Chapter Six

"What were you and Uncle Heyes talking about this morning?" Catherine asked her father again. They were sitting side by side in the wagon, heading for town.

"Uncle Heyes?" Kid asked, with a look of surprise.

"Uh, huh. He said I should call him that. What were you talking about," she pressed.

"Hm? Oh, just ranch business," Kid replied nonchalantly.

"Is something wrong?" Catherine pressed.

"No, nothing we can't handle. Hey, speaking of handling, how did Little Beauty do?"

"Oh, she's great. Uncle Heyes said I could name her something else though so now her name's Belle. I think we're going to get along just fine." Catherine smiled happily at the memory of her morning ride.

"Belle, eh? Nice."

"Uncle Heyes showed me all around. We rode up to the ridge and looked down; you can see everything from up there. It's so beautiful here. I wish I could stay forever."

Kid's heart leapt at the words, but he kept his face composed.

"How is your mother?" he asked casually, thinking this would be as good a time as any to bring up the subject. Catherine hadn't mentioned her mother or stepfather since she'd arrived at the ranch and he was beginning to wonder if everything was all right back in New Mexico. He noticed Catherine tense when she heard the question.

"They're fine," she answered glibly, her words arguing against her demeanor. "They're more than fine. They're having a baby." She had turned to look at her father, waiting for his reaction. If she'd been hoping to surprise him, he didn't disappoint.

"Wha…what?" Kid sputtered dumbly. "But I didn't think she could—" He stopped abruptly, not knowing what Catherine knew about her birth.

The girl smiled ruefully. "I know, the doctor told her she couldn't have any more children after she gave birth to me. I didn't know until later though, that my—that Jake blamed me for that."

Eliza's first husband, the man Catherine had believed to be her father, had wanted children, and had become angry and bitter when he was told that Catherine's difficult birth had left Eliza unable to bear more children. His resentment and hate for Kid, Catherine's birth father and, in his mind, the source of his misfortune, came to a head that day, back in Colorado, when Jake tried to kill Kid. Heyes had arrived on the scene, and Jake Walker was the one who had ended up dead. It was after Jakes death that Eliza had taken Catherine and moved to New Mexico, eventually marrying Joseph Wainwright.

"I guess the doctor was wrong," Catherine added with a touch of irony in her voice. "I can't believe she's doing this. She's too old to have a baby, she's thirty-four, for gosh sakes!"

"You know, Catherine, you should be happy for them," he began slowly, being careful not to let his own disappointment show in his voice. He knew he should be happy for Eliza as well, but somewhere in the back of his mind he supposed he'd still held out hope that there might be a place for him in her future, even though he knew how happy she was in her new marriage.

"But she wants me to start helping more with the dressmaking," the girl was saying mournfully. "I don't want to spend all of my time sewing dresses. She has Susana to help, and Carmen is helping now too. She doesn't need me."

"Maybe she just wants you to learn a trade, to follow in her footsteps?" Curry suggested.

"But I don't want to. I don't want to be a dressmaker. I want to be a rancher and raise horses like you and Uncle Heyes." She said the words with such firm conviction that her father could only smile.

"Well, you certainly sound like a young lady that knows what she wants."

"I do. I just wish everybody would stop telling me what to do."

"Well, Catherine, you are only sixteen and –"

"Exactly! Sixteen! That's plenty old enough to be making my own decisions."

Curry watched the girl with a mixture of admiration and dismay. A tiny part of him wished he could help her realize her desire of staying here and working with him on the ranch. But mainly, for right now, he just hoped that he would be able to keep her out of trouble during her summer visit.

Kid slowed the wagon as they came into town, taking time to point out a few of the main spots in town; the mercantile, the feed store, the telegraph office, the school house. He passed by the saloon without mention.

"Let's stop at the mercantile first," Kid suggested, bringing the horses to a stop in front of the store. "That way, you can get your business finished up first. A real nice couple runs the place. You'll like them. Their daughter works here too. If Mrs. Jeffries isn't around, I'm sure Emma will be able to help you out."

