“I’d never have guessed,” Tanner said wryly. “Better give me a shave while you’re at it.”
A while later, Jake removed the bib from around Tanner’s neck and slapped a measure of bay rum between his hands and applied it to Tanner’s cheeks. “There, all done. The cologne is on the house. I figure I owe you that.”
“Thanks, Jake.” Tanner paid the barber and started for the door.
“Are you going to give her away?” Jake asked.
“What?”
“Are you going to give Kate away when she picks a husband?”
“Has she picked one yet?” Tanner asked grumpily.
“Not that I know of, but I think she likes one or two.”
“She does?” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Who?”
“Clint Beecher. He’s the foreman of the Circle C. And then there’s Hank Jordon; he owns the Tin Peak mine. And—”
“Since she hasn’t settled on one, I don’t need to worry about it, do I?”
“Guess not. You don’t need to get mad at me, I’m not courtin’ her.”
Tanner shoved his hat on his head and left, slamming the door behind him. He wasn’t courting her either, but apparently he was the only man in the territory who wasn’t.
Next he went to the mercantile and purchased his saw oil, on credit. He still had time enough to get in a few hours’ work if he left right now.
On the other hand, he still hadn’t seen Kate, or any of the boys. How could he go home and leave this mess unsettled? He couldn’t.
He strolled around town, passing the time of day with everybody of speaking acquaintance, talking with more people in one day than he ordinarily spoke to in a year. And even though he’d tried to avoid it, the subject of every conversation had been Kate.
She’d stayed cooped up in her house all day. He knew she hadn’t gone anywhere because he’d been watching. Not on purpose of course. It seemed like every time he went anywhere, his feet headed in that direction.
She knew he was in town. He’d caught her peeking at him from her front window. She didn’t wave, or smile. She merely looked at him and dropped the curtain.
Dang it. He at least wanted to see her, talk to her a minute, make sure she was all right. Then, after he’d put his mind at ease, he’d head for home.
He glanced at the crimson sky. Sunset already. He hadn’t seen any of the boys yet. Maybe they had already given up on the job. Maybe none of them were coming. If that was the case, then who’d watch over Kate?
The later it got, the more agitated Tanner felt. He still hadn’t gathered up enough nerve to knock on her door. If that courting feller showed up, Tanner would never get the chance—unless he beat him to it. It was now or never, Tanner decided. Besides, it would be a shame to have gotten all slicked up for nothing.
He started toward Kate’s, then his steps slowed. That other man would probably have flowers, or candy, or some other trinket. His own empty pockets wouldn’t support a healthy flea.
Flowers.
He wheeled, making his way back to the yard he’d seen earlier that morning. He’d never been a thief, and looked down on anybody that was. He’d also never been quite so desperate. It was full dark now; he might be able to get away with it. He looked both ways down the street. Nary a soul in sight. The gate was wired shut, but the fence wasn’t too high. He vaulted over the row of pickets.
Two steps later, he discovered his feet had gotten tangled in something on the ground. He reached down and found his boot wrapped in a maze of wire and string. He yanked and set off a jangle of cowbells. He stepped the other way. Tin cans clattered. Booby-trapped. No telling what he’d step into next.
He hoped it wouldn’t be a bear trap.
Too late to hide the fact he was here. He’d better get what he’d come after and get out. “Where is that danged bush?” He groped in the darkness—and latched onto a clump of thorns. “Oww!”
“Clint Beecher is that you again?” Inside the house, a lamp was lit. It moved toward the doorway.
He couldn’t get caught like this. He’d never live it down. No time to pick and choose. He knelt, grabbed the base of the bush and yanked.
The plant whooshed from the ground, throwing dirt in every direction.
Tanner landed on his backside, the thorny bush on his chest. “I’ve taken all I intend to,” Agatha yelled. “I’m gonna fill your thieving hide with a load of rock salt. See how you like that.”
