by Lynn Donovan
“No. Just let Tuck know what we are doing. He’ll fix an appropriate basket of goodies.”
Charlie tipped his hat. “I’ll do that. It has been my pleasure meeting you, Linda Applebee. I look forward to our outing tomorrow.”
“Yes. Thank you. I look forward to it, as well.” She lied. Did he know she lied? Backing into her house, she smiled as she closed the door and turned to lean on it, with a huge sigh. Well, that was done. She had a man to court her. Pastor Collins would stop hounding her to leave town. He didn’t know she had nowhere else to go, even if she did leave. Her parents were dead. She knew of no other family out east. Arnold and Peggy Blanchard were the only people she considered family, besides her sisters, and they all lived here in Last Chance. The pastor had no idea what he was demanding when he insisted she and her sisters couldn’t stay here as single women.
“Oh well.” She sighed. Now she had an intended and Pastor would leave her alone. Michael Darcy flashed into her mind. She wanted to gather her thoughts and read over the scenes she’d drafted, so she could jot down the questions she had for him. What would she wear?
Why did she think so much about her appearance? How ridiculous. He certainly didn’t care how she was dressed. It was a business supper, nothing more. She wandered into her bedroom and glanced in the mirror. Maybe she would do something different with her hair. Just so she would look more professional, no other reason.

Charlie secured a room at the hotel, then walked down the street to the mercantile. “You got fly fishing equipment?” He asked the gentleman who greeted him when he walked in. “Do you know if anything is biting this time of year?”
“Catfish is always biting, but you need to use a sinker and stink bait, perch will generally hit a fly and as long as it stays warm like this, the bass will bite.”
“How about the walleye?”
The man turned to look at Charlie. “I reckon they’re biting too.”
“Great. My name’s Charlie T. Cairn. I’m here in answer to Linda Applebee’s inquiry for a new husband.”
The man tipped his head back, as if he pitied Charlie. “Joe Talley. This here’s my wife, Phyllis. We are glad to have you here in Last Chance. But… you planning to take Missus Applebee fishing?”
“Nah. She’s got other things to take care of this afternoon, so I thought I’d try my luck down river. Do you recommend east or west?”
“About anywhere along the bank is a good spot. You’re closer to the edge of town if you go east. Come with me.” He walked out from behind the sales counter. “Let me show you what we have in stock. Got some handmade flies, too.”
“Oh excellent.” Charlie followed Mr. Talley. Once they stood in the section with fishing equipment, Charlie picked out a fly-fishing rod and reel, some flies, and a fishing pole with a reel, hooks, sinkers, a small bell, and jar of stink bait. “Might as well try for a catfish while I’m at it.” He purchased some waders and a basket that tied around his waist to put his catch in. “This ought to do me.”
“All right. The missus will tally your bill.” The man busted out laughing. “Get it, we are the Talley’s and my wife’ll tally your bill?” He laughed at his own joke.
Charlie chuckled. “Yeah, that’s a great name for owning a mercantile.” He paid and carried his things to the livery. “I need a buggy. Can I keep this horse?”
The woman, he now knew was named Becca, closed a book and rose from a stool. He hadn’t noticed her so much the first time he was here to rent his horse. He was nervous as a cat in a room full of rockers then. Now, he felt more at ease. Fishing did that for him. The most amazing blue eyes met his. Wisps of her red wiry hair framed her face, although she had it drawn back in a bun at the top of her head. His mouth went dry. “Ma’am, I thought I’d go fishing out east of town. The mercantile owner told me it was as good a spot as any.”
She tsked her tongue. “Joe don’t know nothing about fishing, other than what he hears from gossip in his store. He don’t ever leave his store long enough to experience anything other than stocking shelves.”
“Oh?” Charlie tore his eyes from her sapphire blues. She looked similar to his intended, only she had red hair and stood a little shorter. “He seemed pretty sure of his advice.”
The woman laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure he did. That’s how he sold you this equipment.”
“Well, no.” Charlie clinched his jaw. “I picked this out. I have a plan; I just was asking Mister Talley whether to go east or west of town.”
