Chapter 10

The days were getting shorter, the nights colder as the end of September drew near.

Kat had finally decided on the man she wanted to talk to about her troubles. She wasn't interested in gaining Jeremy's inheritance. She thought that would be a good way to bring out the worst in Patrick. But she did want to find out just how safe she was from being mistreated like she'd been before.

She'd read all she could find in the newspapers about the laws in Wyoming, but her well of knowledge was still painfully low.

She had an appointment with him tomorrow. Tomorrow things would change.

Kat had a fresh baking of bread out of the oven. The sun had set. Dinner was ready.

And her husband was in his laboratory. Again. He didn't like being called in this early, but she wanted company.

In her heart, she'd been cradling the hope close that there might be a baby on the way. She'd welcome a new one to love. Today she'd found out there wasn't. That disappointment had helped her work up the nerve to contact Mr. Etherton.

"God, a baby would give me a purpose. Someone to tend. Someone to love." That prayer, uttered as she looked through her kitchen window, gave her pause.

She'd bought glass and hired Mr. Walther to install a window that looked out over her kitchen dry sink so she could see Seb's laboratory. The window had a shutter, which she'd kept closed lately because of the cold wind that seeped through the window's edges. But at mealtimes she opened the shutter wide and gazed out at the laboratory, praying for Seb to come out on his own.

Why didn't he ever remember mealtimes? Why didn't he ever get lonely for her, as she did for him?

Why did she need to have a baby to find love?

Not that she didn't love her husband. She did, and she figured he probably loved her. But she wasn't more important than his work. She thought of how he hadn't known she was a widow. She'd barely known he was an inventor. They'd confessed that they were in the habit of being secretive about themselves. And they'd intended to change that.

But they hadn't, not really. Yes, Seb was fascinated by his work, but had she talked to him? Had she shared more of herself, her thoughts and feelings, with him?

Was it even wise to bring a baby into the world where the child would be largely ignored by their father?

"God, what is the right thing to do? I'm tempted to pick up the rolling pin I bought in the general store and use it to beat my husband. That would get his attention."

No voice from God was necessary to tell her that wasn't the right way to handle things.

She'd learned not to go into the laboratory. He was so engrossed in his work that he startled easily, and she was afraid he might hurt himself with all his wires and chemicals, his glass beakers, and the raging hot crucible.

So she went to the door and knocked. She pounded long and hard because she'd found if she didn't keep at it, he wouldn't come. Later he'd say he meant to, but before he could respond, he'd had one more thing to experiment on or test or write down.

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock: if any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him and will sup with him, and he with me." The book of Revelation, third chapter. She'd been reading her Bible diligently and had found that Scripture. It suited her life.

The Bible was one of two books they owned. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen was good, but rereading the novel wasn't as deeply satisfying as rereading the Bible.

She'd had a meager garden because she'd had a late start, and she'd been told that newly turned sod wasn't good for crops the first year.

It all amounted to a lonely life.

Tonight, she wasn't going to wait until nine o'clock. It was past six. Past a reasonable suppertime. Seb had never quit early on his own, and tomorrow he wasn't going to invent. Tomorrow he was going with her to meet with her lawyer.

She knocked again on the laboratory door, this time even harder.

He called out, "Just a minute."

She didn't trust that and so pounded some more. He finally came to the door and swung it open. He looked disheveled, distracted, and mildly irritated—his usual demeanor.

Did he love her?

She had to say no. Or at least not very much. She was no competition for his notebooks and his crucible. "Supper is ready."

"I just need to finish—"

"No!" Her sharp voice made him jump.

Honestly, it made her jump a little as well. Her next words were just as cross. "Now. Supper is ready now." She felt like a mother calling her misbehaving child into the house.

His eyes narrowed as if the words in is head didn't bear speaking aloud. Then he nodded and stepped out into the October cold, following her back to the cabin.

