Katies courage, p.1
Katie's Courage, page 1
part #3 of Pioneer Brides of the Oregon Trail Series
Katie’s Courage
Pioneer Brides of the Oregon Trail
Indiana Wake
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Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Jenny’s Wish Preview
Also by Indiana Wake
About the Author
Introduction
It is 1866, twenty-three years after the great migration that saw 1000 pioneers head west.
Oregon is a vibrant town and the next generation are grown and making their own mark. What difficulties will they face? Does the great journey still loom over their lives, are new settlers still coming to town? Do old resentments still linger?
Find out how 5 families that settled in Oregon deal with the new life they have and how the next generation grow up to find love and happiness in this wonderful new series.
Each book is a standalone story and can be read in any order. The books are
Suki’s Heart
Amanda’s Hope
Katie’s Courage
Jenny’s Wish
Honey’s Grace
If you wish to read the stories of love on the great migration of 1843 grab these wonderful romances:
Trinity’s Loss
Carrie’s Trust
Josie’s Dreams
Polly’s Choice
Charlotte’s Wedding
All books are FREE with Kindle Unlimited or just 0.99
Chapter One
Katie Clements pushed loose strands of her soft brown hair back behind her ears and sighed. It was only late spring, but the weather was already warm, and her exertions had made her skin uncomfortably clammy.
She was taking the saddle off her horse, having already brushed down her stepfather’s horse, and was more than ready for her supper. It had been a long day and the work had been as hard as it always was. However, since money had become tight and the takings had gone down again, the daily toiling had an extra gritty layer to it, like it felt as if it were somehow all in vain.
“Good boy, Horace,” Katie whispered to the horse as she lifted the saddle from his back.
As soon as she had hung up his saddle in the stable, Katie returned to Horace to give him a well-deserved brush down. He waited patiently, as he always did, knowing that his beloved mistress would not simply put him into the paddock without his daily reward. He snorted happily, his tail swishing from side to side.
“Horace?” A man’s voice from behind her made her turn sharply. “I thought Horace was that terrible wooden toy horse you had.” The man smiled; he looked familiar.
“Excuse me?” Katie felt confused.
She knew she knew this man; it was just going to take her tired mind a moment or two to place him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his thick, ash-brown hair was heavy on the gray. He wore the clothes of a working man: heavy denim trousers, a dark blue plaid shirt, and sturdy brown boots. But his clothes looked well-kept, as if they hadn’t seen much work on a ranch, farm, or somewhere of a similar station. The man fit in, and yet he didn’t at the same time. Who was he?
“Horace, if I remember correctly, was the name you gave to the terrible looking wooden horse my father made for you,” he said.
And now she knew who he was, it finally clicked into place; had she known all along?
“Clay?” she asked, staring at him and only vaguely aware of the real-life Horace’s hoof pounding lightly on the grey flagstones. He was a sweetheart, but one who did not like to be kept waiting.
“Hi, Katie,” he said.
Katie stared at him open-mouthed, her eyes wide. Her surprise seemed to amuse him and his amusement, in turn, made her angry. How could he just stride back into their lives after eighteen years? How dare he?
“If you are looking for your father, he’s already in the house. We just finished work for the day,” Katie said flatly, mildly proud of how quickly she recovered when her heart was still beating wildly in her chest.
Before her was a man she had not set eyes on since she was just past nine-years-old. Clay was the son of Marlon Horton, her stepfather.
Katie’s mother, Charlotte, had married Marlon out on the Oregon Trail when Katie was just three-years-old and Clay was twelve. They had both lost their spouse; Charlotte to the Trail and Marlon just months before. But what had begun as a marriage of convenience had eventually become so much more—by all accounts a loving, happy union. Katie, just a small child, had accepted Marlon and Clay into her heart the way only an infant can, but Clay had not been so easy to convince.
A sullen twelve-year-old boy grew into a sullen eighteen-year-old man in the blink of an eye, and that man had enlisted in the Army and left Oregon for good; or so it seemed.
“Well, I guess I’m looking for all of you. Dad, Charlotte, and you. Not-so-little Katie.” He grinned, although Katie was certain she could see the nerves beneath the bluster. Had he always been so full of confidence? She thought not. Perhaps, the Army did wonders for a man in that regard.
“I’m interrupting you. Should I just go on up to the house?” He peered over his shoulder with a tiny hint of uncertainty.
“No, wait,” Katie replied waspishly. “I want to give Mama and Marlon a little warning. Marlon works his heart out all day every day, I don’t want the shock flooring him.”
“He is ill?” Clay asked, his face full of concern.
“Not ill, just exhausted. We all are.” Katie felt anger was building bit by bit. “But then, you’d know that if you’d ever bothered to come home.”
