Chapter Seven
Joseph pulled his buggy to a halt in front of Mrs. Claire’s house. The girls were spending the day with the Kesters down the Red Road. He really ought to have been out in his fields. Yet, there he was, out paying a visit. He’d tried to focus on his work, but his mind constantly returned to Katie. There was nothing for it but to go see her and clear his thoughts.
He had a barrel of flour for her. She likely wouldn’t need it for another week or more. But flour was the perfect excuse to come see her, if only for a moment.
Finbarr helped him heft the barrel out of the buggy. Joseph could roll it inside and leave it wherever Katie wanted it.
“Let me know if Ian or Biddy need anything,” Joseph said.
The boy nodded and made his way up the path toward the road.
Joseph knocked and waited. Would Katie think him a fool for bringing her supplies before she’d told him she needed them? Perhaps he really was a fool. She’d only been gone thirty-six hours and he was already spending precious time concocting reasons to visit a woman who had pledged her heart to another. He was a fool, a complete and utter fool.
He could be friendly, but really nothing beyond.
The door opened and there she was. Not even a second could have passed before a smile appeared on Katie’s face.
“Why, Joseph Archer! And what is it brings you around here?”
Friendly. Nothing beyond. “I was in town this morning and thought I’d pick up your next barrel of flour while I was there.”
“That was very kind of you.”
She sounded happy, so why, then, did strain show behind her eyes? He studied her for some clue, but found none. Katie was frustratingly good at keeping her thoughts hidden.
“Where would you like me to put the barrel?” he asked.
She pondered a moment. “There is not a great deal of room in the kitchen area. I’d best keep my supplies in my own room.”
Katie pulled the door open all the way, making space for him to pass through. He rolled the barrel through the doorway. Mrs. Claire sat inside, comfortably settled in her rocking chair.
“A fine good afternoon to you, Joseph Archer.”
“And the rest of the day to you, Mrs. Claire.”
Her wrinkled face turned up in an amused grin. “Well, then, Katie. I see you taught him a thing or two while you lived at his house. That there was a right proper answer to an Irish greeting.”
Joseph’s breath caught for a brief instant at the bright-eyed smile Katie gave the older woman. That was the smile he’d come to see, the one he’d closed his eyes to remember as he’d stood in his empty kitchen that morning.
“I tried,” Katie told Mrs. Claire. “I was determined to make an Irishman out of him, but, alas, I ran out of time.”
That seemed to be the theme of his and Katie’s connection: wanting something but not having sufficient time to accomplish it. He’d once hoped to court her after she left his employ, but Tavish was there before he had the opportunity.
“You can roll that right in through here,” Katie said, motioning him toward the far end of the fireplace where a short hallway jutted off.
The house was small; he reached his destination in only a few steps. Katie threw Mrs. Claire another friendly smile over her shoulder. But, Joseph noticed, that smile slid quickly away as she stepped into the dim bedroom she called her own. The strain he’d seen in her face at the door returned.
What was weighing so heavily on her?
“If you’d place that in the corner, I’d be grateful.”
He took a quick look around the room as he followed the instructions. The space could use another lantern, a candle at the very least. Even in the afternoon, the small window didn’t let in enough light to make the room as cheerful as it ought to be.
He had no argument with the simplicity of the furnishings, only their obvious need for repairs.
He wanted more for her, at least a few of life’s comforts. If only there was a way to give her the relative luxuries she’d had only two days before. She’d had a bedframe and a comfortable mattress at his house; now she had only a straw tick on a pallet for a bed. But she’d never accept anything from him. She was too proud, too stubborn. He understood, admired her for it even, but it could be very frustrating. She likely wouldn’t even let him bring the curtains from her old room to add some femininity to this new space. Women liked curtains. She would probably enjoy having them there. But she’d never take them from him.
“Is it still three dollars for the barrel?”
Her question pulled his thoughts together. He nodded.
Katie crossed to the opposite corner and knelt in front of her battered carpetbag. She opened it and pulled out a small drawstring bag.
Joseph could see she hadn’t unpacked her things.
“Is something wrong with the chest of drawers?” he asked, nodding toward the bureau.
She moved to the pallet bed and sat. “The drawer frames are pulling apart.” She turned out the contents of her small coin purse on the bedtick and began counting coins.
“Do you have a hammer and nails?” Joseph asked. He couldn’t give her fine furniture or luxurious comforts, but he could at least fix the drawers.
