Revealed (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 3) Read online

  Respect for Carianne surged within Katherine. “I had no idea. How…amazing.”

  “Indeed it was. I have been blessed beyond measure, but do you know something?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I wouldn’t have taken anything for those years living in a poor Philadelphia neighborhood with my mother and aunt. Oh, I learned so much people of means couldn’t possibly know. I developed an appreciation for God’s blessings I’d never have known otherwise.”

  “But you’re glad those bad times are over,” Katherine ventured.

  Carianne laughed again. “Of course. We never enjoy tribulation while it’s happening. But after it’s over, we don’t dwell on the bad times.” She squeezed Katherine’s forearm. “You’ve gone through a hard trial, Katherine, but your trial is over now, and you’ll quickly forget these bad times.”

  Katherine’s gaze dropped to the floor. Was her trial over? Not if Mama refused to leave Charleston, and no one but she knew how stubborn Mama could be.

  The bedroom door squealed open abruptly, startling her. With her heart in her throat, she whirled around.

  Rhyan poked his head through the opening. “Carianne, come here and meet our mother.”

  Carianne brushed past a stunned Katherine. Our mother? That must mean Rhyan had decided to forgive. But would Mama agree to leave?

  ***

  The sun was almost overhead when Colt cinched the harnesses of the two bay mares to the coach. He didn’t know where Jonah, the stable boy, had gotten to. Tom Amerson wouldn’t be pleased to find his livery left unattended, so Colt hated to leave.

  He flipped his pocket watch open, frowned and snapped it shut. The train would be pulling in soon. He scanned the street and spotted Tom hustling down the sidewalk.

  Tom was one of those men who never seemed to age over the years—or decades. As long as Colt had known him—twenty years—Tom retained the same hulking frame, hard of muscle, and tall of statue. His sandy thatch of hair might be a little thinner, but not by much.

  Colt greeted Tom with a wave. “Where’s Jonah?”

  “My fault. I told the boy I’d be back by eleven, but Martha had a chore for me, then insisted I eat a sandwich before I leave home.” Nothing unusual about that. Tom always went home for his midday meal.

  Tom grabbed the red handkerchief hanging from his belt loop and wiped his brow. Pink rose petals fluttered to the ground.

  “What was the chore Martha had you do?”

  Tom chuckled, brushing more petals off his shirt. “Digging up a rose bush and moving it to another place just to mix up the colors in her garden. You know how particular women are about their flowers.”

  “I know Ma sets a big store about hers. Never seen a woman yet who didn’t like flowers. Except maybe Charley.”

  He meant it for a joke, but Tom didn’t laugh. Instead, he rubbed his thick neck with the handkerchief. “Charley’s a real pretty woman.”

  “That’s a fact. When she’s dressed up, she’s downright beautiful.”

  “Have you ever took her flowers?”

  Take her flowers? Charley? He’d never given it a thought. “You think she’d like to receive some flowers? Ma’s garden is all in bloom. I could take Charley a nice bouquet when I pick her up for the barn dance next Saturday.”

  “Yeah, I expect she’d like that. You and Charley near to setting a date?” Tom’s smile showed off his crooked front teeth.

  Colt swiped his nose with the back of his hand. “No. Charley’s committed to the show right now. I don’t want to push her.”

  Tom’s belly laugh reverberated through the air. “She can’t accuse you of pushing her.”

  Time to change the subject. “You got a new horse, I see.”

  Tom scrunched his bushy brows into a question, prompting Colt to add, “The black in the first stall.” He gestured with his thumb to the horse who stuck his head out of the stall and whinnied at that moment as if he knew they were talking about him.

  “Nah, he belongs to that fellow new to town. I’m just stabling his horse for him.”

  “A new fellow?” First Colt had heard about anyone new to town. True, Westerfield had a lot of visitors since the Western Gates opened, but Tom talked like this was a settler.

  “Yeah, real peculiar fellow. Stays holed up in his room at the boardinghouse a lot. I thought he might be a drummer at first, but he hadn’t been trying to sell anything. Might be running from something.”

