Not the Marrying Kind (3 page)

Too stunned to speak, Kat could do no more
than stare toward the window, wishing she could see beyond the
glass, but the thick, warped panes blurred her vision.

“It’s made me do a lot of thinking on my own
circumstances,” her father continued, but his voice seemed to come
from somewhere far away. “I’ve decided it’s best that I sell this
place. Your mother is busy midwifing, and it would be a lot easier
on her if we lived in town. Ithink—”

“Pa, no, you can’t do this,” Kat said.
“You’ve got a contract to honor.” The government had made treaties
with several of the native tribes in the territory. As long as the
Indians agreed to stay on their reservations, the government would
supply them with basic necessities, the most important of which was
fresh beef. Her father had won the bid, and the government expected
the cattle to be delivered on time.

“It won’t be a problem, honey. I’ll let the
contract out to one of the other ranchers in the territory. Any of
them would be glad for the opportunity.”

“I don’t want to leave the ranch, Pa. This
is my home. This is where I belong.” Kat raised her chin defiantly.
“Even if you and Mama do move into town, I’m staying right here.”
Frantic thoughts skittered through her head. What difference would
it make if Mike Morrissey left the ranch? She could manage. “We can
find another foreman, Pa. Somebody younger. Stronger. I’ll ride
into town tomorrow, post notices at the store, ask around a
bit.”

Dirk shook his head. “No, you won’t. No need
to hire anyone because I’ve made up my mind. I’m selling the
cattle, getting out of the ranching business, and moving to town.”
He finally looked at Kat. “Honey, it’s for the best.”

“For you, maybe. But not for me.”

“For all of us. Your mother ought to live in
town, closer to the women who need her. And it would be better for
Emily, too.” He grimaced slightly, once more averting his gaze.
“She’s at an impressionable age, and I don’t want her taking after
you, Kat. I know that’s a blunt way of putting it, but one
roughneck daughter is enough. Too much, in fact. It’s time for you
to start wearing dresses, learning to be a woman, and getting out
of the muck and mire of that barn.”

“I like the muck and mire, Pa.”

“Well, I don’t. You’re a woman, Katherine.
That’s another thing. You need to grow up and use the name your
mother and I gave you. It’s a beautiful name, and you’re a
beautiful young woman, or at least, you will be once we’ve cleaned
you up.”

“I can’t believe you’re talking to me this
way.”

“Honey, please try to understand. I want a
chance to take it easy, to enjoy life. And I want to see you
happily married.”

“I won’t be happy if I have to marry.”

“I want grandchildren, Katherine, and I need
you to give them to me.”

“But, Emily—”

“…is twelve years old, and that’s a mite too
young to be having babies. Eventually she’ll grow up, get married,
and have a family, but I won’t live long enough to see it.”

“Don’t talk that way. You know it upsets
me.” Kat squeezed her father’s hand. “You’re going to be around for
a long time.”

“No, I’m not. Looking away from the truth
doesn’t change it, honey. I don’t have much time left, and I know
it. That’s why it’s important that I make every moment count.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. She’d never
cried before, and she didn’t intend to start now, but it took all
her strength to hold back the sobs. “I can’t do it, Pa. I
can’t!”

She jumped up and ran out, heading upstairs.
Quickly, she shed the horrible dress and the awful, frilly
petticoats. No wonder her father insisted she look feminine
whenever Reverend Kendrick came for dinner. How long had he been
planning this behind her back? The two of them were in cahoots
against her, neither of them giving a damn about her feelings, for
all the love and consideration toward her they professed.

Dressed now in her trousers and work shirt,
Kat rushed to the barn. Too angry—and too hurt—to even think, she
saddled her favorite mare and raced off toward the distant
mountains, seeking refuge.

Kat tethered her horse at the foot of the
hill and began the slow ascent. Each step brought her closer to the
summit, closer, too, to the refuge she sought.

In all times, in all seasons, its beauty
beckoned her. In the summer, her mountain glittered in the
sunlight; in the winter the snows covered its craggy peak. When
spring came each year, Kat delighted in the wildflowers that
blossomed along the rocky ledges, and in the autumn she thrilled to
the crisp air with its chill bite.

