The Bounty Hunter’s Redemption

“I’ve got a big job I might be unable to manage alone,” Carly said. “Since we have no idea when the circuit judge will arrive, I suggest we set aside our differences and do the practical thing. I need help. You want to learn how to run a shop. Would you be willing to work here?”

Mr. Sergeant choked out a laugh. “You want my sister to work for you.”

“With me.” Carly folded her arms across her middle. “Proof, Mr. Sergeant, I’m not as awful as you insinuate. Working in the shop will benefit us both.” Carly arched a brow. “Maybe once your sister gets a firsthand look at running a business, she’ll change her mind about wanting that pressure.”

“Don’t think that you can—”

“I can speak for myself, Nathanial.” Anna turned to Carly. “I’d love the opportunity. Thank you.”

For the first time since Nate Sergeant had walked in her door, Carly smiled. Truly smiled. If not for the obstacles between them, she could imagine forging a friendship with Anna. “Shall we discuss the particulars inside, Mrs. Hankins?”

“Anna, please.”

“Call me Carly.”

“I’d like that.”

His fierce expression an indication of his disapproval, the bounty hunter helped Anna down. She took his arm and leaned on him as they walked toward the entrance.

With each step, Anna dipped and rose like a small sailboat on a stormy sea. Carly’s heart tumbled. Anna Hankins was handicapped. Was each step as painful as it appeared?

Max had ended Anna’s husband’s life. Now she must fend for herself. Well, not entirely, not with that gun-toting brother at her side. Still, Anna’s disability must complicate her life.

Did her lameness explain her brother’s resolve to take the shop? Carly resisted the temptation to respect this man; a brother fighting for his sister’s well-being. No, he was a bounty hunter, a violent man who didn’t deserve admiration. But also a man with regrets. Something she understood all too well.

Inside the shop, Anna moved around, soaking up every detail, oohing and aahing as she examined cases of fabric and trimmings.

She turned to Carly. “Your shop’s beautiful, prettier than I’d imagined.”

“Thank you. Would you like to see a finished gown?”

“Oh, yes!”

Carly opened the armoire and motioned to the dress hanging on a hook. “It’s just waiting for the bride to come in for the final fitting.”

“What a sweet neckline,” Anna said. “I used batiste to make my wedding gown. A cool fabric for a summer wedding.”

As Anna moved on to examine the case of gloves, out of earshot, Nate leaned in. “I understand you’re trying to protect your son. But I hope you don’t use this job as an opportunity to talk my sister into giving up the deed.”

Heat flooded Carly’s cheeks. “I merely offered her a job,” she said. “The judge will decide the rest.”

“I’ll be close by until the judge rules.”

As close as now? Two feet away? Close enough to catch his fresh manly scent. To stare into those gray, deep-set eyes. To touch that chiseled jaw and those powerful shoulders.

Everything about the man shouted danger. He’d killed Max, spent his life tracking outlaws, and now threatened her way of life. So why did she feel this strange sense of safety in his presence? As if he would allow nothing or no one to hurt her.

Had Nate Sergeant been telling the truth when the man had told Henry that he would help her?

She bit back a snort. The man would stop at nothing to see that his sister owned the shop.

Eyes sweeping every nook and cranny, a dreamy smile on her face, Anna inched toward them with hitching steps.

The bounty hunter’s gaze softened. “Now you’ve met Anna and can see her options are limited. My sister is a good-hearted soul and doesn’t want to benefit from your misfortune. It would be tempting to take advantage of her sweet nature,” he said, lowering his voice.

Carly’s gaze skittered away from those probing, suspicious eyes. The bounty hunter didn’t trust her. Had he somehow read her mind? Suspected she wanted information, even a bond with his sister in the hope Anna would hesitate to claim the shop?

Well, she wouldn’t badger Anna, but she had to find a way to protect her son.

“Anna, are you ready? I want to get settled in.”

“Yes, I’m eager to see the cabin.” She turned to Carly. “Thank you for giving me the job. I’ll be here first thing Monday morning, before the store opens.”

“If you’re not too tired tomorrow, I’d like to invite you to First Christian Church. Services start at nine o’clock.”

“Thank you.” Anna’s gaze darted to her brother. “I’ll be there.”

At the door the bounty hunter stepped aside, letting his sister precede him, then turned to Carly. “I’ll be back.” He flashed a smile. “Don’t let the anticipation overwhelm you.”

