by Janet Dean
How could he make peace with God when his heart burned for revenge? How could he make peace with God when he’d become Stogsdill’s judge and jury? How could he make peace with God when he wanted Stogsdill dead?
He wouldn’t confide in Anna, but tomorrow he’d ride out to the Pence place. Pretend an interest in Debby’s grandfather’s thoroughbred horses. See what he could learn about Rory.
Chapter Fifteen
If only Carly had the courage to ask the pastor the reason God hadn’t guided her better. Why He’d put such intimidating men in her life. First her father and then Max.
But with Henry beside her and others waiting to shake hands with Pastor Koontz, this wasn’t the time or place.
She looked forward to a quiet day with her son. He was growing up before her very eyes. In a few years he’d leave home. Perhaps after dinner she’d take Henry on a walk or play a game.
As they crossed toward home, she avoided the little knots of parishioners scattered on the church lawn. From the furtive glances coming her way, the topic of conversation was probably the controversy over her shop.
The day Nate had delivered the news she no longer had possession of the deed, she’d cried out to God, asking Him to save the shop. Yet she didn’t sense His support in the dispute. Was it fair to expect God to take her side when the deed would provide for the woman Max had made a widow?
She bit back a sigh. She’d married Max impulsively. She hadn’t taken the time to pray. She hadn’t trusted God to lead her. Instead, despite her qualms, she’d jumped into marriage. Her hasty actions had brought consequences. No wonder her marriage had been a nightmare. Still, if not for her marriage to Max, she wouldn’t have her son.
And you wouldn’t know Nate, her traitorous mind whispered.
Her heart skipped a beat. When had she come around to believing Nate’s presence in her life was a good thing?
“Carly! Wait up.” Rosalie Harders, hat askew, her full cheeks flushed, dashed toward them, huffing and puffing with the effort. “Mercy...you’re harder...to catch...than a greased pig at the county fair.”
“Sorry, I didn’t realize you were looking for me.”
“Of course I would be. The whole church is talking about it.”
“About what?” As if Carly didn’t know.
“Why, about you and that bounty hunter and his sister sharing a pew.” She laid a gloved hand on her chest. “I’ll admit I was surprised, too, what with the disagreement over your shop and all. Then I figured you were doing what the Good Book says and heaping burning coals on your enemies’ heads.”
Carly stiffened. Enemies? Anna? Nate?
Perhaps once. But Anna had become a mainstay in the shop, a friend to both her and Henry. And Nate...
Well, he had become important to her son. Henry believed God had sent Nate to be his father. A child couldn’t be expected to understand the impossibility of such a hope. Carly certainly did. Still, Henry’s trust in the man didn’t make Nate her enemy.
“You should get to know Anna, Mrs. Harders. She’s an excellent seamstress and a wonderful woman.”
“Well, that’s what my boys say. They claim she’s sweeter than syrup-soaked bread. But what about that brother of hers? Doesn’t he keep you on edge?”
“Not in the least,” Carly said, asking forgiveness the moment the lie left her lips.
In truth, she wasn’t afraid of the man. She was afraid of the effect he had on her. Her attraction was hardly surprising, considering her other bad choices.
“Reckon there’s good in him. He’s given my boys work. Kept them so busy they’re too tired for Saturday night sprees. Come Sunday morning, they’re up in time for church.”
“I’m glad.”
“Well, I’d say you’re in a pickle, Carly, over that shop, but the Good Lord’s a master of messes. He’ll take care of you and Henry like He’s taken care of me and my boys.”
Carly’s shoulders tightened. Rosalie’s husband died around the time Carly had moved to Gnaw Bone. Without their father’s guidance, her sons had become unruly. Hardly encouraging, but she had seen the difference in the twins of late. They’d come into her shop clean-shaved and sporting haircuts. They fulfilled their obligations. “Gotta get home and feed my boys. They always tell me not to bother, they’ll get something at the diner, but what kind of mother would that make me?”
Behind their mother’s back, the Harders twins edged toward the café.
