Thanksgiving and joy made a powerful combination. He wanted to drink her in like water, breathe her in like a spring breeze. She clung to him, body trembling, giving him her kiss, her heart. He couldn’t seem to let go.
Then she pulled back and rested her head against his chest.
“If anything had happened to you . . .”
“I felt the same,” he murmured, allowing himself to stroke her thick hair. “You warned us when you took us around the first time. There are too many ways to die in Yellowstone.”
“But only one way to live,” she argued. “You’re helping me see the wonder here again, Will. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” he promised, hugging her close. And he could only hope that he would be able to keep that promise.
25
The fire burnt itself out completely two days later. Will’s men kept patrolling the area from dawn until dusk to make sure. Kate insisted that everyone but her, Elijah, and Caleb stay at the Fire Hole for safety’s sake. Will tried once again to send her north as well, but she refused. It was her responsibility to see to the hotel. The blaze left behind acres of charred forest and blackened ground. She could only be thankful that the Geyser Gateway had been spared, and even more grateful that Will, his men, and Elijah and Caleb hadn’t been hurt.
Thank you, Lord!
Elijah moved out to the barn to sleep. He said it was to help Caleb keep an eye on his horses and the stock, but she thought it was as much to safeguard her reputation. The hotel felt empty without Danny, Alberta, and Elijah. Her steps echoed on the hardwood floors. She couldn’t make herself start a fire in the hearth, even though the nights were cool. And she missed her son more than words could say.
Still, she had enough to do to keep her mind occupied and hands busy, even though the Wakefield and Hoffman stages didn’t stop as they thundered past on their way south to Old Faithful and north toward the Norris Geyser Basin or out of the park. She helped Elijah and Caleb feed, water, and calm the animals. She also cooked for them and Will and his men.
“It’s the least I can do after you saved the Geyser Gateway,” she assured them when Will protested. “Although I haven’t Alberta’s skills.”
“Neither does Waxworth or Smith,” Franklin assured her.
Will managed a tired smile.
The only fly in the ointment was the disappearance of Mr. Jones. He didn’t return to the hotel the night of the fire, and Will and his men hadn’t seen any sign of him as they patrolled the area.
“Although if he’s up at the Fire Hole or down at Old Faithful, we won’t know until we settle back into our usual routine,” Will told her. “We’re too busy making sure this fire doesn’t flare up again.”
Alberta eased her mind when she and Danny and the others returned Saturday morning. Kate heard the sound of a stage and rushed to the veranda in time to see the Wakefield and Hoffman driver pull into the yard. He must have made a special trip just to deliver her people. The coach had barely come to a stop before Danny leaped out and ran for her. Kate flew down the steps and caught him up in her arms. Eyes closed in thanks, she held him tight.
“The hotel looks good,” he said, sounding a little disappointed, as if he had been hoping to see some evidence of the fire that had kept them apart.
Kate released him as the driver began handing down Alberta, Pansy, Miss Pringle, and Mrs. Pettijohn.
“The hotel is fine,” Kate assured them all as they gathered around her. “And I’m so glad you are too.”
“Even Mr. Jones,” Alberta reported. “We found him at the Fire Hole.”
“Enjoying their unsavory accommodations,” Mrs. Pettijohn added with a sniff.
Miss Pringle heaved a happy sigh. “The Geyser Gateway is ever so much nicer, Mrs. Tremaine. I’m sure he’ll see the wisdom of returning.”
He must have, for their lodger reappeared Saturday afternoon and took up residence in his room as if he had never left them. Kate decided not to question him. He had a right to go where he willed, and another night paid was all to the good as the season neared its end.
“Tell me about the fire again,” Danny begged when Will and Private Smith stopped by on their final patrol of the day Saturday. “Was it scary? How hot was it? Can I go see?”
“I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow,” Will promised, face lined and boots dusty.
“When you come for services,” Kate suggested.
He regarded her a moment before nodding. Then he and Private Smith headed north for their camp.
Kate almost called him back but shook her head instead. He was in no danger, and neither was she. All she knew was that she felt safer, happier, when Will was near. That boded well for their courtship.
A courtship. Hers and Toby’s had been short, but that had been a simpler time, and she’d been less experienced with life. Still, she remembered courting—learning about the other person, doing things to please each other. What would please Will? She wasn’t tremendously good at baseball, and he had Alberta to bake for him now. She needn’t sew him something—the Army saw to his clothing. And she wasn’t the sort to sing or recite poetry.
What about a love letter?
That was it! She could write what she admired about him. Perhaps enclose a lock of her hair. That way, he could read the words when doubts about the past assailed him. The deaths of innocents would likely always haunt him, but he could remember how he had dedicated his life to helping others. She took a moment to write as the others settled in for the evening.
For dinner, everyone except Mr. Jones gathered around one of the dining tables. Elijah was only too happy to tell Danny
