The mask of his son’s face revealed no emotion.
“I’m only glad your mother isn’t alive to see this day.” With that, the old man turned and hobbled back to the porch.
Kate ran after him. “Mr. Fletcher,” she called. “I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do…”
Fletcher stopped upon reaching the porch. Steadying himself with a hand on the railing, he looked over his shoulder as Brett hauled his son away. “There’s nothing you can do. Nothing.”
31
Later that afternoon, Main Street was packed with revelers celebrating the capture of the Ghost Riders.
Standing outside the shop with her aunt, Kate jumped at the sound of a firecracker. Flash, Foster/Fletcher, and Lucky Lou were all in jail, and there was nothing more to fear. But after everything that had happened, her nerves were still on edge.
“You okay?” Aunt Letty asked, raising her voice to be heard over the noise of the crowd.
“I’m fine,” Kate said, craning her neck.
“Who are you looking for?”
Kate hesitated. If her aunt knew she was looking for Brett, she might get the wrong idea. Or maybe even the right one. “Uh…Frank.”
“I think I see him.” Aunt Letty raised her arm. “Yoo-hoo! Frank. Over here.”
Frank waved back and quickly joined them. “What a celebration, huh?”
Aunt Letty nodded. “I’ll say. The town hasn’t seen anything like it since that wagonload of stolen whiskey was recovered.”
After Kate’s ordeal at the Fletcher house, Frank had raced to the shop to see if she was all right. Now he queried her with a raised eyebrow. “What do you say we mosey on over to the Feedbag Café for some grub? My stomach thinks my throat’s been cut.”
Aunt Letty answered for her. “Good idea. You two go ahead. I’ll join you after I lock up.”
Frank led the way through the crowd of revelers to the café. No sooner had they been seated than Connie came rushing over to their table.
“Oh, there you are, Kate,” she said, pulling out a chair. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I was visiting my grandparents in Austin, and I only just now heard what happened.” She sat down and folded her arms on the table. “You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”
Kate shook out her napkin and placed it on her lap. “Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, so you don’t have to worry. Now that all four of the Ghost Riders are out of business, we can relax.”
Connie blinked. “Four? I only heard of three, counting Flash.”
Frank sat back in his chair. “That’s all I heard about. Who was the fourth one?”
“Ringo,” Kate said and went on to explain.
“That’s terrible!” Connie exclaimed. “That poor dog. To be used like that. What’s to become of him?”
“Brett is the new owner,” Kate said. “From now on, Ringo will be working on the right side of the law.”
Frank looked like he was about to give her an affectionate punch on the arm but then changed his mind and squeezed her hand instead. “All I can say is that I’m glad it’s over.”
Connie concurred with a nod. “Yes, and that means Ranger Tucker will soon be leaving town.” She sniffed. “If you ask me, it’s not a moment too soon. There’s been nothing but trouble since he arrived.”
Kate frowned. “I don’t know how you can say that. If it wasn’t for Brett, the Ghost Riders would still be on the loose.”
Connie watched her with narrowed eyes. “I was referring to the way he ruined your wedding.”
Frank pulled his hand away from Kate’s and raised his glass. “That’s all water under the bridge,” he said, surprising her with his magnanimous response. “I’ll just be happy when things get back to normal.”
The hopeful look in his eyes made Kate’s stomach knot, and she raised her glass to his. “I doubt that things will ever go back to the way they were.”
Connie set her glass down. “Speaking of normal, when are my two dear friends going to set a wedding date?”
Frank took a quick gulp of water before answering. “Uh…we decided to wait until July before setting a date.”
Kate twisted her napkin on her lap. “After everything that’s happened,” she said, choosing her words with care, “I think we could all use a breather.”
As if sensing the sudden strain in the air, Connie looked from one to the other with a puzzled look on her face. “Just as long as it’s a short breather,” she said.
* * *
Two days later, Brett entered the candy shop holding Ringo by the leash. Something in his manner told Kate that this wasn’t just a casual visit. She sensed a finality in the tenseness of his shoulders, saw it in his eyes. He’d come to say goodbye.
The thought made her emotions teeter between relief and dismay. Dismay because it brought back the usual hollow feeling that every departure left behind. Only this time, it felt like a big, gaping hole about to rip her apart.
Still, if he was no longer in town, she could forget the feel of his lips, the feel of his arms; forget the way he made her traitorous heart do flip-flops. For that, she felt relief.
Kate walked around the counter, holding a doggie cake in her palm. Concentrating on the dog helped her keep her tears at bay. Tail wagging, Ringo barked once and grabbed the treat out of her hand.
She heard Brett’s intake of breath. “Fletcher, alias Frank Foster, confessed to everything, or almost everything. He’d heard about Lucky Lou’s arrest and was about to leave town. He, Flash, and Lucky Lou won’t be causing any more trouble.”
Kate straightened. “You must be tremendously relieved.”
A muscle quivered in his jaw. “Not as much as you might think. It doesn’t bring my sister back.”
“No, but…at least you know that justice will be served.”
His gaze burned into hers, and the air seemed fraught with tension. To fill in the strained silence, she asked, “What will you do now?”
