Would-Be Wilderness Wife (11 page)

“They have no excuse for their behavior,” she said, pulling down the tea canister from the shelf at the top of the sideboard along one wall. Her hand was still shaking as she scooped up some of the leaves, and she forced her fingers to still. “Wilderness or big city, there are conventions on how one goes courting.”

“Courting?” Beth ventured closer, head cocked. “You mean all those men came here for you, Miss Stanway?”

“As I said, they are a pack of fools,” Drew answered. He caught Catherine's hand and held it as if to stop her trembling. “You were wise to call us. I never dreamed something like this would happen. I heard there was a lot of nonsense when the Mercer belles had first arrived, but I'd thought that had died down by now.”

Catherine shuddered, remembering. “This sort of thing followed us the entire trip. From Brazil to Chile to San Francisco, men flocked out to greet us as if they'd never seen a woman before. When we arrived in Seattle, men lined the shore, claiming they'd paid our passage to be their brides.”

“Oh,” Beth said, obviously fascinated to the point her usual banter failed her.

“I paid my own passage,” Catherine informed her. “As did most of the ladies aboard. It certainly isn't our fault Mr. Mercer made promises he couldn't keep. I won't be held accountable for that man's larceny. But what I don't understand is how those men knew I was here.”

“That fellow Ward said something about a card game,” Drew told her, his hand still cradling hers. “Perhaps McCormick reported on your whereabouts when he returned to town.”

Possibly, but most of the men seemed to have come from the area, not Seattle. She hadn't seen the smoke from a single homestead when she'd ridden north with Drew. Where had these men come from?

“Deputy McCormick was here?” Beth cried, turning pink. “Why didn't someone tell me? Oh, I miss all the excitement!”

“Be thankful for that,” Catherine said. She knew she should pull back her hand and finish preparing tea, but the warmth of Drew's touch spread through her body, relaxing tense muscles and calming frazzled nerves. She'd never thought she'd be one to need a man to feel safe, but she could not deny that his presence was unaccountably comforting.

“It doesn't matter,” he said. “What's done is done. James and Simon will make sure those men leave, but I'll stay nearby until you've returned to Seattle. You have no need to fear.”

Fear? That emotion had long since fled. Catherine forced her fingers out of his. “It wasn't fear that made me so angry. It was your brother's statement that you've all decided one of you is going to marry me. I heard you talking with your brothers the other night. You didn't disagree, then or now.”

Color was creeping into his cheeks, like the sun rising over a mountain. “Simon can speak all the nonsense he likes. He can't tell anyone how to feel.”

She drew in the first deep breath since she'd seen those men in the clearing. “No, he can't. Nor can he dictate my actions. I think I've made myself clear. I'm not planning on marrying. I have a calling, a vocation, and certainly one Seattle sorely needs. I intended to stay another day, but if you all can't understand my position, then perhaps I should leave now.”

He met her gaze, and this time she had no doubt the emotion flickering in that expanse of blue-green was regret. She felt it, too, just as she felt herself leaning toward him, as if her body vied with her mind as to where she belonged.

Beth spoke before he did. “No, you can't go, Miss Stanway. Not until Ma's well.”

“Your mother is on the mend, Beth,” Catherine said, drawing back though her gaze refused to leave his. “We've determined the cause of the illness, and your brother has already isolated it. There's nothing more for me to do here.”

She waited for him to argue. She wasn't sure why she expected it. Some part of her believed him when he'd said he didn't wish to wed, either. If he truly did intend to court her or marry her to one of his brothers, he ought to protest her leaving. And if he actually cared about her...

She shut that thought away. She had never been one of those girls who collected beaux like frosted candies, turning this one aside when that one struck her fancy. She didn't want Drew to care about her.

Because that meant she'd have to care about him more than she already did.

Chapter Eleven

S
he was determined to leave. Drew could see the challenge in those cool blue eyes. She'd had her fill of his family, and who could blame her? Between Simon's demands and Beth and Ma's collusion, Catherine had to feel surrounded. And their unexpected visitors this morning had only made matters worse.

Still, he ought to argue. Ma was a great deal better, but who was to say she wouldn't have a relapse? And he would have liked to sit by the fire with Catherine, quiz her on what more he could do to keep his family healthy, hold her hand, cuddle her close.

What was he thinking? Maybe it really was time for her to go.

He snapped a nod, breaking their gazes at last. “I'll hitch the team to the wagon and we can take you back to Seattle right now.”

She stepped away from him as if he'd ordered her to go. “Very well. I'll check on my patient one last time.” She picked up her skirts and swept from the room.

