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Chapter Twelve

Since Katie had forgotten all about purchasing material for curtains in the excitement of Pete’s job, the next day Ned had found a length of blue-and-white gingham, in a box of Ma’s old things in the barn. No one had sewn anything since Ma, so he had to help her look for the flatirons, once she had cut and hemmed and trimmed the curtains and declared they had to be ironed.

He had no trouble finding the time to help Katie search for the flatirons because she was starting to interest him. He wanted to ask her if she ever wasted a motion or even an hour, but he thought he already knew the answer.

“I vow everything is in this odd little room,” she said, as they both squeezed themselves into the storeroom off the stalls.

He heard her exclamation of delight when she found a copy of A Tale of Two Cities on a shelf with liniment bottles, a gallon or two of vinegar and unidentifiable bits and pieces of ranch life. “I wondered where that book went,” he said.

Katie’s search for flatirons stopped with the discovery of something new to read, now that she had finished Roughing It, and Pa was getting tired of her Ladies’ Home Journal stories. Hardly aware of Ned, she took the book into the kitchen and sat down at the table, where she carefully wiped away the dust. He sat down next to her with the flatirons and held them out. He clapped them together and made her laugh.

She set down the book with some reluctance, and nodded at the flatirons. In another minute, she had them warming on the stove. Back he went to the storeroom for the ironing board.

“When I iron these, we can string them on that dowel, and your Pa will have curtains,” she said. “Since I have this ironing board up, I can press a white shirt for the dance.”

“We have to go to that much trouble? I’ll be wearing a vest. Who’ll see my shirt?” he asked.

“Who will ever marry you if you don’t look presentable?” she asked. “And please tell me you have a collar and cravat somewhere.”

While she ironed, he found a pathetic collar and a cravat in even worse shape. She frowned at the collar, but she shook her head at the cravat. “I’ll make you one,” she told him.

“Out of what?”

“I have some fabric,” she said. He knew he heard something wistful in her voice, and thought perhaps he shouldn’t ask.

When she finished ironing, they each took a panel of fabric to Pa’s room and strung them on a dowel Ned had cut and sanded. Katie clapped her hands in approval and Pa smiled from his bed.

Katie had crocheted ties to hold back the fabric, giving the curtains a certain elegance he never thought to see in their jury-rigged, add-on-as-needed cabin. Ma, you would have liked this, he thought, then smiled at Katie who held her hands together in delight. You’d have liked Katie, too.

“After you find me a shirt, sit with your father,” she said.

He did as she asked, then perched on the edge of his father’s bed.

“You have a view,” he said. “Look there.”

He had seen cows all his life, but there was something nice about looking at them through a window. Here they were now, just nosing in what little snow there was, searching for nourishing grass that made this hard land cow country.

Pa patted the spot beside him on the bed. He pulled out the extra pillow behind his head, doubled over his own, and left a place for Ned beside him.

Ned tugged off his boots and did as his father asked, wondering when he had become too busy to do this. Never mind. He sprawled out beside his father, savoring the moment.

“You built a good ranch, Pa,” he said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Tears came into Pa’s eyes.

Ned started to apologize, but changed his mind when Pa took his hand and kissed the back of it. He felt the years slip away, and some of the cares. All that he lacked now was to see Ma come into the room, put her hands on her hips and in her soft drawl, declare them useless layabouts, which was acres away from the truth.

He heard footsteps coming closer and looked up in anticipation, thinking of Ma, but it was just Katie. She had folded his ironed shirt so carefully. He watched her put the shirt on the top apple crate in his room, smoothing out what by now had to be imaginary wrinkles.

“We’ll have steak and potatoes in a few minutes,” she told them. “Ned, help your father to the kitchen.”

“I don’t think...”

“Mr. Avery, would you like to eat with us?” she asked, ignoring Ned.

“More’n anything.”

“Give yourself plenty of time,” she admonished, but kindly. He knew she was right. An old rancher with a new window and a view of the valley ought to have some say in where he ate supper.

