Pacing several feet away, Leland settled his hands on his hips, staring out at the bustling street. Turning, he glared at Marcus. “You know there’s no one else to do the work within a hundred miles.”
“Well now, I don’t know that for a fact, but it’s fair to say you’d be hard-pressed to find someone with my experience who can finish it by tomorrow night.” Marcus leaned a hip against his workbench, crossing his arms. “I’ve been doing the work alone. If I have my hired hand help, we might be able to have it finished by Sunday night. We’ve got a couple other orders to finish. We’ll do our best, but I can’t guarantee anything.”
Nate glanced between the two men. One, a hard as nails blacksmith with a quick mind and natural business sense. The other, an East Coast lawyer who seized the ownership of a profitable gold mine when one of his clients died without heirs. For now, neither had noticed him standing at the back, listening to every word spoken.
“Who’s this man of yours?” Leland asked. “I want to meet him.”
“And you will.” Turning to head outside, Marcus stopped at the sight of Nate standing a few feet away. “Ah, here he is now. Nate, this is Leland Nettles, owner of the Acorn Gold Mine up north a ways. Leland, this is Nate Hollis, the best man who’s ever worked for me.”
Nate stepped forward, extending his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Nettles.”
Leland’s gaze moved to his left side, his eyes widening. “You’ve got only part of your left arm.”
Dropping his hand, Nate smirked. “It’s what happens when a rebel cannonball hits you during battle. I survived. My horse didn’t.”
Ignoring Nate, he looked at Marcus. “You say this man is the best you have?”
“He’s all I have, and I’m glad he’s here. You heard my terms. Accept them or take your design and find someone else.” Turning his back on Nettles, Marcus picked up the tool he’d been forging while Nate spun around to head back to the livery.
“Wait.”
Both turned at Leland’s resigned voice.
He looked at Nate, not at all apologetic for his rude behavior. “Fine. I’ll be here Sunday night, and it had best be ready.”
“As I said, Leland, we’ll do our best, but can’t guarantee it. The design is complex. I don’t know what problems we might encounter. The worst case is what we agreed. Tuesday. I want to make sure you understand what I’m saying.”
“Dammit, Marcus. I can understand English perfectly well. I just don’t like the options.”
“Neither do I, but it’s all I’ve got to offer.” Marcus held out his hand, waiting until Leland accepted it. “We’re in agreement then.”
“Send word to me when it’s finished.” Stomping out of the livery, they could hear his mumbled curses all the way to his horse.
“You say the man owns the Acorn Mine?” Nate stood just inside the livery, watching as Leland reined his horse around, wincing when he angrily kicked the animal hard to get it moving.
“He does. Picked it up cheap when his client died suddenly. Nothing about it ever seemed quite right to me, but the judge who came through said it was all legal. Why?”
“Just doesn’t seem too hospitable is all.” Nate idly scratched a spot on his left forearm.
Marcus stopped his work to glance over his shoulder. “Never has been. Expects people to jump when he speaks. And most people do.”
“Not you, though.”
Marcus shook his head. “No. Not me.”
Walking past him, Nate stopped at the back door, a sardonic smile on his face. “Guess I’d better get the harness fixed and the other work done. I wouldn’t mind getting Nettles his order early. Best to have the man obliged to you rather than the other way around.”
Glancing up, Marcus nodded, a slight grin marring his otherwise taciturn expression.
“What do you think of this one, Geneen?” Heather held up a spool of moss green ribbon which matched her eyes.
Walking up to her, Geneen pursed her lips as she compared the green ribbon to the blue ribbon Heather held in her other hand. “Both are pretty. The green one would be better with the hat you selected.”
Setting the blue one back on the shelf, Heather scrunched her face. “Maybe I’ll just be wearing the ribbon.”
“I thought we agreed the hat you selected would be perfect with your dress. We’ll use the ribbon on your hair to keep it pulled back.”
“Tame it, you mean.” Heather had always struggled to keep her light brown hair in place. “All right. I’ll be getting both. And what about you, lass? Did you decide on a hat?”
