She would not have wanted her daughter raised on a backwoods farm.

  He shook his head again as he began pulling on his union suit. She didn’t know the half of it. He felt as if he had done so little. Ciara and Nora were caring for Grace. Callie had agreed to wash the nappies with Mica’s. He couldn’t even give Grace a home. His belongings fit in a sea chest at the foot of the pallet he slept on in the loft. Traveling light had made sense when he’d moved from job to job, often living in cramped quarters. Now he had nothing to offer Grace, not even a bed.

  Grace was meant for more.

  Hannah would certainly have agreed. Rudolph would likely have done anything to keep his daughter out of Kit’s hands. He’d seen Kit as unreliable, unstable. Kit could not be counted on to follow through. His patchwork collection of jobs was testament to that.

  He shoved his arms into his flannel shirt. He’d have to make some changes. It didn’t matter that he’d had no plans before now. Now he had a reason to plan, a reason to succeed. He’d talk to Drew. A few parcels of surveyed land to the north of Wallin Landing were still eligible for claiming under the Homestead Act. Maybe he could file a claim, prove it up by building a cabin and clearing the land. That would give Grace a home, at least.

  He paused, hand reaching for his trousers. Proving up a claim could take five years or more. Didn’t Grace deserve a home now? Should he move back to Seattle? Take a job at one of the sawmills or grist mills? The income would still likely only provide for a room or two in a lodging house. And who would care for Grace while he worked?

  The options seemed narrowed, constraining. He could almost feel them wrapping around his wrists and ankles like shackles. That was one of the reasons he’d left the area the first time. Hannah and Rudolph had plotted his future, and he hadn’t liked the destination. He’d felt trapped.

  But his feelings didn’t matter this time. Grace mattered. He had to find a solution.

  He stopped by the mercantile on the way back to the cabin to talk with James. Several of the other farmers and trappers in the area were in the trading post, picking up supplies and wrangling over prices. Kit found himself waiting in front of the fabric bolts. It probably wouldn’t take much to make Grace a new dress. He knew enough about sewing to fix a button or hem a frayed cuff. He’d learned to darn his own socks too. But a little girl’s dress? Where would he start? Maybe Nora could teach him. She was an accomplished seamstress.

  “And how can I help you today, Mr. Weatherly?” James asked after the others had cleared out. “Rattle for your new baby? Headache remedy?”

  Kit ventured closer to the counter. “Should I expect Grace to have headaches?”

  “The remedy is for you,” James clarified with a grin. “I remember those nights when the crying didn’t stop.”

  At least Grace hadn’t given him one of those, thanks to Ciara. “Actually, I came for information,” he told the shopkeeper. “Drew says you might know where wills are filed.”

  “Smart of you to write one now that you have a child,” James said, leaning his elbows on the polished wood counter. “But I might consult a lawyer first.”

  “It’s not for me,” Kit said. “I want to see the particulars of my brother-in-law’s will. Specifically, I want to know if there’s a provision for Grace’s guardianship.”

  “Ah.” He straightened. “You’d have to go to the county offices in Tacoma. The Probate Court has the responsibility for wills and custody of minors. Insanity hearings too, but I will deny knowing that if anyone else asks.”

  Tacoma might be only thirty-some miles to the south, but he knew the difficulty in reaching it. Few roads had been built. He’d likely have to travel by steamer, then borrow a horse or rig from the livery stable as Mrs. Virden must have done. He’d have to spend the night as well before returning the next day, if there was a steamer heading north and the tides were favorable. He didn’t want to take Grace into enemy territory, and he didn’t like leaving her behind when she was just becoming accustomed to him. That didn’t seem fair to her or anyone who might volunteer to watch her, especially Ciara.

  He was still thinking about the matter as he came up into the clearing to find Rina waiting by the porch.

  “All I could discover is that a family may designate a guardian for minor children,” she told him.

  “James implied the same,” Kit said. “He thinks the will would have been filed in Tacoma. That’s as far away as the moon right now. I have to hope Dixon Hitchcock arrives as he promised.”

