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She missed her twin sisters, Sarah and Sally, with their incessant giggles as they played about the station, but mostly she missed her mother. The calm, kind woman who'd taught her everything she knew about life. How could she live without her mother?
"I won't cry," she told herself aloud. She felt a tear falling down her cheek and sniffed it back. She'd hardened herself with her life and meant to go on with it. She still had Joshua, thank God.
With her grief tucked deep inside her she readied the food for the next stage. If Mr. Bowlins was on time he'd be pulling in any time now. Mr. Bowlins was never late, that's why Mr. Butterfield hired him, her father had told her numerous times.
Her father, dear God, a man of such strength and courage. How could he be gone?
"The stage is comin', sis." Joshua rushed upon the porch and hollered through the doorway breaking the silence of the old home place.
It was a blessed sound, hearing Joshua's voice come alive once more. For weeks now they barely spoke to each other, unable to contain their own grief. Conversation seemed unnecessary as death etched their minds. At least they were together. At least they were still alive or perhaps merely going through the motions of it... But Katherine could hardly call what her and Joshua had been through living either.
She remembered how Hawks had come by and hung around most of the day when her father died. He seemed to be everywhere, as though looking for something. But what? Katherine didn't like the man; he kept staring at her so. She didn't understand his rude manners and he almost wouldn't leave. Since then he'd been over almost every day. She'd seen him up on the ridge staring down at them several times as though watching. She knew it was him. She recognized his horse, a palomino. It gave her the willies, the way he kept watch on them. What could he want from them?
She tried to remember what he'd said the last time he'd been here and her father had been alive. She'd been on the porch, going inside, they were talking about money and the Indian wife.
But Katherine couldn't piece it all together no matter how she tried.
Still, she didn't consider Hawks a good neighbor either. He was definitely after something.
She just didn't know what it was…yet!
***
Katherine missed the noise and misadventures of her younger brothers too. The task of sending the young ones away was almost unbearable. It had been harder than she ever imaged. Their ages were from 4 years to 12 and the noise they created kept the old homestead full of cheer. Now, there was no noise. She had escaped their presence many times to weep in solitude, knowing what she would have to do. She hadn't wanted to send them away, but she couldn't be selfish and keep them here in this barren land. It was too dangerous, with the Indians on the warpath. No, she'd made the right decision. She wrote the letter and made all the travel arrangements. At least the youngest four were still alive and well. But she'd never forget their tears as she said her last goodbyes, feeling as though she might never see them again.
She had a dreadful feeling that she and Joshua died with their folks and just hadn't gotten around to burying each other. The deadness inside would not go away.
Katherine felt the wind whip through the open window and the dust quickly settled on her lips and everything else. She batted the flies away from the food.
The taste of dust was familiar though. Feeling the grit she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, absently. Then she glanced at Joshua who stood transfixed on the porch watching the approaching red-brown cloud of dust.
"Good, the biscuits are nearly done. You hurry up and get the team hitched. You know how anxious Mr. Bowlins gets. We don't want to keep him waiting." Katherine stirred the beans in the pot and checked the biscuits.
She barely remembered the meals she'd prepared since her folks took sick. Food was merely a way to keep going. There had been the tubs of cool washcloths, the herbs stewed and sipped, but what she and Joshua ate she couldn't remember.
She bit her lip and felt the blood, tasting salt against her tongue. She quickly set the table and dusted the benches and table. Had it not been so hot she would have closed the shutters. Memories of how her mother had tried so hard with so very little to set a nice table haunted her now, but she pushed those thoughts away. She would not think about that. She had too much work to do, and thankful of it.
She heard the stage pulling into the yard, one wheel squealing, horses tromping like a stampede. For one brief moment all the memories of her family came rushing in on her, despite her intention to not think of it. Memories of how her father would loudly call the Whip and have the horses ready at hand, how her mother would fluster just a bit as she checked her food, how her sisters would stand on the porch and screech with their high pitched little voices at the sound and fury of the horses.
The earth seemed to rumble now, bringing life into the barren yard once more, reminding Katherine that life does go on somehow.
A hot, unwelcome gust of wind stirred the air again. Katherine waved the flies from the table and touched her hair for just a second. She hadn't thought about how she looked in a long time. The dismal act of combing her dark brown hair into some structure and putting her clothes on had become habit, not enjoyment as before.
***
The stage driver bellowed mightily and swung off the top rung seat quickly as he spoke to Joshua. He quickly opened the door for the passeng
ers to climb out.
"We'll be takin' dinner here folks and if the weather holds we'll move on to Horseshoe Bend before nightfall," Matthew Bowlins was saying as he watched the three men file from the stage.
Joshua ambled up to them with his team of horses, ready to make the exchange as quick as possible so as not to rile the old driver. Matthew Bowlins had a mean temper when delayed with his traveling.
"Those are right fair lookin' animals, boy. You hitch 'em up nice and tight and we'll be back in a bit. And give that back wheel a greasin' if you got any grease, huh boy. It's a ways to the next stop."
"Yes sir, Mr. Bowlins."
"Your Pa around?"
