He felt bad that Oscar arranged supper for him most nights, but he wasn’t taking charity. Oh no, that wouldn’t do. He paid his way. Just because he didn’t have the time to cook, Oscar had taken it upon himself to feed Hunter.
If he was truthful, time wasn’t the issue. The fact he burned everything he tried to cook was more to the point. The town folks in their wisdom had tried to marry him off – on several occasions, but he was having none of it. What sort of life would the wife of a marshal have? If for no other reason than the worry of whether or not her husband would come home that night, there was the fact they often moved about.
Hunter had been in Alsburgh for several years now, and the townsfolk all seemed to be happy with him, and he hoped it stayed that way.
It was a quiet town, except for the occasional fight he had to break up. Sometimes he wondered if they did it to be thrown in prison for a day or two. The bakery’s food was pretty good. Now that Miss Lancaster had arrived, he might be bogged down with prisoners vying for her meals.
He snatched up the tray and headed for the door, shoving his hat on his head. It was already dark outside, which meant it was almost time for the bakery to close. He hurried over the road and threw back the door.
When he glanced up, Bethany Lancaster stood at the counter. She was in the process of removing her apron, ready to go home. “I’ll bring these back in the morning,” he said, annoyed with himself for leaving it so late.
He turned to leave. “Please don’t,” she said as she stepped toward him. She tied her apron around her waist again. “I’ll rinse them off now, and wash them properly in the morning.”
He studied her. She didn’t seem the type to do such a thing, but he had to take her word for it. “Alright then,” he said. “As long as that is all you do.”
She took the tray from him and headed toward the kitchen. “Where’s Oscar?” he asked, then wished he hadn’t. If the other man wasn’t around, he was bringing attention to the fact they were alone.
Bethany turned to face him, and gave him a quizzical look. “He’s in the storeroom sorting out supplies for the morning.”
Hunter felt utterly relieved. He didn’t know Bethany Lancaster, not really, and had no idea what she was capable of. Many a man had been tricked into marriage by women who had cried foul when it was totally untrue.
He stood in the doorway studying her as she rinsed the dishes. She pushed past him to return to the bakery. The slight contact sent a shiver through him.
He watched as she once more removed her apron, this time hanging up on hook behind the counter. She gathered up her things and headed to the front door. “Goodnight Mr Devlin,” she shouted over her shoulder.
Her boss stuck his head around the door. “Goodnight Miss Lancaster. I’ll see you in the morning.” Oscar had a smile on his face – it was the first time since Mary-Lou had left that Hunter had seen him smile. Having help again had obviously changed his outlook. A week ago he was talking about closing up shop. That would have been a disaster for the town.
He held the door open and Miss Lancaster proceeded him out onto the main street, then headed toward the boarding house. He walked along side her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped at him, staring him down.
He chuckled. “I’m making sure you get home safely.” He should have realized she would object. She was that sort of gal.
They walked for a few hundred yards, then she stopped dead. “I am capable of getting myself home safely you know.” This time she had her hands on her hips as she glared at him.
He knew better than to laugh. Now she was getting serious. “Well, we’re almost there now, so no harm done. Besides, those robbers could be hanging around,” he stared out toward the hills for dramatic effect. “And we would not know until they appeared. With you being the only witness…” He let his words drift away.
Perhaps he’d gone too far because now she looked terrified. “You don’t think…?” She took a shuddering breath. “Am I in danger?” she whispered, and he felt like a total heel.
He stood in front of her and held her shoulders. “Did you see the robbers?” His words were firm, like he would use when interrogating a witness. He felt her shudder under his touch.
“No.” The words came out as a whisper, and she sounded completely vulnerable. No longer the happy and carefree woman of a few hours ago.
He pushed his hat further back on his head. “Then you’ll be fine. Besides, I’d know if they were still around. Believe me,” he said firmly. “They are long gone.”
She nodded then continued walking, but said not another word. He felt badly for scaring her, but it wasn’t safe for a woman to be out walking in the dark alone. Especially when she was not familiar with the layout of the town.
They walked in silence, almost shoulder to shoulder. He had a sudden urge to put his arm around her, but was almost certain she would slap his hand away. A chuckle bubbled up his throat at the thought, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, hands on her tiny hips again.
“Nothing.” Nothing that he could tell her anyway. If he voiced what he’d been thinking, she would surely slap his face. She might look frail, but Hunter was certain there was more to Miss Bethany Lancaster than it appeared.
“Here we are,” she said, reaching into her reticule for her key. With the moonlight playing across her face, Hunter studied her. She had almond shaped eyes that called to him, and a pert little nose. Her lips were full and moist, and suddenly her tongue shot out and licked her lips.
It took all his restraint not to lean forward and kiss her. He shook himself mentally. It was ridiculous where his thoughts were going. He did not like her, and she sure as heck didn’t like him, especially after that stunt with her unmentionables.
The door suddenly flew open and there stood Nancy Richter. “Evening Marshal. What brings you out here?”