For Kat, this place was sacred, a place to
be alone, a place to feel that she was part of something bigger
than herself, or her family, or even the ranch—she felt as if she
were a part of creation itself.

Kat reached the ledge and took her seat on
the rock, staring down at the ranch nestled in the valley below.
The late evening sunlight slanted over the hills and ridges. She
couldn’t stay long, but she would enjoy that sweet, fragrant
moment. Already feeling more at peace, she took the ribbon from her
hair, letting her long tresses blow freely in the gentle breeze
that stirred the air.

As she gazed at the beauty around her, she
felt small again. Not just small in stature compared to the
greatness and grandeur of the Rockies, but younger, too, as though
time had turned backward, making her a little girl again.

Her father had brought her here to this
place once, many years ago. She’d probably been no more than six or
seven years old. It was here upon this sacred ground he’d given her
a most precious gift.

Closing her eyes, Kat remembered the thick,
leather-bound book, the gilt edging of its parchment-thin pages.
Her first Bible.

Her father had quoted from Psalms, telling
her about the fullness of the earth, talking about lifting his eyes
to the hills.

As memories flooded her mind, Kat gazed at
the glorious handiwork of the Lord now spread out before her. She’d
left that sacred place that day with her new Bible, and with a new
understanding of God. Most of all, she’d left with a greater
understanding of God’s laws.

“Honor thy father,” she whispered.

She knew the commandments, had lived by them
all of her life, but what was she supposed to do now? Her father
was asking too much of her. How could she marry a man she didn’t
love?

Kat sighed. Her father didn’t believe in
love. He believed in security, stability, and the traditional
values of home and family. All important things, of course, for
most women.

She wasn’t like other women.

Kat glanced down at her long legs, her faded
canvas trousers, and the scuffed leather boots upon her feet. She
had a woman’s body, true, but she lacked a woman’s grace. She was
awkward and clumsy, not to mention socially inept, especially
around men. Either she got tongue-tied any time a fellow tried to
talk to her, or she babbled like an idiot with her words coming
fast and furious, but making no sense at all.

Of course, other than the ranch hands at the
Rocking P, men rarely spoke to her. They rarely looked, either. Or
if they looked, they didn’t really see her.

Except for Virgil Kendrick, and for heaven’s
sake, the man must be out of his mind to want to marry her.

Frankly, as far as she was concerned, a
woman would be out of
her
mind, as well, to have any
interest in the lackluster minister. She shuddered again.

She had no choice but to respect her father
and obey his wishes. Bowing her head, she prayed for mercy and
understanding.

“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
from whence cometh my help.” The words came at once into her mind.
So many times her father had quoted the scripture from Psalms, Kat
knew it by heart.

She lifted her eyes westward, but the tall,
craggy peaks obliterated the light. Already the sun had slipped
behind the mountaintops. Kat sighed. No inspiration or guidance
would be given. It was time for her to go home and face her
fate.

As she turned to begin the climb down, her
body tensed. The distinct rhythm of an approaching horse and rider
echoed from the hillside. She flattened herself against the rocks
and stared down at the narrow trail.

Directly below her, a man on horseback
stopped. He glanced up, but Kat couldn’t be sure whether he saw her
or not. Something in the confident, casual way he sat his horse
caught her attention. Her gaze riveted on the stranger. Was it the
power she sensed in his strong, muscular thighs? His broad
shoulders? The long, dark hair flying unbound in the late evening
breeze? A thick, black beard covered his jaw, giving him a rough,
untamed look, and an unmistakable hardness glinted from the depths
of his cool, gray eyes. Yet when he spoke, his voice had a
gentleness about it that took her by surprise.

“Howdy there, miss.” He swept off his hat
and nodded in her direction.

Obviously, he’d spotted her, but Kat ducked
out of sight. If she paid him no mind, maybe he’d figure out she
didn’t want to be bothered. Maybe he’d ride on by.

No such luck.

With a slow, graceful flick of his wrist,
the man turned his horse, urging it up the pathway toward her.

