, but that didn’t mean the cabin belonged to him.

“How did Patrick get your flask?”

“Well, ma’am, let’s just say he was having a remarkably lucky night—the kind of luck a fella has when an ace is hidden in his trouser pocket.”

Gambling. That explained the whole situation. This may have been Whibley’s cabin at one time, but he’d lost it to Paddy, along with his flask. And since Paddy was gone, the scoundrel thought he could waltz in and reclaim it.

The thud of Nell’s shoes returning to the floor was music to Kat’s ears. From behind the door, Nell held the shotgun out to her. Kat took it, and cradling it with both hands, she cocked the hammers. Then she positioned her finger across both triggers.

“Whoa. You could hurt yourself with that thing.” Lewis P. Whibley flew backward off the porch. “No need to get your petticoat in a tangle.”

“Mr. Whibley, I don’t believe in luck. But if I did, I can promise you that I am more fortunate than Paddy Maloney Willing to chance a lucky shot? It’s time for you to leave my home and never come back.”

Three burly miners were headed up the hill toward them. “This weasel giving you some trouble, ma’am?” The one who spoke had a pick resting on his shoulder.

Kat couldn’t believe it. As she watched, more men joined them, forming a half circle off to the side.

Kat stepped to the edge of the porch, directing the business end of the shotgun toward Lewis’s feet. “It seems Mr. Whibley is confused. He apparently thinks this is his cabin.”

“You need some help convincin’ him otherwise?”

Kat held the intruder’s gaze. “I think Mr. Whibley understands now. Thank you.”

“We’d be happy to escort him to the edge of town, if you’d like.” The pick still resting against his shoulder, the man advanced toward Mr. Whibley.

Whibley regarded her with a smirk. “I can find my way back to town, gentlemen. I must have misread the contract with Mr. Maloney.” He raised his hands in surrender and then looked back at Kat. “Sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.” Grabbing his valise and case, he studied her. “Perhaps we could discuss this further at a more appropriate time. Maybe we can have a meal, talk about books and journal keeping?”

Kat arched an eyebrow and nearly growled, “You step foot on my property again, and the sheriff will become involved.”

When Whibley turned to leave, the men waved at her and she waved back before stepping into the house. As soon as she did, Nell took the shotgun from her. Then Kat sank to the floor.

T
HIRTY
-S
IX

A
fter Morgan’s brief talk with Hattie out in the church parking area, he drove his coupé up to Mount Pisgah. In his short time in Cripple Creek, the spot had become one of his favorite places to go to think. He’d set aside a good hour and half after the service to do just that. He didn’t know too many people who considered a burying ground a good place to sort things out, but he appreciated the sense of earthly time passing in that quiet place. It wasn’t where Opal was laid to rest, but after walking among the stones for a while, he believed that she’d be happy that he came to Cripple Creek, that he was moving forward with his life. That Kat Sinclair might be part of his future.

Just before two o’clock, he reined his horse at the hitching rail in front of Hattie’s place. Judson waved to him from a group of men seated in rocking chairs on the porch. By the time Morgan met the builders and claimed an empty chair, Hattie and three other women had stepped outside, each carrying generous servings of berry pie.
Once the pie was gone, Morgan, Hattie, and Judson left the group and stepped into the parlor.

Hattie and Judson had discussed Miss Nell Sinclair’s feelings for him prior to Morgan’s arrival, leaving the three to concoct a plan for Judson to express himself properly to Nell. Then Hattie helped Morgan select music for the Women for the Betterment of Cripple Creek concert.

After nearly three hours at Hattie’s, Morgan stepped off the woman’s porch with a picnic basket and a quilt. He’d planned to stop by the hospital to change clothes before driving to Kat’s cabin, but she expected him at five o’clock and he only had fifteen minutes to spare. He guessed that she probably cared more about promptness than she did about his being overdressed for a picnic.

It felt good to have the misunderstanding behind them. He still didn’t like the fact that she was living in a miner’s cabin with no one to protect her.

First, though, he had to earn the right to protect her. He needed to tell her about Opal and about his son. He needed to explain why he’d reacted the way he had in the birthing room, and why he’d reacted to her move the way he had.

Yes, they were becoming friends, but his feelings for her ran deeper. And he believed he’d seen more than friendship in Kat’s eyes Friday in the parlor and this morning at church. Or was it just wishful thinking? Morgan understood that Kat was striking out on her own in part because Patrick Maloney had deceived her and hurt her, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

Please, Lord, protect Kat
.

He and Kat would get to know each other better, and today was
a wonderful day for a picnic. To the east, sunbeams lit the snowy heights of Pikes Peak. Mount Pisgah glowed to the west, its thinning snow top giving way to patches of green carpeting. Kat had him thinking like a poet, and he rather liked it.

Following Kat’s directions, Morgan guided his horse across Golden Avenue and up Florissant Street. Small homes, cabins, and shanties dotted the hillsides. He shifted the reins to turn east onto Pikes Peak Avenue and stopped in front of the third cabin off to the right.

