A Bounty Hunter and the Bride

by Vickie McDonough

  Katie gave her aunt a weak smile. “I hadn’t thought to talk to Uncle Mason. Actually, I’ve avoided it because I knew he’d tell me I shouldn’t be angry at God.”

  “Having lost his wife when he was young, he knows what you’re feeling. He was mad at God, too—ready to turn you and Jimmy over to your unscrupulous father. Then he was heading west, planning to leave behind everyone he ever loved.”

  Katie nodded, remembering the story of how he had lost his pregnant wife and his sister—Katie and Jimmy’s mother—in a wagon accident. Why hadn’t she realized before that he would understand what she was feeling?

  She folded up the blanket and laid it back in the trunk. Tonight, if he had time, she’d talk with her uncle.

  “You’ve been fussing about wanting something to do.” Rebekah glanced at Katie with an ornery twinkle in her eye. “I thought maybe you’d want to get started mending these diapers. Some of them need to be rehemmed. You’re welcome to use whatever you want in here.”

  Katie hugged her aunt, inhaling her faint scent of lavender mixed with the aroma of the cooked food. “Thank you. This is just what I need to keep me busy for a while.”

  “If you find it difficult to sew with that cast on, I’m sure Deborah wouldn’t mind helping you.” Rebekah handed Katie a little basket with various colored threads, a couple of needles, and a pair of scissors. “I need to check on that apple pie I have baking.”

  Katie sorted through the diapers and took out the ones that needed mending; then she took them and the basket into the parlor and sat down in the chair by a large window. She preferred to sit on the porch, but cold weather had blown in several days earlier; now it was simply too chilly.

  Half an hour later, she heard steps on the front porch and glanced out the window. Her heart skipped a beat, and she pricked her finger with the needle when she saw Dusty McIntyre. Katie wiped off the dot of blood, wrapped a scrap of cloth around her finger, and went to the door. Just about the time she got Dusty McIntyre out of her system, he showed up again.

  He held a large package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine in one arm and yanked his hat off with his other hand. “Afternoon.”

  Katie didn’t want to think how intriguing he looked with his hair messed up like that and a shy grin on his nicely formed lips. His long duster hung open, and a deputy’s badge pinned to his vest gave him an air of authority. Having seen him in action, Katie knew she wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.

  Realizing she was staring, she moved back. “C’mon in.”

  He stepped inside, hung his hat on a peg, and shrugged out of his duster and draped it on a hook—just as if he belonged there. He smelled of horse and leather and the faint hint of some kind of aftershave.

  “Did you come to see Uncle Mason?”

  Dusty shook his head and grinned, sending her heart into spasms.

  “Seems we have this conversation every time I show up. I came to see you.”

  Katie didn’t want to consider that she was actually glad he’d come to see her. She motioned him into the parlor and closed the front door.

  Rebekah peeked out of the kitchen. “We got company?”

  “It’s just Dusty. He came to see me.”

  Her aunt’s eyebrows lifted, and an ornery grin tugged at her lips. “Oh, I see. It’s chilly out. I’ll just fix you two some hot tea.”

  “I imagine he’d prefer coffee.” Katie darted a glance at Dusty, and he nodded his head.

  “Coffee it is.” Rebekah disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Katie ambled into the parlor, wondering how she knew Dusty wanted coffee instead of tea. Perhaps it was just that manly look of his that made her think he was a coffee drinker.

  She motioned to Dusty to sit down and took a seat across from him. His long form looked awkward in the small side chair. “So, what brings you here today?”

  Dusty glanced at the package in his lap. “I… uh… got to thinking about what you said about wanting to ask the dressmaker for some work. Trust me, I understand your desire for independence.”

  Katie watched him, wondering where this was leading. Seeing a tough lawman blushing was rather enchanting.

  “Well, the truth is, I need some new shirts, and I can’t find store-bought ones that fit since I have long arms. I got some cloth and was hoping I could hire you to make a couple.”

  Katie stared at him, stunned by the thoughtfulness of his offer. He wouldn’t take her to town, but he brought some business to her. “I… well, sure! I’d be happy to. Show me what you’ve got in your package.” She couldn’t help grinning.

