A Good Man for Katie

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Chapter One

Fear made Kathryne O’Rourke’s palms damp and her heart thunder in her chest. Time had lost all meaning since the stagecoach started its bone-jarring race over the rutted road. She swallowed hard to ease the dryness in her throat and tried once more to get the driver’s attention.

Mr. Simmons! Please— She never finished yelling the words as the coach hit another bump. The impact of hard wheel meeting harder rock bounced her from her seat. She landed on her backside on the filthy floor and bit her tongue. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

A word her father said all the time popped into her mind. She didn’t allow herself to say it, however appropriate it might have been. Instead, Kathryne pulled herself back into the seat with the help of the leather strap nailed to the side of the carriage, but the vehicle swerved again and slammed her against the wall. The right side of her body exploded with pain.

She tried again to get the driver’s attention, but doubted he could hear her over the thundering of the horse’s hooves. She pounded on the ceiling nonetheless, but only succeeded in hurting her already bruised knuckles. Red splotches made ugly stains on her white gloves.

Mr. Simmons— Her words were replaced with a sudden oomph as she found herself sprawled on the floor of the coach once more. Gold-rimmed glasses askew on her face, she fought back the tears.

The careful coif she’d twisted her heavy locks into earlier this morning came undone and tumbled to her waist. Shiny hairpins settled on the floor of the stagecoach. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and fixed her glasses.

I’m going to die on a lonely mountain road in Arizona Territory. The thought popped into her head and wouldn’t be stopped as a kaleidoscope of family and friends she’d never see again flashed through her mind.

No, I’m not! Anger replaced the paralyzing fear in an instant.

She gave in and uttered General Galen Fighting Irish O’Rourke’s favorite word as she climbed into the seat though she knew she’d be safer on the floor.

Mr. Simmons! Stop this coach! she yelled, hoping he’d hear above the rattle of the wheels but the coach kept up its speed and swayed from side to side, tossing her about as if she were a rag doll.

With trembling fingers, Kathryne grabbed the stiff cloth covering the window. The wind tore the shade from her hand. It shredded before breaking free of the small nails that held it in place. Her gaze met sheer rock wall. Rust- and sand-colored stone rose up who knew how high. Spiky branches of the hardy bushes that clung to the rock poked through the window and scratched her cheek, almost knocking her glasses off her face.

The stage scraped against this stone wall with such force, Kathryne flew to the other side of the coach and banged her head on the seat. Fresh pain assailed her as she crawled to her knees, grabbed the windowsill, and pulled herself up. Already in tatters, the window covering fluttered in the wind and ripped free as soon as she touched it.

With nothing to impede her vision, she saw the tops of wavering piñon trees and the sharp drop off between the edge of the dirt road and nothingness.

Oh, dear God!

To save her own life, she’d have to jump…or be killed.

She took a deep breath, unlocked the door and pushed it open. The door slammed against the side of the stagecoach and echoed in the canyon below.

You’re a general’s daughter, Kate. You don’t have to die this way. The roar of the horse’s hooves drowned out her voice. Dark brown earth littered with rocks sped beneath her and made her more lightheaded than she thought possible. Everything swayed and grew fuzzy—the treetops, the dirt road beneath her, the blue sky above.

Take my hand!

He appeared out of nowhere beside the stagecoach though he didn’t look like her idea of salvation. From his black hat to his solid black clothing to his ebony steed, he resembled every bandit, every outlaw, every desperado she’d read about in the books she loved so well. The dull glow of the pearl-handled pistol in the holster added to the illusion and yet, she wasn’t afraid of him. In all reality, Kathryne was more afraid of dying on this high mountain road than of this handsome stranger.

And then he was gone. But only for a moment.

Take my hand!

For pity’s sake, stop the horses!

No time, he yelled over the rattle of the stage. His eyes never left her face as he extended his hand. Trust me.

The trimmed black goatee and mustache on his face did not inspire trust—he looked wicked enough to be Satan himself—however, the kindness in his soft gray eyes gave her hope.

Kathryne reached out to grab his hand as the coach veered and scraped against the rock wall, but grasped empty air. In the next instant, a startled scream escaped her as she lost her balance. Kathryne pitched forward just as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist and snatched her from certain death. Her skirt snagged on a protruding nail and ripped from the hip down to the hem as he pulled.

Clutched against his side, her feet dangling above the ground, she felt the muscles in his thigh flex as he applied pressure to his horse with his knee. The ebony steed slowed to a walk then stopped.