Geneen fingered her deep red hair as she stared at the hat. It had ribbons of emerald green and bright blue, perfect for the dress she planned to wear. She had no money of her own, and it didn’t seem right having Caleb pay for such an extravagance.
“Ach, you’re thinking too much, lass.” Heather placed a hand on Geneen’s arm. “I don’t know what Caleb and I’d be doing without you. It’s sure not as much work would be getting done. Let us buy the hat and ribbon.”
The sound of boots on the wooden floor had them both glancing at the front.
“Tell her, Caleb.”
Lifting a brow, he glanced between the two women. “Tell her what, Heather?”
“You’ll be buying the hats and ribbons for us both. It’s only right with all the work the lass has been doing.”
He smiled at Geneen. “I never thought otherwise. Now, if you’re both ready, I’ll pay so we can start back to the ranch. I’ve two days’ worth of work to finish in eight hours.” Taking the hats and ribbon from their hands, he took them to the counter as the ladies continued to study other items. “I’d like these put on my account, along with this, Mr. Beall.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out some coins.
Thomas Beall, owner of Beall’s General Store, glanced down at the coins. “I’m happy to put it toward what you owe, Caleb, but you’re welcome to wait until the end of the month. I know you’re good for it.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d rather do it now. I’m certain the ladies will be doing more shopping before Christmas, and I don’t want to be too far in debt to you.”
The corners of Beall’s eyes crinkled. “As you wish. I know the MacLarens will step in to help if needed.” He scooped up the coins, not seeing the flash of red on Caleb’s cheeks.
“It’s certain they have a good reputation, but I plan to run Highlander Ranch without their help.” His words were spoken softly and edged with a hard determination.
“I meant no offense. Word is you’re a hard worker, and frugal. Nothing wrong with either of those, or wanting to do it all on your own.” He pulled a ledger from under the counter and made a few notes. “I expect you and the women will be coming to the dance.”
Caleb turned to see Heather and Geneen smiling over a bottle of bath salts. “The ladies wouldn’t miss it.”
Thomas threw his head back and laughed. “All the women love dances. Me? I like the food, music, and the time away from the store. If I never had to dance again, I’d be a happy man.”
Nodding, Caleb picked up the hats and ribbon. “I’m fortunate. My wife isn’t much of a dancer. Spares me the embarrassment. I’d best get the women and head back. There’s a lot of work to be done before Saturday.”
“I’ll see you at the dance, Caleb.”
Thomas watched him usher the women outside and mount their horses. He knew good people when he met them, and the Stewarts were a welcome addition to Settlers Valley. Putting away the ledger, he startled at the raspy voice coming from a few feet away, surprised he hadn’t seen the stranger enter the store.
“I need ammunition.”
“Of course. What do you need?” Thomas stared at the man. He was certain he’d never seen him before. Close to six-foot-seven, as thin as a willow switch, he boasted a full mustache. It wasn’t his height as much as his yellow eyes, rimmed in black with a black center, that had the store owner gawking. He found himself wondering what had caused the ragged scar ru
nning from his right temple to the tip of his chin. Thomas wisely held his tongue.
The man placed his revolver on the counter. “As many boxes as you’ve got.”
“Nice gun.” Thomas studied the .36 caliber weapon. “I’ve half a dozen boxes, with more expected on the next steamship.”
“I’ll take them all.” He pulled money from his pocket, laying the amount Thomas quoted on the counter as the shop owner pulled boxes from the shelf behind him. “When does the next steamer come in?”
“Due on Sunday. I expect a dozen boxes of .36, along with other ammunition.”
“I’ll be back on Monday and will buy all you’ve got.” Filling his arms, the man walked out, not sparing a glance to the three women who stepped aside, their mouths agape as he moved past them. When he closed the door, one of the women turned to Thomas.
“Who was that man?”
Thomas shook his head. “Never seen him before.”
“He bought a good amount of ammunition.” She glanced over her shoulder to see him walking across the street to the saloon. “Hope he’s planning to ride out of town soon.”
