The Bachelor Tax

by Carolyn Davidson

  At least Jason Stillwell had been kindly in his refusal.

  “Well, at least you’re still smilin’,” the boy before her said cheerfully. “I was afraid you’d need me close by, ma’am. That’s why I hung around till you came out.”

  Rosemary looked down at him gravely. “I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, young man. You’re the Pender boy, aren’t you? Your name’s Scat, if I remember correctly.” She glanced over his shoulder at the houses that lined the back street of town. “Won’t your father be concerned about your whereabouts? It’s been dark for a long time.”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am. My pa’s got a bottle, and he don’t care where I am.” He stepped back and motioned to the footpath. “I’ll walk you home, if you want me to.”

  Rosemary nodded. There wasn’t anywhere else to go, and James Worth and his family would probably be wondering where she had gotten to, leaving the way she had.

  “All right. Thank you,” Rosemary said, stepping ahead of the lad.

  Hopelessness surrounded her as she trudged the path, turning in at the gate to the parsonage and lifting a hand to wave at Scat. She could not, in all good conscience, stay any longer with the Worth family. They had been kind and generous, but the parsonage was crowded.

  “Don’t you have family, Miss Gibson?” James Worth had asked only this evening at the supper table.

  “No. I have no one.”

  “Well, you are welcome here,” he’d answered staunchly, even as his wife had lifted her brows as if to doubt his offer.

  Rosemary stepped onto the porch, crossed to the door and opened the screen, smiling as the tight spring announced her arrival with a twang. She stepped into the parlor, nodding at Mr. and Mrs. Worth.

  “I’ll be going to bed now. Thank you again for the lovely meal, Mrs. Worth,” she said quietly.

  She made her way to the bedroom she had once called her own. Now a small girl lay sprawled in the double bed and Rosemary carefully edged her past the middle, making room for herself.

  Tomorrow. It was the last day she would look for work in Edgewood. She slipped from her dress and draped it over a chair, bending to roll her stockings down her legs. After tomorrow, she’d have to look beyond the boundaries of town. Maybe she could cook for a rancher or keep house for a farm family. And at that thought, she slid her nightgown over her head and stripped from her petticoat and drawers beneath its billowing folds.

  Tomorrow, she’d decide what to do.

  “Have you heard if anyone needs a live-in?” Rosemary’s hopeful query brought consternation to Phillipa’s round face.

  “A live-in what?”

  Rosemary glanced around the general store, where only two other customers browsed at this early hour. She faced Pip across the wide counter. “Maybe as a housekeeper or…” Her hands gripped each other at her waist as she groped for another position she might be capable of filling.

  Pip shook her head. “Nobody hereabouts can really afford to hire in help. Maybe some of the ranchers, but most all of them have wives.” She halted, her eyes widening.

  “Rosemary…” Pip leaned over the counter, whispering her thoughts aloud. “Maybe you ought to reconsider Gabe Tanner’s proposal.”

  “No!” Her single word of denial exploded, and both browsers turned her way, openmouthed. Rosemary bent her head and spoke in a low tone. “I couldn’t possibly, Pip. I just couldn’t.”

  Bernice Comstock stepped up to the counter. “Hello there, Rosemary. I understand you’ve been looking for work,” she said. “It’s a pity your daddy didn’t provide a little better for you, isn’t it? Though I’d think you’re equipped for something.”

  Rosemary attempted to smile, cringing within at the faint praise the other woman offered. “Well, if I am, I’m sure I don’t know what it is,” she answered. “Whatever my talents are, there doesn’t seem to be a place for them here. I’ve tried at the hotel, the newspaper and even pestered poor Phillipa here.”

  From her left, Geraldine Frombert cut in abruptly. “You need to marry and have a family, child. A young woman with your upbringing would make a fine wife for any man. Matter of fact, I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up before this.”

  Pip opened her mouth, then snapped it shut after a quick look in Rosemary’s direction.

  “The Bachelor Tax will send some of these men scurrying for a wife, I’ll warrant, now that the year’s almost up,” Bernice Comstock said briskly.