  Why would he think a thing like? “Have you asked the sheriff about him?”

  “Nah, no reason to. He hadn’t done nothing to me, and paid a whole month’s stabling in advance. I think he’s from one of those northeastern states. Folks up there are all kinds of peculiar.”

  Colt laughed. “They probably think the same about us. What’s his name?”

  “Let me think.” He scratched his head. “Otto. That’s it. Otto Booker. Short, not fat, but a thick middle, brown hair. Younger than I am. Said he wanted to buy some land for a farm, but I don’t know anyone selling land.”

  “I don’t either, but I’ll ask Rhyan. If anyone knows about available land, it would be him.”

  “I see you have Rhyan’s carriage ready. Is he bringing his mother home today?”

  “That’s right.” Colt checked his watch again. “And the train’s due in about a quarter of an hour. I’d best be going. Train might be on time for once.” He slapped Tom on the shoulder and turned to leave.

  “Wait a minute, Colt.” Tom’s tone shifted to serious. “I’m afraid we might have a situation brewing about…well…about Arabella.”

  A nerve twitched in Colt’s jaw. He’d been thinking the same thing. The scandal surrounding Arabella hadn’t died over the years. When people got too bored, they’d still dreg up the salacious details of the beautiful, immoral woman who’d run away with her lover.

  Disappeared, leaving Cortland Cason, her husband, and two young sons for an unknown man. They still speculated on his identity, and what might have happened to them.

  Most of the townspeople had already congregated at the depot. Naturally, they were curious to see Arabella and her daughter.

  Truth was, curiosity ate him too. He’d never met Arabella, though Ma and Pa had traveled to San Francisco with Oliver and Opal where Rhyan’s family lived at the time. They stayed a long time, as he remembered, and when they returned, Ma spoke highly of Arabella. Of course, that was before Ma knew Arabella carried on with other men.

  Tom scratched his jaw like he needed time to select his words. “I know you were just a scamp when it happened, but a lot of folks here remember what she did to Cortland Cason, not to mention Opal and Oliver.

  Oliver and Opal Cason, Rhyan’s grandparents, ran Sollano at the time, and they were devastated by the tragedy.

  All that might not have meant anything to the folks of Westerfield except they respected and loved Oliver and Opal. Gossips, being what they were, blew the story up to where Arabella was Rahab, Jezebel, and the wicked witch in every fairy tale all rolled into one.

  “She’s sick, Tom, maybe dying.”

  “Yeah, I heard, but some of the women folk don’t have much sympathy. They remember what she done to Opal, not to mention how Arabella drove Cortland to kill himself. They just won’t have anything to do with her, and they’ll tell you why.”

  While Colt digested that, Tom studied his boots. “You know Rhyan won’t take any rabble. You remember what happened here when Cortland died. Half the town blamed Arabella, and the other half thought Rhyan had killed his father.

  Tom spoke the truth. Rhyan wouldn’t put up with anyone bad-mouthing his mother. Colt couldn’t blame him. He’d have to set anyone straight who tried to speak out against Ma. “I think we can put all that in the past, don’t you.”

  “I can and you can, but there are folks who won’t. Martha’s worried about it, and I’m just afraid Arabella will stir up feelings that could split this town right down the middle again.”

  Colt knew as well as Tom what that might me
an. It had taken a lot of praying to bring down the level of distrust and hatred spurred by Cortland’s suicide. But Tom didn’t know it almost led to Rhyan’s suicide.

  “We’ll just have to pray that don’t happen.” What else could he say? “Guess I’d better get going. The train might be on time for once. One good thing. Carianne’s on that train. They won’t say much in her presence.”

  Tom jerked his hand in a farewell. “And if they do, they’ll live to regret it.”

  Climbing onto the carriage’s driver’s seat, Colt chuckled. “That’s the truth.” Everyone knew Carianne would never let an accusation spring up without plowing the whole field. He pulled away from the livery. He’d soon know how folks would react.