Kat had put together a stew from fresh venison with potatoes and onions and carrots. She'd brought down a deer just yesterday, made a venison roast last night and then the stew for supper tonight. Her bread was still warm, and they each had a small glass of milk. She usually bought two quarts of it, and if she was careful, it would last all week.

"Did something happen?" Seb asked.

He was eating her stew. She saw his eyes wander to the clock she kept on the table near the chimney. It said six-thirty.

"It's a bit early for me to quit work. And you seem upset. Tell me what's bothering you."

The things that jumbled in her mind all seemed so wrong.

You work too hard. I'm lonely. You don't love me.

Am I destined to spend all of my life standing at your laboratory door and knocking to try to pull you out of there?

Was that even fair? Why must he be the center of her life?

It seemed right, but her father had worked hard, too. Her mother hadn't complained—it was simply how things were.

Struggling to make sense when she wasn't sure why she couldn't stand him making his work the first priority in his life, she said, "The days are shorter now, and colder. I want us to move suppertime to a more reasonable hour. From now on I'll knock on your door at six o'clock, and I'll expect you to come to the house after you hear my knocking."

Seb watched her as she went back to eating. His jaw tightened, and she saw temper in his eyes. They'd never had a fight before. They'd depended on each other when they left the isolation of the canyon. They'd been alone against the world in some ways until they'd gotten their cabin built.

In fact, they'd gotten along well until Seb's chemicals and equipment had arrived on the train. After that, he'd gone into his laboratory, and she'd stayed out. He experimented, and she did everything else.

A man worked. A woman kept their home. It was the way of the world and yet Kat was deeply dissatisfied and not at all sure she was in the right. Especially because their life apparently suited Seb right down to the ground.

She was left feeling foolish and wrong. Selfish. Trying to be a good wife. A mature woman with common sense, she swallowed her loneliness, determined to handle life as it was, not as she wished it to be. And she had to talk. She had to get past her habit of keeping everything inside. She could start doing that right now.

With her meal finished, she folded her hands in her lap and looked at Seb. "The truth is, I was lonely tonight. I wanted to spend time with you."

Seb watched her. He didn't say it, but she suspected her explanation hadn't fully satisfied him. Nodding, he said, "I'm glad you called me in. Let's spend the evening with Jane Austen, shall we?"

That made her smile. They'd each read the book on their own since leaving the canyon, but they'd never read it out loud.

"I'd like that."

"I'll help you clean up after this delicious meal. Then we'll read for a while, and maybe we can have an early night. I'll be able to get back to work all the earlier in the morning."

"I've got the appointment with that lawyer tomorrow morning. You said you wanted to know about it and that you'd come along."

Seb's gaze sharpened as he looked at her. She suspected he was reading her fear. "I'll come then. I'm glad you're proceeding with this. I want to make sure that lawyer knows you're not alone in the world."

"Thank you. I'll be glad to have the company. Now, tell me how your work is progressing."

He talked of things that made very little sense to her. She knew about medicine as a science, but chemistry was something she had no understanding of.

Seb continued, "I wrote back to Marcus. I've gotten two letters from him now. He's always had a fine mind. He and I weren't exactly partners because we were both working on our own projects, but we worked side by side at college. I'd kept in touch with him until last spring when I was shot. He's always had a knack for helping me think in broader terms. I believe I was able to help him, too. I mentioned I knew Jeremy, remember?"

"Yes. You said you knew him well enough to say hello."

"Well, what little connection I had with him was through Marcus. They were both from wealthy families. The Wadsworths and the Colemans. They lived near each other in big old mansions, Jeremy with his grandparents and Mark with his parents. Beyond our love of chemistry, I had nothing in common with Mark. I have to get my patents registered to support myself. I had a good amount of money saved, but most of the successful patents have expired. Mark didn't have that pressure. He and Jeremy shared family wealth and traditions. That was their bond."

"Tell me more about your college years."

It was a nice evening full of talk, then reading. Their usual closeness at bedtime was wonderful and passionate. Yet somehow, as he fell asleep beside her, the loveliness of the night only made her more fully aware that things weren't good. Or perhaps it was more correct to say that things could be so much better between them.

