At that Kathryn narrowed her eyes at him.
"No offense," he said, then looked back over his shoulder. "Martha, honey, can you do somethin' with her hair? Pull it back a bit and see if you can make her look less... well, less appealin'. We don't want people thinkin' she's a floozy."
"You leave it to me, Jake, I can make any woman look unappealing."
"Except for yourself, love bunny," the man said with an adoring look at his wife's bowed head.
Kathryn was embarrassed by the affectionate exchanges between the two of them; she felt as though she'd walked into a honeymoon chamber. She wouldn't have guessed that Mrs. Stewart, her face weathered by many years in the mountains and quite a few pounds overweight, could inspire the name "love bunny."
"Ahem," Kathryn said, clearing her throat and intercepting the looks they were exchanging. "Who is Judge Harry Bascom?"
Reluctantly, Mr. Stewart looked back at Kathryn. "He ain't afraid of even the Jordans."
"Or the devil," Mrs. Stewart said softly, and this witticism sent Mr. Stewart into spasms of laughter.
While Kathryn waited for him to come back to the task at hand, she glanced at Jeremy, who was quietly studying the few law books in a case against one wall. She knew Jeremy well enough to know that he was keenly interested in every word that was being spoken.
"Then you'll take my case?" Kathryn asked when the man had stopped being convulsed with laughter.
"What do you think, Bunches?" Mr. Stewart asked his wife.
Jeremy looked up from a book and mouthed, Bunches of what? to his mother, making her hide a smile behind her hand.
For a moment Mrs. Stewart looked at Kathryn, studying her, and Kathryn could see the intelligence there. No wonder Mr. Stewart asked her opinion.
"I think this woman might do some good for this town. I think it's time that someone fought the Jordans, and I think this woman and you, Jake, are just the ones to do it."
Before Mr. Stewart could say anything, Kathryn spoke up. "I don't want there to be any misunderstanding. I have no intention of helping this town, as you put it. In fact, I have no intention of staying here. I really just want enough money to get out of here so I can go somewhere else. San Francisco maybe." At this she looked at Jeremy, and his slight smile and nod were enough for her. "Yes, just the money and nothing else."
Mr. Stewart looked at his wife at the end of this speech, saw that she was smiling into her knitting, then turned back to Kathryn. "If I can get Judge Harry, I'll be glad to take on your case."
"And how likely is it that you will be able to get this judge?" At that, Mr. Stewart chuckled. "Three years ago Cole Jordan broke Judge Harry's eldest daughter's heart. He'll come. Don't you worry about that. It's just a matter of when. Now you just tell me where you're stayin' so I can contact you when it's all arranged."
"That is a bit of a problem," Kathryn said, looking down at her hands. "My son and I have no place to stay and no money to rent a room." Her head came up and her mouth tightened in anger. "I thought we were coming here to a job and a place to live. But now we have nothing."
"Oh, that's very good," the man said. "You'll do real well on the stand. Can you make them tears come at will?"
It was on the tip of Kathryn's tongue to tell him that her feelings were genuine and not something she could turn on and off, but Mrs. Stewart spoke.
"You'll have to stay with us," she said, smiling sweetly at both her and Jeremy. "You wouldn't happen to know how to sew, do you, dear?" she asked, thereby establishing that Kathryn was to be a working guest.
"My mother was a cook for a large estate and I learned a bit from her," Kathryn said modestly. "Perhaps I would be allowed to help in the kitchen."
"If you insist," Mrs. Stewart said, smiling as she looked back at her scarf.
"My mother can knit, too," Jeremy said, speaking for the first time.
For a moment Kathryn held her breath. Would Mrs. Stewart be horribly offended by his words?
But Mrs. Stewart looked up, eyes twinkling, and held aloft her long, long scarf. "Then perhaps she might teach me," she said, and all of them laughed together.
Four and a half weeks, Kathryn thought, as she twisted the black cotton gloves on her hands. She and Jeremy had been in this horrible town of Legend for four and a half long, long weeks, and during that time she had learned more than she'd ever wanted to know about Cole Jordan. She'd found out that his family owned all the land, the buildings, the mines, and, some said, he even owned the people.
She'd found out that he was massively wealthy, but he never spent a penny on the town unless he had to. He just lived on his side of the stone wall and pretended that the debauchery on the other side didn't exist.
Except when he came down to visit, that is. Visit the "girls," as they were called. And it seemed that he visited them often. "Twice a day if he ain't too busy," a woman had told her.
The day after she and Jeremy had moved in with the Stewarts, Kathryn had found herself to be regarded as a heroine, maybe even an avenging angel. "You tell him I wanta buy my place," a man told her, then Kathryn launched into a long explanation about how she had no power to make Cole Jordan do anything.
But no one seemed to hear her, for a few minutes later three women descended on her complaining about their "working" hours. Kathryn knew her face was aubergine purple when she thought about what they worked at, but the women kept on in spite of Kathryn's embarrassment.
By the end of the first week Kathryn began to carry a notepad and pencil with her wherever she went so she could write down the complaints. She had no idea what she was going to do with her list, but it seemed to be the polite thing to do.