  Chapter 4

  Standing on rubbery, train-weary legs, Katherine halted on the Westerfield depot and raised her parasol to get her first good look of the town that would be her new home. Her glance traveled from one end of the street, where a two-storied white-washed building proclaimed itself to be a boardinghouse, to the other with a much larger brick structure. It was too far away to make out exactly what it was. In between, on both sides of the dusty street, weathered wooden sidewalks fringed equally weathered wooden buildings.

  This couldn’t be all of it. Surely there were other streets. The size of the small depot surprised her. Rhyan had told her Westerfield wasn’t just a water stop, and she’d expected to find the rails connecting to others going in different directions. The only connecting tracks were what he’d called a cattle slip.

  Instead of departing the train into a substantial structure, passengers stepped out onto a wooden platform boasting nothing but a tiny enclosed office with the train schedule nailed beside a window where one could purchase tickets. It looked to be empty at the moment.

  Nearly all the passengers piled out, pushing and shoving. The street in front of the depot crowded with men, women, and children. No one joined the departing passengers, but rather, closed in, like gawkers at a circus sideshow.

  Carianne waved to the crowd, and several hands went up. Their fellow train travelers made a beeline for the boardinghouse.

  Katherine waited beside Mama, nerves bubbling her stomach, as Carianne hugged several of the women. They’d had a large breakfast in the train’s dining car, and she feared part of it was trying to come up. Rhyan moved in front of her and Mama as if to protect them from the crowd.

  The crowd quickly scattered, and a tall, blond man climbed the steps. He wasn’t like the other cowboys she saw milling around, though he dressed like one. His bronze skin proved he worked outside a lot, and his casual dress of tan trousers, plaid shirt, and cowboy boots said he worked hard.

  She looked up into deep blue eyes, and sensations rose from her stomach to lodge in her chest. She’d never been this close to such a handsome man.

  “Colt, I’d like you to meet my mother and sister,” Rhyan said. He had his arm around Mama, and with the greeting, laid his other hand on Katherine’s shoulder. “Katherine, Colt is my oldest friend, and owns a horse ranch next to Sollano.”

  The blond man’s virile good looks had her stunned, and a couple of seconds passed before she noticed he held out his hand. She extended hers as heat crept up her neck. He must think her a ninny. A grin creased his clean-shaven, tan cheeks and put a catch in her throat. She averted her head and noticed Carianne instructing the porter about their luggage.

  “Please to meet y’all. Welcome to town.” Colt’s slow, honeyed voice drew her back to eyes that watched her from under his Stetson.

  Mama took his hand. “I remember your mother, Colt. You’ve grown into a fine looking young man—as has my son.” She coughed and pressed her handkerchief to her mouth.

  Katherine spied a spot of blood on the corner of the handkerchief. Mama had done so well on the train, but Katherine wasn’t surprised to see she’d reached the end of her endurance. They had to be going so she could get to bed.

  “Carianne told me you’d been sick, ma’am. Sure hope you fare better out here,” Colt said.

  “I hope so too. Is Emma doing well?” Mama recovered enough to manage a smile.

  “Yes, ma’am, she’s doing well.”

  Emma. The name sounded familiar. Katherine shifted through all the names she’d heard Rhyan and Carianne speak of during their journey. Emma must be Colt’s mother. Mama had never mentioned anyone from her past during all their years in Charleston.

  These people knew Mama, and they knew her, but Katherine was a stranger, looking from the outside.

  She sought Colt’s gaze again, and something strange passed between them, like he looked into her soul and understood how she felt.

  It was going to be hard to keep from becoming infatuated with this man.

  She’d never allowed herself to even notice the men back in Charleston. None had actually shown any interest in her. And it wasn’t likely Colt would either, she warned herself.

  Mama started coughing again and sagged against Rhyan. Katherine opened her mouth to ask Rhyan if they might get underway soon, but he spoke first. “Colt would you show Katherine around town while we take Mother by the doctor’s office?”

  “I’d be glad to.”

  Any other time Katherine would have been happy to get alone with Colt, but Mama needed her now. “Thank you, but I should go with Mama.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Rhyan’s tone was firm, then he raised his voice so Carianne could hear. “CeCe, would you help me take Mother to the doc’s?”