Turning on her side, she listened to his deep breathing.

Something needed to happen to make their lives better for both of them. Yes, he was content. It sounded like this business of devoting his every waking hour to his experiments went back to college, maybe even earlier, but he needed to balance things out. And it wasn't just for her that things needed to change.

She remembered that flash of irritation in his eyes and thinking that they'd never had a fight before. Was she willing to make their marriage one of strife to make it better? And would it even work? How could things be better if they were at odds with each other? She feared changing him wouldn't be easy or pleasant.

She curled away from him and didn't bother fighting the tears.

Kat had read a poem once about a long, dark night of the soul. She didn't understand it fully, but the message she got after lying awake for hours and weeping as quietly as she could so she wouldn't wake Seb was that it was her job to make herself fulfilled.

She awoke the next morning to the aroma of frying bacon. Startled, because never had such a thing happened before, she tossed aside the blankets, dressed quickly, and rushed out to find Seb in the kitchen. He was busy cooking breakfast.

He smiled when she came in and poured her a cup of coffee. "Good morning, madam. We are going to town this morning, I believe?"

She thought of her night of sadness, her quiet determination to find a fulfilled life, and said, "Yes, we are. You are up early, but you didn't go to work?"

"No. I'm devoting the morning to you. We'll go see your lawyer and then we'll talk about what needs to be done. I can work this afternoon."

Kat enjoyed her breakfast through a glow of contentment.

"Mrs. Jones, welcome. I'm Curtis Etherton." He extended his hand to shake hers in a way Kat really liked. Many men talked around a woman when there was a man involved. But she had made the appointment with him, and she'd told him about the problem that concerned her.

He remembered.

"This is my husband, Sebastian Jones."

Mr. Etherton now offered his hand to Seb. "Please, sit down. Tell me more about what brings you here to see me."

Kat thought of how she'd dreaded Seb writing to his lawyers. How she'd felt a frisson of fear when he'd said he was writing to his old college friend Marcus. Now here she was telling her story to a complete stranger, including details that no one knew but Seb.

"First of all," Seb began, speaking before she could, "we need to be sure that what gets said in this meeting is kept in confidence."

Mr. Etherton's eyes sharpened, but then he nodded. "You have my word. Anything spoken between me and a client is what we call ‘privileged.' Nothing said here goes beyond this office without your consent."

Kat turned to meet Seb's gaze. She swallowed hard.

He said, "It's your decision, Kat. You don't need to do this if you're afraid."

Drawing in a deep breath, she turned to face Mr. Etherton. "I-I, well, um ... I'm an escapee from an insane asylum."

Mr. Etherton's expression didn't change ... or not much anyway. He did rub his hand over his mouth, almost as if he were holding in whatever words wanted to come out. "Go on," he finally said.

Kat told him all of it. Once in a while Seb would interject with some detail he remembered. His voice added to hers helped to keep her braced and moving forward, especially when she admitted she was a Wadsworth. Mr. Etherton began listening even more carefully, if that was even possible.

She was careful not to mention Ginny. This was Kat's story, and if Ginny wanted hers told, Ginny would tell it.

When she was finished, Mr. Etherton began asking questions. She realized he was drawing out details she'd never thought to mention, including being curious about the circumstances of Jeremy's death.

When he'd lapsed into silence, Kat added, "You can see why I fear what my uncle might do. My understanding is that a husband protects me. My uncle can no longer stomp in and grab me and have me committed to the asylum on just his word that I'm insane. But he's a powerful man. I'm not one bit sure he thinks the laws apply to him."

Mr. Etherton said, "Let me look into the exact laws as they apply to this situation. I believe you to be an utterly sane young woman. Spending this last hour with you satisfies me that you were locked away without any justification, although you probably made your uncle feel threatened with your accusations concerning your husband's death—especially if he had a hand in it."