Thomas nodded. “So do I,” he whispered, feeling a thick sense of unease settle over him.
Highlander Ranch
Saturday morning…
Geneen slid off Gypsy, the sorrel mare the MacLarens gave her not long after she arrived at Circle M with her sister, Sarah. She’d been riding an older gelding, one her father reluctantly passed on to her when the horse was too old to help around their farm. Although the horse made it from Oregon to Conviction, the long journey had taken a toll, prompting Ewan MacLaren to announce the animal might not make it through another winter.
Blaine and Fletcher MacLaren helped her train the three-year-old. Now Geneen couldn’t imagine riding any other horse. As she walked Gypsy into the barn, she thought of the long rides she used to take with Nate, their talks, the laughter. She hadn’t seen him laugh or smile for weeks before he rode away for the last time.
She’d hoped the memory of their shared experiences would have faded by now, stop haunting her from sunup to sunset each day. Instead, she found herself thinking of him more and more, wondering where he might be, if he’d found what he wanted, what she hadn’t been able to give him. Colin’s mother, Kyla, had told her many times his troubles had nothing to do with her, insisting Nate would find his way back to Geneen when he put his demons to rest. Every night before falling asleep, she prayed Kyla was right.
“Such a good day.” She turned to see Heather entering the barn, Caleb not far behind. Smiling at Geneen, Heather tied Shamrock next to Gypsy. “The cattle are moved to the north valley, and the horses are secure in the new pasture. And we’ve no need to prepare supper.”
“How’s that?” Caleb asked, stopping beside her with Jupiter.
“Mr. Beall said the ladies in town will be bringing enough food for an army. I asked what Geneen and I could bring, and he told us to enjoy the dance. Our turn to provide food would come soon enough.”
“Which is good.” Geneen removed Gypsy’s saddle, placing it on a rack before grabbing a brush. “All I have energy for is taking a bath and dressing.”
Caleb removed Jupiter’s bridle, hanging it next to the horse’s saddle. “When we left this morning, Archie said he’d put water on for baths.”
“How wonderful!” Geneen offered a grateful smile. “Will he be going to town with us this evening?”
He led Jupiter out the back, setting him loose in the pasture before turning back to Geneen.
“Archie’s staying here. Says he’s been to more than enough dances.” Caleb snickered, shaking his head, then sobered. “He told me he met his wife at a community dance over forty years ago. Said they were both older, neither of them thinking they’d ever marry. They made the trip west and ended up in Settlers Valley. She died a few years later during childbirth. He lost both her and the baby.”
“How awful.” Heather walked up to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “He’s never spoken of her to me.”
“I doubt he talks about her much. Archie showed me a drawing someone did of her. It’s old, wrinkled, and hard to make out, but I’m sure she was a real beauty.” Caleb tightened his hold on his wife.
“Aunt Kyla says it’s a risk having babies in the frontier. Worse when the mother is older.” Geneen fiddled with a piece of rope, searching for something to pull them from the depressing subject. “Mr. Beall mentioned there’s a doctor in town. Maybe he’ll be at the dance and we can meet him. You know…just in case.”
“Speaking of the dance, I’ll be needing that bath soon. Geneen plans to do something with my hair.” Heather patted the old, dust-covered hat she wore.
“Then we’d best get to it.” Caleb kept his arm around her shoulders as they made their way to the house, glancing over his shoulder. “There might even be some unsuspecting lad at the dance who’s perfect for Geneen. The same as Archie and his bride.”
Laughing, she hurried up beside them. “It’s not likely. I’ll settle for a couple dances with men who don’t step on my toes.”
Heather gave her a smile. “You might not want to be setting your sights so high, lass. Not stepping on your toes is asking a lot.”
The women were still laughing as they disappeared into the house.
Chapter Three
Nate sat on a bench in the shadows across from the church, watching people enter the community dance. The sounds of laughter and music greeted them as they walked inside. He knew no one would notice him with their attention focused on the revelry around them.
