Mrs. Peters giggled like a young girl. “The last prediction said that I was about to meet a tall, handsome stranger, and he would sweep me off my feet.”
Kate smiled. “Maybe you will.” Though her husband had died long before the war, Mrs. Peters still wore widow’s weeds.
“You know that’s not going to happen. Men prefer younger women. For a man to be interested in me, he’d have to be a hundred.”
Kate laughed. She felt better already. How she loved her job, loved bantering with her customers. Loved making them smile, even on days when it felt like her own heart was breaking. “Have a good day, Mrs. Peters.”
“You too.” Holding her purchase in one hand with the care one would give an injured bird, Mrs. Peters hobbled out of the store.
The moment their customer left, Aunt Letty started in again. “About your wedding…” She turned to the calendar on the wall. Having planned Kate’s wedding with the care of a general plotting an attack, she looked no less determined this second time around. But then she’d always been a hopeless romantic.
Now she stabbed at the calendar with her finger. “I think we should reschedule it for a week from Saturday. That will give us time to get word out and—”
“Auntie, please.” Kate felt a pang of guilt for having to disappoint her aunt, but it couldn’t be helped. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
Aunt Letty turned, her expression a combination of surprise and disapproval. “But we have to talk about it, and there’s no time like the present. You know what happened to Missy Gaylord when she put off her wedding. That awful war started, and she never saw her fiancé again.”
Kate sighed. “I don’t think we’re in danger of another war.”
“You never know.” Her aunt’s thin, gray eyebrows knitted. “So, when can we talk about it?”
Kate was tempted to say never, but she didn’t have the heart to upset her aunt any more than necessary. Despite her aunt’s best efforts at matchmaking, suitors had been few and far between through the years. Most men were put off by Kate’s independent ways. Some even felt threatened by Kate’s ability to match skills in just about any male endeavor. Aunt Letty had sworn that Kate was doomed to spinsterhood. That is, until Frank had walked back into Kate’s life.
It never seemed to bother him that Kate was more adept at changing a wagon wheel and shoeing a horse than hosting a quilting bee or a tea party. Even candy making was considered a male occupation, and Kate excelled at that—or would once she mastered her uncle’s prized cut rock-candy recipe.
“I remember a time when you and Uncle Joe didn’t even like Frank,” Kate said.
“Oh, we liked him all right. It’s just that you and he were spending so much time together. It wasn’t a problem when you were still children. But when you turned thirteen, people began to talk.”
At the time, Kate couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Why was it okay to run around with Frank one year and not the next?
Aunt Letty took another stab at the calendar. “What about two weeks from Saturday?”
Kate shook her head. “I need time to think. I want…to make sure my marriage is just as perfect as yours and Uncle Joe’s was. If Frank continues to be jealous whenever a man so much as glances at me, I don’t see that happening.”
Aunt Letty scoffed. “If it’s perfection you want, become a nun. Perfection has no place in a marriage.”
“That’s not true, Auntie. Why, no marriage was more perfect than yours.” Her uncle had died more than two years ago, and they both still missed him dearly.
“Fiddlesticks. You need flint and steel to make a spark, and the same is true of a marriage. When things went wrong, your uncle and I talked about them.” Aunt Letty tossed her head. “Sometimes in loud voices.”
Kate reared back in surprise. “I don’t ever remember you and Uncle Joe arguing.”
“That’s because we battled out our differences in the barn where you couldn’t hear us.” Aunt Letty pulled off her apron and hung it on a wooden peg. “Your uncle could be stubborn at times.”
Kate gave her aunt a loving smile. “And you’re not?”
“Certainly not.” Aunt Letty sniffed. “I’m not stubborn. I’m persistent. Not the same thing.”
Kate sighed. Arguing would get her nowhere. Once her aunt made up her mind, not even an act of Congress could change it. “All right. I’ll talk to Frank.”