“Well, I suggest you go west, river’s cleaner before it passes by our town. Those warehouses dump their refuse into the water. So, if you’re looking for a nice picturesque place to relax, I suggest you keep your horse and head west of town.”
“Oh, that reminds me. Are-are you the livery owner?”
Sadness filled her eyes. “No, but I’m the only one here for now. What you needing?”
“I need to reserve a horse and buggy for tomorrow before eleven. I’m taking my intended on a picnic. Do you have a suggestion for where to take her?”
The woman nodded. “You can’t go wrong any direction you go, but we do have an interesting landmark out south. Called Chimney Rock. My ranch is on the east side of it, although, after the blizzard took everything I love except these mules and horses, I came here. Live here now. My sisters are both here in town, so it’s better, I s’pose.”
“That sounds like a nice place for a picnic.” Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off this woman. She was beautiful and there was something about her organic mannerisms that made him want to stay here talking to her more than he should. “Well, if I’m gonna take my horse fishing, I reckon I’ll need some saddlebags.”
“Yeah. I got ‘em.” She walked into a tack room and came out with a nice leather tooled saddlebag. “No charge. You’re already a paying customer with your horse rental and the buggy tomorrow. We can just call it even.”
“Thank you, Miss…?”
Her eyes widened. “Missus. I’m a widow, too. My name’s Becca Collingsworth.”
“Oh, you used to employ Tuck, the cook at the diner.”
“Yeah.” She wrinkled her red brow. “How’d you know that?”
“My intended told me. You must be her sister, then.” Charlie put his hand out to shake hers. “I’m Charlie T. Cairn. I’m here to marry Linda Applebee. Except—”
“Except what?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I just don’t think we got off on very good footing. I’m sure in time we will work things out.”
“Look. My sister is… well she’s different and her husband Ron Applebee was a one-of-a-kind, too. They were perfect together. She’s gonna need time to get through her grief. We all do. The only reason we seem to be rushing to get ourselves new husbands… is ’cause… well, truth is we are being forced to remarry. A prominent man in our town, who shall remain nameless, said we had to remarry or move back where we came from. Only… my sisters and me, we don’t have anywhere to go back to.” She closed her mouth and lifted her chin. “Look, I’m sure Linda will tell you our sad little story in time. For now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be happy to show you where the better fishing spots are. But don’t plan on Linda going fishing with you. She’s not into peaceful, relaxing activities. She’s, well, she’s just a different sort of gal and has other interests.”
Charlie nodded. “Thank you. I could use a guide and if you’ve got time to show me, I’d appreciate the pleasure of your company.”
Becca stared at him a moment. “Yeah, I’ve got time.” She picked up a fishing pole and a bucket, tacked up a horse and mounted. “I’ve always got time for fishing.”
It was the first Charlie realized she wore a riding skirt already. Gosh, he liked this sister of Linda Applebee. She’d be his sister-in-law when he married Linda. At least there would be somebody in the family he could relate to. He put his newly purchased fishing gear and bait in the saddlebags and attached his poles to a cinch on the side of his saddle, mounted hi
s horse and gestured for Mrs. Collingsworth to lead the way.
She smiled and reined her horse out of the livery. She pushed the door closed and turned a board to secure the door. “This way, Mister Cairn.”
He followed behind her horse. The sway of her horse and her hips intrigued him, and he enjoyed his view all the way out of town. She rode until they reached a wide copse of trees along the river. The bank flattened here, making it easier to walk out into the water to fly fish. It was a beautiful area. Flat prairies were dotted by flat-top rock formations a little ways south and west from where they dismounted. “This is one of my favorite places to go… fishing, that is. Outside of our ranch, where we had three rivers to catch fish, this is as good a place in my opinion.”
“Looks great to me.” He pulled his boots off and slid waders over his britches, hitching the suspenders over his shoulders, and gathered his equipment. Walking to the riverbank, he set up the one pole for bottom feeding catfish, attached the little bell to the end of his rod, and then tied a fly to his fly-fishing pole.