Lace curtains framed the window, and he suddenly wanted a house with lace curtains. He wanted a home warmed by someone who would walk through life beside him. And the woman who peered out at him was the one he had in mind. But Kat’s look wasn’t welcoming. Instead, her mouth dropped open, and she jumped back from the window.

He said five o’clock, he was sure of it. So why did she look surprised to see him?

At the sight of Morgan Cutshaw, Kat froze, her eyes widening. He smiled at her from his buggy, and she stepped away from the window. “It’s Morgan. Why is he here?”

Nell looked up at her from the rocker, stilling her knitting needles. “You have to ask?”

Huffing, Kat peeled off her apron. She’d made her stand quite clear in her note. She’d canceled their plans and told him not to come. He shouldn’t have, but now that he was here, she’d make sure he understood. He needed to know the two of them could only be
acquaintances as long as he was married. And as such, they would not be going out alone for carriage rides or sitting in church together.

Morgan Cutshaw’s wistful glance at her through the window wouldn’t make this any easier. With Patrick, she could read back through his letters and talk to the people he’d worked with and see signs that pointed to his bankrupt character. Nothing in her interactions with Morgan so much as hinted at such a deception.

He rapped on the door. Nell made no move to get up. Instead, she hitched her brows, narrowing her forehead in a telltale sign that she had no intention of intervening.

Fine.

Kat had traveled thousands of miles. She’d moved into a shanty in the midst of coarse men. She’d chased off the slick gambler. She could see to the doctor. Squaring her shoulders, Kat opened the door, just wide enough to see him.

The doctor wore the same dressy clothes he’d worn to church, minus the jacket. A watch chain looped out of a pocket in his vest. He didn’t wear a wedding ring. Nothing about him shouted that he was hiding a misleading past or that he was otherwise spoken for. But Kat knew that looks could be deceiving, and she refused to be deceived. Not again.

Studying her, Morgan removed his hat. “Is there something wrong, Kat?”

“You know there is, Dr. Cutshaw.”

His eyes widened, and he shook his head.

“It was in the note I left for you.”

“You left me a note? Where?” He ran his hand through his dark hair, smoothing it down.

“Under the basement door at the hospital directly after church.”

“I didn’t go back to the hospital.” He stepped forward. “I went for a drive and then to Miss Hattie’s to pick out the songs I’ll play at her ladies’ meeting Wednesday next.”

“Oh, yes…the Betterment of Cripple Creek meeting. How ironic.” She’d practically spit out the words.

“Pardon me?” Morgan cocked a brow. “I don’t understand, Kat. I didn’t see any note. I came straight here from Hattie’s house.”

Hattie adored the doctor. She would never believe that he would intentionally deceive or hurt anyone. In the end, however, it didn’t matter what Hattie did or didn’t think about the man. Kat couldn’t afford to be taken in by him, or anyone else.

“Is Nell here?” Morgan asked, peering through the narrow opening.

“I’m here, Doctor,” Nell called. “And so is Rosita. She’s napping.”

If Nell had meant the announcement as a reminder, Kat caught the hint and drew in a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

“Nell, I have word from Judson.”

“You do?” Nell rushed to the door and pulled it wider, looking out at him. “What did he say?”

“He’s starting to feel almost like himself again, and expects to call on you soon.”

Nell exhaled in relief and leaned into the door frame. “Oh, thank you, Doctor. That’s comforting.”

Morgan returned his attention to Kat. “Kat, I thought we’d resolved our misunderstanding this morning.”

“We did. That one.”

“That one?”

Kat offered him a slight nod.

“All right, then. I didn’t get your note telling me what this is about, so what did it say?”

Nell stepped closer to her sister, offering welcome support.

“I learned that you have a wife,” Kat said, crossing her arms over her chest.

His jaw tightened and his dimple disappeared. “Who told you that?”

A cold shaft of a breeze stung her cheeks. He hadn’t denied it.

“It doesn’t matter whom I heard it from.”

“It matters to me.” He spun his hat around by the brim in front of him. “It matters because it’s not true, and I need to know who’s spreading falsehoods so I can set it straight.”

“You’re saying you don’t have a wife?” Kat tilted her head, trying to read his face.

“I did have a wife, Kat, but I don’t anymore.” He stopped toying with his hat and looked at her, his mouth a grim line. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you myself. I planned to do so during our visit this afternoon.”

Even while her mind remained stuck on the fact that he hadn’t told her himself, her heart rejoiced that he wasn’t currently married.

Nell pulled the door wider. “Come in, Doctor.”

Morgan looked at Kat, his brow raised. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

“You two sit down at the table.” Nell stared at Kat, her eyes permitting no argument. “I’ll brew some coffee.” She didn’t wait for an answer before busying herself with a tin of coffee grounds and Patrick’s old percolator.