The frown melted from Aunt Letty’s face. “That’s my girl.” Apparently thinking her mission accomplished, she reached for her purse. “Since you’re here, I’ll go and pick up supplies.” She pulled a glove over her hand. “We need cream of tartar. Anything else?”
Kate checked the notebook next to the cashbox. “We’re running low on molasses.”
With a nod and a wave, Aunt Letty was out the door, and Kate immediately set to work.
She picked up a spatula and started by scooping pralines for the afternoon quilting bee into a cardboard box. The ladies preferred chocolate to the nut-and-sugar confections, but despite her best efforts, Kate had yet to find a way of keeping it from melting in the Texas heat. Not even adding more sugar to the recipe helped. Chocolate was a luxury best kept for cooler weather.
Now that she was alone, she felt her spirits drop. For months, she had dreamed of the perfect wedding. The perfect marriage. The perfect life. She’d spent hours taking measurements and picking out wallpaper for the apartment over Frank’s saddle and leather shop. She couldn’t wait to turn it into a real home for the two of them. At least until they had saved enough money to build a house.
Staring down at the cardboard box, Kate bit back tears. She and Frank had a long history together. Though still angry, she missed him dearly. During her childhood, no one had been as much fun to be with as Frank. He’d taught her how to play poker and horseshoes and how to hit a ball with a stick. He figured she could do anything he could do, and that’s what she had loved about him.
It had nearly broken her heart when her aunt and uncle insisted that she stop seeing Frank and act more ladylike when she became a teen. That meant tedious hours spent learning to embroider, play the piano, and carry on polite conversation. Though she and Frank had enjoyed arguing politics, no such talk was ever allowed to sully her aunt’s parlor.
Despite Aunt Letty’s best efforts, Kate had never given up her wild ways. After her uncle died, she’d started working at the shop full time and had less time to herself. Still, she never completely stopped doing the things she loved. It was at the old swimming hole where she and Frank got reacquainted on a whole different level, and the next thing she knew, the town seamstress was measuring her for a wedding gown.
She’d always known that Frank had a jealous streak, but she’d honestly thought that once they were wed, he would change his ways and learn to trust her. How foolish to think that such a deep-rooted problem could be so easily resolved!
She swiped away a tear just as the shop door flew open. Recognizing the rugged square face staring at her from beneath a pearl-gray Stetson hat, she dropped her spatula.
Oh! It was him.
* * *
Brett Tucker walked into the Haywire Book and Sweet Shop with more than a little dread.
Judging by the looks he’d received around town since Saturday’s fiasco, he was probably the most despised man in Haywire. Not that he didn’t deserve public scorn. If only he could think of a way to make amends.
Upon entering the shop, he paused to get his bearings. A strong but no-less-pleasing aroma that was all sweetness and light greeted him, taking him back to his childhood. He’d liked the scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and licorice then, and he found that he liked them just as much now.
What the pleasant scents did to his sense of smell, the burst of bright colors did for the eye. No shop in his memory had been so gaily decorated.
Paper whirligig
s dangled from a pink-striped ceiling. Pink curtains fluttered at the open windows. Jars of colorful stick candy stood like soldiers on counters and shelves. Quilts hung on walls that were also plastered with neatly printed signs. A Balanced Diet Is a Piece of Stick Candy in Each Hand, read one sign. There were quotes from Shakespeare and Elizabeth Browning. Another sign read, Candy Makes the World a Sweeter Place.
His gaze zeroed in on the woman behind the counter, and his breath caught. Thanks to the morning paper, he now knew her name was Kate Denver. She looked just as fetching today as she’d looked in her wedding gown.
The eyes watching him flashed with blue fire. Her bright-red hair looked like it was in flames, too, thanks to the sun slanting through the transom over the door. She wore her hair pinned back in a snood, tendrils curling around her ears. Her long-lashed eyes looked even larger than he remembered. Freckles marched over her nose and rosy cheeks, all the way to the shiny balls twirling at her ears.