“Katie, I was a soldier. You don’t just get to come home when you feel like it. The Civil War was still raging two years ago.”
“Yes, but not for eighteen years.” Katie had no intention of letting him off the hook.
“I know.” He bowed his head a little, his eyes averted.
Katie took another good look at him. He was, without a doubt, Clay Horton. The years had added some weight and muscle. He looked strong; a far cry from the wiry young man who had left all those years before. His hair was lighter than she remembered, and not just because of the liberal sprinkling of grey; it looked faded altogether. Maybe from so many years of marching everywhere and in all sorts of weather. Maybe it was a soldier’s lot.
“You were a soldier?” Katie said when his words finally caught up with her. “Does that mean you’re not a soldier anymore?”
“That’s right.”
“Why? What happened?” Her curiosity had replaced her anger, but only temporarily.
“I left.” He shrugged. “I didn’t get thrown out, if that’s what you’re thinking. I guess I’d just had enough after eighteen years is all.”
“And now you’re back,” she said, her hostility fully returned to her.
“That’s right.” He nodded. He held her gaze as if he was getting a little tired of the frosty reception.
“For how long?”
“I want to help my father out with the farm,” he said, and she smirked. “What?”
“I guess a straight answer would be too much like a commitment for a man who’s used to getting up and running out when he’s in the mood to, huh?”
“Or maybe I want to have a good long conversation with my father before I start answering your questions, Miss Snippy!” He retorted; amusement edged with anger of his own.
Katie smiled on the inside, the resistance to her hostility was a little impressive, she had to admit. And on a much better day, Clay Horton would have been impressive to her in other ways, too. He was thirty-six now, it was true, but the kind of thirty-six that would be attractive to her twenty-seven-year-old self. Although, now she could see something of the boy that he’d been all those years ago—his face had become a lot more handsome than she would have imagined. There was something easy in his expression now, something which certainly had not been there all those years ago, and it made him handsome in a kind of cocky way. Katie couldn’t work out if that was going to be something she liked, or something that annoyed her further still.
All in all, she knew there was just too much emotional luggage to decide there and then if she was going to get along with Marlon Horton’s son. She had all those years ago, despite the fact he had been moody and noncommunicative. But that was then; she’d been nothing more than a child.
“I’ll finish up with Horace and then I’ll take you down to the house,” she said, tossing her hair haughtily as she turned back to brushing her horse.
“Sure thing,” he mumbled, and she could hear his feet shuffling on the gravel behind her.
Katie couldn’t help but think he must be nervous, and the quickening of his pacing seemed to confirm it. And why wouldn’t he be nervous? He was about to walk into a household he hadn’t seen for half his life. He was going back to a father he’d only communicated with by letter for the better part of two decades.
For a moment, as she brushed down Horace’s silky chestnut back, Katie found herself feeling a little sorry for Clay. While she would never have said as much to him, she put herself in hi
Unfortunately for Katie, her imagination had always been a little too good and now she knew exactly how she would feel. Awful. Guilty. Worst of all, afraid to walk in the door and find nobody loved her anymore.
She took a deep breath; she wasn’t done being angry with Clay Horton, yet. She had hardly even begun. If she was going to start feeling sorry for him, she could do that another day.
Finally, Katie led a well-brushed Horace over to the paddock and turned him loose with the rest of the horses. She turned to look at Clay only to find that he had stopped pacing and was now watching her closely.
“Well, shall we?” she prompted with raised eyebrows.
Chapter Two
“Mama? Where’s Marlon?” Katie asked, opening the door to the kitchen just wide enough to pop her head through.
“Why?” Charlotte Horton replied as she squinted at her daughter quizzically. “And why are you hovering, honey? Can’t you just come right on in like you always do?”
“Mama, where’s Marlon?” she repeated, this time with an urgent edge to her sharp whisper.
“He’s in the sitting room. Why?” Her mother was beginning to look worried. “Katie, what’s happening? Why do you look like that?”
“Clay’s here.” Katie was so quiet she was almost just mouthing the words. “Clay,” she mouthed again when her mother shrugged.
“Clay?” Charlotte said loudly, making Katie wince. “He’s here?” Her voice was still rising as she wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron and walked around the wooden table to the door. “Clay’s here, now? He’s back?” Louder still.
The very thing Katie had hoped to avoid seemed to be unavoidable now. But maybe it would have always been that way, for how does one dress up a shock to make it less shocking? With her head still floating in the doorway, Katie watched as Marlon flew out into the kitchen, his eyes shining.