He wouldn’t. Tanner grabbed the bush and leapt over the fence.
A shotgun belched fire.
And pellets splattered across his backside.
His legs and bottom stinging like he’d sat on a nest of bees, Tanner clutched the bush to his chest and kept on running. When he figure’d he was out of range, he sprinted into a dark alley and stopped to catch his breath.
Better get rid of the evidence. He felt the bush. No roses. Not even a bud. But the blasted thing had more stickers than a cactus. He eased into a ray of light shining down from an upstairs window. “Aww, hell.” No wonder it didn’t have any roses. He’d stolen a dad-blamed quince bush. He tossed it aside in disgust. The motion made him gasp with pain.
Agatha had nailed him good. A trail of warmth trickled down his leg. Blood.
He couldn’t go to Kate’s. He couldn’t even sit his horse to go home. He couldn’t get the salt pellets out without help. And he sure wasn’t about to tell the boys what he’d been up to. The question was, what was he going to do?
Only one thing he could do. A few minutes later he knocked on the doctor’s back door.
The bespectacled man peered out, then opened the door and motioned him inside. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Tanner. What’s wrong now? The boys sick again?”
“No. But I kind of have a little problem.” His face hot with embarrassment, Tanner pointed to his backside. “Don’t ask. Just get the blasted rock salt out.”
A while later, much relieved, Tanner held out his hand. “Thanks is all I can give you until later.”
The doctor grinned. “Don’t worry about it.” He pointed to Tanner’s hole-dotted britches. “Looks like you’ve been attacked by a swarm of moths. I think I’ve got a pair of pants that might fit, if you’re interested. They belonged to that gambler fellow who died last month. He won’t be needing them anymore.”
“I’d be much obliged, Doc.”
Pants changed, Tanner headed out the door. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any roses.”
“So that’s what happened.” The physician gave him a broad grin. “I might. I do have one bush by the buggy shed. Take this lantern. It’s hard to find even in the daytime. If there is a rose left in town, it will be on that bush.”
Three yellow roses clutched in his hand, resplendent in his inherited striped britches and smelling of disinfectant and cologne, Tanner made his way to Kate’s door, hoping one of her suitors hadn’t beat him to it.
He knocked, then peered through the window. Except for Fluffy, Kate was alone.
She opened the door, and the smile left her face. “Tanner. What are you doing here?”
“Kate, could I talk to you for a minute? Please?”
She looked at him, hesitated, then she sighed. “All right—but only for a minute.” She turned to the dog, who stood directly behind her. “Lay down, boy. He’s a friend.”
Friend. At least she hadn’t sicced the dog on him. Nevertheless he couldn’t help but wonder how many other ‘friends’ the dog had allowed to enter.
The animal gave him the once-over, then flopped down beside the stove and promptly went to sleep.
“I brought you these.” Feeling as awkward as a schoolboy, Tanner snatched off his hat and shoved the roses into her hand. Then he glanced around the room. There wasn’t a flower in sight.
“Oh, dear. Not more.” She eyed the blooms dubiously.
“Don’t you like roses?”
“I like them fine—outside.” She sneezed. “I’m allergic.” She sneezed aga
in.
“Figures.” Tanner took them from her and tossed them out the door. “I just didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
She smiled. “I thought you might be avoiding me.”
He followed her to a settee and waited until she was seated. “Whatever gave you that idea?” He took a seat beside her.
“You haven’t been to see me—not since that day you...” She flushed crimson.
“Oh, that.” He cursed the heat that rose to his face. “I guess I was too ashamed.”
“Ashamed?”
“For the way I behaved and all.”
She reached out and touched his head. “You got a haircut.”
“And a shave.” He drew her knuckles down his cheek.
“And new pants. You look quite elegant.” When he released her fingers, she folded her hands in her lap. “Would you like a piece of apple pie?”
“That would be nice, but I thought you’d sold them all.”
“I made more.” She looked at him curiously. “How did you know I sold all my pies?”