His attention moved from the appealing lips of Bethany Lancaster to Nancy. “I was making sure Miss Lancaster got home safely.” He touched the tip of his hat. “Well, I’ll be saying goodnight to you ladies now.”
As he turned to leave, Nancy called him back. “The kettle has just boiled if you’d like to say for a bit?”
He didn’t have the heart to say no. Besides, Nancy Richter always had the best cake – straight from the bakery. “Well, thank you, Ma’am. I don’t mind if I do.”
He followed Miss Lancaster into the house, and at Nancy’s request, made himself completely at home. He loved this little town.
Chapter Four
It was a busy day for Bethany. She’d offered to start early like she always did at her father’s bakery. Oscar Devlin would have none of it. He was emphatic and said it wasn’t right for the two of them to be together, alone in the bakery at that hour of the morning.
When she thought about it, he was right. She was after all, a single woman, and he was a single man. They were not that different in age. It had never been an issue before – she’d always worked with her father in the early hours.
He didn’t think she was trying to put him in a compromising situation, did he? The thought made her shudder. She hoped he didn’t think that was her intention, because what she wanted was to establish herself as a great baker and a good employee. She wanted to make herself indispensable, but didn’t want to be too obvious about it.
What she’d seen so far of Alsburgh, she liked. It was a quiet little town, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and the people seemed friendly enough. Marshal Bancroft however, had seemed more than a little rude at the doctor’s office. Once he was through the door at Nancy’s boarding house, he was a totally different person. Toward Nancy anyway.
When it came to Bethany, he was reserved and rather standoffish. That was fine with her. She wasn’t interested in making friends here. She wanted to concentrate on working at the bakery and earning enough money to rent a place of her own. Maybe down the track, if she wa
s frugal, she might even buy her own place.
She shook herself. It was rare for a woman to save that much money, even if she skimped and saved. Earning far less than men made it an impossible dream.
“Good morning, Miss Lancaster,” Marshal Bancroft said as he entered the bakery. “Everything alright in here?” He craned his neck to see through to the kitchen area and the storeroom.
“We’re fine,” she said, a question on her tongue.
He saw right through her. “Doing my morning rounds,” he said. “Unless something untoward happens, you’ll have the pleasure of seeing me every morning around this time.” He grinned and quirked an eyebrow at her.
The man was infuriating, and she felt like throwing something at him, but not something that would do harm. Bethany glanced about. She snatched up a kitchen towel and threw it across the room toward him. He ducked but it hit him square in the face.
Her aim never was that good.
“Hey,” he yelled. “That wasn’t nice. And this thing is wet.” He made his way to the counter, a scowl on his face.
She wasn’t sure if he was really mad, or joking with her. Standing opposite her on the other side of the counter, he pushed the kitchen towel toward her, then let it drop near her hand. He stared down at her, still scowling, and she studied him. It wasn’t long and his face softened. Then his hand slipped along the counter toward hers.
His gaze did not falter. He stared into her eyes and Bethany found it hard to pull her gaze away.
“Miss Lancaster,” Oscar said, strolling into the room. “Have you… Oh.” He quickly returned to where he came from.
Bethany pulled her hand away. “Is there something I can do for you, Marshal?” she asked as though he was a complete stranger.
He looked hurt. “Not really. I’d best continue my rounds.” He was out the door before she could say anything further.
Oscar Devlin ducked his head around the door. “Is it safe to come out,” he asked quietly.
“Perfectly safe,” she said, slight annoyance in her voice. “I was about to start the pastry. Six apple pies again?”
“Make it ten,” Mr Devlin said. “Those pies were snapped up yesterday. We’ll need to start thinking about Christmas soon,” he said. “It’s only a matter of weeks away, and the customers are already asking.”
He was right. Father would have had his Christmas menu sorted by now. With everything else that had happened lately, it hadn’t entered her mind. “I have an old family recipe if you’re interested. It’s a rich cake, passed down through generations. I guess it depends on your customers. Do they prefer cheap or quality?”
She stared at him for long moments, waiting for a response. He tapped his finger to his chin as he thought. “Some like cheap, but the majority of customers around here prefer to get a quality product.”
“Oh, and puddings. Do you sell many of those?”
His face lit up. “Since Father died, I haven’t been able to locate his Christmas pudding recipe. I think he kept it up here,” he said, tapping his temple. “This time every year, I have nothing but complaints regarding the lack of puddings.”
She grinned. Bethany felt as though she was meant to end up here. She grabbed a sheet of paper and made a list of the ingredients she would need. Mr Devlin, or Oscar as he was now insisting she call him, would ensure the necessary ingredients were available when she needed them.
Being the only bakery for miles around, the store was relatively busy. They took turns serving so they each had time to do their allocated baking for the day. Apart from her apple pies, Bethany made several orange cakes, which were a favorite with the locals Oscar told her, a few pound cakes, and two dozen blueberry muffins. The latter were sold individually.
He had set up a few tables recently, and had begun serving tea and coffee. It was a way to draw more customers into the bakery. His hope was it would bring groups of the local ladies together, and they’d buy more of the baked goods being offered before they left.
