His Secondhand Wife. Cheryl St.John

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His Secondhand Wife - Cheryl  St.John


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      Estelle led Kate up the aisle to one of the first wooden pews. “I’ll speak with the Bensons after church and see to it that one of them brings you to town tomorrow. We can’t have you dressed like that—you’re a Cutter now. We have an early appointment with Annie for measuring. She’ll have fabrics and patterns for us to go over.”

      Kate smoothed the dress Estelle so obviously disdained over her lap and folded her hands.

      “You need gloves, too. A lady always wears gloves in public. I’ve invited the Huttons to have dinner with us after church. Walter is Copper Creek’s schoolteacher and his wife, Rose, helps with Sunday school. They are a lovely couple.”

      Preacher Davidson greeted them on his way to the pulpit and within minutes the service was under way. It was much the same as the church Kate had always attended with her mother, except that they had always sat in the rear with the laborers. It seemed the folks were divided in this congregation, as well. The Sweetwaters, who Kate knew were bankers, sat in the front and the hands from the Rockin’ C were in the back of the room.

      She had the feeling that she should be sitting back there with them, but Estelle had practically nailed her to this pew.

      After the service, Estelle was greeted by neighbors, and she made a point of pushing Kate toward them as though insisting they accept her. Kate recognized more than a few odd glances and took note of whispers behind gloved hands.

      Annie Carpenter made a point of drawing her away and saying hello. She held a bright-eyed toddler she introduced as her daughter, Rebecca.

      “I didn’t know you had a child.” Kate smiled at the chubby little girl. “She’s beautiful.”

      “We’ll have another one in the fall,” Annie told her.

      Her smile told Kate that learning a baby was on the way hadn’t struck terror into her heart as it had hers.

      “And you have time to sew, as well,” Kate said with admiration.

      “That’s why I need help now,” Annie said. A pretty dimpled young woman joined them. “This is my cousin, Charmaine Renlow.”

      Charmaine’s eyes widened when she met Kate. “Oh my! You’re living out on the ranch with Noah Cutter? Aren’t you frightened?”

      “Why, no.”

      “I’ve heard frightful things about the man. Some of the stories say he hunts with his bare hands and eats raw meat.”

      “That’s ridiculous,” Kate replied, offended for the man who’d been so kind to her. “He eats the same as everyone else. And it’s all cooked by Fergie.”

      “I’ve never seen him up close,” Charmaine added with a conspiratorial whisper, “but they say he’s hideous to look upon.”

      Her words confirmed what Estelle had told Kate, though she hadn’t had a straight-on good look at him herself. She couldn’t really deny what she wasn’t sure of. But she could certainly attest to his character. “He’s one of the kindest men I ever met. I suspect much of the talk has been aggravated above the truth.”

      “For your sake, I hope that’s so,” Charmaine said sweetly. A young man approached then and she blushed at his arrival. “Katherine, this is Wayne.” An unexpected Southern drawl laced Charmaine’s tone as soon as he joined them.

      Wayne nodded at Kate politely. “How do, Mrs. Cutter.”

      No one had ever called her Mrs. Cutter before and she glanced aside for Estelle before she realized he had referred to her.

      “We’re having dinner with my parents this afternoon,” Charmaine told her, and slipped her arm into the crook of Wayne’s. “And a croquet match. I’m going to let him win this time.”

      Estelle found Kate and took her arm then, and Kate wished the young people a goodbye. Their way of life was as far away from hers as the sky was from the ground where she walked. She’d spent her growing-up years laboring to make money for food and a place to live, and she’d earned her way by washing clothes for people just like these. She’d be willing to bet these young women had never had to want for anything. They went directly from comfortable homes with their parents to good marriages.

      Kate didn’t begrudge them a thing. She simply had nothing in common with them.

      Or with Estelle and the Huttons as it turned out. Estelle’s cook had prepared rack of lamb, string beans and something called a Caruso salad with lettuce, tomatoes and a tangy sweet fruit topped with paprika and oil dressing. Kate speared a piece of the fruit. “What is this?”

      “Why, it’s pineapple, dear,” Estelle replied.

      Kate closed her eyes. “It’s incredible.”

      “You’ve never tasted pineapple before?” Rose Hutton asked.

      “No, ma’am. I expect there’s a lot I’ve missed. But I’m enjoying learning now.”

      “I’m trying to convince Katherine to live here with me,” Estelle told the Huttons. “She seems to feel an unfounded obligation to Levi’s stepbrother.”

      Estelle’s home was elegant, no doubt about it. Kate had never seen furnishings so plush or rooms so ornate. Everywhere she looked there was another painting or vase or Oriental rug or brocade settee. But none of the rooms seemed as comfortable or as welcoming as the room Noah had given her. The opulence here didn’t appeal to her as much as the serenity of the ranch house she wanted to think of as her home. She didn’t want to have to explain her reasons to Estelle again. She’d already told her she didn’t want to live in the city.

      She couldn’t think of much else to say that afternoon. The time seemed to drag. Once the Huttons had gone, Estelle sat her down in the parlor. “There is talk,” she said.

      “What kind of talk?”

      “About you being on the ranch alone with that man.”

      “We’re not alone. There are hands.”

      “Not living in the house, there aren’t. It simply isn’t proper. You shouldn’t be living alone with him.”

      “I guess I don’t know much about proper. All I know is he’s kind and I like living there.”

      Estelle clearly didn’t approve of her reply. When she had her groomsman take Kate home, Kate was grateful for the escape. If that’s what Sundays would be like, maybe she didn’t want to go to town in the future.

      She changed into a day dress and read in her room for an hour or so before she went downstairs and found a tin of tea. She had just brewed a pot when Noah entered the kitchen.

      “Good evening. Would you like to join me for a cup of tea?”

      He glanced at the pot on the table. “All right.”

      She took out two cups and poured the tea, setting one at the spot he preferred.

      He took a seat.

      She studied his carefully averted face, wishing she could see him better. “Sugar?”

      “Yes.”

      She watched him dip a spoonful and stir. Picking up the cup, he took a sip. Raw meat indeed.

      “I saw many of the folks who were here for Levi’s funeral today. Most were friendly. Some stared and whispered though. I met Annie’s cousin and a fellow named Wayne. Appears they’re sweet on each other.”

      He acknowledged her chatter with a nod.

      “Estelle’s home is lovely. Her cook made us an elegant dinner. Lamb, can you fancy that? And I tasted pineapple for the first time. It’s the sweetest fruit I’ve ever had.

      “The hillsides between here and town are bright blankets of purple aster. It’s early for those, don’t you think?”

      As


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