by Janet Dean
His gaze locked with hers. “I’m staying until the judge rules. I won’t let Anna to go through the hearing alone.”
Yet he had not one iota of concern about what that hearing would do to Carly. Obviously his soft, lingering looks meant nothing. No matter how much the man drew her, no matter how kind he was to Henry, and how often he handled a chore, he didn’t care about her. He didn’t care enough to worry what losing the shop would do to her and Henry.
Why aid her adversary? She grabbed the wicker basket, holding it in front of her like a shield. “Look, I don’t have time. We have two weeks to finish making the garments for the Schwartz wedding.”
“I thought the wedding was in three weeks.”
“It is, but I promised to have the sewing done the week before so they can pack for the honeymoon.”
She heaved a sigh. How hard-hearted had she become? If the livery failed, the Moods would lose money needed to start over in Arizona.
Plus, the desperation riding Nate’s face stabbed at her conscience. When she’d reopened the shop, she’d had no idea how to run a business. The struggle to learn had kept her on edge and on her knees.
“Carly, if you help me with the books, I’ll help you.”
“Cultivating my garden is hardly a fair exchange.”
“I’m offering something that will mean a lot to your son.” Nate took a step closer. “Henry wants to learn to ride. I can teach him.”
“Why would I let you teach him to ride?”
“You know I’m no threat to the boy.”
She’d seen Nate’s gentleness, his patience. Still, he wasn’t accustomed to children. He had no idea how quickly Henry could get into trouble, or hurt. “He’s too young.”
“He’s old enough. But he needs to learn how to care for a horse and tack, as well as how to ride. I’ll keep an eye on him, I promise.” He cocked a brow. “If you know he’s occupied after school, you won’t have to worry about his whereabouts.”
“How will you have time when you have a livery to run?”
“I’ll work with him late in the afternoon when things are slow.” He gave a sheepish smile. “Henry stops by more than you know. He’s fond of the dappled gray, a gentle mare.”
Apparently whether Carly wanted Henry around Nate or not, her son found ways to spend time with him. The poor kid was attracted to the man. Much like his mother.
Where would all this lead? “I don’t want Henry hurt,” she said. “And I don’t mean just physically.”
“I would never hurt him.”
“Not deliberately. But the more time you spend with him, the more likely you’ll leave a hurting boy behind when you ride out of town.”
He laid a callused palm over her hand that was clutching the laundry basket. “I’ll tell Henry I won’t be staying.”
She gazed into his earnest eyes. A man with a good heart, a man with good intentions. But someone who didn’t understand children. Still, Henry wanted to ride more than anything.
“All right. In exchange for teaching him, you can come in the evenings to learn how to handle the livery books,” she said, pulling away from his touch. “To avoid the appearance of impropriety, bring Anna with you.”
Those good intentions of Nate’s didn’t change the fact they traveled a collision course leading to a showdown. One of them would be a winner and one a loser.
This wasn’t a game. This was her life.
Chapter Twelve
How could a man keep his mind on a column of figures when the attractive instructor at his side stole his breath away?
A couple feet from where Nate sat, Carly bent over her account books, her flawless ivory skin aglow in the gaslight. She wore her shimmering black hair pulled back into a sensible bun, exposing the soft curve of her cheek.
Carly turned to him. His stomach did a crazy little flip as his fingers itched to touch the pale skin, to tug her close. More than anything, he longed to kiss her.
Whoa, cowboy, not the reason you’re here.
As if she could read his thoughts, she blushed and looked away, murmuring something about earnings.
Nate shifted in his seat, struggling to focus on her words. What had gotten into him? He couldn’t get involved with Carly. To do so was cruel, would be leading her on.
Yet, despite his intentions to remember all the issues between them, he absorbed every nuance of her expression, of her tone, watched her dainty hand hovering over her financial records.
Did Carly see him as a man worthy of love?
He bit back a sigh. Hardly. She’d insisted on Anna as a chaperone. That had more to do with Carly’s lack of trust than with propriety and was the reason his sister sat nearby running stitches through the handwork in her lap, humming softly with Maizie dozing at her feet.