Somehow, the combination of red hair, freckles, and turned-up nose worked together to make a very pleasing whole. That Foster fella didn’t know how lucky he was. What a dang fool.
Light shadows skirted her eyes, suggesting she’d gotten little sleep since her disastrous wedding. A wave of guilt washed over him as he tugged on the brim of his hat.
Ducking beneath a whirligig, he stepped closer to the counter. “Miss Denver. I’m afraid we didn’t get properly introduced the other day. I’m Brett Tucker, Texas Ranger.”
“I know who you are,” she said, her voice as hard as the peanut brittle in the glass counter standing between them.
He sucked in his breath. If looks could kill, he’d be a goner for sure. Not that he could blame her. Thanks to him, not only was her interrupted wedding the talk of the town, but the Haywire Dispatch had planted the story on the front page beneath a bold headline: “Wedding Ends in Disaster.”
Brett cleared his throat. “I…eh…came to apologize again for what happened. I had no idea that there were two Frank Fosters.” Thinking that an explanation was in order, he continued, “The Foster I was looking for is a wanted man. I’ve been on his trail for a long while.” Twice, Brett had almost caught him. Both times the man had slipped away. “When I heard that someone by that name was getting married, I immediately assumed it was the fugitive I’ve been chasing.”
Miss Denver crossed her arms. “Next time, you might want to look before you leap.”
“I hope to God there isn’t a next time, ma’am. I never want to stop another wedding.” He rubbed his still-sore chin. “All I could think about was saving you.”
“Saving me?” She stared at him. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not personally, ma’am, that’s true. But the Frank Foster I’m after is a danger to any woman.” She said nothing, and he continued. “I hope you’ll let me make it up to you. If there’s anything I can do…”
“I believe you’ve done quite enough already, Mr. Tucker,” she said.
He drew in his breath. She wasn’t making it easy, but then, why should she? Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. “There must be something. I tried bailing your fiancé out of jail, but he refused to accept my help.”
Something flickered in the depths of her eyes. “If you’re serious about wanting to do something, you’ll leave town and not return.”
Tilting his Stetson forward, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m afraid that will be a little hard to do, ma’am.” A crime wave had hit the county, overwhelming local lawmen. The opportunity to serve as a special Texas Ranger couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Brett had been sent to Haywire to assist the sheriff in bringing the culprits to justice, but the reason he’d volunteered for the job was far more personal.
When he’d heard about the crime wave in Haywire, he was convinced that Foster—not her fiancé but the other Foster—was behind it. The methods were the same. Men dressed in black and wearing flour sacks over their heads robbed stages and an occasional bank and then vanished without a trace until the next holdup. Either it was the same gang who had wreaked havoc in San Antonio and other towns, or a copycat gang was on the loose.
“I’m here on special commission from Captain McMurray.”
Miss Denver greeted his news with a look of disdain. “Then I suggest you attend to your business and stay away from the rest of us.”
Attending to business was exactly what Brett planned on doing. “As you wish,” he said.
She slanted him a look of curiosity. “What did this man…this second Mr. Foster…do?”
Brett hesitated. Even after all this time, it hurt to talk about it. “Among other things, he caused my sister’s death,” he said, his voice thick.
A shadow flickered across her forehead as if she fought against giving him any slack. In the end, empathy won out and her expressive eyes softened. “I’m so sorry.”
She didn’t press for details, and for that, he was grateful. “So am I.” He backed away from the counter.
“You look like you could use some candy,” she said. “It’s on the house.”
Surprised by her sudden change of heart, he studied her for a moment before lowering his gaze to the tempting display of confectioneries behind the glass counter. “If it’s not too much trouble, ma’am. Some caramels would be nice.”
She bent down and slid the glass door open. He watched as she carefully arranged the caramels in a paper sack. She then dropped a slip of paper into the sack, folded the top over, and handed it to him.
He reached into his pocket to pay her, but she shook her head.
“Like I said, it’s on the house.”