The space of a heartbeat passed before the coach horses took the sharp curve in the road ahead. The vehicle, with no driver to apply the brakes, tipped on two wheels before it crashed into solid rock. A cloud of dust hovered in the air above the wreckage and the thundering sound echoed in the canyon below to drown out her hoarse squeal of surprise.

The trunk, which held all her worldly possessions, shattered with the impact. Clothing scattered on the ground amid a spinning wheel and the remains of what had been one of the finest coaches in the Seton Stage line. The horses, unharmed and now free of the hitch that bound them to the stage, raced onward down the mountain pass.

Dear God, Kathryne breathed as her savior eased her to the ground. The realization of how close she had come to dying echoed through her mind and her knees buckled. She melted to the dirt without a whimper.

He slid from the saddle and squatted beside her, his hand resting on her shoulder. You’re safe now, ma’am. Can you stand?

Kathryne gave a slight nod. Strong hands lifted her with ease.

Are you all right?

Her eyes rose to gaze into his face and she swallowed hard. She tried to speak, but all that emerged was a wheezy squeak.

No need for words, ma’am. Give yourself a moment. He held her hand and squeezed, offering a snippet of comfort. The heat of his touch seeped through her ruined gloves and infused her with peace.

Kathryne nodded as she stared into his hypnotic gray eyes. Butterflies floated in her stomach and yet, she felt safe in his presence. She could trust him, without a doubt. Thank you. I—I… She swallowed again over the tight lump in her throat. Reassured by the directness of his gaze and the slight twitch at the corners of his mouth, she took a deep breath and asked, Might I know the name of my rescuer?

Hunter, ma’am. Chase Hunter. He removed his hat to reveal thick, glossy black hair then patted his horse’s shiny coat. And this magnificent beast is Champion. The horse tossed his head and whinnied. And you are?

Kathryne O’Rourke. She extended a shaky hand though it seemed strange after what he’d done. A handshake couldn’t convey her immense gratitude. On impulse, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight. Thank you, Mr. Hunter.

He stiffened in the embrace then cleared his throat and pulled away. Well, ah…Miss Katie, let’s get you into town. Doc Leslie should take a look at you to make sure you’re unharmed.

He called her Katie. No one ever called her Katie. It was either Kathryne or Kate, but coming from him, it sounded rather nice—and much too familiar. You know Doctor Leslie?

Yes, ma’am. Everyone ‘round these parts knows the doc. Best sawbones this side of the Mississippi.

The knowledge she neared the harrowing journey’s end rippled through her. Tears blurred her vision behind the lenses of her glasses. The trembling within did not subside. Indeed, the tremors increased and Kathryne feared she might melt to the ground once more with relief.

Come on, Kate. Get hold of yourself. You’re all right. You’re safe.

With difficulty, she tore her gaze away from his face to glance at her possessions scattered on the ground. My clothes?

We can come back later and see if anything is worth salvaging, but for right now, Miss Katie, we should have Doc Leslie take a look at you. He rubbed his thumb against the side of her face. You look a might pale.

He helped her into the saddle then settled behind her, grabbed the reins and nudged Champion into motion. Kathryne leaned against him, the hard planes of his chest pressing into her back and again, she felt comforted by his strength.

As they passed the wreckage of the coach, Kathryne shuddered. What happened to my driver?

I found him a few miles back. Chase’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke. Must have been knocked from the seat by a low branch. The fall broke his neck. With a gentle tug on the reins, he guided the horse down the mountain pass. My question is why the driver was alone? There’s usually someone riding shotgun. What happened to you shouldn’t have.

The other man became ill at the last stop. There was no one else to take his place so Mr. Simmons decided to press on. She felt him nod then all conversation ceased.

It was just as well. Bruised and battered, still reeling from her narrow escape from death, she didn’t feel like talking, didn’t feel like anything except letting the comfort of his embrace surround her. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, but didn’t go out of focus despite the fresh tears, which stung her eyes.

A small farm came into view as the ribbon of dirt road curved. Smoke rose from the chimney and curled against the deep blue sky. Milk cows dotted the verdant field. Their lowing echoed against the high ridge behind them. As they drew closer to the house, she saw a woman hanging pristine white sheets on a clothesline. The woman stopped with her arms straight up in the air. Lips set in a grim line around the clothes pins in her mouth, she stared at them as they passed.

The iciness of the woman’s glare froze Kathryne to her very soul and she gave an involuntary shiver.

Why is she staring at me like that?