Kid jumped down from the wagon, causing a bolt of lightning-bright pain to shoot up into his thigh. Setting his jaw, he held his hand up to help Catherine down. His leg wasn't going to keep him from being a gentleman, and he'd be damned if he'd let her see the pain it caused him.

A silvery tinkle from the tiny gold bell over the door signaled their entrance into the mercantile. A pretty brunette in her mid-twenties looked up from her work over a green financial ledger as they approached, her friendly smile welcoming them.

"Mr. Curry, it's nice to see you again, and this must be your lovely daughter." The young woman was warm and friendly, yet professional. Catherine liked her immediately.

"Yes," Kid smiled proudly at his daughter. "This is Catherine. Catherine, this is Emma Jeffries."

"Hello, Catherine. It's wonderful to have you in our town…and I know how excited your father is for your visit. Now, what can I do for you two?" Emma asked pleasantly.

"Well, Catherine is looking for—"

"Thank you, Pa. But I have a list." Catherine handed Miss Jeffries a slightly crumpled piece of paper that she had pulled from her handbag.

"Please, call me Emma. Now let's see what you have here," she said, taking the list and beginning to read. The two young women bent over the list together and began discussing the various items.

Kid watched them for a few minutes, unable to get close enough to see what was written on the paper. Finally, he sensed that he was going to be of little use here and asked, "Uh, Catherine, did you want me to help you with any of that?"

"Hm? No, I think we'll be fine. Thank you, Pa," she said, dismissively.

"Okay." He stood there, uncertainly, for a few seconds more. "Well then, I suppose I could go on over to the Hay and Feed and load up the wagon."

"That's a good idea, Mr. Curry. It should take about an hour to get through everything here. I have more catalogs in the back if she doesn't see what she's looking for here on the shelves." As an after-thought, Emma added, "I have some beef stew simmering on the stove. Why don't you go get your wagon loaded and then come back for some dinner before driving back out to your ranch?"

"That sounds fine ma'am, thank you, I'll do that."

Kid walked out of the mercantile, his hopes of spending the afternoon with Catherine evaporating like the late-day clouds. He was disappointed in how the day was turning out, first, having to work with Clay while Heyes showed Catherine around the ranch and now being dismissed so the girls could do their 'ladies work'. He'd hardly had a chance to visit with Catherine since she arrived. He tried to content himself with the knowledge that at least Catherine seemed to be enjoying herself, but the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach seemed to weigh him down even more than his damaged leg as he slowly pulled himself into the driver's seat of the wagon.

In front of the feed store, a strongly-built young man was loading a wagon with sacks of grain, tossing them into the bed of the wagon as effortlessly as if they were filled with feathers, instead of grain. Kid found himself absently envying his youth and his healthy body.

"Afternoon," called a voice from just inside the doorway. A balding middle-aged man with a thick Scandinavian accent poked his head out of the door and waved cheerily. "Yust pull on up over dere and I'll be right wit' you."

Kid waved back. "How you doing, Mr. Oldsen? A load of my usual order, when you can get to it,"

"Sure ting, Mr. Curry. I'll have Yeremiah load that up for you as soon as he finishes with Mr. Prescott's order. It'll be about an hour. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I've got time," Kid nodded and climbed down off of the wagon. A year ago he'd have loaded the wagon himself, but since a bullet had shattered the bone in his right leg, even simple tasks like this one had become difficult. His back was plenty strong, but his leg couldn't hold the weight when he tried to carry the heavy sacks. In fact, despite his insistence to the contrary, without the assistance of his cane, his leg could barely hold his own weight. The doc had said he was lucky to be walking, and that the bone would continue to become stronger over time. Kid was not, however, a patient man when it came to his own limitations.

"Hey. Are you Kid Curry?" A voice from behind startled him and he turned to see Mr. Oldsen's hired man standing there, waiting expectantly for Kid to say something.