That towering hulk of a man threatened the harmony Carly prized. Yet as she stared into those eyes, an unwelcome thrill of attraction slid through her, shooting heat up her neck and into her cheeks. She groped for a rebuke that would conceal the turmoil churning inside her. “One thing I can say for certain, Mr. Sergeant. Nothing about you overwhelms me.”

He arched a brow and had the audacity to wink. As if he had read her mind and found her claim amusing.

Carly shut the door behind him, leaned against it and took a deep breath. No matter what she’d said, Carly had never felt more overwhelmed. And of all things, by a bounty hunter.

A handsome bounty hunter, her heart whispered.

She pulled away from the door and steeled her spine. A handsome, strong-minded bounty hunter who would stop at nothing to see that his sister owned this shop.

Chapter Five

The yellow mutt Nate had seen yesterday sprang from where she’d been napping on the cabin’s front stoop, as if she somehow knew where to find her next meal.

“Oh, is the dog yours, Mr. Mood?” Anna said, running a gentle hand along the dog’s ruff.

The stray leaned into her. If Nate didn’t know better, he’d say the dog was smiling.

“Well, she’s been hanging out at the livery, but from the looks of it, she’d like to be yours.”

Nate frowned. “A dog underfoot could trip you, Anna.”

Ignoring the warning, Anna lowered herself to the step and gazed into the dog’s eyes. “Do you want to live with Nate and me, girl?” The wagging tail and short yip put a wide grin on Anna’s face. “Do you know her name, Mr. Mood?”

“Nope. Been calling her ‘dog.’”

“She needs a proper name.” Anna ran her fingers through the dog’s thick fur. “Her coat’s the color of corn, of maize. I’ll call her Maizie.”

“Well, now, that’s a purty name. I’ll leave you and Maizie to get settled,” Mr. Mood said, grinning from ear to ear. “The Good Lord is working it all out, like only He can do.”

Mood had also seen Nate’s construction skill as God-sent. Now he was suggesting God had brought this pooch to their door. As if every little thing fit into a master plan.

Nate’s hands fisted. If the liveryman believed God was sovereign over every aspect of their lives, how would Mood explain Anna’s handicap and Rachel’s murder? Two women who’d never done a cruel thing in their lives.

Nothing in his life made sense except finding Stogsdill.

As soon as he got Anna settled in, Nate would make some inquiries. See what he could learn about Stogsdill’s rumored girlfriend. With the hope she’d lead him to the outlaw.

As Anna preceded Nate into the house, he averted his eyes from the rise and fall of her gait, a constant reminder of what his carelessness had cost his sister.

He owed Anna his life. She’d saved him, a careless ten-year-old boy, from the stomping hooves of runaway horses. And paid a high cost. Saving his life had ruined hers, had limited her choices. Probably the reason she’d married Walt.

Anna turned back and clapped her hands for the stray waiting in the doorway. “Maizie, aren’t you coming?”

A wag of her tail and the dog slipped in at Nate’s heels.

“Do you mean to make her a house dog?” Nate asked. “She’ll shed all over everything.”

“She’ll mind her manners and stay on the floor. Nothing I can’t sweep up in a jiffy.”

In the parlor, the afternoon sunshine flooded the room through tall windows on either side of a brick fireplace. The coat of white paint on the walls was in sharp contrast to the floor’s dark wood planks, the cracks wide enough to slip a dime between the boards.

“Isn’t this nice?” Anna gushed as she surveyed the room. “Why, the floors and tables don’t have a trace of dust. Someone’s cleaned the place. My braided rug, Mother’s Currier and Ives prints and one of Grandma’s quilts draped over the sofa will make this place homey.”

“You could make a jail cell cozy.”

Anna cocked her head at him. “Sometimes I wonder if you perceive settling down as a prison sentence.”

“Of course not.” He shifted on his feet. “You know why catching Stogsdill’s important.”

“Could you let it go? Leave his capture to lawmen?” She raised a gaze begging him to reconsider. “We’ve lost them all, Nate. Promise me I won’t have to bury you, too.”

Nate shot her a smile. “Don’t worry, sis. I’m good at what I do.” Still, if Max Richards’s bullet had been accurate, his sister would be alone now, fending for herself. “Once that shop is yours, I’ll have peace knowing that whatever happens, you can make a living.”

“What about Carly Richards? She’s a widow with a child. How can I live with myself if I take the shop away from her?”