  He untied the twine, and the paper crackled as it fell open to reveal a soft blue denim and a stark white cotton fabric. Katie crossed the room and fingered the cloth.

  “This should do nicely.” On top of the fabric lay a colorful tin box. “What’s in that?”

  Dusty’s bronze cheeks took on a dark rosy shade. “I told Mrs. Whitaker at the mercantile how you lost everything in the fire, and she gathered some sewing tools she thought you would need. Consider it a gift from me for all the trouble I caused you.”

  She blinked. Who was this man? Why was he treating her so kindly after she’d been so mean to him? Guilt washed over her, making her realize how rude and unmannerly she’d been. She swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the tears in her eyes. Turning away, she stared out the window to gather her composure.

  The settee squeaked as Dusty rose. She could feel him standing behind her.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you. It wasn’t my intent.”

  Katie closed her eyes. The concern in his voice was for her. Never once did Allan voice apprehension on her part. How could she have been so blind about him?

  With her emotions once again under control, she turned to face Dusty. She owed him the truth. “You didn’t upset me. I was just moved by your thoughtfulness.”

  Relief softened his gaze. Katie eased around him, her insides quivering like warm custard at being so close to him.

  “Let’s just see what’s in that box. I’ll need to measure you if I’m going to make those shirts.” She pulled off the lid, and excitement coursed through her. The box held a shiny new pair of scissors, threads of all colors, a whole package of needles, a thimble, buttons, and a measuring tape. “Oh my, this is wonderful! But it’s too much.” She turned around. “You must let me make one shirt to pay you back for all these supplies.”

  Dusty shook his head. “No, they’re a gift. I’ll pay for the shirts.”

  “But—”

  He held up his big, callused hand. “No buts. Or I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

  Dishes clinked as Rebekah entered the room. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. McIntyre.”

  “Look what he brought.” Katie held out the tin box. “I’m going to make him some shirts.”

  Rebekah set the tray of coffee and cookies on the round table in front of the window. “How nice. That will keep you busy and out of my hair for a while.” She smiled. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your business.”

  “Thank you.” Dusty nodded at Rebekah on her way out of the parlor.

  “Let me measure you; then we’ll take refreshment.”

  “All right.”

  Katie stretched the tape along Dusty’s arms, noticing that he was correct in his assessment. He did have longer arms than an average man. She stood in front of him, trying to figure out how to best measure around him. “Hold up your arms so I can size your chest.”

  He did as he was told, but his cheeks looked a tad more flushed than normal. Katie held one end of the tape measure in the hand with the cast and leaned forward, running the tape behind Dusty’s back. For a split second her cheek rested against his chest, and she could hear the steady beat of his heart. Her hands shook, and her mouth went dry. She noted the size, quickly moved away, and jotted the numbers on a piece of paper. Stepping behind him, she measured his shoulders across the back and the length the shirt needed to be.

 
“So, how do you come by the name McIntyre? Isn’t that Irish?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t notice her nervousness.

  Dusty cleared his throat and lowered his arms. “My father came from Scotland years ago, and his family moved to Kansas. After a while, Dad got itchy feet and decided to travel south. He didn’t get very far. Fell in love with the daughter of a Cherokee chief and married her.”

  Intrigued, Katie motioned him to sit; then she served the coffee. “So you’re half Cherokee. That explains your coloring.”

  Dusty nodded and sipped his coffee. “I wondered if your uncle might have Indian blood.”

  Katie sat down and shook her head. “I don’t believe so. I’ve always heard he’s part French.”

  He shrugged. “I just wondered.”

  Katie picked up the fabric. “So you want a shirt from the denim and the white cotton, but what about this?” She held up a soft, light blue flannel. “A nightshirt, perhaps?”

  Dusty eye’s widened, and he looked as if he’d choked on his cookie. “No! That’s for the baby.” If his cheeks hadn’t been red before, they sure were now.

  Katie bit back a grin at his embarrassment, then realized what he said. “I can’t accept another gift from you, no matter how kind it is. It simply wouldn’t be proper.”