“Aye, just there on the floor. I borrowed them from Tavish yesterday but haven’t had time to see to the mending.”
Joseph hung his hat on the doorknob and slid out of his heavy jacket. “I have some time right now. I’ll fix the drawers.”
She looked up at him, surprise and uncertainty in her gaze. “You don’t have to do that, Joseph. I know you’re busy.”
“I’m never too busy to help.” He left unspoken that helping her, most specifically, was very near the top of his list of priorities. Only his girls and the most pressing work on his farm came anywhere near Katie’s well-being in his mind. Even if the repairs took all day, it would be well worth his time.
He knelt in front of the short chest and pulled out each drawer. Just as Katie had described, the framing was loose and no longer square. A few nails in the right places would help.
“If you’re staying for a piece, would you mind if I bent your ear a bit?”
He looked over his shoulder at her. “I know I’ve heard you use that phrase before, but I don’t remember what it means.”
She laughed lightly, a sound that did his heart as much good as hearing her music did. So many times he’d stood at the kitchen door or at his own bedroom window listening to the strains of her violin from across the fields. He knew the music had calmed her, but did she have any idea how much he had needed it as well?
“I’m only asking if I can bother you with a great deal of talking and asking advice,” Katie said.
“Of course.”
The earnestness in her deep brown eyes was enough to nearly undermine his determination to keep his feelings hidden. He focused on his task, turning over the first drawer he meant to mend. If he didn’t actually look at her, she might not see his heart hanging there in his eyes.
“I’ve been wondering on something these past weeks,” she said. “Mr. Johnson threatened to charge you the Irish price for the flour you buy me, but your cost hasn’t gone up. How is it you convinced him not to cheat you? Did you threaten him?”
“No.” He lined up a nail. “I needed the flour price to remain the same, so I discovered something Johnson needed just as much. We came to a mutual agreement.”
“What was it he was needing?”
“A loan.” He pounded in the first nail, followed quickly by a second. Already the drawer was sturdier. “The trail to the train station isn’t passable for much of the winter. Johnson has to bring in all his inventory before the snow comes. He didn’t have the funds on hand to cover that expense this time around.”
He didn’t hear her footsteps over the sound of the next two nails driving into place. He simply looked up to find her sitting on the floor near him. The familiarity of her look of pondering, of her simple, tidy work dress, of those wisps of hair that always came loose by the end of the day, settled over him. For just a moment he knelt there, hammer still in his hand, a nail held between his teeth, just looking at her.
I could sit with her like this all day.
He shook himself back to some presence of mind. There was no point losing his head.
“What else does he need, I wonder?” Katie muttered the words, as if talking entirely to herself.
“What else does who need?” He lined up his next nail, grateful for the double distraction of conversation and repairs.
“Mr. Johnson. He’s raised the Irish price on wool and shoes and even medicine. The winter will be hard without wool cloth to make coats. The Irish can’t afford to replace the shoes their children have outgrown.”
Joseph drove in another nail. “Next Seamus Kelly will raise his prices for blacksmithing and shoeing,” he said. “Then both sides will decide that is reason enough to be at one another’s throats. That is the cycle of life in Hope Springs.”
“But if someone among us responded to the mercantile by swapping needs with Mr. Johnson, like you’ve done, rather than punishing the Red Road, maybe that cycle would stop.”
He tested the sturdiness of the newly repaired drawer and found it much improved. “The key isn’t finding just any need, but one that holds equal weight as his reason for raising prices.”
“His reason is he hates the lot of us. What could possibly be traded to outweigh that?”
Joseph realized she wasn’t speaking in hypotheticals. He slid the mended drawer back into the chest and looked at her, reminding himself to remain simply friendly, helpful, emotionally neutral.
“Are you hoping to get the Irish prices down to what the Red Road pays?” That was, he knew all too well, a fool’s errand. “He’ll never do it.”
She gave him a worried, pleading look. It was too much. He set his eyes on the next drawer. Work was as good a distraction as any.
“Things weren’t supposed to turn out this way, Joseph.”
You have no idea. “Turn out what way, exactly?”
He heard her sigh. “I gave up home for this. I stayed here because I love it, because I thought it would be a happy place to live.”
He thought she’d decided to stay because of Tavish. That had worried him. His late wife had given up the only hometown she’d ever known to come with him to Wyoming, and she had regretted it every year she’d spent there. She’d been miserable. He didn’t want that for Katie.