"I didn't accuse him of killing Jeremy," Kat said. "I only demanded he look into it." She paused. "I may have demanded with some rather wild insistence. But he might have taken it that way and had me locked up to protect himself."

"He'll make the case that you were hysterical, and that grief had driven you mad. I can have you tested by a doctor, and he and I can draft documents saying you've been proven to be sane. What I'd like to know, though, is if you want me to pursue your inheritance."

Kat gasped and shook her head. "If we do that, it will bring Uncle Patrick down on me like an avalanche, sweeping everyone aside who gets in his way."

"I'm sure he's a wealthy and powerful man, Mrs. Jones, but he won't sweep me aside, or your husband, not from just this one meeting. This is Wyoming. You have rights here, and I'll stand between you and any avalanche your uncle cares to set in motion."

Kat looked at Seb. "Will you mind if I don't pursue the money? I trust you, and you, Mr. Etherton." She turned to her lawyer. "But Seb supports us both very well. We have no need of the inheritance money. And I'd just as soon not draw the wrath of Uncle Patrick if I can help it."

Mr. Etherton nodded. "You can always change your mind later. Let me work on this. I'll find what is most effective in protecting you from your uncle, then I'll get back to you."

Kat stood as if there were a spring under her backside. Eager to be done with this.

Mr. Etherton stretched his hand out to shake hers. She lifted her hand and saw it was trembling.

"You're frightened, Mrs. Jones."

"I think it's my talking about something I'd kept hidden. I feel like the snow has begun rolling down the mountainside, and there's nothing to stop the avalanche I might have begun today."

Mr. Etherton clasped her hand in both of his. "Leave it to me. I'll tread carefully, and no harm will come to you."

Kat Jones, creeping along in the rugged land to the west of her home, searched for the elk herd she'd come to think of as hers and planned her whole life with considerably more optimism than she'd had when she went to bed last night.

She'd taken the first steps toward facing the troubles she'd been hiding from for too long. And now she set that aside to study what just might be a faint trail left by a small herd of elk that would keep them in fresh meat all winter.

Where did they sleep? How far and wide did they travel? Kat did her best to sharpen her hunting and tracking skills and felt better about spotting a grouse hiding in a clump of grass. The land around her was turning brown as the winter weather approached, though things were still lovely. Autumn in Wyoming, at least near Cheyenne, was a big improvement over the Sawtooth Mountains in Idaho.

Of course, she'd yet to see what January held in store, but it'd be hard for the snow to clog up this wide-open space. Though she suspected Wyoming blizzards could be fierce, facing them would be part of the life she and Seb had chosen. The life she was determined to make into a happy one.

And as she rose up to peer over the scrub brush in front of her, she saw an elk. It wasn't just one either. It was the herd, not just their tracks. Twice she'd seen a single elk from a distance. But when she'd tried to approach it, the critter had taken flight long before she was within shooting distance.

It didn't matter, as it was too early to hunt elk. But when the time came, she wanted to know their ways. She'd been closing in on them for weeks now. And today, finally, the herd was in her sights.

Delighted that they hadn't noticed her, she hunkered low and moved closer to the dozen or more elk. She studied them from behind a pine tree. They were grazing on grass, brown and dried into hay on the stem.

She wasn't ready to take an elk. It was October, and the temperature wasn't below freezing yet. But she made note of where she stood, saw grass lying on its side in multiple little bowls. Their beds. Kat, the not-so-great tracker, suspected the elk slept right here in this meadow with a stand of pines breaking the wind from the north.

She remembered how Oscar and Jake had slipped silently through the woods and knew there was so much more for her to learn, but she was getting better. She pulled her Springfield rifle off her shoulder, lowered the muzzle, and looked down the length of the gun. Judged the distance, looked around for a better spot to shoot from, then decided this was the best place. She shouldered the rifle again.

Satisfied, she eased away as silently as she could. Once she'd put a hundred feet or so between her and the elk herd, she straightened to walk home more quickly. It was time to get out of the cold.