Any other woman would have been frightened,
but fear had never been part of Kat’s nature. Years of riding,
roping, and wrangling with her brother and the boys on the ranch
had made her brash and bold. But fearlessness brought its own
dangers. Kat’s roughneck ways had robbed her of her femininity. She
didn’t possess the keen intuition a woman was supposed to have. The
lack of it left her vulnerable to whatever the fates brought her
way.

Like this tall, dark-haired stranger who sat
his horse like a man who wanted something and meant to get it.

Common sense warned her to be wary.

“What are you do doing out here, mister?”
she asked as she moved to block his ascent. Perhaps her
self-assured stance might convince him to move on. “You’re on
private land, you know. The Rocking P Ranch.”

Still holding his hat in his hand, he
grinned, revealing neat, even white teeth. “Actually, no, I didn’t
know. To tell the truth, I seem to have gotten myself a mite lost.”
When he looked around, his confusion became clear. “I stopped a bit
earlier to rest for a minute. Must have gotten turned around
somehow.”

His admission put Kat at ease. He meant no
harm. Just a poor, wayfaring stranger like the weary soul the
congregation sang about at church. And not very smart, at that.

“You’re not bright enough to see which way
the sun shines?” With a harsh laugh, Kat lifted her hand, jerking
her thumb toward the fading light. “Just so you know, that’s the
west, over there.”

“So it is.” He hardly moved a muscle.
Obviously, he didn’t rile too easily. “Problem is I’m not sure
that’s the direction I’m wanting to go.”

“Where is it you’re headed?” Kat folded her
arms over her chest. Not that she had anything much to hide. Still,
she didn’t want any stranger gawking at her. Especially not this
handsome, bearded stranger with his cool, gray eyes and gentle
voice.

“I’m looking for my cousin’s place. Fellow
by the name of Cody. Cody Bradford. You happen to know of him?”

Kat rolled her eyes. “Well, hell’s bells, of
course I know of him. Everybody around these parts knows that crazy
coot.” At once her hand flew to her mouth. As usual, she’d
forgotten her manners. Crazy coot or not, the reclusive sculptor
who lived across the creek was this man’s kin. She managed an
awkward smile but doubted it hid her embarrassment. “I mean, well,
he is a bit eccentric, you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” The stranger nodded. He kept
staring at her.

The man made her nervous. Growing more
flustered by the moment, Kat opened her mouth and a torrent of
words rushed out. “He’s a real talented fellow,” she offered, still
hoping to appease any ill feelings. “I’ve seen some of those birds
he carves. It was a few months back,” she added. “In Sunset. That’s
the closest town.”

“You don’t say?”

“Yeah, your cousin has this big show there
once every year, puts all his woodworking on display. Mighty
impressive,” she added, remembering the life-like hand-painted
carvings of ducks, geese, and lark buntings. Impressive, indeed.
Expensive too. Bradford apparently lived all year from what he
earned at his annual exhibition. Once each show ended, he
disappeared into the hills again, only coming into town again on
the rare occasions when he needed something he couldn’t grow, keep
in stock, or otherwise manufacture on his own.

“Well, miss, do you think you could tell me
where that cabin of his is located?” He shifted his weight in the
saddle, and his face screwed up into a grimace. “I’ve been riding
for an awful long time. I’d be much obliged if we could skip the
chit-chat, and maybe you could tell me how to get to Cody’s place.
I’m looking forward to getting down from this horse and resting up
a bit.”

Her face burned. She stared down at her
dusty boots. “Sorry, didn’t mean to inconvenience you.” She kicked
at the loose pebbles along the edge of the path. “You planning on
staying around here?” she asked, looking up again. The question
shot out of her mouth before she could stop it.

“Thinking about it. Why?” His gaze
narrowed.

“No reason. Your cousin’s cabin is over
yonder,” she said, pointing to the north. “Probably no more than
another half-mile. You got to wade the creek to get to the place.
That’s probably how you missed it before. Unless, of course, you
ride around and come up from the back. There’s a decent road there.
Take your pick.”

“I suppose I can handle the creek.” He put
his hat on again, then reached up and tipped the brim. “Much
obliged to you, miss.”