All he wanted was one long look at Geneen. Another memory to store away, along with the ones from the day Caleb and Heather married in the same church several weeks before.
A few times, he’d spotted her riding Gypsy in town, having no idea he hid at the back of the livery, watching. Most days, she secured her dark red hair at the back of her neck, a cowboy hat similar to what he wore covering the beautiful mane. The same as Heather, she wore pants and a man’s shirt, ready for the hard work of a ranch hand.
Tonight, she’d be wearing a dress, and according to what he’d heard, a new hat from Beall’s. Nate continued to watch the trail from the Highlander Ranch, hoping she hadn’t changed her mind about attending.
A few minutes later, a wagon came down the road, three people on the bench seat. He didn’t need to see them clearly to know they were Caleb, Heather, and Geneen. His heart sped up as they approached, his breath hitching when he heard her laugh.
Caleb secured the line and jumped down, extending his arms for Heather, then Geneen. A ball of regret clogged Nate’s throat. He should be the one escorting her inside. Instead, Caleb had the honor of ushering the two beautiful women out of the chilled night air and into the warmth of the festivities. Never had he envied a man more than he did his good friend.
As they entered, movement to the side of the church drew his gaze. Blinking a couple times, Nate leaned forward, attempting to get a better look at the darkened form. His eyes focused, revealing a tall, slender man wearing a black hat and long coat. A handkerchief covered his face, a gun in his right hand.
Fear pulsed through him as the man glanced around, stared up and down the street, then took a few tentative paces toward the front of the church. When he moved to the bottom of the steps, Nate stood, pushed aside his greatcoat, settling his right hand on the handle of his six-shooter, and began to walk quietly along the boardwalk toward the church. The man he watched looked around once more, apparently pleased with what he saw as he took the last few steps to the door. Nate’s urgency increased as the man pushed the door open, his gun still in his hand, and stepped inside.
Running across the street, Nate heard a loud shout, then screams. As he came closer, the view through a window sent a chill down his spine. The man held the gun before him, motioning for people to move.
Nate shuddered, remembering a similar incident in Conviction when an armed group of men entered a dance with the hope of
stripping the townsfolk of whatever valuables they had on them. The robbery had been stopped, but not before a Circle M neighbor, Quinn MacLaren’s future father-in-law, was shot.
Looking through the window once more, Nate let out a relieved breath. The stranger had directed everyone to the other side of the room, leaving no one close to take as a hostage. All Nate had to do was get off one good shot, causing the man to drop his gun, and whatever he planned would be stopped.
Taking the steps slowly, he drew his gun, leveling it at the intruder. An instant before pulling the trigger, he froze as the barrel of a rifle dug into his back.
“Hold it right there, Hollis, and lower your gun.” Sheriff Polk’s rusty voice boomed through the slight opening in the church door, causing the intruder to freeze his actions and turn.
Before Nate had a chance to explain, the man barreled out the door, shoving Nate into the sheriff, causing both men to topple down the steps. Pushing up, Nate began to run after him.
“Stop right there, Hollis.”
Turning, he saw the sheriff once again had his gun trained on him. “What the hell are you doing? The man’s getting away.”
The sheriff cocked his head, not lowering the gun. “What are you talking about?”
Nate had no chance to answer before a crowd of people surged from the building, surrounding them and shouting.
“Now you all quiet down. I have the man right here.” The lawman pointed at Nate.
Marcus stormed up to him, fisted hands resting on his hips. “Dammit, Sheriff. That’s not the man who wanted to rob us. That’s Nate Hollis.”
Even with the crowd, Nate could hear the gasp of disbelief, a muffled cry, and a deep-voiced curse coming from the top of the stairs. Turning, his gaze moved from Caleb to Heather, then finally to Geneen, whose face had gone ashen. Without a word, Caleb navigated down the steps, stopping in front of Nate.
“You’ve been here this whole time, Nate?” Caleb’s low, angry voice was all the warning he got before his friend’s fist connected with his jaw.
Nate's Destiny Page 3