She turned to glance at Chase. The question died before she could ask. His stern expression did not invite questions.

The constant whoosh of water as it tumbled through boulders met her ears as the road curved yet again and brought them beside a tree-shaded river. They followed the stream, the constant rush of water becoming a whisper as the number of boulders lessened and the riverbed widened into deep pools. Sunlight glinted off the fish darting among the smaller, shiny stones. She looked up in time to see the small sign announcing the town of Crystal Springs and the bridge separating the settlement from the road.

Chase guided Champion over the bridge, the horse’s hooves loud on the wooden planks. Two boys were fishing off the side of the bridge. The older one nudged the younger and they both gaped as she and her companion passed by. She smiled and nodded at them, but neither boy returned the greeting.

Nestled at the base of a mountain, Crystal Springs proper spread out before her. Businesses lined both sides of the town square. Kathryne nodded to a man as he swept the raised sidewalk outside the general store. He didn’t return the greeting. Instead, he ceased sweeping and leaned on the broom handle, his eyes on them as they passed. The stagecoach horses pawed at the ground in front of the Seton Stage office. Two men, shirtsleeves rolled to their elbows, tried to calm the horses with little success. They, too, paused in their efforts as she and Chase rode by.

The same tableau repeated several times. People stopped in the middle of their activities and observed their passage. Even those resting on the wooden benches and lounging against the white lattice of the bandstand in the tree-shaded square watched with avid curiosity and not a little censure.

I’m afraid your reputation may be tarnished by the time we reach Doc Leslie’s. Remorse colored his voice. Kathryne turned slightly and saw the emotion reflected in his eyes as well.

Why?

He gave a short, cynical laugh. Because you’re with me and you look like you’ve been ravished.

Kathryne pushed her hair out of her face and looked at her once beautiful traveling ensemble. The tear in her skirt exposed the white of her petticoats. Another rip in the fabric separated the sleeve from her shoulder. Dust dulled the dark hunter green.

But you saved me.

Don’t matter. She felt him inhale and exhale, his breath whistling through his teeth before he answered. You’re still with me, still looking like you’ve been, ah…compromised and let’s just say I’m not exactly welcome in town.

Why?

He sighed again. Because of who and what I am.

Who are you? What are you?

He didn’t answer as he pulled on the reins and turned at the end of the town square. They rode past the sheriff’s office where a tall, thin man stood in deep conversation with a willowy blonde-haired woman. Their conversation stopped as both turned. Sunlight glinted off the shiny badge pinned to the tall man’s vest. Animosity, suspicion and downright hatred reflected in their eyes.

Kathryne shuddered as tears pricked her eyes. She did her best to pay no attention to the looks she received and focused straight ahead. This can’t be happening again! I can’t handle another public humiliation!

Here you are, safe and sound. Chase brought Champion to a halt in front of a three-story home painted the most unusual colors of lilac, white, pink and turquoise. Flowers bloomed in a riot of color behind the picket fence surrounding the yard. Several mature evergreen trees cast long shadows on the front porch and a light breeze made the porch swing sway. A small sign nailed beside the door proclaimed Dr. Terrence Leslie resided within.

Chase slid from the saddle. His strong hands encircled her waist as he helped her do the same.

Thank you, Mr. Hunter, for saving my life.

Gray eyes alight with warmth, he tipped his hat. My pleasure, Miss Katie.

Kathryne pushed her hair away from her face, adjusted her glasses on her nose and walked up the crushed stone path to the front door on unstable legs. Chase followed behind a few steps. Her hand shook as she pulled the bell.

The door swung open to reveal a petite woman with light brown hair braided into a coronet atop her head. She dropped the dishtowel in her hand and blinked as if she saw a ghost. My God! Kate! What—Are you all right?

Kathryne gazed at the woman with whom she had shared all her dreams and wishes, dances and tea parties, first loves and disappointments. If there was one person in the world who understood her and loved her without reservation, perhaps in spite of the trouble she frequently found herself in, it was Emeline Treymane Leslie. Her sister.

Though they’d been apart since Emeline left Washington and settled in this little town with her husband, Kathryne knew she’d be welcome.

Her mouth opened with all the words she wanted to say but couldn’t. Her eyes filled with tears before everything grew dim then pitch black.

****

She’s coming around, Mrs. Leslie.

Kathryne heard the deep timber of his voice as if from far away and yet, from very near. The coolness of the cloth on her head helped ease the dizziness and she opened her eyes to meet the warmth of Chase’s above her. He possessed the loveliest eyes she’d ever seen on a man. Framed by coal black lashes, they sparkled with integrity and humor. The black goatee and mustache didn’t seem so devilish now, not when one considered the look in his eyes.