Joseph focused on the next drawer. He didn’t look up at her. Seeing her upset would eat away at him. “Are you unhappy?” he asked quietly.
“Not unhappy. I’m more frustrated, I suppose. Between Ian’s troubles and Biddy’s worries and the Irish not knowing if they can afford to survive the winter, I’m weighed down. And . . . I—”
She stopped. Joseph looked up and immediately wished he hadn’t. Her chin quivered and a tear coursed down her face. He had to grip his hammer tight to keep from reaching out for her.
Katie pressed her eyes closed, turning her face toward the ceiling. “I never used to be a crier, Joseph. Hope Springs has ruined me for it, I’m afraid.”
She was smiling a little, even through her tears. Joseph had never known anyone quite like Katie Macauley. “What has brought the tears on this time?”
She shrugged with one shoulder, but Joseph didn’t believe the dismissive gesture for a moment. Katie wasn’t one to grow upset over something small.
“I was only thinking of my father.” Her voice broke on the last word. She pushed out a breath and composed herself on the spot. “He’s dying, and I’m so far away.”
“Do you regret staying?” He hoped she didn’t.
She shook her head. “I only feel helpless. I can’t do anything for him, and nothing I do here seems to help anyone either.” She picked up a few of the spare nails, fiddling with them in an absentminded way. “I used some of my savings to get Ian medicine—Mr. Johnson was asking five dollars instead of two bits, and the O’Connors couldn’t afford it.”
“Five dollars?”
“Aye. That’s the new Irish price.”
Joseph bit back a curse. Johnson had no conscience. “I wish you had told me, Katie. I could have bought the medicine for two bits.”
“I didn’t even think of that.” She pushed out a puff of air, her expression falling. “Now I feel foolish and helpless.”
He hadn’t meant to add to her burdens. What Katie needed was encouragement.
“You did a good thing, Katie. You helped Ian and Biddy when they needed it.”
She didn’t look reassured. “It doesn’t solve the bigger problem, though. You can’t purchase everything that every Irish family is overcharged for. And I haven’t the means of buying wool for all their coats or paying for dozens of shoes. If others grow ill, I’ll run out of money before I can get medicine for all of them. I can’t even pay you the three dollars I owe you for flour without dipping further into my savings.”
“Don’t worry yourself about—”
“I will pay you,” she cut across him. “I just haven’t made my bread deliveries this week, so I don’t have enough money from that to pay you with, and I need my savings to live on now that I don’t have a regular job.”
He knew she wasn’t trying to make him feel guilty, but he felt so just the same. “I am sorry you couldn’t stay at our house. We’ve missed you there already.”
She smiled at him. “I’ve missed you as well—all of you. The mornings are far too quiet here.”
“I missed our morning chat at breakfast this morning as well.” He had to look away or he knew he’d reach out for her. She chose someone else.
Katie handed him a nail, and he set back to work. He was nearly done with the last drawer when a knock sounded from the front. The house was small enough that they easily heard Mrs. Claire invite the visitor in.
A moment later, Katie’s face lit with a brilliant smile as her eyes settled just past Joseph.
“Tavish.”
Joseph drove in the final nail with a force that surprised him. He thought he’d come to terms with Katie’s choice. Apparently not.
“Hello there, Sweet Katie.” Joseph thought he heard a question in Tavish’s tone.
“I wasn’t expecting you, Tavish, but I’m pleased you’ve come.” Katie’s tone had lightened. How was it Tavish managed to do that for her when he had only managed to talk about heavy things, topics that made her cry? Maybe it was for the best that she’d chosen Tavish. “Joseph brought me my bread flour and was kind enough to stay and mend the chest of drawers I’d not gotten around to.”
“I would have done that for you,” Tavish said. “You needed only ask me.”
“I didn’t actually ask Joseph. He simply took on the task,” Katie said. “He can be very bossy, you know.”
He glanced up at her. Her teasing smile pulled an answering one from him. The connection was a brief one, over almost the moment it began. Katie rose and walked past him, no doubt straight to Tavish.
Joseph slid the newly repaired drawer into place. He didn’t look behind him. Katie would be holding Tavish’s hand or leaning into his embrace. He had no desire to see that.
“I came by to offer to drive you about while you made your bread deliveries,” Tavish said, “but I don’t smell any loaves fresh out of the oven.”
Joseph scooped up the nails and dropped them on top of the bureau. He set the hammer beside them.