Could he blame Carly, when he’d swooped in and threatened her livelihood? If not for her desire to see Henry learn to ride, she would not tolerate his presence in her home.
An unbidden image popped into his mind, of coming to this cozy house with the fire crackling in the hearth, a meal simmering on the stove and Carly’s welcoming smile, glad to see him at the end of the day.
“Nate? Did you hear me?”
He jerked, met the baffled expression in Carly’s wide blue eyes. If she’d spoken, her words hadn’t penetrated the fog that had descended on his mind. “I’m sorry. Would you repeat that?”
“I said, ‘I enter sales and expenses every night, then tally the totals each week to see if I made a profit.’”
He rubbed his heated neck, trying to bring his thoughts around to the balance sheet. He’d not only let his mind wander, he’d let it wander into dangerous territory. Wander to a place where he could court Carly. A place where he could put down roots. A place where...he would surely meet defeat.
Carly tapped a pencil on the page. “The first of each month I subtract expenses from the month’s earnings to see if I can afford to order supplies for the shop.”
Nate folded his arms over his chest. “When it comes to the livery, I don’t have much choice. Horses require feed, shoeing, bedding, occasional doctoring.”
“Exactly. Some supplies are essential. I’d compare the horses’ upkeep to the upkeep of my sewing machine. I can’t stay in business without it.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
He straightened his shoulders, chastising himself for behaving like a love-struck youth, not a man who’d made the wise decision to go through life alone. Yet when he left town, he’d leave behind not only his sister, but this intriguing, caring woman who made him question his very existence. And her son. A boy whose every word and deed tugged at Nate’s heart.
“Some things are less vital. I can’t order, say, lace and the latest fabrics until I’ve paid the bills,” she said. “For the livery, nonessentials might be, uh, repainting the wagon or enlarging the padlock.”
“Yes, nonessentials.” With every ounce of his will, Nate struggled to keep his eyes off her face and on the ledger she’d parked in front of him.
“I pay myself a weekly salary,” she went on. “Not much, but enough to buy food, clothing and tithe to church.”
Carly tithed her income? Even with the threat of losing her business hanging over her, she remained faithful. Proof she put God first. Proof her actions lived up to her faith. Proof she trusted God with her future.
Nate didn’t match her example. He believed in God, but had his actions lived up to his faith? Instead of trusting God to take care of Anna, he tried to ensure her future himself. Now that seemed foolish. A shop, a calling, friends and family—nothing or no one could guarantee the future.
Only God could.
Yet he’d avoided God. For years he’d been on the move. Even when he’d visited Anna, he’d stayed away from church. Who would want him there? Churchgoers and bounty hunters didn’t mix. God wouldn’t want to hear from a man bent on revenge.
“Folks at Carly’s church are nice as can be,” Anna said. “You were right, Nate. Gnaw B
one’s a good place to settle down.” The eyes she turned on him held no condemnation, only something akin to hope. “For all of us.”
Once again the longing to stay seized him. Could he stop tracking Stogsdill? Run the livery and make a life here? That would make Anna happy. And perhaps for the first time since he’d taken the path of bounty hunter, he’d recover the joy of his boyhood, an innocent time surrounded by a loving family.
“The church was great to Henry and me when...when Max—” Carly cut off her words. “They helped us a lot.”
Nate had been responsible for that need. That truth pressed against his lungs with such intensity his chest ached.
What would happen if the judge ruled against Carly? A town this size couldn’t support two seamstresses. Would she be forced to move, to uproot her son? To lose the support of folks at church? Carly was strong, but even she might be pushed too far, to a point where she couldn’t cope.
Carly rose. “That’s enough for tonight.” She closed the book, staring at the cover as if it held an answer she sought.
Anna struggled to her feet, then hobbled toward them, Maizie at her heels. Each awkward step treaded on Nate’s conscience. To fantasize about life as a family man was foolish. For hanging over this peaceful scene was another entity, unseen, unheard but nonetheless real. Nate had a dangerous man to track. How long before the circuit judge arrived and he could leave?