  This time Dusty grinned, making cornmeal mush of her emotions. “I didn’t say it was for you. It’s for the baby. And I can give the baby a gift if I want to.”

  Katie studied the man before her. She’d been so wrong about him.

  eight

  A week later, Dusty rode up to the Danfield barn and reined Shadow to a halt. The front door of the house banged, and the saddle creaked as he twisted toward the noise. Nathan jumped off the porch, ignoring the steps, and Nick followed.

  “I’m gonna git you, ya mangy outlaw,” Nick yelled at his brother.

  “Nuh-uh. I’m Jesse James, and you can’t catch me.” Nathan dodged around the water trough, then made a wide arc around Shadow’s hind end.

  Dusty tightened the reins. Shadow was a steady mount but not used to noisy little boys.

  Nathan smiled and waved as he ran by. “Howdy, Dusty.”

  “Ma said to call him Mr. McAtire,” Nick countered as he and his brother plowed to a stop beside Shadow.

  Dusty bit back a smile at the mispronunciation of his name. He dismounted and held the reins loose while Shadow drank from the trough.

  “Well, I cain’t say that.” Nathan blew out a breath that lifted his straight bangs in the air.

  “You boys reckon you could tend to my horse in exchange for a peppermint stick?”

  The twins’ eyes widened, and they nodded. “Boy, howdy!”

  Dusty smiled. How did they always manage to reply in the same way at exactly the same time? “No more water for him, though. At least not for a while.”

  “We know.” Nathan held out his hand.

  Dusty laid the reins across the boy’s little palm. He pulled the sack of candy from his pocket and handed two red-and-white-striped sticks to Nick. “You be in charge of these since Nathan has Shadow.”

  Nick nodded and licked his lips as his hand closed around the candy.

  Mason moseyed out of the barn and smiled when he saw Dusty. “You boys can put that horse in the third stall. And don’t overfeed him.” He lifted his hand in greeting. “Howdy.”

  Dusty closed the distance between them and shook Mason’s hand. “Afternoon.”

  Mason eyed him until Dusty squirmed. What was he looking at?

  “I halfway expected to see you two days ago.”

  Dusty blinked, wondering if he’d missed an appointment. “The marshal had me escort a forger he had in jail up to Tulsa. I just got back last night. Why were you expecting me?”

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  Dusty searched his mind but had no idea what Mason was talking about. He shook his head.

  Mason’s whole face lit up like a child peeking in his Christmas stocking. “Katie had the baby. I guess Marshal White forgot to tell you.”

  All manner of emotions swarmed Dusty at the same time. This baby was alive because he had rescued Katie. On the other hand, the child would have been born in its own home if not for the fire caused by Dusty’s charging in and capturing Sloane. At least the baby wouldn’t be raised by a ruthless outlaw.

  “It’s an amazing thing when a child is born,” Mason said, probably misinterpreting his silence for awe.

  “Yes, you’re right. I probably should come back another day to give Katie time to rest up. I just wanted to see if she’d had a chance to sew up one of my shirts, but it sounds like she’s been busy with other things.”

  “I believe she managed to get one done.” Mason clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go ask her. Maybe you can see the baby if he’s awake.”

  Dusty walked beside Mason. “He?”

  “Yep, she had a son. That’s what she wanted—a son to carry on Jarrod’s name.”

  “That’s good. How’s she doing?” Dusty hoped he wasn’t crossing too many rules of propriety with his personal questions, but the Danfield family didn’t seem too big on those rules.

  “Great.” Mason chuckled and glanced at Dusty with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Nathan was disappointed to discover Katie had swallowed a baby instead of a pumpkin.”

  Dusty laughed, imaging the boy’s confounded expression. He followed Mason into the house, where they shed their hats and coats, then meandered down the hall and into the kitchen. Rebekah and Deborah both looked up and smiled.

  Rebekah wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the room. “Welcome, Mr. McIntyre. Come to see the baby?”

  Dusty nodded. The fragrant scents and cozy atmosphere of the crowded kitchen made him long for a home of his own. For now, he was satisfied to live with the widower marshal and save money, but down the road, he’d like to get a little place of his own.