Kid nodded slowly and studied the other man for a moment. He looked about nineteen or twenty, with jet black hair combed straight back and falling over his shirt collar. They were just about the same height, standing eye to eye with each other. The younger man's eyes were a piercing blue, not unlike Kid's own, and he suspected they could hold the same intense glare if the man had a mind to. The question had not been threatening, but there was an edge to his voice that bothered Kid. 'Probably just youthful arrogance,' he thought.

"Man, I sure heard stories about you when I was a kid. Never thought I'd meet you face to face," he said as he picked up another bag of grain, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder and moving it onto the waiting wagon. "Think maybe I could hear about some of your adventures sometime?" The young man grinned.

Kid had the feeling the boy was mocking him a little but his face remained passive as he answered, "Heyes is the storyteller, not me. I'll be back in about an hour." He turned and headed toward the saloon. He closed his eyes and wondered for the thousandth time, when anyone in this town—or anywhere else—was going to give him a break. Well, he knew one place where he was always welcome.

Jed Curry entered the saloon with two things on his mind. The first was whiskey. The second was currently sitting at a bar table, sandwiched between two clinging cowboys who'd be hard-pressed to be pressed any closer to her; both with their hands roaming over places that a decent woman wouldn't tolerate, at least not in public. Genevieve saw Kid as soon as he walked in to the saloon. Their eyes locked, the hunger in his barely concealed as he stared, first at her and then at the two saddle-bums she was with, finally returning back to her. Genevieve smiled wickedly, knowing without a doubt what Kid was thinking.

Kid dragged his eyes off her, and limped heavily to the bar. He dug four bits out of his shirt pocket, putting it on the counter. The bar tender brought the bottle; he knew what Kid Curry drank and didn't have to wait to be told. He poured a couple fingers of the amber liquid into a glass and set it in front of Kid, who wasted no time. He grabbed it, brought it to his lips, and drained the glass, barely tasting it but definitely feeling the burn as it traveled down into his stomach. "Hit me again," he said to the man behind the bar, without looking up from the glass.

"Hi, Cowboy," a voice purred from off his left shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head to look, his lips pursed in feigned indifference that didn't fool her for a second. Genevieve was standing there, her hands behind her back, staring at him coquettishly, a look that she had trouble pulling off, given her profession and her reputation. Kid glanced over her shoulder at the two young cowpokes she'd been sitting with. Neither man looked pleased and Kid couldn't care less.

He grinned, his eyes smoldering darkly, letting the men know who was first on Genevieve's mind. He slung his left arm over her shoulder and roughly pulled her close. She responded by wrapping her arms loosely around his waist and rubbing herself against his hip. His hand dropped to her breast and he grabbed her, letting her know who was first on his mind. She purred softly, breathing warm breath on his ear. He could feel her respond to his touch through the silky fabric of her low-cut dress.

The two of them were wrapped up in each other, figuratively and literally. Therefore, neither noticed the two neglected saddle-tramps come up behind them. Kid's arm was suddenly wrenched away from his prize as the younger of the two men grabbed him and spun him away from the bar. They stood nose to nose with each other. The other man, a little older than the first, stood behind his buddy, looking nervously excited.

"Hey, old man. The lady was with us," the cowboy challenged, his bravado drawing the attention of half the people in the bar. Before a few seconds had passed, the other half of the people in the bar had noticed the change in decibels in the room and had fallen silent as well.

"Is that right?" Kid said. He gently shoved Genevieve away, removing her from the confrontation. She stood a few steps behind him, the smile never leaving her ruby painted lips. Her eyes shone with ill-concealed excitement. "I don't recall forcing her to come over her. Maybe she wasn't with you as much as you thought she was."

"I say she was," the young cowboy said, his hand twitching over his holstered gun.

A voice called out from somewhere in the crowd. "Hey, Sy. You got any idea who you're messing with?"

Sy's eyes jerked nervously. "I guess I do. Some old man," he repeated, not quite as sure of himself as he had been a few seconds before.