  “I have heard he’s one of the best lawyers in the territory,” Rina offered. “His success in winning cases for his clients has been noted in the Daily Intelligencer often enough.”

  “Then maybe he’s a match for Mrs. Virden,” Kit said. He thanked her and excused himself to go fetch Grace from Nora’s.

  It was shortly before dinner when he brought the baby back into the cabin. The scent of cooking meat met him and set his mouth to salivating. Jesse and Harry must have thought the same, for they were already at the table, places set, and utensils in hand. He slid onto the bench with Grace, who was rocking in his arms as if even she expected a treat.

  Ciara carried a platter into the room. Piled on top were ham steaks, the pink flesh delicately seared. Harry stared at them, face awed. She followed the platter with a bowl of rice and another with gravy, along with peach preserves and pickled beets.

  “This is so good,” Harry said around mouthfuls after Jesse had asked the blessing with a simple, “Thank You, Lord. Amen.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” she said, but she was regarding the food on her plate with a frown.

  “You can’t tell me anything is wrong with it this time,” Kit murmured, offering Grace some of the peaches.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “But it won’t work for a restaurant. If I offered every customer a ham steak, I’d run through the ham in one serving. I’ll have to reconsider.”

  Jesse volunteered to wash. Ciara looked ready to argue with him, but Harry took her hand.

  “You’ve been working hard,” he said, tugging her toward the rocker. “You should rest.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “If I need to rest after serving only three people, Harry, I have no business running a restaurant.” Still, she suffered herself to sit.

  Grace, who had been scooting about on the rug, aimed herself in Ciara’s direction.

  Harry held up one finger, as if urging Ciara to remain in place, then ran up the stairs.

  She shook her head, watching as Grace edged closer. Then she bent and scooped up the little girl. “What a big girl, moving about all by herself!”

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Grace chattered, gazing into Ciara’s face.

  Kit felt as if a swarm of mosquitoes nipped at his neck. What, was he jealous? That made no sense. He’d told Harry he wasn’t interested in courting.

  Why did some part of him want to argue?

  Chapter Eight

  Kit barely had time to shake off the odd feeling before Harry thundered back down the stairs, guitar in hand. He set himself up opposite Ciara and strummed a chord.

  Grace stared at him, obviously fascinated. Kit couldn’t look away either. His friend had said he was working up to courting. Apparently, he was launching a campaign tonight.

  “The pale moon was rising above the green mountain, the sun was declining beneath the blue sea,” Harry sang in a warm baritone. “When I strayed with my love to the pure crystal fountain that stands in the beautiful vale of Tralee.”

  Ciara leaned forward, as if she could imagine the idyllic spot he sang about. Once more, those mosquitoes bit as Harry’s smile broadened.

  “She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer

  but ‘twas not her beauty alone that won me.

  Oh no was the truth in her eyes ever dawning

  that made me love Ciara, the Rose of Tralee.”

  She jerked upright and began shaking her head so hard some of the dark tresses fell from their pins to frame her face in long tendrils. That can’t have been the reaction Harry had been hoping for, but he kept singing, undaunted.

  “The cool shades of evening their mantels were spreading

  and Ciara all smiling was listening to me.

  The moon thru the valley her pale rays were spreading

  when I won the heart of the Rose of Tralee.”

  She sprang to her feet, raising a squeak from Grace. “I need to change her.” Clutching the baby to her chest like a shield, she charged up the stairs and disappeared.

  Harry lowered his instrument, gazing after her, shoulders slumped. “What am I doing wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Jesse said, lumbering out of the kitchen. “That sounded real good, Harry.”

  Harry shook his head and sighed.

  Kit refused to smile, though everything in him wanted to crow in triumph.

  “I should probably help with Grace,” he said. He rose and edged around his friend, who was gazing at his instrument as if it had betrayed him.