  Rosemary’s heartbeat sped up, pounding in her ears. She felt cornered, as if she were a project being taken on by this pair of ladies. “I’d really rather seek employment,” she announced firmly.

  The door opened and all eyes swept in that direction. A hush fell among the women as Dex Sawyer entered the store, removing his hat in deference to their presence as he approached the counter.

  “Ladies.” He nodded at each one in turn, receiving only a frosty glare from Bernice and Geraldine. Pip grinned invitingly.

  “Mr. Sawyer, what can I do for you?”

  For a moment, he looked uncomfortable, then waved at the supply of linens Pip’s father had arranged on the highest shelves. “I’ve found a furnished place to rent. I need to have a set of sheets and a couple of towels, Miss Boone.”

  Pip’s gaze followed his pointing finger and she turned aside, hastening to scoot her ladder into place.

  “May I climb up there for you?” Dex asked politely.

  Pip stood back, allowing him space, and watched as he made his way up several steps until he could reach his goal. “Are these arranged by size?” His hand hesitated, as he glanced down at the woman below.

  She shook her head. “They’re all the same. If your bed is smaller than regular size, you just have to tuck them in farther. The pillowcases are to the right, next to the towels.”

  With an adept twist of his wrist, Dex tugged what he needed from the stack and handed them down to Phillipa. He climbed down, facing her behind the counter. “I’ll need foodstuffs, along with these linens.”

  “I’m sure my mother has an extra quilt she can let you use,” Pip said, her cheeks pink, her eyes shining as she spoke.

  From either side of her, Rosemary noted the departure of the two women. Probably didn’t want to associate with a man who made his living at the saloon, she thought. He turned to Rosemary, and his eyes were kind. “I don’t mean to infringe on your privacy, Miss Gibson, but I wondered if you had found employment yet, or a place to live.”

  Pip turned away, Dex’s list in her hand, gathering items from the shelves. Rosemary shook her head.

  “No, not yet. I can’t pay rent for a room until I have some income. I fear it’s a vicious circle, Mr. Sawyer.”

  He leaned closer, lowering his voice as he glanced aside at Phillipa, as if assuring himself she was not within hearing distance. “I have to admit I’ve been thinking about you. If you have nowhere else to go, I can offer you a haven, ma’am. I have room and to spare.”

  Rosemary’s cheeks burned with a rush of heat. “I couldn’t even consider such a thing,” she said hastily.

  “It would be better than nothing,” he said quietly.

  Rosemary was stunned for a moment at his words. “Are you offering me a room, sir? Or a position?”

  “Perhaps I should not have put such a suggestion to you. However…”

  “You want me to be your…” She could not utter the word aloud. The insult was too great to be considered, and Rosemary turned away, her injured ankle not allowing as dignifed an exit as she would have liked.

  He was behind her, his hand grasping her elbow. “Wait. I didn’t mean to give offense, although I’m sure it must seem that way to you. I’m offering room and board in exchange for your services in my home.”

  Rosemary shuddered, her perception of Dex Sawyer shattered. At first glance, on the train platform, she had thought him the picture of elegance, a perfect choice for the new preacher and certainly for a husband.

  Now, he had proved himself to be a blac
kguard of the worst kind. She jerked from his grasp. “I cannot tell you how outraged I am at your suggestion,” she said between gritted teeth.

  He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m sure there is a misconception here, Miss Gibson. I am simply offering you shelter. I beg your pardon for infringing on your dignity, but I only meant that you could cook my meals and keep my house in order until you find a better position.”

  “The only offer I will ever accept from a man will be an honorable proposal of marriage,” she said firmly.

  “Have you had one?” His tone was dubious.

  Her chin tilted and her mouth was primly set as she spoke her reply. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.”

  A flush rose to color his cheeks, and Dex ducked his head. “I beg your pardon, Miss Rosemary. I spoke in haste, and I fear I have offended you greatly. I can only offer my deepest apologies.”

  “They are not acceptable, I fear,” Rosemary whispered, her only thought that of escape from his presence. With steps that limped ever so slightly, she left the store. Glancing back, she hesitated for just a moment as Pip mouthed words she could not hear, her arms full of foodstuffs.

