AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mr. Bowlins shot Katherine a quick look, but merely shrugged his shoulders and kept eating. Mr. Bowlins knew the manners of the stage line employee and kept his mouth closed.
She kept busy, trying to ignore them. Especially their crude talk of the Comanche on the warpath again. Fear skidded down her spine. Not because of the prisoner, but rather the soldiers and their leering eyes. Whether he was a breed or not, their prisoner at least had manners.
All the while, she'd steal a glance at the prisoner every now and then. Wondering why he had done what they said or if he had done it.
She gave all of them generous helpings of beans and biscuits then started to retreat to the back room when the driver's question stopped her.
"So where's your Pa?"
Katherine hesitated telling Mr. Bowlins anything in front of this unruly bunch, but he kept staring at her for an answer. "They're dead, Mr. Bowlins." She tried to keep the emotion out of her voice when she spoke. Instead she took the last plate to the prisoner and sat down beside him to feed him.
When the others looked quizzical about her procedure she explained. "I won't have my floor ruined. A body can't eat beans without hands, sir."
"Leave her be." Mr. Bowlins shot the one called Denver a quick wink. "She's just helpin' stuff the calf, so to speak."
"She's got a point there about the floor. It looks freshly scrubbed. A right clean woman, like my ma. Just like her. All proper like. Yes sir, a real lady, we got here."
The prisoner looked at her now and his gaze galvanized her. His eyes were so dark and piercing and blue like looking into the sky on a clear day, Katherine acknowledged. This man was not Indian, at least not full blood. Never had she seen such piercing eyes or such compassion in their depths, as though searching for her very soul. She sensed his warning, the danger, even though she failed to recognize it. She tensed immediately, feeling the air around her crackle. As quickly as he had looked at her, he bent his head and looked away. He opened his mouth each time she raised the spoon to his lips. And what lips he had. They were about the only thing on him that looked soft, though. His body was hard and lean.
This man didn't smack his food; he was neat and clean with some form of manners.
"What'd your Pa die of, Miss Katherine?" The driver asked, his voice mellowing as he looked from her to the prisoner. "I mean how'd he die?"
"The fever, Sarah and Sally too and . . . Ma." She was unable to steady her voice any longer, the act of saying their names aloud was too much. She looked away, grabbed her mouth then leaned against the table for a moment. It was the first she spoke of it and it made her feel sick. It brought the reality of their never coming back to her and sickened her all the more.
"So you're here all alone?" The man called Denver asked, his smile glaring at her. His accessing gaze traveled the length of her.
Katherine felt an uneasiness stir. Not only that, but she saw the prisoner stiffen as though he somehow sensed the danger too.
"No, not alone, sir. Joshua's here. I sent my younger brothers to my aunt's back east."
Mr. Bowlin nodded. "That was good thinkin' girl. No place for a bunch of young'uns. Not with the Comanche still up to trouble. Sorry to hear it. Real sorry. I was right fond of that Pa of yours and your Ma could sure make a stew. You take right after her, you do."
"Thank you,Mr. Bowlins," Katherine said quietly, trying desperately to displace her sorrow. Now was not the time for a display of tears and she knew it.
"You figure on takin' their place?" He asked.
"If there's no objections. I think Joshua and I could handle it if you'd trust us with it."
"Suits me. I ain't got no say in the matter. It belongs to Mr. Butterfield, but I don't reckon he'd object. Right off hand I don't know of anyone foolish enough to take the job. Mr. Butterfield's got enough troubles of his own, some says he's broke, and then the Indian problem on top of that. Might not have the stations up much longer. In case you ain't noticed the Comanche don't like you bein' here. And it'd be a while before I could get some more men out here to help. Nobody likes livin' out here on top of those renegades. Ain't nothin' out here for miles."
"We'll get by till you do, Mr. Bowlins."
Chapter Five
"She's got spunk, don't she? Well now, that's a real pity about your folks, Miss. Yes sir, a real pity. And this ain't no place for a fine little lady like you. You ought to just pack up and go with us to the fort. I'm sure you'd be welcome there, Miss."
"I couldn't leave my home, sir." A cold sweat broke over her at his mildly threatening voice.
"Don't reckon you've had much run-in with the Comanche then or you'd be pleased to go with us." He roared.
He sopped his biscuit then glared at her again, "You know, you ain't so bad to look at gal. You got yourself a beau?" His glassy-eyed stare sent fear up her spine. The suggestion in that question had Katherine backing up.
Katherine tensed, placing the scout's plate within reaching distance and edged toward the back of the kitchen. "No sir, I've been too busy takin' care of my folks for courtin'. Now if you'll excuse me . . ."
The soldier was no gentleman and she wanted to flee the room, but knew she had to finish her task first. She was the new stationmaster until someone came along and took the job from her; she had to set an example of good manners and taking care of the people who stopped off.
If she was to be the new stationmaster, she had to exercise control.