Rosalie turned in the direction of Carly’s gaze. “Oh, there you are! Come along. I’ll have food on the table in no time.”
Lester and Lloyd lumbered over, dragging their feet as if mired in mud. They tipped their hats at Carly and Lloyd chucked Henry under the chin.
“What you, uh, cooking, Ma?” Lester asked, stumbling over the question.
“Fried chicken.”
The color drained from the twins’ faces. Shoulders slumped, they tramped after their mother as downcast as men going to their own hanging.
No doubt Rosalie’s fried chicken would be burned to a crisp on the outside and, on the inside, as red as Carly’s geraniums.
Carly had to offer Lester and Lloyd a reprieve. “Mrs. Harders,” she called, “I’m frying chicken for dinner. Why don’t you and the boys join us?”
The smiles erupting on Lester’s and Lloyd’s faces out-dazzled the noonday sun.
“That’s right nice of you, Miz Richards,” Lloyd said.
Rosalie shook her head. “Goodness, I can’t put you to the trouble, Carly.”
“Ma, that’s no way to answer an invitation,” Lester said. “Why, you’ll hurt Miz Richards’s feelings.”
“Oh, mercy, and on the Lord’s Day, too.” Rosalie gave a nod. “We’d love to come. What time do you want us?”
“Give me an hour.”
“What can I bring?”
“Only your appetites.”
“I can’t come empty-handed. I’ll bring a jar of my bread-and-butter pickles.”
Lester bent down to Henry. “Ma makes the best pickles, Henry. They took first prize at the country fair.”
They moseyed off toward home, but Lester lagged behind. “We’re beholden to you, Miz Richards. We’ll burn your trash all summer,” he whispered, then jogged after his ma.
Suppressing a giggle, Carly took Henry’s hand and strolled on. She couldn’t undo the past and all the mistakes she’d made, but she could give the Harders brothers a decent meal, perhaps ensuring they would never again use her shop sign for target practice.
In truth, Nate was responsible for the positive change in the twins. When he moved on, would that change stick?
“Mama, will I still get a chicken leg?”
“Company chooses first,” Carly said, patting Henry’s shoulder.
“But there are three of them and a chicken’s got only two legs. I’m gonna pray I get one.”
“Henry, God wants us to share our best, not just what we don’t want.”
Henry’s crestfallen face put a lump in Carly’s throat. How had she dared to rebuke her son when she’d prayed for God to let her keep the shop? Even though Anna held the deed and was also a widow in need of a livelihood.
“You know,” Carly said, “sometimes trusting God with the outcome is hard. But that’s what He wants us to do.”
“Then I’ll get a chicken leg, Mama. ’Cause God loves me more’n Lester and Lloyd.”
Carly gasped. “Henry Austin Richards. Why would you say such a thing?”
“They shooted our sign. They’re bad.”
“Sweetie, God loves everyone. Even when they do things they shouldn’t.”
Henry turned wide blue eyes to hers. “Even Pa?”
“Yes. God loved your father, too.”
Hadn’t Carly questioned that very thing? Not just with Max, but also with Nate? Yet hadn’t she seen Nate’s underlying decency with her and Henry? With Anna? Even the Harders?
When he’d stepped into church, the vulnerable, wounded hurt in his gaze echoed her
own struggles and tugged at her heart.
But then, he’d left before the service ended, as if issues with his faith separated him from God. Did Nate even understand God’s love?
Her breath caught. Hadn’t she questioned God’s love for her? Hadn’t she struggled to trust Him?
It had taken a small boy’s desire for a chicken leg to remind her that God’s love was unconditional. Deserved or not. Even when she made mistakes and didn’t trust His provision. That assurance flooded her with peace.
She leaned down and hugged Henry to her. “You know, this once, I’ll let you choose the piece of chicken first. I’m sure the Harders won’t mind.”
“I got me the bestest mama in the whole wide world!”
“God loves you and I love you.” She tapped him playfully on the tip of his upturned nose. “God loves me, too. Do you know one reason I’m sure that’s true?”
Eyes somber, lips slightly parted, Henry shook his head.
“Because He gave me you.”