The question seemed to surprise him. “My job here is done. The rest is up to the sheriff.” After a beat, he added, “I need to return to my company.”
“I…I wish you didn’t have to go.” She bit her lip. Oh God, now she’d done it. Said what she had no business saying. No business thinking. Still, she studied him intently, hoping to see something in his eyes, his face, his demeanor that would tell her that parting was as hard for him as it was for her.
Instead, he reared back as if she’d struck him, and her heart sank. “It’s time,” he said. “I’ve been away too long, and there’s still work to be done. Crime knows no holiday.”
“I know…”
He studied her briefly as if to weigh the truth of her statement. “Foster’s a good man. He’ll do right by you.”
She swallowed the sob that rose to her throat. He’d told her in a dozen different ways that their kiss had meant nothing to him. That she meant nothing to him. She needed to accept that. Had accepted it. Still, it hurt. She didn’t want it to, but it did. Hurt more than she’d ever thought possible.
“Kate…” Something in his voice made her hold her breath, but whatever he had been about to say fell away unspoken. Instead, he heaved a sigh. “Had I not stopped the wedding…” He shook his head. “You and Foster would be long married by now. I can’t tell you how much I regret what I did to you both.”
“But it was a good thing,” she said, not wanting him to feel bad. “It’s given me a chance to appreciate Frank on a whole different level.” She forced herself to keep going. “These last few weeks, I’ve discovered a side to Frank I hadn’t known existed. A gentle, more caring side.”
“That’s…that’s good,” he said. His gaze penetrated her as if trying to see inside her head. “So…you’ve made up your mind?”
She blinked. “What?”
“To marry him.”
&nb
sp; “Well, I…” Her mind scrambled. “I…I’m not sure.” She longed to tell him her true feelings, but she’d promised Frank to wait till July before making a firm decision. “We haven’t made any plans. So much has happened.”
“It’ll make your aunt very happy,” he said.
And you? Will it make you happy too?
Fearing her fragile shell of control was about to shatter, she turned and walked behind the counter. “Would…would you like some candy for the road?” she asked, reaching for a paper bag. “I just made a couple of batches of Bobby Bars and Charley Drops. And these I’m calling Sugar Spikes.” She held up a piece so he could see the baseball in the center. “I’m getting better at the designs. Now they actually look like what they’re supposed to look like.” She forced a smile. “No more telegraph keys or mushrooms.”
His gaze lit on the display. “So I see.”
She picked up a scoop and proceeded to fill a bag. Desperate to avoid any pause in the conversation that would allow her to dwell on his leaving, she rattled on. “Dusty couldn’t make up his mind which new friend to name them after. So he named them after all three.”
She handed the bag of candy over the counter. Their fingers touched, and she quickly pulled away.
If he noticed, he kept it to himself. Instead, he looked inside the paper bag as eagerly as a child. “What? No hope?” he asked.
“Oh, sorry.” She rifled through the slips of paper and debated about giving him the one that read Parting is such sweet sorrow. She decided against it. Nothing sweet about saying goodbye.
“Wait here a moment,” she said.
She ran into the back and picked up paper and pencil. Her heart was beating so fast, she could hardly think. Now that he was leaving, her feelings suddenly became clear. She loved him. Oh God, how she loved him! She knew that now, and the enormity of it took her breath away.
She loved him not as a friend but as someone with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. He’d given her no reason to believe he shared her feelings—none. Still, she felt compelled to tell him. Only not here, not now.
Better for him to find out later, when he was far away. That way, she would not have to see the rejection on his face. Nor embarrass him with her tears.
Gathering her thoughts and using Elizabeth Barrett Browning for inspiration, she wrote:
Before I met you, I thought I knew how it felt to be in love, but you taught me I was wrong. The depth and width of my feelings for you know no end.
She folded the paper in half with shaky fingers and then lost her nerve. Writing words of love to a man not her husband was not right.
“That for me?”
At the sound of Brett’s voice, she glanced up to see him lounging in the doorway.
“Eh, yes,” she said.
He walked toward her, holding out his hand. “Can’t wait to read it.”
She tried to think of some excuse not to give it to him, but couldn’t. “You…you can’t read this till later,” she said.
“Okay,” he said. With a look of curiosity, he slipped the paper into his vest pocket, unread. It felt like he was tucking part of her heart next to his.
He hesitated, his piercing eyes impaling her. “Take care of yourself, Kate.” Turning, he tugged on Ringo’s leash. “Come on, boy.”
“I-I don’t want you to go,” she called after him.
His back stiffened. “It’s time for me to hit the trail. My job is done here. A ranger gets rusty staying in one place too long.”
Look at me, she screamed in silence. Look me in the eye and tell me again that our kiss meant nothing to you. That I meant nothing to you.
But he didn’t look at her, and the words she ached to hear never came. Keeping his back toward her, he walked out of the kitchen. “Say goodbye to your aunt for me.”
The jingle of bells on the shop’s front door told her he was gone.
* * *
Brett checked his room at the boardinghouse to make sure he’d left nothing behind. Sensing that they were leaving, Ringo’s tail flopped back and forth.