"Claude," this time, the voice addressed itself to the older of the two cowboys. "You might want to tell Sy that the 'old man' he's about to get into a gun fight with is Kid Curry."

Sy's eyes widened, his bravado all but gone. Without thinking, he stepped backwards, away from Kid, thereby signaling the end of the confrontation. At the first mention of 'Kid Curry', Claude had left the building. Sy didn't waste any time joining his friend out in the street.

The excitement over, the noise in the bar slowly returned to its former level. No one seemed to notice the disappointed look on Genevieve's face at the prematurely circumvented confrontation; and no one noticed the tension that remained in Kid's demeanor. His anger and frustration had not left the building when Sy and Claude did; and he didn't know what was more upsetting to him, the altercation he had found himself in through no fault of his own or the fact that even though he and Heyes had their amnesty, his reputation was still here and probably would never be forgotten.

He came into the bar thinking he wanted only two things, but now it turned out he wanted more. He wanted people to forget about his past, he wanted to be accepted for who he was, and he wanted someone to care about him. Frustration and sadness welled up inside him. For now he would settle for simply forgetting, if only for a little while. Without saying a word, he grabbed Genevieve by the arm; more roughly than she deserved but not more roughly than she enjoyed; and pulled her after him up the stairs.

---

Not one, but nearly two hours had gone by when Kid finally returned to the mercantile for Catherine. Guilt gnawed at him while he walked back from the saloon to collect his wagon, finding that it had been stacked and loaded by Jeremiah while Kid laid with Genevieve. When he got back to the store and saw Catherine's face, clouded with worry, the guilt stopped gnawing and bit down hard on his conscience.

"Where were you, Pa?" Catherine asked when she saw her father enter the store. Frustration was evident in her voice. "Emma and I ate without you and when you still didn't return, I walked over to the feed store to find you but you weren't there. And since I don't know anyone else in town, I came back her to wait for you."

"I… uh, had a couple other chores to take care of. I'm sorry, I guess I lost track of time."

Kid glanced at Emma and wasn't sure if it was a look of reproach that he saw in her eyes or merely the reflection of his own conscience. Could she know what 'errand' had kept him from returning for his only daughter when he said he would? He couldn't hold her gaze; guilt drove his eyes downward.

Catherine, with the resilience of youth, didn't dwell on her worry, now that her father had finally re-appeared. "Well, that's all right. Anyway, I met a really nice boy when I went looking for you. I can't wait to tell you about him, Pa." She smiled happily, her face aglow with the memory of the young man. Kid felt faintly uncomfortable with the look on her face. Suddenly, shifting gears, she said briskly, "Well, we're all finished here. Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you are…You found everything you wanted here?"

"Almost everything. And Emma helped me order the rest from her catalogs." She smiled at Emma. It seemed the two of them had become fast friends during the time they'd spent together, shopping and dining.

"It was lovely meeting you, Catherine. You have your Pa drive you back into town in about two weeks and the fabric we ordered from San Francisco will be here."

Kid tipped his hat politely at Emma. "Thank you very much, ma'am. I appreciate you taking care of Catherine."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. Curry. We had a lovely time. I hope you found everything you needed in town?"

"Uh, yes ma'am, thank you," Kid looked down self-consciously and held the door open for Catherine, who was carrying two small bundles wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

"Well, that was fun," Catherine said, satisfaction over her successful shopping excursion ringing through her voice, as she settled onto the buckboard next to her father. "Now all I have to do is decide which dress to wear to the church social on Saturday."

"Church social? Did Emma tell you about that? I wasn't really planning on—"

"Oh, but Pa, we simply must go! I told Jeremiah I'd be there. I'd die of embarrassment if I broke my promise to him!"

"Jeremiah?" Kid asked, momentarily confused.

"The boy I met at the feed store, when I went there looking for you," Catherine reminded him patiently. She gazed off dreamily toward the mountains, the far-away look in her eyes letting Kid know that, in her thoughts, she was still back in town, in front of the feed store. "Jeremiah Wilde."