Eden. Carolyn DavidsonЧитать онлайн книгу.
his jaw hardened and he leaned closer, offering the glass, holding it to her lips.
“Take a swallow. Don’t argue with me or give me that high-toned look, honey. When it comes to booze, I know what a swallow of it will do for a gal like you. Your stomach could use a belt, and in a few minutes your system will lap it up and you’ll generate a little heat.”
“Please—” Katie turned to look him full in the face “—I don’t want to throw up, and if I taste that, I think I will. My stomach is hurting already, and putting whiskey into it isn’t going to help any.”
His gaze narrowed on her trembling lips and he bent closer, his voice a low whisper. “Are you hungry, girl?”
She swallowed her pride and nodded, just once, but it seemed to be enough to answer his query to his satisfaction, for he shot her a look of understanding, picked up the glass and downed the contents with two swallows.
“Come on.” He lifted her bodily from the chair and walked with her, his long arm circling her waist, to the back of the saloon, flicking a quick look at the bartender as they passed that stalwart gentleman. He opened a door that stood beneath the stairway, almost hidden in the gloom.
His hand on her back gave her no choice and she kept up with his long stride, almost skipping to keep up, fearful of the contact he forced upon her, yet thankful for the warmth of his body. Beyond the open door was a kitchen, and he ushered her over the threshold, closing the wooden portal behind them.
If the temperature had been close to freezing in the bar, it was nearer to the fires of Hades here in the kitchen, she decided, shivering at the blast of warm air that the big cookstove aimed in her direction. The woman who stood before it had opened the oven, and the heat from within made her back away from its intensity, but to Katie, it was a welcome shot of comfort and she did not evade it.
In fact, she took another step closer to the huge stove, warming the front of her body and shivering in reaction. The man next to her spoke, catching her attention and that of the woman who was dealing with the food atop the cooking range.
“Hey there, Molly. Anything left from supper? This little gal’s hungry.”
Why that should make Katie bristle so, she didn’t know. Perhaps it was because the man acted as though she were a child to be fed. Or maybe because he looked at her from his greater height with a look of amusement, as though she were someone to be mocked.
“I’m not starving,” Katie said defensively. “I can wait till tomorrow to eat.”
“And where will you find breakfast?” the man asked, even as the woman he’d called Molly turned from the stove to shoot her a long assessing look.
“Land sakes, John Roper. Leave that little girl alone. Quit your pickin’ at her.”
With a swift step, she approached Katie, lifting a warm hand to touch her shoulder. “Come on over here, honey. That cowboy don’t know which end is up. Just ignore him, why don’t you. I’ve got a kettle of beans and spuds here that’s probably gonna be food for the pigs by morning if I can’t push it off on some hungry soul.”
Katie caught the glimpse of tenderness the woman tried to hide, her words almost curt, but her eyes warm with another emotion entirely. It was enough to coax her from her stiff resistance, and she stepped closer to the stove, to where a kettle sat on the back burner, steam rising from its depths.
“I’d eat some beans and potatoes, ma’am,” she said quietly. “I’m probably hungrier than the pigs, anyway.” Her mouth twisted in a smile, and as if she had gained a friend, Molly grinned back, drawing Katie nearer with a quick touch on her hand. A touch Katie fought to accept, sensing that Molly meant her no harm.
“Sit yourself down, honey. I’ll fetch a bowl and fix you something to warm your belly.” And if the invitation was not couched in genteel terms, Katie found it didn’t matter, for the look of kindness Molly wore more than made up for her blunt speech.
A chair appeared from beneath the edge of the table, and the man—hadn’t Molly called him John?—stood to one side, offering her a seat. Katie took it with a nod and then thought twice about the condition of her hands.
“Ma’am? Could I bother you for a dab of soap and some water to wash my hands?” She looked toward the back of the kitchen where a sink held a pitcher pump and a large basin beneath it, and Molly nodded.
“Of course. Come on over here and I’ll fix you up. I might have known a girl like you would need to tend to herself before she sat down to eat.” The plump form bustled across the room, one rounded arm reaching for the pump handle. Ensuring that a gush of water poured into the basin, she reached beneath the sink for a container of soap.
“Here you go, honey. Not French-milled, but good old lye soap, like I use for the dishes.” Molly looked quickly at the mottled flesh on Katie’s arms and her eyes sought those of the man who watched. A barely imperceptible nod caught Katie’s eye and she felt confusion overtake her.
Her voice quavered as she recognized that she was the object of an unspoken discussion. “That’ll do just fine,” she told Molly, thankful for the freely given offer. For the first time during the long hours of this evening, she began to breathe more easily, sensing a kindred soul in her vicinity. Not that the help of the man called John had gone unappreciated, but finding another woman who offered her a bit of sustenance was a bonus she had not looked for. And Katie was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
The steaming offering of green beans swimming in a thick broth laced with bits of ham and braced by the addition of three small potatoes was mouthwatering and she bent over it, inhaling the aroma as she picked up the fork Molly offered. Her mouth burned from the first bite, but she was so hungry she barely noticed, shifting the bit of potato from one side of her cheek to the other as it cooled.
“How about a glass of milk, girl?” Molly made the offer even as she poured the glass full from a pitcher in the icebox.
Katie looked up and met her gaze, basking in the friendly smile she was given as if it were her due. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll have to admit I’m a little hungry.” And then proved her words by devouring the bowlful of food as if it might be removed from her presence at any time.
“Take your time there, girl. Molly won’t rush you any,” the man told her quietly.
She looked at the man named John now, a quiet figure who watched her from dark eyes and then darted a look at Molly as if asking for direction.
“Why don’t you stay with me tonight?” Molly asked her, surprising her with the kind offer. “I’ve got a big bed upstairs and a spare nightgown you can use.”
Katie shivered, huddling in the chair, aware that her trembling was from a source within herself, not a result of the temperature in the room, for the stove gave off a comforting heat she was only too aware of. But the relief of finding sanctuary in this place threatened to bring quick tears to her eyes, and though she had long since abandoned tears as a form of expression, she found now that they burned just behind her eyelids.
“Thank you, ma’am. I’d be pleased to take you up on your offer,” she said quietly, scraping the bottom of the bowl and eating the last morsel. A fluffy biscuit appeared on a small plate beside her bowl and a container of butter was moved close to her glass of milk, accompanied by a table knife.
Such largesse was more than she had ever expected to find here, and Katie looked up at the woman and felt a tear fall from her eye, trailing slowly down her cheek and falling to her bodice.
“Come now, girl. Don’t waste time on cryin’. Just eat up and we’ll worry about everything else tomorrow.” With a quick look at John, she gave orders swiftly. “It might be good if no one knew that the girl was here with me, John. I’ll put her to bed and lock the door so she won’t be disturbed. There’s men in there—” she nodded at the saloon just beyond the kitchen door “—who’d be tickled to get their hands on her tonight, but I’ll see to it she’s safe and sound.”
“I’d