“I—uh, heard it around town.”
“Oh.”
“Have you seen the boys lately?” he asked, mostly to keep from sitting there like a stump.
“They drop by from time to time. All of them except John. How is he?” She crossed the room to the kitchen, then returned with a slice of pie and a fork.
“Growing like a weed,” Tanner said, taking a bite. “He doesn’t stutter anymore. I guess we owe you thanks for that.”
“He’s very sweet.” She gazed up at him, her expression wistful. “Would you bring him by sometime?”
“Sure. He’d like that.” Tanner decided he’d like it too: it would give him another excuse to visit. And he wouldn’t have to buy a pie. He chewed, swallowed, then swallowed again. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to eat one.
“You’re very lucky,” she said softly.
“Me? Lucky?” Good thing she couldn’t see his backside.
“You have a family. People who care about you, who love you.” She sighed. “Very lucky indeed.” She took his empty dish and set it on the cabinet.
“I never thought about it. Don’t you have any family?”
“Only a cousin,” she said, taking her seat again. “Everybody else died in the war. It gets very lonely.”
“Doggone. I had no idea.” He reached out and took her hand. It was small, fine-boned and delicate. His calloused fingers held it gently. Like a hummingbird in a crow’s nest, he thought. “You’ve got lots of friends around town. Besides, we consider you family.”
“You do?” She peeked through a fringe of ebony lashes. “I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“How could you think that?” He wanted to have too much to do with her. That was the problem.
“You never expected me. You can’t wait until I leave.” Her eyes grew shiny, like pools of glimmering sapphires. A tear spilled onto her satiny cheek.
“Aww, honey. Don’t cry.” Not knowing what else to do, he drew her into his arms. His motion released a flood-gate of tears. “There, there, it’s all right,” he said, awkwardly patting her on the back. Feeling more inadequate than he ever had in his whole life, he cupped her silky head against his chest and felt his shirt grow damp with her tears. She was so soft, she smelled so sweet. A fire deep within him sprang to life. He fought his lust, forcing himself to remember that it was comfort she was seeking, nothing more. He held her until her heart-wrenching sobs subsided to a series of small hiccups.
She pulled away and rubbed her eyes.
“Feeling better?”
She nodded. “I’m sorry. I hate people that cry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He tilted her head and wiped her face with a clean handkerchief he’d found in the pocket of his new pants. “Maybe you’re tired.”
“I have been working hard lately,” she admitted. “And I’ve had a lot of company in the evening.”
“Oh? Who?”
“Just fellows from around town. They seem lonely, too. I’d invite them in, and they would talk for a while, mostly about family they’d left behind. I write letters for some of them. I don’t have the heart to turn them away.”
“They should know a lady needs her sleep,” he said when she muffled a yawn. “What time do you get up of a morning?”
“Five. Sometimes earlier. I do most of my baking then.”
“What time do you go to bed?”
“Ten or so. Depends on whether I have company or not.”
“That proves my point. You’re not getting enough rest.”
“If I had a husband and children, I’d keep those long hours.”
“Yes, but you’d also have somebody to help you.”
Husband and children. Maybe she was thinking about getting married. Of course she was. She’d come all the way out here to marry him, hadn’t she?
He lifted a damp curl off her cheek. So soft. He threaded his fingers through her hair. Like rippling silk. He breathed in her special fragrance. He rubbed her back.
She let out a sigh and arched into his palm. “Oh, that feels good.” She yawned again. “I seem to be more tired than I thought. Maybe I will make an early night of it.” She gazed up at him. Even with her eyes red and swollen, she was beautiful. “Would you mind?”
“Mind?” He saw her glance toward the curtained alcove. “You want to go to bed.” Not daring to dwell on that thought, Tanner got to his feet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can—maybe next week—if that’s all right?”
“Of course.” She followed him to the doorway. “Maybe you could bring John, too?”