What happened?

You fainted. He removed the damp cloth from her forehead and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

I never faint. She shook her head as she sat up on the blue velvet divan and glanced around the small, comfortable parlor. Sunlight filtered in through the sheer drapes at the windows.

He cocked an eyebrow. If you insist, ma’am, but I’ve seen women faint before and you fainted.

The clank and rattle of a silver coffee service interrupted their conversation. Emeline stood in the doorway to the parlor, her mouth pulled into a frown. Worry lines furrowed her forehead. Perhaps it would be best if you left now, Mr. Hunter.

Of course, Mrs. Leslie. He lifted his hat from the small ornate table beside him and jammed it on his head, his movements stiff. Stay out of stage coaches for a while, Miss Katie.

In three long strides, he moved across the parlor and nodded to Emeline without a word. The front door slammed behind him as he left.

Kathryne wondered why Emeline had been so impolite while the look in her eyes conveyed sympathy. The contradiction puzzled her. I’ve never known you to be rude, Emy, she said, reverting to the childhood nickname. Why? You gave him the same look everyone else did as we rode through town. Who is he?

Mr. Hunter? Emeline shrugged her slim shoulders as she placed the tray on the table where Chase’s hat had rested just a moment ago. Stay away from him, Kate, for your own good.

Why? He seemed so nice.

He’s not a nice man, Kate. Emeline didn’t look at her as she said the words. He’s an outlaw, a killer of the worse kind.

Kathryne shook her head, taken aback by the venom in Emeline’s voice and the fact Chase Hunter had been labeled a gunfighter. True, he wore a holster around his slim hips but she’d seen other men wearing the same. Theirs weren’t tied around their thighs as his were, though. I don’t believe it. He was nothing but kind to me.

What you believe isn’t the point, Kate. Do yourself a favor and stay away from him. He’s not welcome in this town given what he is. Emeline said nothing more as she took her seat and poured coffee into thin china cups, her unblinking gaze remaining on her.

I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.

You’re in trouble, Emeline stated without hesitation then rose and went to the glass and mahogany cabinet in the corner to pull out a bottle of sipping whiskey. Why else would you show up at my door looking like you do? Mr. Hunter told me about the stagecoach and your wild ride across the mountain pass. You were lucky you weren’t killed. She poured a healthy dollop of the liquor into both their cups. So tell me what was so bad in Washington you risked life and limb to come here. The last time we saw each other, you were planning your wedding to Richard. What happened?

Kathryne swallowed the lump in her throat and picked at a loose thread on her gown. Richard was—is—already married. With six children. She couldn’t look at Emeline, see the sympathy on her face and not burst into tears. As it was, her throat closed even tighter as she remembered the humiliation Richard caused. She took a healthy swallow of the whiskey-laced coffee and fought for composure. I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t.

Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry. I knew I didn’t like Richard the first time we met. Emeline shook her head and reached out to force the cup up to her mouth once more. Take another swallow. That’s it. Her mouth formed a tremulous smile. Tell me the rest of it.

Father was furious when he found out, but he managed to keep it quiet and no one knew of my disgrace. The whiskey in the coffee began to relax her. The knot in her stomach loosened a bit, the trembling ceased and the mere presence of Emeline brought comfort. The words came a little easier. It was the first time Father threatened me with the convent. She blinked as she finished the rest of the drink. Her heart hammered in her chest as she recalled the hurtful words the General had thrown at her. Worse, he wanted me to live with Aunt Euphemia. She held out her cup for more.

Emeline obliged but said nothing as she poured more coffee and added another splash of whiskey.

Then I met Andrew. Oh, Emy, he was wonderful. So charming, so romantic, so—I don’t know—manly. He swept me off my feet. We went everywhere together. Parties. Balls. I introduced him to the best families of Washington. She choked on the words and stared at the coffee in her cup.

Then what happened?

Kathryne took off her glasses and swiped at the tears pain and anguish brought. Without a word, Emeline handed her an embroidered handkerchief she pulled from her apron pocket. Andrew repaid me by robbing every home we visited. Father couldn’t save me from the scandal.

Emeline gasped. Oh Kate! I’m so sorry. How did you find out?

I was at the opera when Senator Parsons’ wife recognized the brooch Andrew had given me pinned to my gown. It was the same one stolen from her home a few weeks after Andrew and I attended a soiree there.