“Thank you, Carly.” Nate offered Anna his arm. “I’ll expect Henry for his riding lesson after school Monday.”
Carly gave a nod but remained at the table, opting not to accompany them to the door.
As he helped his sister cross Carly’s porch and backyard, the image of a raven-haired woman rose in his mind, a competent shopkeeper, a talented seamstress, a tigress of a mother protecting her son. Carly’s goodness, courage and faith in the face of difficulties affirmed she was as beautiful inside as she was out.
His stomach knotted. Carly would not allow a man like him to sully her life. Her son’s life. Only a fool would think otherwise.
When he gave Henry those riding lessons, he’d hold the boy at arm’s length. Far better for everyone.
* * *
The badge on his chest gleaming in the ray of sunlight streaming in the window, Sheriff Truitt doffed his Stetson. “Afternoon, Mrs. Richards.”
The big man’s gaze darted past Carly to Anna sitting at the sewing machine, keeping a watchful eye on the needle as she ran up a seam. “Mrs. Hankins.”
The hum of the treadle stopped. Pink tinged Anna’s cheeks. “Hello, Sheriff Truitt.”
“Nice Easter service yesterday.”
“Yes, I especially enjoyed the singing,” Anna said.
Sheriff Truitt leaned near Anna’s shoulder. “Looks like the Schwartz wedding has you ladies hard-pressed. Can’t think when Gnaw Bone’s had a bigger shindig. Good thing Josiah owns half the buildings in town.”
Anna smiled up at him. “We’ll make the deadline, Sheriff.”
“Given name’s Thor, if you’ve a mind to use it.”
“Thor’s a strong name, fitting for a sheriff.”
Carly bit back a smile. Why, Sheriff Truitt actually blushed. And Anna hadn’t even used his first name. If he was attracted to Anna, who knew where that could lead? Anna might choose being a contented wife over an overworked shopkeeper.
A pang of remorse nipped Carly’s stomach. How could she even consider such a possibility with Anna mere weeks into losing the husband she adored?
But, perhaps one day, after the mourning period, Anna and the sheriff might suit. Why wouldn’t Sheriff Truitt find Anna appealing? She never had a bad thing to say about anyone. She worked tirelessly. Had endless patience with Henry. Even patience with that brother of hers, who surely worried her half to death.
Carly’s heart hitched in her chest. Would Nate survive a showdown with Stogsdill?
As she snipped the fine muslin for the last of the countless petticoats required by the bride, Carly said casually, “Sheriff, any idea when the circuit judge might arrive in town?”
Sheriff Truitt whacked his Stetson on the side of his leg. “Almost forgot why I stopped. I got a wire from Judge Rohlof. His horse threw him on his head. He’s got a concussion.”
Carly gasped. “Oh, no. I suppose that will delay his arrival.”
“Yes, ma’am. How long of a delay depends on when his symptoms improve.”
With everything in her, Carly wanted the issue decided and Nate gone.
“You and Anna might have to work things out between you.”
As if Nate would agree to any solution that didn’t result in Anna’s ownership of the shop.
The sheriff’s gaze traveled between Carly and Anna. When neither spoke, he exhaled like a train pulling into the station, the engine releasing steam. “Well, better skedaddle,” he said, and then banged through the door, setting the bell overhead dancing.
“Sheriff Truitt feels caught in the middle,” Carly said.
Anna’s eyes filled with disquiet. “I feel the same.”
Why did Carly have to like the woman who could ruin her life? “Me, too.”
In truth, she and Anna probably could work something out but, like Nate, Carly wasn’t confident the shop could support her and Henry, as well as Anna. Once Vivian moved to Cincinnati with her new husband, she’d find a local dressmaker there. Other than Mrs. Schwartz and a few regular customers, most women in town either made or bought factory-made clothes, except for special occasions.
“Sheriff Truitt’s a nice man,” Anna said.
