Chapter 11 #2
“Oh goodness.” She hurriedly dipped the corner of her apron in the nearby water bucket and rubbed it vigorously across her brow.
She glanced surreptitiously at her mother’s back, muttering to herself: “‘Go wash up, Katherine. Make yourself presentable, Katherine.’” She sat down next to him in a huff, face close, eyes imploring. “Did I get it? Is it gone?”
Jacob stared. The setting sun poured its golden rays into her eyes until they were nearly on fire with slashes of chestnut and amber and copper.
Soft, dark lashes. Straight nose. Skin shimmering, full of rosy life.
There were laugh lines around her eyes where the sun hadn’t had a chance to make its mark.
His mouth tilted up. She must always be smiling.
“Is it gone?” she repeated in an urgent whisper.
Jacob blinked and cleared his throat. “Ah, yeah, almost. Here, let me,” he said and took the corner of her apron, gently smoothing out the last smudge on her temple. “There. Right as rain.”
“Thanks,” she murmured, and turned away, once again drawing the cloak of reserve around her shoulders.
“Any time,” he said, smiling into his coffee.
“Don’t you look comfortable.”
Jacob started, cursing as hot coffee sloshed all over his hand. His mood darkened. Of course. Andrew stood looming behind him, arms crossed, a dark glower on his face.
“Mind if I have a word, Munroe?” he asked tersely.
“You can have as many words as you like, Thompson,” Jacob said, taking out a handkerchief to clean off his hand.
“Preferably without a lady present.”
Jacob looked up at him from the corner of his eye. “And what kind of words might you be sayin’ that aren’t fit for this fine lady’s company?”
Andrew’s face darkened further. “Business.”
“I can leave,” Kate said quietly as she started to rise.
“No need, Miss McGrath,” Jacob said, putting a hand on her shoulder and guiding her back to her seat. He hid a sardonic grin when he saw a muscle jerk in Andrew’s jaw at the gesture. “We’ll spare you our … business.”
Andrew just turned on his heel and stalked off.
Jacob set down his cup and stood, carefully folding his soiled handkerchief and tucking it in his vest pocket. He tipped his hat to Kate. “If you’ll excuse me, Miss McGrath.”
“Of course,” she replied quietly. “It seems … important.”
He rolled his eyes. “Everythin’ with Andrew seems important.”
Her lips pursed to hide a smile. “Quite true.”
Jacob followed Andrew out into the prairie.
He didn’t like being summoned like a dog by this Southerner, interrupting what had been a nice moment.
Where was the respect? He was lead scout, after all.
Who did this upstart think he was, coming on this train with no experience, waltzing around with all the arrogance a man could fit in his body.
The only reason Jacob was out here was to spare Kate what was looking to be a tense conversation.
He had no desire to cool down his simmering anger.
Maybe he’d teach Andrew a thing or two about who’s boss.
Andrew finally stopped and Jacob sauntered up beside him, taking his good old time. “You know, I was quite comfortable back there,” Jacob said, stretching, faking a yawn.
“Oh, I bet you were.”
“What’s that supposed to mean, Thompson?”
Andrew turned on him fiercely. “I saw you with her. Starin’ at her. Touchin’ her.”
“Oh, you mean Kate?” Jacob shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
“What was I supposed to do, turn down an offer to get close to a pretty girl?” Jacob felt a twinge of guilt talking about Kate that way.
But oh, how he wanted to get under Andrew’s skin.
And boy, was it working. A vein stood out on his temple, and his face had turned completely red.
Andrew clenched his fists at his sides and looked away, back at the McGraths.
Jacob glanced over his shoulder. Kate watched them curiously.
He smiled and waved, and she gave a small wave in return.
Jacob glanced at Andrew, enjoying the visible effort it took for him to rein in his anger.
That’s right, Andrew, she’s watching you. What are you gonna do now?
“You don’t belong here, Jacob,” Andrew spat out viciously, “so why don’t you pack up and leave her alone.” He took a menacing step forward, his fist half-cocked by his side.
“Now Andrew, let’s not be gettin’ all nasty,” Jacob said smoothly. “I was invited to dine with this lovely family, and I’ll not be sullyin’ an invitation from a fine lady by engagin’ in fisticuffs by her fire. What would Mrs. McGrath think of you startin’ a brawl for no good reason?”
“No good reason?” Andrew’s dark eyes glittered. “How ’bout I say that you were makin’ improper advances on her daughter? Who do you think she’d believe? Someone she’s known for years, or a vagrant nobody like yourself?”
“And would Kate back you up on that? She seems like an honest person. We were sittin’ right out in the open, in front of her whole family. Did anythin’ really happen? Or are you just so jealous that someone else is takin’ a shine to your little filly that you can’t even think straight?”
Andrew stood there, rigid, breathing hard, hatred pouring out of his eyes.
Jacob had a twinge of unease. Had he taken it too far?
Would that push Andrew over the edge, despite his obvious desire to ingratiate himself into their family?
Jacob stood his ground, slowing his breathing, priming his muscles to react, staring Andrew down.
Don’t even think about it, Thompson. You ain’t got this fight.
Andrew whirled and stalked back to the fire.
Jacob let out a breath. It’d been a while since he’d been in an actual fight, even though most of his childhood had been spent living on the edge of one.
The tension of the moment faded, and Jacob followed slowly, feeling chagrined.
Had he really used Kate like that, talking about her like she was some piece of meat to be devoured, some bauble to possess and enjoy?
He winced. He didn’t really think that way, not about her.
Other girls seemed content to be a showpiece put on display, but not Kate.
She was different. He’d just wanted to get to Andrew, mix him up a little, show him he wasn’t the one running the show around here.
But Jacob couldn’t help feeling dirty. Like he’d rolled in the mud. No. Like he’d plucked a wild prairie rose from the hillside and rolled that in the mud. He shook his head. Never again. Not with Kate. What would she think of him? He vowed that she would never have reason to wonder.