“Ready to hit the trail, boy?”
Ringo perked up his ears. “Woof.”
Brett picked up his blanket roll just as someone knocked on the door.
His heart jolted against his ribs. Dare he hope that it was Kate? Come to beg him not to leave? She’d said she didn’t want him to go. But then again, even the sheriff had said as much. Even the owner of the boardinghouse.
Still…
He set his bedroll on the bed and pulled Ringo away from the door. “Sit!”
Inhaling, he flung the door open, and the last of his hopes crashed to the floor. Foster!
“What are you doing here?” Brett asked, trying not to let his disappointment show.
Foster took one look at Ringo and backed away, hands extended. “I need to talk to you.”
Heaving a sigh, Brett let himself out of the room. He pointed a finger at Ringo. “Stay,” he said and shut the door. “Make it quick.” He was in no mood to deal with Foster—or anyone else, for that matter.
Ringo whined and scratched at the door. Foster moved as far away from the room as the narrow hall allowed. “Heard you were leaving,” he said.
“My work is done here.”
“What about me and Kate?”
Brett frowned. “What about you?”
Foster grimaced. “How am I gonna win her back with you gone?”
“You said you didn’t want anything more to do with me. Now you’re getting your wish.”
“Yeah, but courting a woman is too much for one man. I can’t do it alone.”
Brett gritted his teeth. The man was even more hopeless than he’d thought. “Trust me,” he said, his voice edged with exasperation. “Courting is a one-man operation. It’s done all the time.”
Foster looked surprised. “Is that right?”
“Just keep doing what you’ve been doing. You know, flowers, Shakespeare. The works.”
Foster grimaced as if in pain. “I didn’t think getting hitched would be so much work.”
He sounded so dejected that Brett almost felt sorry for him. If Foster thought courting was tough, wait till he got a taste of marriage. “You messed up with your jealousy. So now you’ve got to make things right.”
“Is there a way I can contact you? You know, if I need help?”
“No!” The word exploded from Brett with such force that Foster took a step back. Brett curled his hands by his sides and lowered his voice. “I never know where I’ll be from day to day. My job—”
“I guess you won’t be attending the wedding, then.”
A pain shot through Brett’s chest. “Sorry.”
Ringo’s whines had turned into loud barks. Brett tossed a nod in the direction of his room. “I better go.”
“Oh, yeah, sure.” Foster turned and headed for the stairs, muttering to himself.
32
Four weeks later
Kate watched the two Texas Rangers walk out of the shop, her misery like a steel weight in her heart. What a fool she had been. What an utter, utter fool.
Telling Brett in writing how she’d felt hadn’t worked. She’d heard nothing from him. Not a word. She’d all but given up hope, but then an amazing thing had happened. Fletcher had escaped during transport to federal prison. At the time, it had seemed like an act of providence designed to bring Brett back. It was like they had been given a second chance to make things right. A second chance at love.
In anticipation of his arrival, she’d whipped up a special batch of Uncle Joe’s candy she had named Tucker Sweets. After much practice, she’d even managed to create a design resembling his badge and anticipated the smile on his face when he saw what she’d done. But nothing had worked out as she’d hoped.
She couldn’t get over the shoc
k she’d felt when two other Texas Rangers had arrived in his stead. That told her more than words could say. If he didn’t come back for Fletcher, he would never come back for her.
Blinking back the burning sensation in her eyes, she glanced around the shop. The latest delivery of flowers had arrived that morning. As much as she liked receiving flowers, it really was possible to have too much of a good thing. Thanks to Frank, the shop now looked like a funeral parlor.
She sighed. Oh God, Frank. He couldn’t be sweeter or more thoughtful. In return, he only asked for one thing: her hand in marriage. And that had been the one thing she hadn’t been able to give him.
She dumped the last of the Tucker Sweets in the trash and stared at the calendar on the wall. It had been four weeks and three days since Brett had last walked out the door, and still it hurt. She didn’t want it to, but it did.
She pounded a fist into her palm. Pining for a man who wasn’t interested in her was insane. He’d made it perfectly clear how much he regretted stopping her wedding, how much he wanted to make things right. Wanted her and Frank back together. Frank’s a good man, he’d insisted. He’ll do right by you.
Oh yes. He’d made his feelings clear, all right.
So why did memories of him continue to haunt her? Why did they pop into her head when least expected? Why couldn’t she just forget him like he had obviously forgotten her?
It wasn’t as if anything significant had happened between them. Oh sure, there was the kiss. But he’d apologized for that and had insisted it meant nothing. Apparently, he was more experienced in such things than she was. The chaste kisses exchanged with Frank had left her ill-prepared for the deeper, fuller, more passionate kiss she’d shared with Brett.
If she’d had more than one beau—had kissed dozens of other men—maybe she would be able to disregard their kiss as easily as he had.
Maybe.
Right now, she hated the way he commanded her thoughts. Hated even more the way her heart lurched whenever the bells on the shop door jingled. Hated hoping in vain that he had come back.
Well, fudge. Enough was enough! This senseless holding on was making her tense and miserable. She couldn’t go on like this. Wouldn’t!
Cowboy Charm School Page 25