He looked shaken to his core. Although Marlon Horton was not her father, Katie could not have loved him more. And she wanted to protect him now as he had always protected her, ever since he had married her freshly widowed mother out on the Oregon Trail.
“He is here? Clay’s here?” he asked in a shaking voice.
“Katie, honey, open the door for goodness sake,” Charlotte said, finally gripping the door handle and wrenching it open, almost pulling Katie off her feet in the process.
“Can I just get past you, Katie?” Clay asked in a relieved voice; clearly, Katie’s failed attempt at a seamless entrance had taken a little of the pressure from himself.
Without a word, Katie stepped aside. Katie had done everything she could.
“Clay?” Marlon asked in a hoarse whisper.
“Dad,” Clay said and seemed equally choked.
The two men stood looking at each other for the longest time. It seemed that neither one of them could speak and Katie, despite her best efforts, felt a tightness in her throat and hoped she would not cry. For a moment, everything that had gone before did not matter. That Clay had joined the army as a young man and never looked back seemed not to form a part of things in the here and now. She had no doubt that they would, for everything had to be explained, surely. But in this moment, father and son were reunited and they were both so very obviously overwhelmed that Katie simply closed her eyes and hoped the uninvited hot little tears would not fall.
Chapter Three
By the time Charlotte and Katie were serving the meal that her mother had made, Marlon and Clay had regained control of their emotions. Mother and daughter had made themselves scarce for a few minutes there while father and son got caught up. Common sense ought to have told Katie that neither one of those proud men would want their emotions to be witnessed, but it was her mother gripping her firmly by the arm and propelling her back out onto the porch which had finally dragged her away.
It was also her mother who had forced her to sit on the porch swing and not peer in through the kitchen window to see what was happening. There they had remained for almost half an hour until Marlon had popped his head around the door to see where his wife and stepdaughter had disappeared to.
Mercifully, from that moment onward, the pair went on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. It was the way of things in Oregon. Katie was certain it was the way of things all over the world where men were concerned.
“This sure does look like a fine meal, Charlotte,” Clay said, smiling up at his stepmother as she spooned countless shining little potatoes onto his plate. “I hope the extra has not put you to any trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all, honey.” Charlotte smiled at him indulgently as she continued to ladle an extraordinary amount of potatoes onto his plate. “It’s a pleasure to feed you again.”
Katie bit her tongue because she knew that she wanted to make some comment, a comment that would not be welcome at the table at all. Marlon and her mother were overjoyed to see Clay, no questions, no explanations, just joy, and a poorly timed grievance from Katie would fall to the ground like a dead weight.
“I wish you’d told me in your last letter that you were coming home, son. We’d have been ready for you,” Marlon said as they all finally settled down to eating their meat, potatoes, and spring vegetables.
“I didn’t want to put you to any trouble. I didn’t know how long it would take me to get back home. I was coming all the way from Fort Bliss and there’s a hundred and one things can happen on the way. I guess I didn’t want to think of you worrying about it day after day if I didn’t show when you were expecting me to.”
“After eighteen years, maybe everybody is used to the worry,” Katie said, unable to bite her tongue any longer.
“Katie,” Her mother said gently in a thinly veiled warning.
“She has a point,” Clay said and put down his knife and fork. “And she has a right to say it.”
“You’re right about that,” Katie went on, feeling the anger bubbling up again.
“You sure have changed, Katie,” Clay said and chuckled. “As I recall, you used to like me.”
“I should think I have changed, Clay,” she began in a tone which was undeniably irritated. “The last time you set eyes on me I was only nine-years-old; of course, I have changed. I’m twenty-seven now and, as for liking you, I’m certain that it would have worn off in the end.”
“I have no doubt.” Clay smiled briefly before looking back down at his plate.
“It’s too easy for a kid to like, you see. Even though you were surly and rude, and you made no secret of the fact that you didn’t want a little kid like me in your life, still, I liked you. But by the time I reached nine, I was beginning to understand that nothing was ever going to change. You weren’t going to suddenly be anything other than irritated by my presence and angry that your daddy had married my mama. Maybe it’s a good thing you left when you did because I reckon I wouldn’t have liked you one little bit by the time I reached ten.”
“Katie, that’s enough,” Charlotte said, her tone gentle but exasperated. “Clay has only just got home, honey, there’s time enough for the two of you to fall out in grand style when my husband has had a little time to adjust to all of this.” Finally, Charlotte had said the very thing, the only thing, to stop Katie in her tracks.
“Marlon, I’m sorry,” Katie said, turning in her seat to look at her stepfather.
She set her knife and fork down on her plate and reached out across the wooden table to take his hands in hers. If Marlon Horton had ever had a daughter of his own, she could never have loved him as much as Katie Clements did.
