A Bounty Hunter and the Bride

by Vickie McDonough

“Mornin’.” Dusty yanked off his hat and held it in front of him, leaving his black hair in need of straightening. “How you feeling today? I know yesterday’s ride couldn’t have been easy on you.”

  Katie blinked, taken off guard by the concern she saw in his onyx eyes. “I’m doing fine. Thank you.”

  He smiled and donned his hat. “That’s good. You look more rested than you did yesterday. Well, I’d better go help your brother.”

  He turned and sauntered to the wagon, his long-legged gait eating up the ground in quick order. She narrowed her gaze. Why did he have to be nice to her? It made blaming him for her troubles that much harder. Her stomach gurgled, and she went back inside.

  As Katie entered the kitchen, Aunt Rebekah glanced up from the worktable where she was sitting, making dinner rolls. Her blue eyes lit up, and she smiled. “Feeling better?”

  “Yes, but I desperately need some food—and some coffee.” Katie poured herself a cup, then pulled out a chair and sat down.

  “I saved you some breakfast.” Rebekah wiped her flour-coated hands on her apron, stood, and crossed the room to the stove.

  “Why is Mr. McIntyre still here? I figured he’d head out early this morning.” Katie closed her eyes and savored the coffee as it slid down her throat and warmed her belly.

  “He told Mason he thought he’d stay in the area. Maybe look for work in Guthrie.”

  Katie froze, her mouth agape, as disappointment surged through her. Of all the places Dusty McIntyre could settle, why did he have to pick Guthrie?

  Rebekah set the plate in front of her, and the scent of fresh biscuits, bacon, and eggs wafted up. “Mmm. Smells wonderful. I’m just glad I can eat eggs now. When I was first carrying, I couldn’t stand to see or smell them.”

  “I know just what you mean. About all I could stomach those first months were grits and oatmeal.” Smiling, Rebekah sat back down, pinched off a section of dough, and rolled it into a ball. “He seems like a nice man to me.”

  “Who?” Katie slathered butter and plum jam onto her biscuit, then stuffed a huge bite into her mouth.

  “Mr. McIntyre.” Rebekah set her hands in her lap and stared off in the distance. “He reminds me of Mason when I first met him. He has that same haunted, hurting look. I wonder if he lost someone he loved.”

  “I don’t know. He doesn’t talk all that much.” She forked some eggs into her mouth, wishing Rebekah would change the subject.

  “So, are you going to tell me why you came to visit so unexpectedly?”

  Maybe changing the subject wasn’t the greatest idea.

  “Is it because of the baby or because you got hurt?” Rebekah glanced at Katie’s arm.

  “Not exactly. It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got all day. Or would you prefer Mason was here when you talk about it? He didn’t want to push you last night because you looked so tired.”

  Katie pushed her eggs around on her plate. Suddenly, they didn’t taste so good. She closed her eyes and sighed, knowing she couldn’t keep the truth from her aunt.

  She told Rebekah how she’d met Allan and how he had swept her off her feet with his charm and persistence, even going to church with her. After taking a swig of coffee to steady her nerves, she told her aunt about the wedding and about Dusty storming in and Allan pushing her down and running away. Rebekah’s eyes widened, and her hand lifted to cover her mouth as Katie told her about the house catching on fire and Dusty rescuing her.

  Rebekah reached her flour-coated hand across the table and laid it on Katie’s arm. “I’m so sorry about your home, sweetheart. So, Mr. McIntyre saved your life? Remind me to give that man a hug.”

  Eyes moist at the memory of her loss, Katie sputtered and her back stiffened. “Well, yes, he saved me, but he’s also responsible for ruining my wedding and burning down my house.”

  Rebekah’s mouth quirked to one side, and her brows lifted in disbelief. “Sounds to me like he kept you from making a terrible mistake, besides saving your life—and your child’s.”

  “Yes, but…” Katie considered her aunt’s words. Aunt Rebekah had a way of putting everything in its proper perspective.

  “No buts. I know you, Katie. You’ve always needed someone to blame when things go wrong. From what you’ve told me, Mr. McIntyre wasn’t even in the house when the lamp was knocked over, so it couldn’t be his fault.”