A hand clamped over her mouth, and an arm came around her waist, pinning both her arms. "Don't make a sound."

The man yanked the Springfield rifle off her shoulder and tossed it to the right into some bushes. Then the hard metal of a pistol pressed against her temple. Kat froze, afraid one wrong move and the gun would fire.

"Now, Mrs. Jones, take me to your husband."

She didn't move. The man laughed quietly, and she felt his hot breath ruffle the hair that had slipped from her wool bonnet.

"You think I need your cooperation?"

She should have fought. It had taken her too long to think of it. She'd always been weak. Always been such a good little daughter, good little wife, good little second wife. She'd watched her ma work herself to death, then just stepped in and took over. She'd watched her first husband be cheated and mistreated by his father and his uncle and had seen her job as that of comforter.

She was always such a quiet and polite captive when at the asylum. Always a patient and understanding wife ... and now she was an easy-to-capture victim.

The man let go of her mouth and shoved her forward. "I know where you live. I've been watching you for days. I've been stalking you just as you stalked those elk. Waiting for my chance. Today when your fool of a husband shut himself into that shed and left you on your own, and then you headed off into the wilderness, I knew it was time."

Before she could scream a warning to Seb, the man shoved a kerchief into her mouth to silence her. He wrapped an arm brutally hard around her waist again, clamping her arms to her sides while continuing to shove her forward, straight toward the cabin. It was a long distance, so she fought her terror and tried to think what to do.

How could she warn Seb? Was this man here to rob them? Maybe he would tie them up, steal their horses, and go. Did he know about the money Beth had given them? It was hidden in the cabin behind a stone they'd added at the base of the fireplace. She was prepared to give it to him in the hopes he'd take it and leave.

As they approached the cabin, her heart pounding, her throat struggling not to choke on the gag, she remembered the pistol she had with her. She'd sewn a pocket into her dress in which to carry it. It was low enough that he hadn't noticed it when he'd grabbed her. The pocket was near where her right hand now dangled.

Her pounding heart resumed a steadier beat as a plan formed in her mind. She was disgusted with herself for not thinking of it until now. She needed to be thinking in a crisis. But late or not, she was thinking now.

As they moved, the gun pulled away from her temple, and she calmed down a bit more, all while knowing whatever was going to happen would happen soon. The laboratory came into sight.

There was a window on this side. Maybe Seb would look up, notice her, but she'd watched him work a few times. She knew he closed out the rest of the world when he worked, the big idiot.

He had the matched pair to her Colt Peacemaker in the laboratory. She knew because she'd put it there, forcing him to look at the spot where she'd set it.

If only he'd notice her and take that gun in hand. Come out prepared to fight.

Please, God, let him sense something is wrong.

If this man was here for her, why would he force her to go to Seb? Maybe simply to silence them both when he stole their money to give himself more time to run?

If he was here for Seb, why follow her into the wilderness, grab her, then force her back to the cabin?

Please, God, warn Seb. Protect us. Tell me what to do. Give me an idea.

Of course, she'd already thought of the pistol. Could she draw the weapon and aim it backward in time? The man would be distracted for just a second or two when he opened the laboratory door. She braced herself to draw her pistol, aim it, and fire.

She tried to see it happen in her head. She'd lift the gun, flip it backward. He was looking over her right shoulder. She could feel his hot breath. Aim right there at his face. Pull the trigger.

No, her hand wouldn't raise enough but would point back at hip level. The bullet would hit him in the leg. Still, it would be enough to knock him away from her.

Shoot through the fabric of her dress maybe? Just grab it, don't try to draw, and fire. If she pointed it down and back, she'd injure him enough to make him let go, enough to—

"You be mighty quiet, Mrs. Jones." The man's voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm going to aim right at your husband. Any fight out of you and I'll kill him dead."

His arm tightened around her waist until she could barely breathe. They moved toward the laboratory.

Please, God, protect us.