* * *
Without throwing a single punch, Mood packed quite a wallop, his words slamming into Nate’s conscience with one-two precision.
As if Nate needed a reprimand after the fruitless meeting with Debby Pence’s grandfather. Either Pence knew nothing of importance, or was in cahoots with Stogsdill.
“Me and Betsy leave Friday. Didn’t plan on those two lamebrains running the livery,” Morris said, picking up speed.
Brow furrowed, his faded blue eyes drilling into Nate like an auger, Morris paced the livery office. One pant leg was caught in his boot, his suspenders in a twist as if he’d dressed in a hurry.
Nate suspected Mood’s reaction had more to do with fear for his ailing wife than with the Harders twins’ incompetency. “They’re good with horses.”
“I’ll give you that, but they got a lazy streak a mile long and a reputation in this here town that puts the good name of my business at risk.”
“Morris, the responsibility is good for them, is making men out of them.”
“Ain’t got a problem with them caring for the horses and mucking stalls, but I don’t want them dealing with the public.”
“All right. But you know I’ve got to ride out upon occasion. I can’t promise.”
He huffed and threw up his hands. “Reckon you’re driven to find that there outlaw. And can’t understand the importance of building a business, a home, a family. Taking care of those you love.”
At the barely veiled censure, Nate exhaled. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure Anna gets the seamstress shop and can provide for herself, no matter what happens to me.”
“Son, it don’t work to take what ain’t rightfully yours. God ain’t gonna bless that.”
“I didn’t ante the deed in a poker game.”
“Max deserves the blame, that’s sure. But the Good Book says to love your neighbor like yerself. That ain’t just words. That’s a call to action.”
“As I see it, Anna is my neighbor.” He owed her everything.
“Gotta be another way to help your sister. Think about it. Pray about it.”
Prayer or no prayer, Nate couldn’t do what Morris wanted.
The older man laid a knobby hand on Nate’s shoulder. “After we leave, the livery earnings are yours. Work hard and you can make a go of this. You’ll have no problem taking care of Anna without hurting a widow with a boy to feed.”
Nate’s gaze found the floor. The boards were dusty, worn. The gaps between the boards wide enough to lose a Morgan silver dollar in, yet these boards, this office, the livery, had served Mood well. The man had provided a vital function in the community while providing for him and his wife.
If Nate owned this livery, he could handle his and Anna’s expenses. If Anna continued to work for Carly, she could save her earnings and build a nest egg for the future, if anything happened to him. Morris saw the plan as an easy solution for all of them.
But Stogsdill might come soon to marry Debby. If Nate settled in, wasn’t vigilant, those he cared about could be in danger. “Morris, I’m a bounty hunter not a liveryman. This town can’t support two seamstresses. Even if Carly kept Anna on, where would my sister live once the livery sells and the cabin along with it?”
Mood sighed. “You’re good at putting up obstacles.”
“This mess isn’t my fault. Richards should’ve thought of his family before anteing that deed.”
“A reprobate like Max Richards don’t know nothing about duty.” Morris’s eyes snapped with anger. “I’ve seen him in action. Heard him, too. The way he treated Carly and Henry weren’t right.”
The thought of Carly and Henry living under Richards’s thumb sent a wave of fire cascading through Nate’s veins. His hands fisted. If only he’d been here to protect them.
Piercing blue eyes met Nate’s. “Now you’re aiming to hurt them, too.”
Morris’s words cut like an ax, chopping at Nate’s purpose. Carly deserved better than that scoundrel she’d married.
He admired her spunk, her work ethic, her love for Henry and kindness to Anna. She drew him like a mirage lured a thirsty wanderer in the desert. But a mirage was no more real for him than the life Morris touted.
If only things were different...
Even if he could find Stogsdill and put that behind him, he wasn’t a family man. He’d taken a different path at fifteen years of age when he’d buried their parents, then spent the next three years taking care of the farm and practicing with a gun.
The day Anna and Walt had married, he’d ridden out to find the men responsible. Eight years later, he’d brought in all but one member of that gang. Stogsdill.