  A door banged, and the twins stormed into the kitchen. “We’re starved, Mama,” they said in unison.

  Rebekah smiled. “Are you now? Well, perhaps I could find a cookie to hold you over until dinner.”

  The twins’ eyes gleamed, and they nodded their heads.

  Grateful for the reprieve, Katie closed her eyes as her aunt stood. She wasn’t ready to let go of her anger, even though she knew that’s what God wanted her to do. For some reason, she needed to stay angry at Dusty. Was she afraid if she didn’t that she might just discover she liked him?

  Even though she dearly loved her aunt and uncle, Katie didn’t want to live in their home again. Her independence was too important to her.

  Considering her options, she nibbled a piece of bacon and watched her aunt, who’d returned to making her dinner rolls. She could sell her farm and would have the money to get a small house somewhere, maybe in Guthrie. She’d be closer to her family and still be living on her own. But then her child would have no inheritance, and she’d feel as if she had failed Jarrod.

  She had to do something. Having lost her mother and father when she was just a tiny girl, she’d always felt something was missing. Oh, Uncle Mason and Aunt Rebekah had loved her as much as real parents, but she’d always wondered what things would have been like if her parents had lived.

  She shook that thought away. For now, she’d keep the ranch and find some other means of support, like sewing. Though it would be difficult with the cast, she could manage. Maybe she could get Jimmy to drive her back to town so she could scout out her options.

  She stared into her coffee cup and swirled the black liquid. One thing was for sure: She was done with men. She couldn’t stand the pain of loving and losing again—or being taken in by another con man. No, she’d find some work and raise her child without a man’s help.

  Dusty patted Shadow’s rump and walked out of the livery. While his horse received a new pair of shoes, he needed to find some work. The livery owner didn’t need any help but thought that the man at the mercantile might. Dusty clenched his jaw. Working in a store wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, but if it would enable him to fulfill his obligation to Mrs. Hoffman, he could do it for a time.

  As he stepped inside the mercantile, he paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. All manner of scents tickled his nose, from leather, to spices, to the pickle barrel at his side. His mouth watered at the thought of eating a juicy pickle, but he was here on business, not for a snack.

  A heavyset woman behind the counter smiled. “Good morning. What can I help you with?”

  Dusty looked around, hoping to speak with her husband, but no one else was in the store. He removed his hat and plodded toward the counter, his boots echoing on the wooden floor planks. “Morning, ma’am. Your husband around?”

  She shook her head, and wisps of curly gray hair danced around her wrinkled face. “No. He had to pick up some orders at the train depot. I can help you with ‘bout anything he could.”

  Dusty cleared his throat. “The truth is, I’m looking for work.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze took him in from top to bottom.

  He figured he looked more like an outlaw to her than a store clerk. “I can assure you that I’m honest and trustworthy. Mason Danfield will vouch for me.”

  “Oh, well, that’s good. Mr. Danfield is a fine judge of character. But the truth is, we just hired a man last week. We needed someone to make deliveries. I’m truly sorry.”

  Her compassionate gaze soothed Dusty’s disappointment. He looked around the store, and his eyes landed on a colorful sign advertising sod
a pop. “I’d like to try one of those.” He pointed at the sign.

  The woman smiled. “Those new soft drinks are quite the rage now.” She moved to the back of the store and returned with a small bottle. Using an opener, she flipped off the top, and a hissing sound erupted.

  Dusty took the cold bottle and laid a coin on the counter. He took a sniff of the sweet-smelling drink, then a taste. Fizzy bubbles tickled his tongue, but the drink was cool and refreshing. Much better than the lukewarm, metallic-tasting water in his canteen. He swigged down the drink in three swallows and contemplated getting another. Maybe later. He clunked the bottle onto the counter. “Thank you. I may be back later for some supplies.” Dusty tipped his hat at her and licked the remaining sweetness off his lips.

  “We’ll be here, and we’re glad to help.” She smiled and waved, making Dusty wish he had a grandmother alive somewhere.

  He stepped outside and blinked against the brightness as his boots clunked on the boardwalk. Guthrie was an active town. A number of men and several women moseyed along the sides of the street, stopping at different establishments.

