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Chapter Eight

Katie began her campaign after a breakfast of baked oatmeal, helped out with a tin of peaches. If she fed the fire in the range carefully, the roast Ned had sliced off from the steer hanging in the smokehouse would be done in late afternoon, when he and Pete rode in again.

She had taken Mr. Avery’s breakfast to him instead of Ned, tightening her lips when the old man pretended to sleep. She said a cheerful “Good morning,” before she retreated to the kitchen.

An hour later, she went to Ned and Pete’s room and picked up Ned’s copy of Roughing It he had been reading on the train. He had left it on the bed, as she had asked him to, when she explained her campaign.

“Good luck,” he had said, and she heard all his doubt.

She positioned the chair right by the archway that led into Mr. Avery’s room. She made herself comfortable and started to read aloud.

“‘Chapter One. My brother had just been appointed Secretary of Nevada Territory—an office of such majesty...’”

The chapters were short, which obviously suited Mark Twain, and suited Katie, too. She found herself laughing out loud after a very few pages, even when her captive audience began to snore, or pretend to. Stubborn man, she thought, but with sympathy. He was in a bad situation and they both knew it. She kept reading, and found her enjoyment growing at Twain’s depiction of the West in which she now lived.

The snoring stopped by Chapter Five and Twain’s description of a coyote as “‘...always hungry. He is always poor, out of luck, and friendless.’” Katie took that as a good sign and kept reading.

She hardly knew how long she read, but her stomach growled around noon. She turned down a tiny corner of the page and said, “‘The city lies in the edge of a level plain.’ Remember that, Mr. Avery, for it is where I shall begin again. I’m hungry. Are you?”

Silence. At least he wasn’t pretending to snore. She fixed herself a beef sandwich, ate it and made one for Mr. Avery. She set it on the little table close to his bed, and watched him for a moment as he pretended to sleep.

The book lay on her chair. She picked it up and turned a few pages. “Let’s see...did we finish? I’m certain we did. Must be here on Chapter Six,” Kate said. She ran her finger down the page. “Chapter Six it is. ‘Our new conductor (just shipped) had been without sleep for twenty hours...’”

“No! Start with, ‘The city lies in the edge of a level plain,’” Mr. Avery said from his bedroom. “And for the Lord’s sake, come a little closer.”

Kate smiled so huge that she felt her dry lips crack. She tugged the chair into Mr. Avery’s bedroom, pulling it close enough to the stove for warmth, since the day had turned cold.

“Very well,” she said. “‘...the edge of a level plain.’ Here we are.”

She read until the shadows of late fall stretched across the page she was reading and at the same time the aromatic roast in the kitchen made itself known. She stood up and put the book in the chair.

“Thank you for letting me read to you,” she told the quiet man, who lay on his back now, deeply veined hands clasped together. “You know, Mr. Avery, if you have trouble understanding my accent, I can read slower.”

“I understand you,” he growled. “Silly of you to think I wouldn’t.”

“I have to prepare supper.” She was tying on her apron when the brothers came indoors, bringing with them October and geese calling to each other, and a rush of sage before the door closed.

“One more day will finish up the near fences,” Ned told her.

“Pete’s more agreeable?” she asked.

Ned shrugged. “Well enough. I promised him I would think of something else for him to do.” He started toward the back of the house, but stopped. “You think, too,” he said and gave her a little salute with his finger to his forehead.

Kate couldn’t help feeling pleased to be included in likely what was a hopeless task. She sliced potatoes for frying on the stovetop, and found enough good apples in the nearly empty barrel to make applesauce. She looked into the window and gave her reflection a little salute, too.

She already knew the evening routine. Ned kept a pile of old newspapers by the stove. Once his father was taken care of, he retreated to his room with a newspaper and read the articles, no matter how old they were.

Pete sometimes stayed in the kitchen with a bucket of blocks. He created towering buildings carefully, losing himself in the simple task. After a few days of wondering what to do, Kate took an old newspaper, too, and read it in her room. Sometimes Ned took a deck of cards to the kitchen and played solitaire.

And then in the morning another day began and became much like the one before, a day of riding fence for the Avery brothers, and her reading to Mr. Avery, who at least didn’t pretend to sleep anymore, even if he never spoke.

Ned surprised her two days later by inviting her to come to town with him. “Didn’t I hear you say something about material for kitchen curtains? I’ll leave Pete here with Dad. We won’t be gone much more than half a day.”

She had her doubts, but agreed. While he hitched the horse to the wagon, Katie peered into Ned’s shaving mirror. There wasn’t much she could do for her straight hair, but she was pleased to see that the bloom wasn’t entirely gone from her reflection.

“May I get you anything in town?” she asked Mr. Avery, who lay on his bed, turned to the side facing the wall. He ignored her and her heart dropped, wondering if he was back to his silent hostility.

“I’ll read twice as long tomorrow to make up,” she cajoled. Nothing. It was as if she had never read to him, as if they had never started even the simplest of conversations.

“You are a stubborn man,” she said finally, when she heard Ned calling her name from the kitchen.

“I want to go, too,” he said, softly.

Katie heard his disappointment. “I wish you could. I truly do.”

Silence. Ned called for her again, but she moved closer to his father instead. She sat on his bed. “Is there something else I can do for you, besides what you really want?”

She looked over her shoulder to see Ned approaching. She put her finger to her lips and he said nothing.

“I want a window,” Mr. Avery told her finally. “If I have to lie here, may I look out at...at...something?” He opened his eyes, and Kate saw all the torment. “Can you do that? Can you?”

Kate glanced back at Ned and saw a serious face with no anger in it. He nodded. His look changed to a thoughtful one, as though he was already planning how he would do it. He turned quietly and went back through the house.

“I believe we can,” she told Mr. Avery.

She heard his enormous sigh. “Make it a big window and make it low enough for me to see out of, just as I am now.”

“Done,” Kate said as she stood up. “Call Pete if you need anything.”

“I can’t imagine he wants to stay here,” Mr. Avery said, a touch of humor in his voice.

“No,” Kate said, “but it’s my turn to go to town.”

She hurried toward the kitchen. Ned stood there, something in his hand. He held it out to her. “I found this in the box of oddments you wanted me to go through. Mama used to stick it in her hair. You take it.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said, coming closer to look at the tortoiseshell comb.

“I think you should. Mama was never one to waste things. Here. I’ll do it.”

He stepped into her private space, and she felt no automatic need to step back. “Where should I put it?” he asked.

She touched the side of her head where strays seemed to come from. “Right here.”

With no hesitation, he slid the comb right above her ear, slanting it up a little and then more, until he was satisfied. She held her breath at his nearness, thinking of times when her stepfather had yanked her around, or even when Saul Coffin leaned in for a kiss. She felt no urge to step back or dodge Ned Avery.

I trust you, she thought, and the feeling was warmer than late autumn.

“That’ll do, Katie,” he said, nodding his approval. “I didn’t know you had freckles on your nose.”

“And I didn’t know you did, too,” she told him.

“I’m not exactly full of surprises,” he said as he opened the door.

I’m surprising myself, Katie thought, pleased in a way she had never been pleased before.