“I’m not happy about Mrs. Richards’s plight, but you didn’t take the shop. Max Richards lost it to Walt. Walt paid for it with his life, a high price. The shop will be your future.”

That is, if the circuit judge saw things as Nate did.

Nate trailed Anna to the kitchen. Simple cupboards, large cookstove, small potbellied stove, a table and four chairs. He walked to the window over the sink with a view to the back and the alleyway beyond.

Anna clapped her hands. “Oh, look, Nate, an indoor pump!”

“Good. When I leave, you won’t have to haul water.”

“I thought you were certain I’d be living behind the shop.”

“I am, but if I should have to leave before the ownership is settled—”

“Enough of that talk. Let’s look at the rest of the cabin.”

They moved on to the bedrooms, both small but adequate, each with a double-paned window, brass double bed, built-in clothespress and chest of drawers. Not fancy, but nicer than Nate had expected.

“I’ll take the room next to the kitchen, if that’s all right,” she said.

“Fine by me.”

He walked to the window and gazed at the back of the seamstress shop, the Richards’s living quarters. The widow’s generous attitude toward Anna had surprised him. But then Anna had a way of bringing the best out of people.

“I’ll get your things,” he said, “then help you set this place to rights.”

Within minutes of his hauling trunks, boxes and crates inside, Anna had started building a nest. By the time he’d driven the team to the livery and returned to the cabin, Anna had made up the beds, topping the linens with colorful quilts.

Then set him to nailing bed sheets at the bedroom windows for privacy.

In the parlor, she draped another quilt over the sofa. Satisfied with her efforts thus far, she made a list of the supplies they’d need while he hung two Currier and Ives idyllic prints above it.

They moved on to the kitchen, where they unpacked jars of cherries, applesauce, tomatoes, beans—all canned by Anna—and stowed the Blue Willow dishes from their childhood in a cupboard, as well as all the paraphernalia needed to cook and serve a meal.

Anna shook out a tablecloth and let it float onto the scarred table. “If you can find two rods at the mercantile, I’ll make proper curtains tonight from my stash of fabric,” she said, setting a blue-striped crock in the center.

The errand would give Nate the perfect opening to ask questions. “I’ll head over there now.”

With a soft groan, Anna dropped into a ladder-back chair. The stray dog nudged Anna’s hand and got a perfunctory pat, then curled at Anna’s feet, head propped on her paws.

“You’ve overdone it. Now your hip’s bothering you.”

“I’ll rest a minute and be fine.” She glanced around her. “Once the curtains are made and up, this will look like home.”

He suspected Anna was making a home not only for herself but for him. “Don’t get too attached to the place. You’ll soon be moving behind the seamstress shop.”

“If the judge should rule the shop is mine, I won’t displace Carly and her son. The boy just lost his father. I won’t let him lose the only home he’s probably known.”

“Anna,” he said, trying to make her see reason, “this cabin will sell with the livery. Where will you live then?”

As if he hadn’t spoken, Anna handed him a list, then flapped her hands, shooing him out like a pesky fly. “Please. Get those rods and the items I need.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, saluting her with a grin. “I’m at your service.”

Anna appeared mild-mannered, but she possessed a spine of steel. The reason she’d dealt well with her handicap, her incompetent husband and now his violent death.

“I’ll fix a nice supper. Get whatever looks good from the butcher. I intend to fatten you up.” She leaned down and patted the mutt. “You, too, Maizie.” Tail thumping against the floor, the dog raised her head, tongue lolling.

Anna probably hoped her home cooking would entice Nate to stay, as much as food enticed the stray. He had put on weight with her delicious meals. If he stayed, living a life of ease, he’d get soft. “Be back soon as I can.”

As Nate stepped onto the porch, Mrs. Richards and her son strolled toward him. The widow carried a pot, holding the handles with dishtowels, as if the metal was hot.

In three strides Nate reached her side. “Can I help with that?”

“Thank you, but I’ve got it.”

Henry beamed up at Nate. “You came back.”

“Yes, and brought my sister with me,” Nate said, unable to resist rubbing a palm over Henry’s cowlick. As soon as he removed his hand, the tuft sprang aloft.

Henry gazed up at his mother. “Is that the lady that’s going to help you sew?”

“Yes,” Carly said, her gaze darting to Nate, then away.

It didn’t take a mind reader to see her disquiet about relying on the woman who held the deed to her shop. That order she’d mentioned must be a whopper.