  He’d heard that Guthrie was one of the most progressive towns west of the Mississippi. One building even had an underground area for storing buggies and stabling horses for the people who worked there.

  Sanders Creek was a far cry from Guthrie. Dusty reckoned the town had a new marshal by now—maybe Tom. Even though he’d never formally quit, he’d been gone more than a year and a half. He scowled, not wanting to think of his hometown and all he’d lost there.

  Looking at Guthrie again, he remembered the stories Mason and Jimmy had told him. When they first came here, shortly before the first Oklahoma land rush, thousands of people lived here in tents and covered wagons. Dusty tried to imagine the scene.

  As he stood in front of the mercantile, leaning against a post, two young women dressed in frilly gowns and carrying parasols crossed the dirt street and walked in his direction. They giggled and talked behind their hands, leaning close to speak in one another’s ears. Something told him they were talking about him. He glanced down at his denim pants. A streak of dirt lined one leg where he had leaned Shadow’s hoof as he checked the shoe earlier this morning.

  The women neared the steps next to him and stopped at the bottom. The cute brunette cleared her throat, making him realize they were waiting for his assistance. He pushed away from the pole and held out his hand. The brunette batted her lashes at him, and a coy smile tugged at her pretty lips. Dusty helped her up the steps, then turned to aid her friend, a shy auburn-haired gal. After he assisted her, the two ambled on their way, giggling and looking back over their shoulders at him.

  He jogged down the steps and crossed the street, heading toward the marshal’s office. Why hadn’t their attention affected him? He ought to consider it a compliment, but his thoughts kept traveling back to Katie Hoffman’s dark blue gaze glaring at him. She obviously couldn’t be rid of him quick enough, but something inside him wished she felt differently.

  Dusty nearly stumbled as the realization hit him—he liked her. For some odd reason, he felt an attraction to the prickly woman. Oh, sure she was pretty enough with that mass of golden hair and those simmering eyes, even though she was with child.

  He’d always been drawn to needy people. Maybe that’s why he liked his job as marshal, because it allowed him to help those in need. As he looked up, his gaze landed on a sign indicating the marshal’s office, and he headed that way.

  The door rattled as he entered, and a lean man sitting behind the desk looked up. The small office smelled of cigar smoke and gun oil.

  “Howdy, stranger. What can I do for you?” The man leaned back in his chair, surveying Dusty as if he expected trouble.

  Hoping to put the man at ease, Dusty crossed the room and held out his hand. “Dusty McIntyre. I drove Katie Hoffman from her farm in Claremont to her uncle’s farm.”

  “I’m Homer White.” The marshal stood and shook Dusty’s hand. “McIntyre, huh? That name sounds familiar. You’re not wanted for something, are you?”

  Dusty could tell the man was partly serious with his question. “I was marshal in Sanders Creek a few years back.”

  Marshal White’s eyes narrowed as if he was searching his mind for a memory. Suddenly, his gray eyes widened. “Oh, you’re that McIntyre. Sorry to hear about your wife and home. D’you ever catch the man that caused all your troubles?”

  Dusty nodded. “Just did.” He glanced around the room. “I was hoping to take a look at your WANTED posters. Now that Ed Sloane is locked up, I need to find something else to do.”

  A drawer squeaked on the desk as the marshal pulled it open. He took out a stack of papers and flopped them on the desk. “Have at it.”

  Dusty thumbed through the stack, recognizing several faces. He handed one to the marshal. “That man’s in jail in Enid. Caught him last month.”

  Marshal White nodded. “Glad to know that. I’ll put his poster in my CAPTURED file.” He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and slid the paper inside.

  Dusty smiled and studied some more posters. The problem was, if he went after another outlaw, he wouldn’t be able to stay around and help Mrs. Hoffman. He sighed. What he needed was a job in town.

  “You’re welcome to have a seat. I don’t get too much company—unless there’s trouble.”

  Dusty nodded his thanks and sat down. “You know of any honest work around here? I’d kind of like to stick around these parts for a while.”