  Ciara had Grace on one of the pallets in the loft and was just doing up the ties on her nappy when Kit walked in. The rinsed ones he had yet to send to Callie hung on a line he had stretched across one corner of the space.

  “I can do that,” he offered.

  “I know,” she said, pulling Grace’s gown back into place. “I just had to get away from Harry for a moment.” She shook her head. “Rose of Tralee, indeed.”

  “Don’t they call Irish lasses roses sometimes?” he asked, taking Grace from her.

  “Oh, to be sure, they do. But there’s a story behind the song, and I doubt Harry knows it. The man who wrote it came from a fine family, they say, and he fell in love with a common maid. They were parted for a time, but he came home intending to marry her, only to learn she had died. He wrote the song in her memory.”

  Kit stared at her. “Harry can’t know. He’s trying to court you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Ciara said. “I’ll have to speak to him, but not tonight. You can teach me to shoot tomorrow. For now, I just want my own cabin.”

  She ducked out of the room. He heard her steps on the stairs, then a curt goodnight to Harry and Jesse.

  Irish rose. The Rose of Wallin Landing. Perhaps he was as fanciful as Harry, but it suited her.

  And he could imagine defying his family, if he’d still had one, to claim her for his own.

  ***

  They were mad, the lot of them! At least her concerns about Harry’s courting kept her from paying much attention to the dark of the forest as Ciara hurried back to her cabin. They kept her from a good night’s sleep as well, so she might have been a bit terse when she fed them griddle cakes with apple preserves and sent them on their way after breakfast. Grace waved at her as Kit carried her out.

  Ciara was out on the porch, churning butter from the cream John had left her, when some of the area children started streaming past. The various blonds were likely Wallin children, but she spotted a few dark and red heads among the group. Frisco stopped long enough to eye her.

  “No cinnamon rolls today,” she told him.

  He nodded and headed toward the lake, his twin in pursuit.

  Rina came last, navy skirts swaying. With a smile to Ciara, she stepped up on the porch.

  “We had our dress rehearsal this morning,” she explained. “They seem a bit eager for the actual performance.”

  Across the clearing, three boys were chasing each other around the schoolhouse. One of the girls was attempting to scale the nearest tree, while four others cheered her on.

  “They have a lot of energy,” Ciara said, pausing in her cranking. “Maybe I should put them to work.”

  “Very likely they would be delighted, if their pay was one of your treats,” Rina told her with a smile. “Would you like me to churn for a bit?”

  “No, thank you,” Ciara said, switching arms. At least the Wallins had a crank churn instead of a paddle. The older models had taken both her hands to plunge the wooden paddle up and down. “But James mentioned you might know the story behind a young lady I met, Katie Jo McAllister.”

  “Ah, Katie Jo.” Rina seated herself on the edge of the porch. “She and her brother, Ezekiel, attended school for a time during the spring and fall a few years ago. Winter was too far a walk.”

  “Are they located so far out, then?” Ciara asked, stopping a moment to pry up the lid. A few globs of butter were already in evidence.

  “About a half hour’s walk north, along Salmon Bay,” Rina answered. “But there were no roads until last year, and even now it’s more of a track. She and her brother live with their uncle, who seems a bit set in his ways. I only met him twice, and neither time was particularly pleasant. He seems to think raising his brother’s children cost him something, and it is only right that he should recoup his losses through their efforts to work on his claim.”

  She hadn’t even met the man and already she didn’t like him. “Maddie lost a great deal by raising me and Aiden. She might have stayed in New York, done well for herself there. Instead, she chose to come all this way and start a business in a frontier town. Then again, she met Michael here, and everyone sings her praises, so you might say it all worked for the good.”

  “For everyone,” Rina agreed.

  The sound of a wagon had them both looking toward the south and the road from Seattle. A moment later, Beth drove into the clearing, Ada Rankin at her side.

  Ciara straightened and waved as they came to a stop in front of the cabin, the very air seeming to sparkle. Drew’s older son ran to take charge of the horses, and Beth and Ada gathered their skirts to climb down.