“I thought Anna might appreciate not having to cook.”

“Chicken and noodles,” Henry said.

“My favorite.” Nate inhaled. “Smells delicious.”

“I like chicken and noodles best, too!” Henry all but danced around Nate’s knees. “I could eat with you.”

“It’s not polite to invite yourself,” Carly said, tugging her son close, obviously unwilling for Henry to spend time with a bounty hunter. “Besides, I saved some for us.”

Nate didn’t blame her. He wasn’t someone a boy should look up to, but with Max Richards for a father, Henry had no idea what made a man admirable and might latch on to any man.

As he reached the stoop, Nate opened the door and called to his sister. He couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to sit at the table with Carly and her son. To enjoy a meal and a bit of conversation, assuming they could squeeze a word in between Henry’s little-boy chatter.

Anna appeared in the doorway. “Carly, what a lovely surprise.” She smiled at Henry. “This handsome young man must be Henry.”

“We bringed chicken and noodles for your supper.”

“How thoughtful.” She opened the door. “Please, come in.”

At his mother’s side, Henry turned to Nate. “Are you coming?”

“My sister asked me to run an errand, but I’ll see you around.”

The light in Henry’s eyes dimmed. “Oh, okay. ’Bye,” he said, taking the hand Anna offered and walking inside.

Nate tipped his hat at Mrs. Richards. “Thanks for supper. That was considerate of you.”

Her sapphire eyes held a chill. “Don’t be misled, Mr. Sergeant. If not for you, Anna would not consider taking my shop. That makes you and me adversaries. I’ll do what I must to ensure my son’s future.”

“As I will with my sister’s.”

“We understand each other, then,” she said, closing the door with a click.

Carly Richards might be hospitable to Anna, but she obviously viewed him as the enemy. She somehow knew Anna would forgo ownership of the shop if not for his insistence. And that was why he would stay until the judge ruled.

Nate strode past the livery out to Main Street. Always alert for trouble, his gaze spanned the street and buildings as he turned toward the mercantile.

Most businesses in town looked prosperous and well kept. Ruffled curtains hung on either side of the window of Sarah’s Café. A red-and-white-striped pole heralded the town barbershop. First State Bank, the name hand-lettered in gold across the glass, looked as solid as its stone facade. On down the street Nate spied a grocery and doctor’s office.

Apparently the livery was the only run-down building in town. Gnaw Bone was a nice place for his sister to settle. From what he’d seen, folks here had pride of ownership and weren’t afraid of work.

Nate stepped through the open double doors of Stuffle Emporium, the scents of spices, kerosene, soap and vinegar warring in his nostrils. He zigzagged through a maze of tables piled with stacks of readymade clothing, linens, pots and pans. Along the back wall he found wrought iron rods that would fit the bedroom windows. The curlicues on each end would please Anna. He gathered them up, along with supports and screws. No need to buy a hammer when Anna had Pa’s metal box filled with tools.

Toting his finds, he walked to the long counter. Behind it, shelves reached from the wooden floor to the stamped-tin ceiling. J. B. Stetson hats lined a section of one shelf. A brown Stetson caught his eye. An exact replica of the hat Pa had given Nate on his twelfth birthday. “When you do a man’s work, you need a man’s gear,” Pa had said, placing the hat on Nate’s head. Though his father’s praise had been overstated, Nate had worn the hat with pride and tried to live up to his words.

A lanky, tall man, his large hands folded over the apron covering his middle, stepped over and flashed a smile. “I’m Clarence Stuffle, proprietor of this here establishment. You must be new in town.”

“Name’s Nate Sergeant. My sister and I just moved into Morris Mood’s house.”

“Ah, that makes you the bounty hunter planning to fix up the livery.” He thrust out a hand and they shook. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Morris can use the help. Like an old clock, he’s harder to wind and keep a’tickin’.”

“I’m glad for the work.”

“So what brings a bounty hunter to Gnaw Bone?”

Nate had no intention of sharing his reasons. But, word would get out. “Gnaw Bone seemed like a nice little town for my widowed sister to make a new life for herself.”

“Carly Richards is doing the same. I reckon you’d know about that, having killed her husband.”

Nate straightened, holding the proprietor’s gaze.

Stuffle raised a palm. “Not that I’m not holding it against you, leastwise as long as you keep that revolver holstered. Most folks didn’t cotton to Max.”