  From the other side of the glass, Dex watched her departure, his mouth twisted in a half smile that hinted of regret, even as he lifted two fingers to his brow in a salute.

  It was impossible that the man would think she’d even consider such a thing. Rosemary’s feet scuffed up clouds of dust as she crossed the street. How could he think she would keep house for a single gentleman? She could only imagine the gossip such an arrangement would cause. The wooden sidewalk beneath her feet now, she barely felt the pain in her injured foot, so great was her distress.

  How he could even imagine that she would take him up on the idea was beyond her comprehension. And yet, what had anyone else offered her? she asked herself in a burst of honesty. At least the man had been aboveboard with his proposal. And quick with his apology.

  Proposal. She’d thrown the word in his face. She’d said in no uncertain terms that a proposal had been offered. And so it had. An ambiguous proposition, to be sure. And yet…

  She stopped suddenly, coming to a halt in front of the newspaper office. Inside, Duncan Blackstone glanced at her, then quickly away.

  She ignored his back as he turned away, her mind on the conversation with Gabe Tanner when he had offered his hand so casually and with such a lack of dignity. Had she turned him down flat? She didn’t think so.

  The scene filled her mind. She’d told him not to molest her. She’d sputtered words she could not even recall. Yet…she hadn’t refused him outright.

  Not once had she said the single word he’d apparently expected to hear.

  He was not off the hook.

  As first choice, he rated below a rattlesnake, she decided. And yet, what were her other options? To be housekeeper to the piano player from the saloon? To beg on the street corner? To degrade herself further by going from ranch to ranch, seeking employment?

  Maybe she could make a deal with him. Perhaps she could earn her way without having to…The thought of what being Gabe Tanner’s wife entailed was almost too much for her to consider.

  At any rate, she’d reached the bottom of the barrel. Staying at the parsonage was not an option any longer, and living with Phillipa’s family would be an imposition.

  She turned on her heel and marched haltingly toward the livery stable. If passersby spoke, she was not aware of their greetings, her mind set on the goal she must attain before she lost her nerve.

  Bates Comstock, leading a bay mare, stepped from inside the big barn. He tipped his hat politely. “Miss Gibson, what can I do for you? You wanting to go for a ride?”

  “How much would it cost to rent a buggy from you for a couple of hours?” she asked.

  “Whereabouts you heading?” He tied the mare to a hitching post and slid his hands into his pockets.

  She felt the flush climb her cheeks. She’d done more blushing lately than in the whole past year, and it seemed she had no control over it. “I need to ride out to Gabe Tanner’s place.”

  Bates hesitated for a moment, then grinned, his eyes crinkling with what appeared to be an inordinate amount of delight, Rosemary thought. Why her destination should inspire such interest on his part was rather odd.

  “Well, it happens I’m on my way there myself,” Bates said jovially. “He’s sellin’ me three horses and I’m gonna pick them up this afternoon. Why don’t I just take the buggy instead of my mare, and I’ll give you a lift. Won’t cost you a thing.”

  Rosemary cast him a doubtful look, then considered the paltry sum she had in her reticule. “That sounds fine,” she said politely. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

  Chapter Four

  Gabe Tanner squinted his eyes against the afternoon sun, peering at the conveyance that was approaching his house. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Bates Comstock was hauling that Gibson woman around in his buggy. With a muffled curse, he left the barn.

  If it wasn’t Rosemary Gibson, it was her twin. And whatever her reason for coming, it probably didn’t bode well for him, he decided glumly.

  The buggy halted with a flourish, the mare tossing her head, her hooves pawing at the ground. Bates snapped on a lead line and tied it to the hitching rail, then turned back to assist his passenger from the buggy.

  “You come for your horses, Bates?” Gabe asked, hat tilted back, arms akimbo.

  Bate’s grin was wide as Rosemary’s feet touched the ground amid a flurry of skirts. “Yeah. I was about to ride out on my mare when Miss Gibson here walked up and asked for a buggy to hire. Thought we’d kill two birds with one stone and take the trip together.”