Becca, in the meantime, had taken her bucket and dug up some worms. He was impressed she wasn’t squeamish like the girls back home about worms and dirt. She threaded her hook with a piece of worm and cast her line into the water. Her float popped to the surface and floated away with the current of the river. He walked out into the stream, which was still higher than usual. He could tell by the debris clinging to the tree trunks along the bank, it had been a lot higher, probably from the melt-off from the blizzard. Whipping his line back and forth, he set his fly on the surface of the water and gently jerked it toward him like a bug skimming across the surface of the water.
Peace and tranquility settled in his chest, and he lost himself in the rhythm of the fly fishing. Becca was right, this was a good spot. He caught a bass, put it in the basket around his waist, and set his fly again. Linda had plans for supper. Should he invite her sister to eat these fish with him? Becca squealed as she pulled a perch onto the bank and removed the hook from its mouth. This was the most enjoyable fishing partner he’s ever had. Why hadn’t she been the one to write him an invitation to come to Last Chance to marry. “Good catch.” He said to her and returned to his fly fishing.
The bell jingled on his other rod. He fought the current to walk over to the bank and reeled in a nice sized catfish. It fought the tug all the way to the bank. “Here.” He called to Becca. “Put your foot on it when I get it on the bank.”
She understood and gently placed her boot on the fish to hold it down but not too hard that she smashed it. He ran to his catch and removed the hook, then slit its throat with a knife. Catfish didn’t die easily. He slipped it into his basket and looked up into her eyes. Pure joy radiated from her sapphire blues. Her lips were curled in a smile. For a moment, he wanted to kiss her. But she turned from him and returned to her spot on the bank. He swallowed hard and set his hook with more stink bait and cast the line into the water. Letting it sink with the lead weight, then set the pole back on the ground with a rock over it to keep the fish from taking off with his new pole. He walked awkwardly back into the water and continued to set his fly.
“We really ought to eat these tonight.” Becca said at last.
Charlie had been engrossed in the rhythm of his line. “Hum?” He said it, but he knew what she had said. Hadn’t he been thinking the same thing?
“I don’t see letting all these fish go to waste. You might as well come to the livery house and we can fry these up tonight. I got plenty of corn meal, and Dave has some taters in the cellar. He don’t mind me using his stores, I’ll take him some fish after we eat.”
“Dave?” Charlie’s felt the rhythm of his casting slam to a halt with yet another man’s name who he didn’t know.
“McFarland.” She held her hand over her eyes, to shade the sun. “He owns the livery. He is letting me and the girls live in his house while he stays in the tack room.”
“Oh.” Charlie slowly pieced together the puzzle. Her husband went on a buffalo hunt, the first storm hit and he perished. Dave McFarland was an old friend and had let her put her livestock in his livery, apparently he had feelings for her even though she had been married, but he hadn’t acted on them now that she was a widow. Becca had been through a lot, and perhaps Charlie should be grateful she had a friend, such as Dave, to give her and her daughters the safety of a home, but should Charlie speak to the man? After all, it could be he had growing feelings for Becca. She liked, no she loved, to fish. Add in her red hair and blue eyes, she was a package sent from heaven. Linda, not so much.
But Becca wasn’t his intended. Her sister was. Had there been a mistake? Was there anything he could do to correct it? Perhaps he could discuss it with Linda tomorrow on their picnic. She seemed like a reasonable person. Besides, from what he could gather, she was attracted to the bounty hunter, anyway.
Chapter Eight
Linda took a big gulp of air and stepped out onto her porch. She had changed dresses three times, which was ridiculous because she only had three church dresses. If she changed again, she’d be wearing a ball gown and that certainly would not do for a professional interview. There was a strong possibility he wouldn’t show anyway. He was not here in Last Chance for her amusement. And he certainly was not like Ron, willing to indulge her whimsical desires to experience her character’s lifestyle.
