Maggie urged Rebekah into a chair at the table. “I’ll fix the tea. I’m sorry we left it steeping so long. Kris was going to fix it for me then Papa arrived and—”
“Please, don’t apologize.” Rebekah smiled, then inhaled slowly before swallowing carefully. “We want you to feel at home here. If you’re hungry, rummage around in the pantry. For tonight, since I promised Martha you would have some tea and maybe something to eat, I made a platter of ham and slices of Martha’s bread. And, of course, there are cookies in the jar.”
“You must try the cookies,” Kris said with a smile. “If I have to eat them all, I’ll need to have my waistband let out before Easter.”
Maggie smiled at his silliness, as he intended. “I don’t want to be responsible for your needing a new wardrobe.”
Maggie brought everything to the table and poured tea for Rebekah before filling his cup and her own with coffee. She placed a sandwich on her plate and took a cookie from the jar Rebekah had placed there. Oddly, she moved her valise beneath the table before sitting. Kris stirred sugar into his coffee and grabbed a sandwich. They ate in a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Rebekah stood.
“I’m going to take Franz his coffee then go on to bed. Did Martha tell you which room you’re to have, Miss Flanaghan?”
“Call me Maggie, please. And she said the first on the right at the top of the front stairs.”
Rebekah’s smile was soft and sleepy. “That’s the one. There’s water in the pitcher and towels for you to use. Good night to you both.”
Kris watched as Maggie nibbled at the sandwich. “Is ham not to your liking? Do you need something else?”
“No, it’s delicious. I’m just not very hungry.”
As if on cue, a low, plaintive meow sounded from the valise at her feet.
Kris glanced at the bag. “What was that?”
“Leopold,” Maggie scolded. “Hush.”
“A cat?” Kris lifted the valise to the tabletop. “You have a cat in here? Is this the devil animal Mr. Jones so feared?” Another meow had him fighting a grin. “I think, even if you aren’t hungry, Leopold is.” Ignoring Maggie’s reaching hands, he undid the straps and opened the case—
And had to jump back to avoid the huge mass of hissing black fur that made an immediate bid for freedom.
“Leo!” Maggie snagged the long tail and managed to scoop the cat into her arms. “Please, close the door. If he gets out into the rest of the house, I’ll never catch him.”
Kris stared at the enormous feline in Maggie’s arms. “That’s a housecat? He must weigh fifteen pounds.”
“Probably.” Maggie smiled like a proud mother. “He was nearly eighteen pounds when we left home. The trip has been hard on him, too. Hasn’t it, baby?” Stroking the cat’s enormous head, Maggie slipped around Kris to close the door leading to the rest of the house, then did the same to the pantry door.
Finally, she relaxed her grip on her pet. Leo took immediate advantage, shoving out of her arms to land on the floor in an elegant pile of fur and indignation. “He doesn’t like being confined in the case, but I don’t trust him to stay in the wagon when I’m not with him. Leo made certain everyone in the wagon train knew of his displeasure.”
Her eyes, nearly as green as the cat’s, followed Leo’s every move, ready to scold should he get into anything. “Stop worrying. He’ll be fine.” Kris snagged a piece of ham and tore off a chunk. “Here, kitty, kitty. Here, Leopold, come get—Ow!”
“Leo! Naughty cat.” Maggie grabbed his hand and tugged him closer to the lamp. “Is it bad? Are you bleeding? Do I need to fetch the doctor?”
“Maggie, stop. I’m fine.” And embarrassed. He and cats never did get along. “I just assumed he was hungry. Maybe he’d prefer milk.”
“He is hungry,” Maggie assured him. “That’s why he was so excited about the treat.”
“That’s good. But you should teach him the difference between ham and preacher.”
Kris wanted to ease Maggie’s upset, though his thumb stung where the cat had sliced it open with an eager claw. Crossing to the sink, he scooped soapy water from the bowl Rebekah had left there for the dishes and cleaned the cut.
“I’ll live—unless I develop an uncontrollable urge to drink milk from a saucer and chase mice around the—” He broke off at her sob. Quickly drying his hands, he slid onto the bench beside her and slipped an arm around her shoulders. “I was only joking, Maggie. I’m fine. It’s just a scratch.”
“Where will I go?”
Confused, Kris tried to make sense of her words. “You’re staying here, near your father, for as long as you need.”
She glared up at him, fire glinting behind the tears. “I don’t want charity.”
“Then you’ll find a way to pay—”