“I’m not a threat to anyone on the right side of the law.” When had Nate spoken a bigger lie?

“In that case, welcome.” Stuffle motioned to the items Nate had laid on the counter. “Our blacksmith made the rods. A wooden rod, even a strong cord would do, but womenfolk like things fancy.” He glanced at the paper in Nate’s hand. “Anything else you need?”

Nate handed over the list. Apparently, Stuffle hadn’t gotten wind of the controversy over the shop’s ownership. Once the judge arrived, the entire town would know. If the judge ruled in his sister’s favor, as Nate expected, would Anna be an outcast? As if his occupation didn’t already bring enough censure.

Nate’s jaw tightened. He might have the skill to track and bring outlaws to justice, but he had no way to protect his sister from mistreatment. If folks gave Anna a chance, they’d like her. How could they not? She always thought of others, put them first. Still, to ensure her happiness, he would come back to Gnaw Bone as much as he could while pursuing Stogsdill.

Obviously not a man to hurry, the proprietor shuffled back and forth from the shelves to the counter, piling up the items on Anna’s list. Finally he rang up each on the brass cash register and told Nate the tally.

If Stogsdill’s rumored girlfriend lived in the area, he might’ve been in this store. “I’m guessing you don’t have many newcomers in town,” Nate said, doling out the money.

“Not many.” Stuffle shut the cash drawer, then handed Nate his change. “Reason you’re big news.”

Nate wouldn’t show the proprietor Stogsdill’s wanted poster or give the outlaw’s name. If he recognized the man, word might get out and scare Stogsdill off. Nate’s best chance was to locate the rumored girlfriend.

As Stuffle boxed the purchases, Nate leaned in. “I’ve heard an outlaw I’m pursuing has a girlfriend in these parts.”

Stuffle frowned. “Some woman from here is entertaining a criminal? What’s her name?”

“Don’t know. Can’t describe her, either.”

“Reckon finding a nameless, faceless woman is harder than locating a copper penny in a pigsty. My wife works Fridays and Saturdays. She would remember a new face in town, especially a woman. Most likely know all about her before she got out of the store.” He grinned, revealing a gap between his front teeth. “My Myra’s got a nose for news.”

“I’ll be back to speak to your wife.”

“Oh, better yet, talk to Mrs. Richards. Ladies like to ogle lace and feathers while their men do business at the bank.” He chuckled. “Or in the saloon.”

“Thanks for your help and the advice.” Nate gathered the box and strode toward the livery and the small house out back.

Tomorrow he’d stop in at Mrs. Richards’s seamstress shop to ask if she’d waited on a newcomer in town. Hopefully one of these ladies would have what he sought: a lead to Shifty Stogsdill’s girlfriend. That girlfriend could lead him to Stogsdill. A ruthless killer who’d taken Rachel’s life—a lovely, innocent young woman who’d never harmed anyone.

Until Nate brought Stogsdill to justice, he would never be free to settle down, never have a wife and children, never have the comfort of a normal existence. Nothing would make him happier than to end the outlaw’s reign of terror.

Nothing that is, except seeing Anna settled behind the shop counter with her name on the sign out front, knowing his sister had a future, even if Stogsdill saw that Nate lost his.

Chapter Six

Carly unwound the fabric, sending the bolt of silk thumping along the counter. This beautiful white fabric, surely as pretty as anything in Paris, would become Vivian’s wedding gown.

On the other side of the counter, her brow furrowed in concentration, dark ringlets of her hair dancing around her jaw, Anna smoothed the fabric, while Carly pinned on the pattern pieces. Pattern pieces contoured to fit the bride perfectly.

“I’ve got to get this right,” Carly said, setting aside the pincushion and reaching for the scissors. “I don’t have extra fabric if I make an error.”

Anna stretched across the table and grabbed Carly’s free hand, then bowed her head. “Lord, give Carly clarity of thought and steadiness of hand to cut this dress out perfectly. Amen.” With a gentle smile, Anna released Carly’s hand. “Sorry for taking the lead, but I’ve never worked with material this fancy.”

Carly had never prayed before cutting into fabric, but after hearing the simple request, she wondered why she hadn’t. “I appreciate God’s help. And yours.”

With Henry in school, Carly and Anna worked through the morning. Their only interruption being two customers who’d browsed through bolts of fabric, then left. By noon they’d pinned and basted the gown’s bodice together. After the fitting, Carly would run up the seams on the treadle sewing machine.