“Yes,” Katrine agreed, but for different reasons than Alice meant.
“Our good sheriff,” Alice said, a sigh in her voice. She brought two cups to the table and returned to her seat opposite Katrine. “Clint is a fine man. Oh, he can be a bit surly, and not a little bit lost, but he’s as loyal as the day is long.” Alice raised an eyebrow. “And not so bad to look at, hmm?” Katrine saw Alice’s thumb run across the shiny gold band of her new wedding ring. “It’s good to have a loyal man in your life. Especially one who saved your life.”
“I’m grateful to him. Really I am.” Katrine would have to be blind to miss the glow in Alice’s eyes. The new bride was so happy.
“Just grateful? Nothing else?”
Sheriff Thornton was a fine man to look at, but he seemed hard and dark and some days he seemed far beyond the ten years older she knew him to be. Every once in a while, at town gatherings or the many meals he had shared with Lars and her, she would catch a glimpse of something warm behind his eyes. A long look, a detail noticed, a fragment of something beyond friendship. Even Lars had said something once, but with such an air of dismissal Katrine could easily guess Lars would never approve should the sheriff display open interest of that sort.
No, Sheriff Thornton’s regard for her seemed far closer to bafflement than anything more familiar. In truth, Katrine felt as if Sheriff Thornton had a long list of ideas of how the world should be and couldn’t decide where she fit on that list. More than once, the tenor of his regard had made her wonder if he’d somehow learned her secret. That wasn’t possible, of course, but he was a lawman, and maybe they had ways of finding things out she didn’t understand.
It was true—Katrine was lots of things besides grateful, but none of those could be put into words. Certainly not this morning. Today words felt like her enemy—at least every word that wasn’t from Sheriff Thornton about Lars. Katrine was grateful a knock on the front door kept her from having to continue this conversation.
Alice raised an eyebrow, silently asking if Katrine was ready to accept visitors. She hadn’t faced a single one yet.
“No.” Katrine shook her head, left the tea in its cup and fled to the bedroom. It was easy to convince Alice that she was too upset to receive condolence calls. Father God, help me. I don’t know how I’ll lie to all these good, grieving people. The whole thing tangled her stomach up in such knots that it wasn’t much of a fib to say she was feeling poorly.
As she heard Alice talk with someone about what a fine fellow Lars was, Katrine sat on the bed and remembered what it felt like to be pulled from death’s smoky clutches. Her throat seemed to tighten at the mere memory of that awful, acrid smell. She’d bathed again this morning and still felt as if she couldn’t wash the scent from her skin. I will choose to be thankful. For my life. For Lars’s life. For Sheriff Thornton’s bravery and for trust in his wisdom. You have made this way, have given us a chance to protect Lars’s life, and I will do it. But You must know how hard this is for me.
“I agree,” she heard Alice say. “He was a hero indeed. I am glad he is sheriff, too. These are perfect and much needed, thank you.” And then, in a lighter tone of voice, “Why yes, we’re very happy. Thank you for your good wishes. I’ll be sure to let her know you came by.”
Katrine could barely rise up off the bed when Alice opened the door. “Everyone has such kind words for you, and such fond memories of Lars.” She lifted up one skirt from the armful she held. “Deborah Kincaid is much closer to your size. These will fit you so much better than my clothes until we can get new ones.”
So much generosity and compassion. Brave Rock was going to be a wonderful place to call home.
But home was gone now, wasn’t it? No, she would try not to think of it like that. Just the cabin was gone. The cabin with those blessed, blessed loose logs she’d complained about so often.
“Alice, I’m not sure I can go.”
“Where?”
“This afternoon. Sheriff Thornton said he’d bring me back to the cabin to see what was left, but I don’t think I am ready.” She used her good hand to wipe away the tears, which seemed to come so easily. “We only had a few things from Mama and Papa to remember them by, and they will be gone.”
Alice put a gentle hand over Katrine’s. “They may, but they may not. Wouldn’t it be better to know?”
“I don’t want to see our home in ashes.” Katrine felt the words burn her throat all over again. “I don’t want to see what those men did to Lars. To me.”
“Elijah and I will go with you and Clint, if you’d like. You’ll have to go over there sometime. Perhaps it’s best to get it over with right away.”
Katrine shook her head. If Elijah and Alice were with her, Thornton could not talk of Lars. Nor could they talk freely here. No, if she wanted to hear of Lars, she had to go see the cabin. What a gruesome bargain that was. “If twelve people were to come with me it will not help. I must find a way to be brave, ja?”
Alice straightened her shoulders and took Katrine’s hands. “You are brave. And strong. And God is braver and stronger still. Hold on to that. Can you do that?”
Without Lars beside her? It seemed impossible. “Alone? I don’t know.”
“That’s just the thing, Katrine, you’re not alone. Not even close.”
Chapter Three
“Well now, look what the wind dragged over the prairie!” Sam McGraw scraped a match across the bottom of his boot and lit the thin cigarette that hung from his lips. Most frontier men rolled their own tobacco, but somehow McGraw and his partners in the Security Patrol always managed to have fine store-bought cigarettes. Clint had wondered more than once how men of a lowly private rank came by such luxuries, but he’d seen enough of how government worked to know sometimes hard jobs came with special privileges. And Clint was no stranger to just how hard it was to keep folks in line before and during the Land Rush.
The fact that he felt McGraw had done a mighty poor job of it, well, he’d just have to keep that to himself a while longer. A uniform didn’t automatically earn a man respect in Clint’s view, but it was clear that’s how McGraw saw the world.
The private tipped his navy blue cavalry hat farther back on his head and squinted up at Clint in the late-morning sunshine. “I was laying odds we wouldn’t see you again.”
“Funny,” Clint said as he swung down from his saddle. “I had the same notion about you.” He slapped the dust off his hat. The ride down the riverbank from Brave Rock wasn’t that far, but it had been hot and dry. “I couldn’t rightly say I wouldn’t have just kept on riding after that fire. Or worse yet, if you were simply going to circle back around and shoot me where I stood. Loose ends are bad for business.”
McGraw laughed. “Well, some loose ends do indeed require a snip.” He raised an eyebrow at Clint. “Others are useful enough to leave hanging.”
“Hanging? Or swinging from a gallows?” McGraw looked to Clint like the kind of man who wouldn’t think twice if a lynching served his purpose.
McGraw waved the match out and flung it to the ground. “You are a funny one, Thornton. Sending men to the gallows is your job, not mine.”
Actually, law and order decreed it was the county judge who condemned men to hang, but Clint didn’t really feel like arguing the point with the likes of this man. Clint had seen enough in life that very few things repulsed him, but everything about Samuel McGraw set Clint’s gut to churning. McGraw gave him that slanted smile of his, and all Clint could see was the loathsome grin the private had given him as he rode off last night. As if the whole world tilted around the Black Four and his every whim. Every