It took Pa three pauses to get to the kitchen. To Ned, his look of triumph when he finally sat in the kitchen was close kin to his expression when he won a cow penning at the local rodeo a few years back. Maybe it was more than a few years. Time had crept up on them all. Ned couldn’t remember the last time Pa had sat at the table with him, and he wondered why it had taken the gentle insistence of a chore girl to give him enough courage to let Pa do what he wanted.

“Pa, I’ve been treating you like a China doll,” he said finally, pushing away his plate. He nodded to Katie, who took the plates to the sink. “I owe you a debt, Miss Peck,” he said.

She sat down again. The way Pa looked at her suggested that they had planned it this way. He knew better than to question whatever it was that had turned them into confederates. What is it about you, Katie Peck, Ned wanted to ask.

After the dishes, Katie told Pa to settle in. “Ned, we’re going to waltz,” she told him. “One two three, one two three. It’s simple.”

She came close and put her hand on his shoulder with no hesitation. “Put that hand on my waist, and I’ll take the other one,” she directed. “I’ll lead, until you figure it out. Mr. Avery, you may do the one two three.”

Pa did, waving his hand, as Katie Peck directed Ned around the kitchen. She told him not to look at his feet and he tried to do as she said. Her waist was small. His hands were large, and he felt like he was encroaching a bit on the pleasant swell that began her bosom. She made no objection, which relieved him, because she felt so good.

They banged knees a couple of times, and he stepped on her feet, but at least he had taken off his boots and wore only his stockings.

When Katie said, “You’re supposed to carry on pleasant conversation,” he stopped dancing.

“Like what?” he asked.

“The weather, the price of two-year heifers,” Pa teased.

Katie sighed, but there was no overlooking the fun in her eyes, and the soft way she looked at Dan Avery. “Mr. Avery! Instead of that, Ned, ask your partner what book she’s read lately, or maybe inquire about her family.”

“I’m supposed to do that and dance at the same time?” Ned protested.

She nodded, and put her hand on his shoulder again. “That’s why we’re going to practice the waltz every day until the dance. When is it, by the way?” she asked, standing there poised and ready to push off.

“A week from Friday.” He whispered in her ear. “Pa’s getting tired.”

“I know,” she whispered back. “Mr. Avery, Ned’s going to lead now. He can think one two three.”

He towed her around the floor to his silent one two three. They narrowly avoided the cooking range, but he kept one hand firmly on her waist, and the other clasped in hers. Around again, without stepping on her, and once more.

“I’m ending this dance,” he said. “How do I stop?”

“When the music stops, you give a little bow, and thank her,” Katie said. She turned to his father. “What do you think, Mr. Avery?”

“I think he might find a wife yet,” Pa said. “Do the two-step now.”

“It had better be simpler,” Ned told her.

“It is. And it’s fast. Hand on my waist again—oh, you never took it off—and take my hand again. It’s just one and two and.”

Off they went. It was simpler, Katie nimble and smiling the whole time. Third time around the room, he picked her up and she laughed.

“I hope...you’re not...expecting...conversation,” he managed to gasp.

“Only...if the building...catches on fire,” she said, which made him give a shout of laughter and grab her up.

He held her that way, so they were on equal eye level, breathing hard. She put both hands on his shoulders, not to ward him off, but to remind him. He let her down, and she stepped away, her face red from exertion, but her eyes bright.

They both looked at Pa, who nodded. “That’ll for sure find him a wife, unless he’s dancing with another man’s missus.” He laughed. “Then we’ll have a shoot-out and a hanging!”

“We’ll practice every night,” Katie assured Ned. She started sticking hairpins back in place, but gave it up for a bad business and shook the rest of her hair down.

Ned hadn’t realized how long it was, almost to her waist, and the prettiest shade of just ordinary brown, with little bits of red glimmering in the light of the lamp.

He looked at Pa, whose eyes were closing. “No objections from you, Pa,” he said, as he carried his father back to his room. Katie trailed along behind, watchful, and Ned began to realize the strength of her attachment to his father.

“I’ll help him from here,” he told her. She went into her room and closed the door. He listened for her to lock it, then realized with a start that she had never locked her door, not even the first night when he handed her the key.

We’re doing something right, he thought.