Her patient, she said, as if Ma were no more than one of the stock, an ax that needed sharpening. Ma and his brothers clearly meant nothing to her. They were his responsibility only.

The kettle began to hiss. Beth went to lift it off the stove.

“Well, you made a great hash of that,” she said, disgust evident in each syllable. “You need lessons in courting.”

Drew shook his head and turned for the back door. “I'm not courting.”

“Not like that, you aren't!” She dropped the kettle on the sideboard with a clatter, ran after him and grabbed his arm before he could open the door. “For pity's sake, Drew! You can do better. You always told us if we set our minds to something, we should keep trying until we won it.”

Perhaps that was the problem. He couldn't set his mind to courting Catherine, despite his family's urging or the murmur of his heart. As much as he had taken an instant dislike to that Ward fellow, Drew could not argue that Catherine seemed destined for greater things than Wallin Landing.

From her fancy dress to her proper ways, Catherine seemed cultured. Certainly she was better educated than most people he knew, even the ever-studious John. She ought to be somewhere she could use those skills, not just doctoring his family. That was his job.

“Leave be, Beth,” he told his sister. “This is for the best.”

She released him with a scowl. “Whose best? Not yours. Not ours.”

“No,” Drew said, yanking open the door. “Hers. Tell her I'll have the team out front when she's ready.” He left before his sister could launch into the tirade he saw building in her eyes as sure as the steam from the hot teakettle.

Simon and James were still out in the woods as Drew stalked across the clearing, but he heard a cheery whistle coming from the opposite direction. Not another would-be suitor! He almost pitied the fellow, for Drew was in no mood to be conciliatory. Turning, he planted his feet and brought up both fists.

John strode out of the trees, ax over one shoulder and rifle in the other hand. Spying Drew, he stopped and dropped his ax. “What have I done?”

Drew lowered his fists and narrowed his stance. “Nothing. We had some excitement this morning.”

“I thought I heard a shot!” He hurried to Drew's side. “I'm sorry, Drew! I was so far out I couldn't be sure. And I knew Levi was headed this way, so I figured he'd come back for me if I was needed.”

Drew frowned. “You sent Levi home?”

John nodded. “Early this morning. The dunderhead forgot the wedges. Honestly, Drew, sometimes I wonder whether we dropped that boy on his head a few too many times when he was a baby.”

“We never dropped him,” Drew said. “We wouldn't have dared. He was Ma's favorite until Beth came along.”

“Sometimes I think he's still Ma's favorite,” John said, no rancor in his tone. “That's the only reason I can see for why she wants him around so much. I take it he was too busy helping you to bring back those wedges.”

“He never returned to the Landing that I saw,” Drew replied.

Now John frowned. “Did you check the barn? It's his favorite place to nap.”

So Drew had discovered yesterday. “If he slept through the chaos this morning, I'll make sure he doesn't sleep tonight,” Drew promised, turning for the barn.

John paced him, and Drew took the opportunity to explain what had happened with Catherine's surprise callers.

John whistled as they came into the barn. “It seems Simon was right. She is valuable.”

“Her value has nothing to do with the fact that men rush to court her,” Drew said. His tone must have been hotter than he intended, for the chickens flew out of their roost at the sound.

John set the ax and rifle by the door. “Oh, I wouldn't say that. I understand a woman's allure is an important part of what she can accomplish. Look at Helen of Troy.”

“Never met her,” Drew said. He grabbed the iron pole and poked it up into the straw. “Hey! Levi! Wake up!”

No curly-haired head appeared.

“Am I the only one who reads in this family?” John complained, climbing the ladder to make sure his brother wasn't up in the haymow. His voice drifted down to Drew. “Helen of Troy was a beautiful woman in ancient Greece. Thousands of men sailed to her rescue when she was stolen away.”

Drew shook his head. “That's a story.”

“That's a legend,” John corrected him. “There's a difference.” He craned his neck to glance around the loft, then looked down at Drew. “Empty.”

Drew's sigh was forceful enough to set the chickens to clucking again. “This is ridiculous. He knows we have work to do.”

John hopped down beside him. “He's a loafer, but I've never known him to abandon us in the middle of a job.”

The barn seemed darker. “Something's happened, then,” Drew said. “Find Simon and James. We're going hunting.”

John went for his rifle.

* * *

Catherine stepped out on the porch, Beth at her heels. Neither Wallin lady had taken her decision to leave well.

“I'm not convinced of my recovery,” Mrs. Wallin had said, going so far as to cough into an embroidered handkerchief. “What if the fever comes back?”