  “Welcome back,” Rina called, rising. “I would stay and chat, but I believe I need to rescue a young lady from a tree. Excuse me.” She headed for the schoolhouse and the mass of children pointing excitedly at their classmate, who did indeed seem to have gotten stuck about halfway up the cedar.

  Beth hopped onto the porch. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” She enfolded Ciara in a fierce hug.

  Ciara laughed as they disengaged. “It’s only been a few days.”

  “An eternity, if you listen to Beth,” Ada said with a smile, joining them.

  The two of them couldn’t be more different. Beth had the blond hair and deep blue eyes that marked most of the Wallins, while Ada’s hair and eyes were a warm brown. Beth dressed in styles from Godey’s Lady’s Book. Today it was a striped pink with a white overskirt edged in flowered embroidery gathered back in a bustle. Ada’s clothes tended toward the simpler, like the gray lustring fitted to her slender form. And Beth was enthusiastic. Always. Ada was more practical. Small wonder their friend, Scout Rankin, had fallen in love and married her.

  “Go in and have some tea,” Ciara offered. “I’ll just be a moment.”

  “I remember how that churn works,” Beth said. “We’ll wait out here with you.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help?” Ada added.

  “It’s nearly done,” Ciara said.

  As she slipped the lid back into place, they spread their skirts and took seats on the edge of the porch, feet swinging. Beth cast her gaze out over the clearing she had called home for so long.

  “So,” she said, “which one do you like?”

  Ciara frowned. “Which cabin? This one will work just fine. I already determined that before I proposed this arrangement to your brother.”

  Beth laughed. “No, not the cabin. The gentlemen—Harry? Jesse? Kit?”

  Kit’s face came immediately to mind, dark eyes alight with merriment, smile gentle. “None of them,” Ciara said, resuming her churning with renewed purpose. “I thought you were up to your matchmaking, Beth McCormick. You can stop right now.”

  Ada spread her hands. “Might as well ask a bird to stop flying.”

  “Exactly,” Beth said. “I favor Kit for you, myself, but I heard he’s suddenly a father.”

  The story had obviously reached Seattle. “He is, though he’s doing well in the new role. You should see him with little Grace.”

  “Oh, how nice,” Ada said. “Is she a dear?”

  “Well, she certainly has an opinion,” Ciara said. “No is her favorite word. In multiples. And she has a piercing shriek. Kit has his hands full.”

  Beth’s golden brows went up. “Kit, is it? Well, that’s a start.”

  Ciara stopped churning and pointed her finger at her friend. “No.”

  “Your favorite word as well?” Beth teased.

  Ciara gave it up and smiled. “I can feel the butter. Let me show you what I have planned for the restaurant. I assume that’s why you came all this way.”

  Beth rose and shook out her skirts. “We came all this way to see how you were settling in. I know how challenging it can be to move. It took me a while to get used to Seattle, though I love it there.”

  “I’m still getting used to Seattle,” Ada said, rising as well. “It’s very different from Boston.”

  “And New York,” Ciara admitted. Odd. Why was she suddenly homesick for a place that hadn’t been home for more than ten years?

  She dragged the churn into the kitchen, and her friends helped her press the butter into molds. After Ada put on the kettle, the three adjourned to the main room and talked for some time. Ciara felt as if someone had stolen her favorite pots when she at last stood on the porch and waved them out of the clearing on the way back to Seattle.

  She had to remember she’d made this choice for a reason. It was time to move on with her dreams.

  ***

  “Will you watch where you’re swinging that ax?” Harry complained.

  Kit grimaced and lowered the handle, the wood dampened by sweat and heated by the sun. “Sorry, Harry. My mind’s somewhere else today.”

  They had felled one of the massive cedars and were hacking the limbs off the trunk to make it easier to skid to the bay. Harry and Kit had one side. The trunk’s circumference was large enough that he couldn’t make out Drew and Jesse on the other side.