Nate’s throat clogged. By neglecting to bring down Stogsdill, he’d signed Rachel’s death warrant. The outlaw was determined to rid this world of the bounty hunter dogging him. That put anyone close to Nate at risk.
“I respect you, Morris. Admire your unfailing love for your wife. Your gentle nature with your horses. Your kindness to me and Anna. Even your confidence in my ability to run this livery. But you have no concept of the enormity of what you’re asking.”
With a defeated nod, the liveryman drudged to the door, then turned back, his gaze roaming the cramped livery office. “I’ve spent my adult life here. This place matters to me. I’m giving it up for my Betsy. Her welfare’s more important than mine. More important than the plans I’d made for my life.” His moist gaze landed on Nate. “That’s love, son. I’m praying one day you’ll understand that undoing the past ain’t possible. You gotta let it go and move on. I hope by the time you see that, it ain’t too late,” he said, and then shuffled off.
Perhaps one day Nate would.
One day when Shifty Stogsdill no longer roamed free. One day when Nate had paid his debt to Anna. One day when Nate had patched up the mistakes he’d made.
Maybe then he could look to the future. Maybe then he could allow himself to love Carly and Henry, who were becoming as vital to him as the very air he breathed.
* * *
If Debby Pence’s face hung any lower, she’d surely trip over her jaw. Carly didn’t blame her. The bride had come into the shop to pay for her gown, yet she still had no date for the wedding. Her groom’s indecision had to be humiliating.
“There’s no need to pay now, Debby. Why not wait?”
“I don’t feel right tying up your money in my dress.”
Better to tie up money than spend her life tied to a no-account man. “If Rory can’t set a date, business must be good.”
Or the man didn’t love her. At least not the way he should.
Debby’s lower lip trembled. “Grandpa says Rory’s as reluctant as my mother’s beau.”
Had Debby been born out of wedlock? The reason her grandparents had raised her?
Tears welled in Debby’s eyes. “Rory’s in love with me. Not like my pa at all. Grandpa doesn’t understand Rory wants to succeed so he can give me a nice place to live and money in the bank.”
Material bl
essings hadn’t saved her marriage to Max. “Those are good goals, but a lot of couples marry with less.”
“Grandma’s upset Rory won’t go to church. She doesn’t understand he’s tired from his travels.” She sighed. “They keep planting all these doubts in my mind. If he were here, I’d feel better.”
“Your grandparents want to make sure you don’t marry outside of God’s will.” As Carly had.
“Oh, they think everything’s wrong.” Debby harrumphed. “Like God’s just waiting to rain down fire and brimstone.”
Debby’s grandparents were known to disapprove of square dancing, ice-cream socials, hayrides, most everything that brought young people together. Debby would probably find any man who could sweep her away from their rigid view appealing.
“When’s the last time you saw Rory?”
“Four weeks ago tomorrow. He rode in one morning to surprise me.” She smiled. “He’s always doing the unexpected.”
“Was he able to stay long?”
“He had to leave the next morning to ride to Louisville in time to catch the evening train.”
“Must’ve been disappointing to have him leave so quickly.”
“Yes. But, he doesn’t like me to complain. Says it takes the fun out of surprising me.”
“Are you afraid of Rory’s reaction?”
Debby blinked. “No. I, uh, just don’t want to upset him when our time together is so short.”
The same excuse Carly had made for not speaking up about Max’s actions. “Debby, marriage isn’t always a ticket to freedom.” Hadn’t Carly learned that the hard way?
“What do you mean?”
“A husband can be in control, same as a parent or grandparent.” She took a fortifying breath. Perhaps, if she confessed her poor choices, she could help this girl. “You’ve probably heard my husband was...difficult.”
Debby’s eyes widened, then her gaze dropped to the floor. “Yes, ma’am.”
“My father was strict, disapproving, not an easy man to live with. To get out of the house, I married Max. He didn’t attend church and didn’t value me any more than my father did.” Carly heaved a sigh. “If Rory is hard to get along with before you’re married, he could treat you far worse afterward.”