“I think he’s smitten with you.”
Anna’s jaw dropped. “Why would you believe that?”
“Call it female intuition.” Carly studied her. “How would you feel about that?”
“If you’re right, I’m surprised. And, well...flattered. I’m not ready for romance, you understand.” A flush bloomed in her cheeks. “But, if I were, the sheriff’s very nice.”
“Why would you find his interest surprising? You’re pretty, wise, kind. You have a lot to offer a man.”
“Most men find my lameness unsettling, even repulsive. I wouldn’t expect a handsome, masculine man like Sheriff Truitt to get past my disability.” She sighed. “Besides, I’m always sitting when he visits. He may not realize I’m handicapped.”
“Of course he does. He’s seen you at church twice now.”
A smile played on her lips. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Maybe you two can be a comfort to each other. A few years back Sheriff Truitt’s wife and baby died in childbirth.”
“Oh, my, the poor man. I wish there was some way I could help.”
Anna’s heartaches hadn’t closed her heart, as Carly’s had. But then, Anna hadn’t been married to Max.
“I can name another man who’s smitten,” Anna said. “I couldn’t help but notice a spark between you and Nate, Saturday evening.”
“Are you sure you’re not imagining that? I know you want Nate to settle down.”
“Yes, but not with just anyone.” Anna arched a brow. “Are you sure you’re not deceiving yourself?”
“He’s attractive, I’ll admit, but I’ll never remarry.”
“Why? Don’t you believe God gives second chances for happiness?”
If He did, why had God allowed Max to gamble the deed in a poker game? All Carly needed to be happy was this shop and Henry. “I failed my son once. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Nate’s patient and gentle with your son. He would never mistreat Henry.”
“I don’t want to upset you, Anna, but your brother is a wanderer like Max and set on vengeance. He will leave. And when he does, he’ll hurt my son, whether he means to or not.”
Tears welled in Anna’s eyes. “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m afraid you’re right.”
Never more sure of anything, Carly slid the shears through the white cambric, snipping along an invisible line, leaving a crisp, clean cut. That spark between her an
d Nate was stronger than she’d admit to Anna. But no matter how much she was attracted to the man, she would cut him out of her life as cleanly as she did this nightgown.
She wouldn’t get involved with a man who would fail her son. A lump the size of a walnut lodged in her throat. Was it already too late? Henry followed Nate around, hung on Nate’s every word, and beamed whenever Nate entered a room. Upon occasion she’d caught her son even mimicking Nate’s stance, feet apart, hands in his back pockets.
Carly had tried to believe she was enough, but Henry craved a man in his life. Nate Sergeant was exactly the wrong man.
The judge’s concussion not only delayed the hearing, it delayed Nate’s departure. The longer he remained, the more Henry’s life would get entangled with the bounty hunter.
When Nate left, he would break her son’s heart.
Carly’s breath caught. Perhaps even hers.
Chapter Thirteen
Henry took to his first riding lesson like a pig to clover.
Nate grinned at the boy, up on that gray-and-white mare. The brim of a tattered cowboy hat pulled low to shade his eyes, the toes of his dusty boots thrust into the shortened stirrups, Henry resembled a pint-size cowpoke.
A few feet away, Carly leaned against the corral, her shoulders barely clearing the top rail. She was a petite woman, yet carried herself tall, as if that feisty spirit of hers buoyed her spine.
Even with the deadline at the shop, she’d stayed to watch, putting her son before her job. No doubt she’d work half the night to make up for the lost time. Nate released a breath. Why not admit it? The real reason Carly had stayed was her lack of trust in him to keep Henry safe.
Between teaching him to saddle the mare and hold and use the reins, the hour had flown. At first Nate had walked alongside the horse, ready to grab Lady’s bridle. But each trip around the corral with Henry directing the horse had increased his confidence and skill.
“Good job, son,” Carly said as they passed. “Proud of you for listening carefully to instructions.”
At his mother’s praise, Henry thrust out his chest, a happy grin on his face. “Thanks, Mama!”