Apart from serving and baking, it was also her job to clean down the tables. It was not a favorite task, but had to be done. If it kept her in a job, Bethany was not going to complain. She was busy cleaning the tables when the bell over the door jingled. She glanced over her shoulder to see the marshal enter. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been here, so she was surprised to see him again so soon.
He winked at her. Bethany stood tall. The man was beginning to annoy her.
But he was a customer, and we don’t upset customers, she said under her breath. “Hello Marshal. What can I do for you?” She strolled over to the counter carrying a bucket of soapy water and a wash cloth. She washed her hands in the small basin against the wall.
His gaze burned into her back.
“For some strange reason, I’m quite hungry,” he told her, trying to keep his expression serious. She saw right through him.
“Did you not eat breakfast?”
He straightened his shoulders and cracked his neck before answering. “I rarely eat breakfast. It’s far too time consuming.”
She scowled. “I find that rather hard to believe,” she told him, then bit her lip. He was after all, a paying customer. For some reason she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.
“Can I buy one of those bread rolls,” he asked, pointing to the basket of fresh rolls on the back counter. “What do you have to fill it?”
“Nothing.”
He studied her. “Are you mad at me for some reason?”
She squirmed under his scrutiny. “No, why would I be mad?” Maybe because you felt you could take liberties by trying to cover my hand with yours, she wanted to scream. But she held her temper.
“I just thought…”
Oscar would be furious if she turned a customer away. “Oh, wait. I think we have a chunk of ham. Let me check.” She opened the icebox and sure enough, there was a small piece of ham there. “I was right. Would you like some cheese with that?”
“Yes please, and a mug of coffee.” She glanced up at him but said nothing. “Did I tell you I’m having it here?”
Of course he was. Just to annoy her no doubt. “Take a seat then,” she said and went into the kitchen to prepare his food. Marshal Bancroft was seated at a table when she returned, his long legs stretched out under the table. He’d removed his hat, and it was sitting on a spare chair at the table.
“It looks good,” he said as she placed the food in front of him. He threw some coins on the table, enough to cover his food and more. “Keep the change for yourself,” he said with a smile. “A tip if you will.”
Bethany was fuming. She wasn’t penniless and didn’t need his tip. If she said anything it would surely become an argument. It was as though he purposely set out to annoy her.
She went back to work while he ate in silence but felt his eyes on her almost the entire time. She wanted to hide in the kitchen, but with Oscar working in the storeroom, that just wasn’t possible.
The marshal didn’t seem in a hurry to leave. He’d placed himself in a position to see outside, and shared his gaze between Bethany and the main street. A number of customers had come and gone while he sat there indulging himself, and it frustrated her. She wasn’t sure why.
There were other empty tables, so he wasn’t stopping paying customers from sitting down to eat food. He wasn’t blocking the way of customers entering the store either. She really didn’t know why she felt so irritated by the man.
Except perhaps that he took liberties he had no right taking. Like displaying her unmentionables to the deputy. Like throwing water in her face. And presuming he was her protector when he was no such thing.
Finally, he pushed his plate away. The bakery was currently empty so Bethany moved toward his table and lifted the plate. His coffee mug was almost empty. “More coffee,” she asked reluctantly. If she refilled his cup, he would stay longer, but it was Oscar’s policy to refill at no extra charge.
He stared up at her, but didn’t speak while he pondere
d. “I’d better not,” he finally said, regret in his voice. “I need to check on the prisoner, and I still have more rounds to do.” He stood and stretched himself to his full height. “Oh, that will be one for supper tonight. Do you need a hand with the tray?”
That really got her annoyed. “I am perfectly capable of carrying a tray with two meals on it,” she said between gritted teeth. Bethany stormed over to the door and opened it, indicating for him to leave. In response he grinned.
“You have quite a temper for such a pretty little thing,” he said, believing his words to be funny.
Bethany felt her back stiffen and it took all her effort not to shove him out the door. “Get out,” she said quietly but forcefully.
He chuckled and then left. He glanced back over his shoulder and winked at her. The blasted man, he thought himself to be so darned special. In reality he was a nuisance. She slammed the door and went back to what she was doing.
Chapter Five
It was hard to believe she’d been here over a week already. The days seemed to fly.
Bethany was busy in the bakery, either cooking or serving, then at night, spending time with Nancy relaxing. That was after the marshal walked her home, much to Bethany’s annoyance.
Marshal Bancroft had also taken it upon himself to visit several times throughout the day. Oscar said the marshal was sweet on her. Well she wasn’t sweet on him. The man was arrogant and self-centered.
She glanced up as the bell over the door tinkled. Before she even checked, she knew it was him. She sighed. “Hello Marshal,” she said. “What can I do for you?”
He must have heard the exasperation in her voice, because he studied her. “For one thing, you can call me Hunter.” He grinned.
“Like I said, what can I do for you, Marshal?”
He scowled. “Why does it always seem like you’re mad at me?” he asked as he stared into her face. “Am I really that bad a person?”
It was as though she’d slapped him – he seemed that upset.
Rescuing the Lawman Page 3