  Carianne swept into place on Mama’s other side and wrapped her arm around Mama’s shoulder. Katherine didn’t know why they wanted to get rid of her, but she didn’t like it. “I really should go. I know Mama’s symptoms and can explain to the doctor.”

  “Go ahead, CeCe,” Rhyan said. “I’ll be along in a minute.” He turned to block Katherine. “Maybe it’s best Mother explain her own symptoms. I got the impression on our way here you might be helping her a little too much.”

  The accusation was like a slap in the face. Rhyan didn’t know the situation. No, not at all. “She’s been very ill, and there was no one but me to take care of her.”

  Rhyan’s tone softened. “I know that, and you’ve had too much on you for too long. What I’m trying to say is Mother is tougher than you know. She ought to have been taking care of a lot of the burdens you shouldered, made decisions for herself—or be forced to make those decisions.” He smiled. “Who knows, it might give her a new purpose for living. Let’s give her something to fight for and see what happens.”

  Katherine bit back her retort. Did he know their mother had lost the desire to live? She had to admit she’d hid things from Mama, fearing her condition was too delicate to handle the stress. She drew in a lung-filling breath and release it in a long sigh. “Very well. We’ll see.” But he’d learn soon enough Mama didn’t want to shoulder burdens.

  Colt was at her side, offering her his arm. “I’d be pleased to show you around, Miss Cason.”

  Didn’t he know her name was Miss Levinson? It was an understandable mistake, though, and Rhyan didn’t correct him. Now wasn’t the time to set him straight. She slipped her gloved hand into the crook of his arm. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

  She welcomed his steadying support as they strolled over the sometimes uneven planks of the sidewalk.

  Propriety demanded she attempt conversation. “This is a charming town. Have you always lived here?”

  “Almost all my life. My family moved here from Mississippi when I was seven.”

  “So you’re a Southerner too.”

  “Guess so. I don’t remember much about life down south. My ma, though, will be as happy as a bee in a field of clover to know you’re a Southerner.”

  Katherine had never been comfortable carrying on a conversation with a stranger before, but this man was easy to talk to. “That’s Emma, right? Rhyan and Carianne told me a lot about her, and I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “We’ll have to have you over to supper o
ne night.” Colt halted in front of the mercantile. He held the door open for her to enter, and the bell tinkled overhead.

  A brown haired woman of middling age glanced up from her position behind the back counter. Colt urged Katherine in that direction.

  “Afternoon, Agnes, I’d like you to meet Katherine, Rhyan’s sister from Charleston.” He smiled at Katherine. “This is Agnes Comings. She takes care of the store when Myra can’t come in. Is Myra around, Agnes?”

  Agnes didn’t even spare Katherine a glance. “She’s holding down the apothecary today.” Her tone carried not a trace of friendliness, but maybe she suffered from some ailment to explain her sour disposition.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Comings. Could I see your fabrics? Carianne said I might have a few new dresses made.”

  “Over in that corner.” Mrs. Comings pointed to her right.

  “This way, Miss Cason,” Colt said, placing his hand on the small of her back.

  When they got beyond Agnes’s hearing, she decided to explain his misunderstanding her name. “I’m only Rhyan’s half-sister. My name is Levinson, not Cason.” A little giggle slipped out. “Maybe you should just call me Katherine.” She snapped her mouth shut and shot him an anxious glance. He’d probably think her forward.

  “Sounds good to me if you’ll just call me Colt.”

  Even though customs were more relaxed here, and Colt showed no objections to first names, she couldn’t help feeling she’d committed a faux paus. To cover her embarrassment, she exaggerated excitement over the colorful display of fabrics covering two long tables. “Oh, how nice these are.”

  She ran her hand over a bolt of green silk. “This would make up beautifully.”

  “It would, but I rather favor this one on you.” He spread out a length of a white summer cotton embossed with tiny pink flowers.

  She’d never known a man with an eye for fabrics, but she pinched the corner of the fabric and draped it over her shoulder. “I believe you’re right. This would be so cool and—” The way he looked at her caught her breath. It was like he’d just noticed she was a female.