All she could think of was the gun. Would God do that? Would He guide her thoughts toward shooting someone? Because there would be no doubt she'd have to shoot this man. There would be no time to draw the gun, step clear, aim it at him, and demand that he drop his weapon.

She remembered the time in the asylum when Yvette had attacked an attendant who'd touched her. With Yvette clinging to her back, the attendant had jabbed an elbow backward and knocked Yvette away. Yvette had collapsed, arms around her belly. She'd had to fight for air, even while she was being dragged away.

Now that was a memory that had come to her, she had to believe, through her prayers. This man was solid, strong. But if she grabbed the gun and jammed it backward into his gut...

As her arm pressed hard against her side, she felt the weight of the gun, felt for the slit of the pocket.

Her assailant pushed her toward the door. Into her ear he hissed, "Open it."

With her hand shaking, she reached for the door with her left hand. Gripped the knob. As the door swung open, she thrust her hand deep into her pocket, pulled the gun, and slammed it backward butt first as hard as she could. The gun fired. The bullet hit the doorframe and ricocheted. She felt the impact and fell, then jerked the kerchief out of her mouth and screamed.

The man roared and collapsed backward. His own gun went flying. Kat dashed for his gun, nearly stumbling over the writhing man.

She got his gun and turned, ready to fight just as Seb came running outside.

"Kat, what—?"

He fell silent when he saw her holding two guns, both aimed at the man on the ground. They watched as he bled from his stomach. Horrified, Kat threw the guns to the ground behind her and rushed to the man's side. She dropped to her knees and pressed both hands over the wound, blood quickly coating them.

The man stopped thrashing around and looked hard into her eyes. He lifted one hand, and Seb came to his other side and caught hold of it to prevent him from striking out.

The man looked at Seb, then back at Kat. "This doesn't end with me," he managed to say. Then his hand went slack in Seb's grasp. His whole body shuddered and became still.

The intruder's eyes stared straight up without seeing the sky.

He was dead, and she'd killed him. Her stomach twisted as she jerked her hands away, turned aside, and crawled forward around the corner of the laboratory where she vomited into the bushes.

"Thou shalt not kill."

One of the commandments. Four words. It couldn't be more stark. By killing a man, she'd shut herself away from God.

Rising to her knees, she clutched the side of the building and turned so she could see the dead man. She saw blood smeared on the laboratory wall, then stared at the already drying blood on her hands. For a long moment the horror of what she'd done locked her in place.

Then the lock broke. With a cry of fear and grief and shame, she staggered to her feet and ran around the man she'd killed, weeping, and threw herself into Seb's arms.

Beth grabbed Jake's arm.

His head came up. He looked at her, then followed her line of vision. He said, "It's Yvette."

"She stabbed my father. Maybe to death." Beth felt her heart speed up as she watched Yvette slipping along through the woods. Far enough away, Beth wasn't absolutely sure it was her. But it had to be. She wore the same dress, though it was tattered and faded now. Had the same white-blond hair, now a snarled mess.

Beth shook her head. "Looks like she's been wearing that dress since we saw her last September. What is she doing here? John McCall was going to find her and take her away."

Jake tugged at Beth's arm. "Let's ease back. I'd say she's been here a long time. How did she survive the winter? Whether she was here or outside the canyon, lost in the wilderness, it's impossible. A woman alone? No food, no rifle, no shelter, no blankets?"

"It's not impossible because there she is."

Nodding silently, they slipped back behind a line of head-high shrubs. "We need to stay away from her."

"We need to help her."

They both fell silent as they watched her.

Beth thought Yvette swayed, even danced to a music only she could hear. Then Yvette disappeared into the trees.

Jake and Beth exchanged looks.

"Does she still have the knife she used to stab Father?" Beth glanced back at the spot where Yvette had faded into the woods.

"We need to talk to Oscar and Ginny." Jake tugged on Beth's arm again.

Beth decided, since she had no idea what to do, she might as well follow his lead.