“Beth knows what I did for you,” Catherine had assured her, refusing to sit on the quilt-covered bed beside her patient lest Mrs. Wallin hug her close. “She has the skills to be a fine nurse.”

Beth had shaken her head so violently her hair had come undone and spilled about her shoulders. “No! I don't know half of what you do, Miss Stanway. Please don't go.”

“It's for the best,” Catherine had made herself say. “I have other patients in town who need me.”

Mrs. Wallin had caught her hand. “Ah, but do you need them?”

Catherine couldn't seem to look away from those kind green eyes. Of course she didn't need any specific patient. That was not a nurse's role. A friend of her father's had once commented that a doctor's goal was to work himself out of a job by making his patients well. Unfortunately, she'd found there were always more sick or injured people.

She'd set Mrs. Wallin's hand down on the covers and pulled back her own. “Truly, I must go. Send word if you need help later. I'll see that someone comes out.”

Mrs. Wallin's face had crumpled, but Catherine had turned and walked away. She knew how to comfort those who had been cut or bruised; she knew how to bring down a fever. She didn't know how to heal a wound she was feeling herself.

Now she stood beside Beth, surveying the clearing. The goats were munching in the closest pasture, horses and oxen farther out. She could hear the chickens clucking and the grunt of a satisfied pig. There wasn't a wagon in sight.

“They're clumsy, my brothers,” Beth murmured, rubbing a hand up the sleeve of her gown. “They don't do what they should, and they say what they shouldn't. But they're nice when you get used to them.”

“I'm sure that's true,” Catherine replied. The problem was, she wasn't willing to get used to them. This family, this place, was already growing in her heart, like a seed planted in fertile soil. If she didn't weed out these feelings now, they would only overpower her just as they had when her father and Nathan had died.

Beth, however, was warming to her theme. “Take Drew,” she said, pushing her hair back from her face. “Everyone says he's just like Pa, always working, always trying to make things better for us. He spent last winter carving me a hope chest. Roses on vines. Would another fellow even have thought of that?”

“Very likely not,” Catherine had to admit. It was a kind thing for Drew to have done, an acknowledgment of impending womanhood in a predominantly male household. At times, she'd thought Nathan and her father would have found it decidedly more convenient if she'd been born a male.

If she'd been male, perhaps they'd have listened to her and stayed home. If nothing else, she might have fought beside them.

Just then Simon and James came striding out of the woods, John beside them. She'd never seen their faces so set. Even the ever-teasing James was frowning. Were they about to lecture her, too?

She raised her head, determined that logic would prevail this time, but they merely nodded to her and Beth before converging on the door of the barn. Drew came out, and four heads, ranging from coppery red to golden brown, bent together.

“What are they up to?” Beth wondered, speaking Catherine's thoughts aloud.

Whatever it was, they seemed to have reached an agreement, for Simon and James headed in one direction, and Drew and John crossed the clearing to the porch.

“Forgive me, Miss Stanway,” Drew said, “but our trip to Seattle will have to wait. Levi's gone missing.”

Beth clamped her mouth shut as if she couldn't find the words, but Catherine's heart skipped a beat. “Missing? I thought his bed didn't look slept in.”

“He didn't sleep in the house last night?” Drew glanced at his brother. “Was he bunking with James?”

John shook his head. Though Catherine knew he was a lean fellow, he seemed all the smaller compared to Drew's brawn, or perhaps it was his concern for his brother that made him look so tense.

“He didn't sleep in Simon's cabin, either,” he replied. “But he was in the barn when I went to fetch the ax this morning, and he came with me to the tree. I sent him back to the house for some tools, but he never returned.”

“Surely if he'd reached the Landing he would have come to help us,” Catherine reasoned, growing colder every minute. “Something must have happened along the way.”

The look on Drew's face told her he agreed with her.

“He's probably just loafing off somewhere,” John assured her.

Beth nodded. “You'll find him eating the honey from a comb behind some bush.”

“Very likely,” Drew said.

Catherine didn't believe him. An assurance was building inside her. Levi wasn't trying to avoid work this time. Just as when her brother had met unexpected cannon fire, something had gone wrong. But this time, she had the power to fix it.

“Take Pa's rifle, and stay in the house,” Drew was telling Beth. “We'll send word as soon as we know anything.”

“All right,” Beth agreed. “Be careful.”

Drew nodded, then stepped back from the porch. His gaze lingered on Catherine as if he thought it might be the last time he'd see her.

The look propelled her to his side. “Take me with you.”