Her breath hitched in her chest and she struggled to continue. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. Everyone I knew was there. The police were called. I was questioned for hours, as were Mama and Father. They thought I was Andrew’s accomplice until Father convinced them I couldn’t possibly be. She dabbed at her eyes and the constant flow of tears.

Father was so angry—you know how his voice can raise the rafters, especially after I started trying to find Andrew. I couldn’t stop myself, Emy. I had to know, had to find him and find out why he did this to me, but I never f-found him. She hiccupped and tried to catch her breath, tried to speak over the lump in her throat. A week later, Father put me on a train while Mama stood there, dry-eyed and silent, always the good soldier.

Emeline shook her head, her eyes wide with disbelief. He put you on a train alone? No escort?

Her voice lowered to a bare whisper. He didn’t want anyone to know where I was going.

Oh, Kate. Emeline leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her. They rocked together as they had done when they were younger and sought comfort from each other, especially in the days after Emeline’s parents died and the General adopted her and took her in to live with them.

The simple action soothed Kathryne’s troubled soul. She knew she’d made the right decision to come here, despite almost losing her life on the way. She pulled away, sniffed then gave a shaky laugh. I’m all right now.

Glad I could help. Emeline wiped away her own tears with the corner of her apron. Look at us. A couple of weepy willies. She, too, gave a watery laugh then grew serious. What will you do?

Truthfully, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Get a job, I suppose. I have a little money, but it won’t last long. I’ll wait tables at the Wagon Wheel, the little café you’ve written to me about. Or become a maid at the hotel. I’ll even serve drinks at the saloon I passed, if I must. I don’t care. She placed her coffee cup on the table and drew a deep breath. One thing is certain, though, I’m through with men.

Are you serious? About being through with men?

Kathryne dabbed at her eyes with the square of pressed linen. Yes, I’m serious. Every spot of trouble I’ve been in is because of a man. I’ll never have what you and Terry have. I know it and I accept it.

Well, then, dry your tears. It’s settled. You’ll stay with us.

Oh, I couldn’t. You and Terry have only been married for a little over two years. I couldn’t impose.

Of course you can. We have plenty of room. It’ll just be for a little while because I have an idea. We need a schoolteacher. You need to earn a living. I’ll submit a request to the Ladies Society. They’ll love you as much as I do. The position comes with a little cottage on the hill. One thin, shapely brow cocked over a light blue eye. You still want to be a teacher, don’t you?

For the first time since the humiliation of Andrew’s betrayal and leaving Washington in the wee hours of the morning with her father’s harsh words ringing in her ears, Kathryne felt a spark of hope lighten the burden she’d carried across the miles. Of course. I worked hard just to get Father to agree to let us attend the Teacher’s College. She smiled. Is there a boarding house in town?

You’ll never change, Kate. You’re still determined to do things your own way. Emeline shook her head but returned the grin. But I happen to know Mrs. Rawlins has an empty room that’ll be perfect for you. She laughed then, clear blue eyes twinkling. I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you more than you know.

Once again, Kathryne was pulled into a warm embrace and she reveled in the love and acceptance that flowed through her. Tears squeezed from the corners of her eyes.

Chapter Two

The whispers started as soon as Chase left Doctor Leslie’s home, climbed into the saddle and made his way to the Seton Stage office. Back straight, hands fisted on the reins, he ignored them as he always did. He dismounted in front of the stage office, flipped Champion’s reins around the hitching post and entered the building.

Oren Jessup stood behind the counter, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows to expose arms coated with thick black hair. Suspicion and distrust reflected in his narrowed eyes and repeated in his stiff-bodied stance. What do you want, Hunter? We don’t like your kind here. He addressed Chase with a voice that bore not one inkling of friendliness.

After two weeks of living with the distrust and skepticism from the people in this godforsaken town, Chase liked to think he had become inured to their attitude, but such was not the case. The treatment he received irritated him. No one gave him the benefit of the doubt. He supposed they had reason to look upon him with distrust—a stranger in their midst who wore a tooled leather holster slung low around his hips and tied to his leg in gunfighter fashion.

How much easier it would have been if he’d ridden into town in uniform, medals glowing, Captain’s stripes emblazoned on his arm.

Whether you like my kind or not isn’t the point. Chase’s hands balled into fists at his sides as he inhaled and exhaled to keep a tight rein on his temper. "I stopped in to report what happened to your stagecoach. Your driver took a nasty blow to the head.