“I didn’t have time for baking today,” Katie said. “If you’re free tomorrow, I’ll take you up on your offer.”
“I’ll make certain I am. As for today, Finbarr is tending Ian’s animals, so I am at your disposal for the afternoon. What else needs mending?”
“I’ve been meaning to put a couple nails in the wall to hang my dresses on,” Katie said. “And there’s a shelf in the kitchen that’s not terribly sturdy.”
“I’ll get started, then. You keep adding to that list. I’ve an entire afternoon.”
Joseph knew an invitation to leave when he heard one. Tavish had arrived, and Joseph was no longer needed or welcome. He picked his coat up off the floor and stepped past Katie and Tavish to where his hat hung on the doorknob.
“Thank you for bringing the flour,” Katie said. Joseph fancied that he heard a small thread of regret in her words. Perhaps she’d enjoyed his company, though likely not as much as he’d needed hers. “I’ll pay you for it just as soon as I can.”
“Don’t fret over it. Take your time.” He set his hat on his head and turned to Tavish. He could at least try to show the man that he held no true malice toward him. Jealousy, certainly. Envy, yes. But even with all that, Joseph couldn’t actually hate him. Tavish was a good man, and lucky. “How’s Ian?”
“Better.”
Tavish’s eyes locked with his own. He made a miniscule nod in Katie’s direction and took her hand.
“Show me where you want your dresses hung.” Tavish smiled at Katie.
Joseph could easily read the warning there. The time had come for him to beat a hasty retreat.
He slipped from the room and down the short hallway to where Mrs. Claire sat rocking by the window.
“Is there anything I can do for you before I go?” he asked.
“Quitting the field so soon, then?”
“Quitting the field?”
She clicked her tongue. “It wasn’t yesterday I was born, Joseph Archer. You’ve been sweet on our Katie almost since she first came. Seems to me you’ve given up terrible quick, you have.”
“She made her choice. I am determined to respect that.”
The look on the older woman’s face clearly showed her lack of faith in his intelligence. “I thought you a man of greater determination than that.”
“What I am is a man who doesn’t believe in trespassing.”
Mrs. Claire’s gaze narrowed as though she were studying his very soul. Joseph didn’t particularly want his most guarded feelings laid bare.
“Katie has made her choice,” Joseph said firmly, reminding himself as much as Mrs. Claire.
“Has she now?”
That was a tone of doubt if ever he’d heard one.
“I worry for her.” Sadness touched Mrs. Claire’s expression. “She’s known so much suffering in her life. I only want her to find the happiness she deserves.”
“So do I,” Joseph said. “And she seems happy with Tavish.” As much as he hated acknowledging that, it was true.
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Joseph. I’ve heard the way she speaks of you and with you. What if you’re right for her after all?” Mrs. Claire asked, resuming her rocking. “Doesn’t she deserve to know she has a choice?”
“It seems a little underhanded.”
Mrs. Claire actually rolled her eyes. “Saints above, Joseph Archer, I’m not suggesting you kidnap the lass.”
He shook his head a little at the picture Mrs. Claire painted. “Kidnap her? My house is in shambles already, and the girls are so angry at me for ‘letting Katie leave,’ I’ll soon have a mutiny on my hands. Kidnapping her may be my best option.”
“And now I’ve lost all faith in you, lad.” Still, she was grinning, her eyes dancing with laughter. “What sort of a ham-fisted suitor are you anyway, stealing the girl off to do housework?”
“And that, Mrs. Claire, is the reason I leave the courting to men like Tavish, who know how to do the thing properly.”
“Think on what I said.” She gave him what his childhood nanny had called “the look”—a combination of pointed reprimand and fond condescension. “At least give the lass a chance to know you—the man and not the employer—better.”
“Good day to you, Mrs. Claire.” He tipped his hat and stepped out.
He shut the door behind him and stood silent and tense under the front overhang. For just a moment Mrs. Claire’s words tempted him. He hovered on the thought of Katie being in his life again, of holding her hand the way Tavish did, of courting her as he’d planned to.
I’ve seen the way she looks at you. What had Mrs. Claire meant by that? Was there reason to hope after all?
Then he remembered the smile that lit Katie’s face when Tavish had arrived. Tavish made her happy in a way he never had. He couldn’t take that away from her, not when she was so burdened by life. He could be her friend, help her where and when he could. He’d keep himself to that. Eventually he might even learn to accept it.
Give her a chance to know you better.
Perhaps he could do that, too.