  “Deborah, would you please tell Katie she has company?”

  The young girl nodded, skirted around Dusty with a whimsical grin tilting her lips, and disappeared into the hall. The kitchen door thudded open, and the twins charged in, both talking at once.

  Rebekah grinned and looked at Dusty. “Why don’t you wait in the parlor? It’s much quieter there.”

  Dusty stood in the parlor a few minutes later, looking out a large window. South of the barn, he could see Josh chopping wood and could hear the dull thud as he tossed the split sections into a pile. Mason must have put the twins to work, because they were now stacking the chopped wood against the side of the barn.

  Behind him, he heard footsteps and turned. A much slimmer version of Katie strolled in, followed by Deborah carrying the baby. Katie smiled, and his heart flip-flopped. She had never looked so beautiful. Her blue dress matched her eyes, but it was the glow emanating from her face that choked off his breath.

  “It was so nice of you to come see us.” Katie slowly eased down onto the settee, and Deborah handed her the baby, then quietly left the room.

  Katie patted the cushion beside her. “Come sit beside me so you can hold Joey.”

  Dusty knew his eyes must have widened about as far as possible. He shook his head. “Uh… no, ma’am. I never held a baby before.”

  “Then it’s time you know what it feels like. Come sit down, Dusty.”

  When she said his name like that, he could do nothing but obey. He dropped down beside her, trying to maintain a proper distance on the narrow settee. Katie unwound the blanket that enshrouded the baby. The infant squeaked, a tiny fist popped out, and the child stretched.

  Dusty’s heart pranced in his chest as he watched the little boy. This child’s round face slightly resembled Katie’s, and his fuzzy, blond hair reminded Dusty of a duckling.

  She lifted the baby and handed him to Dusty. His hands trembled as he took the light bundle.

  “This is Jarrod Joseph Hoffman Jr. But we call him Joey.”

  Her smile and the warmth in her eyes stirred something in Dusty that he
hadn’t felt in a long while. Worried that his big, rough hands would scratch the baby, he moved with caution.

  “Support his neck with your left hand and his hind end with your right.”

  Dusty did as she suggested but held the baby away from his shirt. The child jumped and flung his arms out, nearly causing Dusty to drop him. He darted a gaze at Katie.

  “Babies prefer to be held closely. Put Joey’s head in the crook of your arm and cuddle him against your chest.”

  As Dusty tucked the baby against his shirt, he wondered again if he’d have been a father by now if Emily had lived. He studied Joey’s cute, expressive face, and a deep longing for a family of his own enveloped him. Dusty thought he’d given up wanting a family, but in that second, he knew the truth. He wanted it all—a home, a wife, and children.

  Katie held her breath as Dusty hugged Joey to his chest. The longing in his eyes made her heart ache. She knew if she didn’t get ahold of herself, she’d be in tears again. Aunt Rebekah said it was the natural way of things for a woman to cry a lot after a birthing.

  She dashed to her feet, and Dusty looked up, bewildered. “I’ll be right back. I need to get something.”

  If he hadn’t looked so nervous, she might have laughed at his expression.

  “You can’t leave me here with—him. I wouldn’t know what to do if he started crying.”

  Katie pressed her lips together at seeing this big, capable man floundering at holding a baby.

  “Just jiggle him a little if he fusses. I’ll be right back.”

  “No, Katie, wait—”

  She rushed out of the parlor and slowly climbed the stairs to her bedroom, savoring her name on his tongue. She liked the sound of it way more than she should. In her room, she found the denim shirt she’d finished and pressed for Dusty and then made her way back downstairs.

  As she entered the parlor, she heard Dusty talking and expected to see someone with him, but instead, she found him cooing softly to Joey. The baby stared at him with wide-eyed fascination.

  For a fleeting second, a shiver of remorse coursed through her. Jarrod should be holding his child instead of this stranger. Katie closed her eyes and pushed away the angry thought. Nothing could change the past, and like it or not, Dusty had saved her life and Joey’s. At the least, she owed him her kindness and gratitude. Putting her anger aside, she had to admit she was starting to like the quiet man. He reminded her of Uncle Mason.