No man was like Ron. Never again would she be as deeply in love as she was with her late husband. She stepped off her porch and crossed the street at a slight angle to walk to the diner. She’d wait thirty minutes. If he didn’t show, she’d get up and walk home. Holding her notebook and pencil, she planned to write something, anything, in the notebook while waiting, and if he stood her up, then it would appear she had come to the diner to collect her thoughts for her novel and, having completed that task, she then was leaving to go back home. Stepping on the other boardwalk, Linda approached the front of the diner. A slate board boasted, “Tonight’s Special! Fish while it lasts.”
“Hmm.” Someone must have gone fishing and given Tuck their surplus. Linda entered the diner and let her eyes rove over the few people sitting at tables. Anticipating she’d be sitting alone, she searched for the smaller two-top tables. Mr. Darcy lifted his eyes from a menu as she stood at the threshold. Their eyes met. He showed up!
Linda seemed to float toward him. He stood and pulled out her chair. She nodded her gratitude and allowed him to push in her chair under her bustle.
“Missus Applebee.” He greeted her.
“Mister Darcy.” She responded. “I hear there is fresh fish.”
“Yes. I was hoping you would want that. I asked the gentleman in the back to set two aside for us, in case.”
“That was thoughtful.” She tore her eyes off of his to glance at Tuck, who was grinning from ear to ear through the pass-through window. He acknowledged her gaze and ducked his head to get back to work. She lowered her eyes to Mr. Darcy’s. The gold flecks in his hazel eyes seemed to dance, like leaves in the wind. All thoughts left her mind. She was delighted to just stare into his eyes.
“Missus Applebee?” He broke her spell. “I asked if the fish is what you want for supper.”
“Oh. Yes. That would be lovely.” Darcy gestured to the waitress. Jenny nodded and walked straight to the window to place their order. Apparently, Darcy had already discussed it with her and all she had to do was confirm that would be their order and turn it in. Interesting.
“So…” Linda opened her notebook to the blank page just after her notes she had written earlier to remind herself of the questions she wished to learn the answers to. “How did you become a bounty hunter, Mister Darcy?”
He smiled. A slightly crooked canine tooth showed when his lips parted. Linda stared at the tooth as he spoke. He had the most fascinating mouth. She wondered what it would feel like to kiss his lips. Lifting her eyes lazily to his eyes, she felt lost among the dancing gold flecks in his eyes. He told her about being a lawyer and wishing to expe
rience the freedom of the west. He accepted this quest to find Taylor as a way to prove his ability to hunt down a man who had seemingly disappeared from the face of the earth.
Linda folded her hands under her chin and listened. The tenor of his voice was tranquilizing. It washed over her senses like a warm pool of water.
“Are… you going to write any of this down, Missus Applebee?”
Linda snapped out of her trance. “Oh, yes, of course.” She scribbled a bit of nonsense on the page. “So, when you travel alone, how do you protect yourself at night while you are sleeping?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the phrase, ‘sleeping with one eye open.’ That is literally what one does.” His face went serious. “One cannot afford the luxury of a sound sleep.”
“But aren’t you exhausted.”
“It’s something you get used to.” He smiled. “After several days, I check into a hotel and get a good night’s sleep, then I move on. Besides, being in a town is an opportunity to stock up on supplies, get a nice hot meal, and speak to the people. I learn a lot just from talking to those folks who sit outside the mercantile. If anyone has seen or heard anything about my prey, they usually will say.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. She stared at his arms. Bulging against the sleeves were ribbons of muscles. How did a lawyer get to be so muscular? What would it feel like to be held in those arms?
“You’d be surprised what strangers will tell you when they think they’ll never lay eyes on you again.”
“I see.” She scribbled on the notebook. “And, so, besides following a trail of gossip, how do you track a person across the country who doesn’t want to be found?”
“It’s not easy. Sometimes it’s just dumb luck. But it’s been my experience that if you want to find someone bad enough, even if they don’t want to be found, you’re gonna find them eventually.”
She nodded. The flecks of gold in his eyes captured her gaze. She couldn’t look away. Only when Jenny set their plates of fried fish and potatoes in front of them and said her name did Linda break out of the spell she was in. “Aunt Linda, can I get y’all anything else?”