  “You were coming to see me?” Tanner turned his gaze upon Rosemary. “You’re wantin’ to buy some horses, too?”

  “Don’t make sport of me, Mr. Tanner,” Rosemary told him. “I’m sure you’re more than aware that I have no use for your livestock.” She glanced around, her eyes flitting from house to barn, to the chicken coop and back again.

  “Lookin’ things over, Miss Gibson?” Tanner drawled.

  She met his look squarely, her nostrils flaring, her mouth fixed. “You know why I’m here, Mr. Tanner.”

  One big hand over his mouth, Bates muffled his laughter as best he could, attempting to turn the snorting noise into a coughing spell.

  “Do I, now?” Tanner stepped forward, his callused palm reaching to tilt Rosemary’s face upward. Defiant blue eyes met his, and a shiver snaked its way down his back.

  “No,” he said in a harsh whisper, “I don’t know why you’re here. Why don’t you tell me?” His fingertips moved ever so slightly, brushing the delicate texture of her skin and his gaze shifted, as if drawn to the movement.

  “May we speak privately?” she asked, her eyes darting to the side, where Bates watched, wide-eyed.

  “Bates, go check with Cotton about your horses,” Tanner said through clenched teeth, his gaze intent on the woman his fingers held captive.

  Bates shuffled away, obviously disgruntled by this turn of events. Probably the best fun he’d had all week, Tanner thought.

  But if the female before him was enjoying the event, she took great pains to hide the fact. Her skin had lost its color, her eyelids fluttered, and she had her teeth clenched firmly into her lower lip, just inches from where his fingers touched her skin.

  “You’re gonna be bleedin’ in a minute if you don’t quit chewin’ on your mouth like that,” Tanner warned her, then winced as her teeth clenched and a tiny speck of blood formed on her lip.

  “Ah, hell, cut that out!” Tanner’s whisper rose to a growl and Rosemary’s eyes flew open.

  His grip tightened. “Just spit it out, Miss Gibson. I’ve got work to do. Tell me what you’re doin’ on my place, and I won’t be gettin’ riled up.”

  She jerked from his touch, and he watched with dismay as four small red marks appeared where his fingertips had pressed her skin. The word he m
uttered beneath his breath opened her eyes wider still, and she looked around as if seeking a way out of the predicament she’d managed to create.

  “I think I’ve changed my mind.” She backed from him until her skirts touched the wheel of the buggy.

  He followed, his anger appeased by the confusion she could not hide. She was breathless, her lush bosom almost vibrating with her effort to fill her lungs, and he found it impossible to keep his eyes from the sight.

  “Please let me get back in the buggy, Mr. Tanner. I shouldn’t have come here.”

  He shook his head. “You’re the one who came visitin’, sweetheart. Now, tell me why.” He’d never enjoyed pestering a woman so much, and for a moment he was ashamed. She was no match for him, this big-eyed little fugitive from the parsonage.

  Amusement won out over shame and he leaned closer.

  It was a mistake. Her mouth was trembling, her eyes frantic in their appeal, and her hands lifted to spread against his chest. The movement carried with it a faint scent of flowers and he bent his head, inhaling the hint of fragrance. Dowdy be damned. She smelled good enough to eat, and for a moment he felt starved for sustenance.

  Those fingers clenched into fists and her chin lifted defiantly. “I think you’re trying to intimidate me, Mr. Tanner.”

  He grinned. “No, I’m tryin’ to figure out what you smell like.” His nose dipped into the curve of her neck, just beneath her ear, and she swallowed a shriek, its sound muffled in her throat.

  Her whisper was thready. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You smell good, sweetheart. I noticed it the other day when I carried you across the street in town.”

  “It’s apple blossom cologne,” Rosemary said hastily. “Pip sells it at the emporium.”

  His thighs leaned into her, and he nudged her face with his own, tilting it upward. Her lips were pink, almost matching the flush that bloomed from her throat to her forehead, and he watched as they parted.

  The movement of her mouth caught his attention, and with a muffled sound he kissed her, planting his lips directly on hers.