He stared at her with knitted brow. “Why would you do such a thing, ma’am? After the trouble I caused?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “A man who cares as deeply for his sister as you seem to can’t be all bad.”
“Much obliged, ma’am,” he said, doffing his hat. “I won’t bother you any further.”
He made quick strides toward the door before stopping. Glancing over his shoulder, he found her watching him. “Your dress,” he said. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d let me pay for any damage.” He had no idea the cost of a wedding gown, but it couldn’t be cheap.
“Go,” she said with a beseeching look. “Please. Just…go.”
3
Dash it all! Kate fought the desire to scream. Her aunt had taken it upon herself to interfere yet again and had arranged a meeting of what she called the “wounded parties.” Kate scoffed. Wounded, indeed. That didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.
At precisely seven o’clock that night, her former fiancé arrived at the house with his adoptive parents.
It was bad enough having to see Frank so soon after their disastrous non-wedding, and before she’d had time to calm down, but did Aunt Letty have to invite his parents as well? Facing them with only her aunt by her side, Kate felt outnumbered. Trapped.
The five sat as still and upright as pieces on a chessboard in her aunt’s small but tidy parlor, as if waiting for someone to make the first move. It was a miracle that any air could circulate amid the tension in the room.
As he sat on the tufted velvet sofa between his parents, Frank’s gaze shifted back and forth, scouting out the room. He needn’t have worried, for all furred and feathered creatures had been relegated to another room. He couldn’t get near an animal without breaking out in hives, and he looked ready to bolt at the first sign of one.
Finally, Aunt Letty grabbed hold of the arms of her chair and took charge. “I think that before we discuss rescheduling the wedding, we should clear the air. Would you like to start, Kate?”
Kate folded her arms across her chest. “I have nothing to say.”
“Well, I do,” Frank said. “First, if I ever set eyes on that Texas Ranger again, I’ll—”
Sneezing, he pulled out his handkerchief an
d dabbed at his watery eyes. Already, his sensitivity to fur and cat dander was doing strange things to him. Nonetheless, he continued, his accusations punctuated by fits of sneezing.
Normally, Kate would feel sorry for him, but tonight she was too hurt and angry to give him any sympathy. Out of respect for her aunt, Kate sat primly on her straight-back chair, feet together, hands on her lap, and listened to Frank place blame for the disastrous wedding solely on the Texas Ranger’s shoulders. If anything resembling an apology could be found between the sneezes, it escaped Kate’s notice.
Even Mr. and Mrs. Foster seemed to have reached the end of their patience. His mother kept looking at the grandfather clock sighing in the corner. His father shifted uneasily and tapped his hand on his lap with the same intensity as a sea captain sending an SOS.
If Frank noticed his adoptive parents’ waning interest, he showed no sign. Instead, he called the ranger every unpleasant name under the sun until Kate didn’t think she could take it any longer.
“Are you saying that you had no part in ruining our wedding?”
To his credit, Frank looked momentarily fazed, as if it had finally occurred to him that he’d gone too far. “Ah, come on, Kate.” He raked his brown hair away from his forehead until it stood up like a picket fence. “What did you expect me to do? A-a-choo! Stand by while the man had his way with you?”
Kate clamped her mouth shut, and her nostrils flared. It wasn’t the first time Frank had made such an accusation. Not by a long shot. He’d even accused poor Mr. Anderson of flirting with her when all the man had done was brush away an annoying fly.
“His w-way with me?” she stammered when she could find her voice. “Is that what you think?”
“What did you expect me to think?” he asked, his voice filled with accusation.
“I told you, I never saw the man before in my life.”
“All I can say is, he looked awfully friendly to me.”
She took a seething breath and twisted her handkerchief in her lap. Out of respect for the older folks, she forced herself to calm down. “And that’s why you ruined our wedding?” she asked, her quiet voice edged in reproach. “Because he looked friendly?”
Cowboy Charm School Page 2