“I reckon.” The last thing he needed was his little brother tagging along, but if that’s what she wanted, he guessed he could put up with it. He tilted her head and looked into her eyes. “Good night, Kate. Sweet dreams.” He bent and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, then before he yielded to his baser urges, he put on his hat and went out the door.
He waited until she had pulled the curtain. He glanced across the alley at the toolshed, then strode over and opened the door. Spying Luke curled up in the corner, he nudged him with his boot. “Wake up, boy. You’re going home.”
Luke yawned, stretched, then opened his eyes. “Tanner!” He scrambled to his feet.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I—uh, came in after some fl— sugar, then I got tired and thought I’d take a nap.” Luke peered through the doorway. “Why, look at that, it’s dark. I must have slept all afternoon.”
“In a pig’s eye.” Tanner peered around him. “I don’t see any sugar, and I know what you’ve been up to. Not that it did any good, seeing as how you went to sleep.”
Luke sagged. “I didn’t go to sleep until after I ran that other feller off.”
“What other feller?”
“The one whose turn it was. You were already in there, and I figured you didn’t need any other company.”
“You figured that right. What did you tell him?”
“I said Kate was too tired to have visitors tonight, so he left. He’ll get two turns later.”
“No, he won’t.”
“He has to. That’s the way it works,” Luke argued.
“Well, it doesn’t work that way anymore. From now on anybody wanting to see Kate will have to go through me.” He raised his finger and thumped his chest.
“Now she’ll really end up being an old maid,” Luke grumbled.
Tanner frowned. “Let’s go home.” He led the way to his horse and mounted, gingerly lowering himself into the saddle. When Luke was seated behind him, he nudged the horse toward the mountain.
Old maid. The term certainly didn’t apply to Kate. She was warm, vibrant, loving. But Kate said she was lonely. She wanted to see little John, which meant she liked being around children. She also needed someone to rub her back after a hard day’s work. Someone to hold her when she cried.
Much as he hated to admit it, Kate needed a husband. Someb
ody that wasn’t dirt poor like him. He let out a long sigh.
The Blaines were responsible for her being here. As head of the family, it was up to him to take care of her. He couldn’t bring her to the mountain—or marry her. She deserved a better life than he could give her. A life that had already killed a stronger woman than Kathleen Deveraux; his stepmother, Maggie. That left only one alternative.
He had to find Kate a husband.
Chapter 9
“I haven’t seen you around much lately, Chauncey.” Kate carefully wrapped the dried peach pie and handed it over the counter.
The miner’s usually amiable face wrinkled into a scowl. “Yeah. Well, it ain’t because I wouldn’t like to be, Miss Kate. Truth is, I’m not on the list no more. Things has changed since we have to go through Tanner.”
“Go through Tanner? Tanner Blaine?”
“Yeah. He’s plumb persnickety about who gets to court you.” Chauncey slapped a hand over his mouth. He peered over at her.
Perplexed by the man’s words, and actions, Kate started to ask him to explain—if he would. But taking note of the guilty expression on his face, she doubted if he would say a word. Maybe there was a better way. She smiled. “Since I don’t seem to have any customers at the moment, how would you like to have a cup of tea with me? I might even have an extra piece of pie.”
“I’d be plumb delighted.”
A whole pie and pot of tea later, Kate knew all she needed to know. She shoved her cup aside and rose from the table. “And just where is Mr. Blaine holding these ‘interviews’?”
“In Madame Jeanne’s parlor, twice a week from three o’clock ‘til five.”
She glanced at the wall clock. Three-thirty. “Is he there today?”
“I imagine so,” the miner said, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I saw quite a lot of fellers headed in that direction.”
“Thank you, Chauncey. I hate to rush you, but it seems I have some business to take care of.”
The miner put down his cup, and she took his arm and walked him toward the door. “Oh, and tomorrow’s pie is on the house.”
“I’m real partial to dried apple with raisins,” he said.
Courting Kate Page 9