  The marshal grinned, showing his yellowed teeth. “That Katie Hoffman is a fine-looking woman, isn’t she?” His expression sobered. “Heard tell she lost that young husband of hers. Downright shame. They weren’t married but a few months.”

  Dusty stared out the window. Was his attraction to Katie that obvious?

  “Tell you what. I could use a deputy. The one I had left town a few weeks ago when he got word his father was dying. You interested?”

  Dusty’s gaze darted back to the marshal. The man was serious. Dusty studied the dirt on the wood floor. Was he ready to pin on a badge again?

  “I know what you’re thinking, young man. Wondering if you still have it in you after getting gut shot like you did back in Sanders Creek.” The man leaned back in his chair with his hands crossed behind his head. “Best thing to do is get back on the horse once you’ve been thrown.”

  Dusty knew it was the truth, but sometimes climbing back on wasn’t easy.

  “You got a place to stay?” Dusty shook his head. “Not yet.”

  “Good. You can stay with me. I live by myself. Got a spare bedroom and a place out back to stable your horse—assuming you’ve got one. And I’ll pay you seventy-five dollars a month, just like I did the other fellow.”

  Dusty blinked. Rarely in his life had things come so easily. He waited for the however—but it never came. He reached out his hand. “Marshal, you’ve got yourself a deputy.”

  six

  Katie brushed her damp hair and paced the length of the porch and back. She desperately needed to find some way to get to town. Uncle Mason was too busy to take her, and Jimmy had gone down to Texas to scout out some cattle. She would ask her cousin Josh but didn’t want to get the fourteen-year-old in trouble with his father.

  A sharp pain forced her to take a seat in the nearby rocking chair. She rubbed at a spot on her upper leg where the babe tended to sit on a nerve, sending sharp stabs into her hip and down her leg. How in the world had Rebekah managed to do this five times? A picture of two small graves on the hill behind the house reminded her to be thankful for her active child. She remembered the gripping pain when Rebekah’s third child had been stillborn and the horrible shock when Mason and Rebekah woke up one morning to discover their youngest daughter dead in her cradle at only five months old.

  No matter how much discomfort her babe caused, Katie was determined not to complain. If not for Dusty McIntyre, she could have lost her child.

  Katie shook her head, not wantin
g to think of being beholden to the handsome bounty hunter. A man like that was a loner, destined to travel the countryside, ever in search of his prey. It must be lonely. What would drive a man to want to live such a solitary life?

  Besides, he was gone now. He’d ridden out nearly a week ago and hadn’t returned. At least her anger had cooled somewhat, not having to be around him daily.

  She stood, rubbing her back. There had to be some way she could get to town. Perhaps the dress-shop owner could use some help. Katie had mastered her sewing skills by helping her aunt make clothes for their big family and surely would be an asset to a dressmaker, even though it would take her much longer to sew with the cast on.

  The porch thudded as the twins charged up the steps. She loved her young cousins, but they just about wore everyone out with their active natures. They stopped running but still bounced around her.

  “Nathan says you swallowed a punkin. That true?” Nick stared up at her, his brown eyes wide. Nathan elbowed Nick in the side, but he didn’t look away.

  Katie’s cheeks warmed as she considered how to respond. The door behind her squealed open, and Rebekah stepped outside.

  “There you are. You boys wash up and wait for me in the parlor. It’s time for your reading lesson.”

  “Aw, Ma. Why do we have to learn readin’?” Nathan’s shoulders sagged.

  “Yeah, we ain’t never even been to school yet.” Nick glanced at his brother and took a similar posture.

  Katie tucked her lips together to keep from laughing.

  “I’m determined for you to start school already knowing your alphabet.” Rebekah stared down at the boys, her hands on her hips. “Now go inside.”

  “Aww,” the boys whined in unison.

  Rebekah grinned and shook her head. “Katie, are you doing all right?”

  “Yes, but I’m so bored that I asked Deborah to help me wash my hair—and it’s not even Saturday. I want to ride into town and see if that new dressmaker needs some help.”

  Her aunt’s eyes widened. “You’ll do no such thing. A woman in your condition has no business traveling. You risk doing injury to your child, not to mention tiring yourself out.”