by Janet Dean
Carly sat sipping coffee. At her side, Henry slurped through a paper straw. The dreamy look on his face proved the rarity of the treat.
Nate took the seat across from her, giving him a view of the street and the door, an ingrained practice that had saved his neck more than once. Stogsdill would not have had time to get to Gnaw Bone after he received the wire. Still, a man couldn’t be too careful, especially in the company of a defenseless woman and child.
“Mama got me root beer, Nate,” Henry said. “The fizzy tickles my nose.”
Oblivious to the whisperings of those around them, Henry chattered about his day at school, then focused on his root beer.
“Apparently we’re on the menu, judging by the number of folks looking our way,” Carly said.
Nate chuckled. “I think they’re hoping we’ll climb into the boxing ring, Gnaw Bone’s version of Sullivan and Ryan.”
He could think of far more pleasant ways to resolve the dispute. But Carly would want no part of the image he carried in his mind, of kissing her, of holding her in his arms. He dared not give in to longings that would tie him to anyone, not even Carly, who lured him like a stagecoach carrying gold enticed a robber.
The noise level and the click of silverware suggested the diners had forgotten them and had returned to their meals.
The swinging doors separating the kitchen from the café banged open, and Sarah stepped through. Long and lanky in face and body, her every movement clipped, the café owner exuded no-nonsense efficiency. Face flushed, flyaway strands of hair floating around her face, Sarah toted heaping plates to the next table.
“Hope you enjoy the food,” she said, depositing each plate with a plunk.
Then she stepped to Henry’s side, pad in hand, spectacles perched on her nose.
“You look shorthanded, Sarah. Where’s Lucille?” Carly asked.
“Sick. On the busiest day I’ve had in ages.” Sarah’s stern gaze settled on Nate, as if to say, “That’s your doing.” She glanced at the wall clock. “I’ll warn you now. Food’s gonna be slow.”
“We’re in no hurry.” Nate smiled, pleased to have more time with Carly and Henry.
“Got fried steak, chicken, stew in the kitchen. What can I get you?” Sarah glanced at Carly.
“Henry will have the small portion of the fried chicken dinner, just a leg with his,” Carly said. “I’ll have the stew and more coffee.”
“Got it.” Sarah turned to Nate. “For you?”
“Fried steak and black coffee.”
Sarah scrawled the order on the pad, then grabbed the menus and scurried to the kitchen.
As they waited for the food they talked about Henry’s riding lessons, the Schwartz wedding, the church ice-cream social scheduled for early June, avoiding the one topic surely on both of their minds: the day of testimony.
Sarah returned with two plates lined up on one arm, carrying the third in her other hand and set them down in front of them.
The delicious aromas teased Nate’s nostrils, reminding him of all the meals his mother had cooked, all the times they’d spent around the table, much like the three of them did now. As they ate and talked, like all the families around them, Nate felt part of the town, part of Carly’s family, part of what God had intended from the beginning of time.
A heavy longing pressed against his lungs until he could barely breathe. What he’d give to form a family with Carly and her son. To have a place to call home, to have this woman and child to share each day with, perhaps to be blessed with a second child of their own.
That longing was futile. He’d ridden alone for eight years. The one time he hadn’t, he’d caused an innocent woman’s death. Maybe one day when his presence no longer put Carly and Henry in jeopardy...
The mere idea was ludicrous. Every time Nate thought he had Stogsdill in his sights, the outlaw would vanish, as if he were made of smoke.
Sarah returned with the pot and refilled their cups, leaving room for cream in Carly’s. “How’d the hearing go?”
Carly shrugged. “We each had our say and spoke the truth. The outcome is up to the judge.”
The café owner’s gaze bored into Nate. “Hate to think what would happen to me if I lost this business,” she said, then hurried off with the pot, refilling cups on her way back to the kitchen.
Nate met Carly’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish—”
She held up her hand. “Let’s talk about something else. Something that’s good for digestion.” She smiled at her son. “Like the A that Henry got on his spelling test.”
“Last week I spelled ‘monkey’ wrong,” Henry said, propping his chin in his hand. “I forgetted the e.”
“You know, we learn the most from the mistakes we make. I doubt you’ll misspell monkey again.”
“Teacher said there’s a key in monkey and that’s how we turn him on.” He giggled, then leaned toward his mother. “I got two wrong on my ’rithmetic paper today.”
“You are a monkey, Henry Austin. The key to doing well in school is to work hard, exactly what you do. But Nate’s got a point.” A flush bloomed in her cheeks and her gaze fell to her plate. “We do learn the most from our mistakes,” she added softly.
Carly had regrets the same as Nate. Somehow that knowledge bonded them, made him yearn to erase the sadness in her sagging shoulders. “Some mistakes bring rewards,” he said, then glanced at Henry.
A smile lit her eyes. “You’re right. Some mistakes bring all that matters.” She reached across the table and laid a gentle hand on Nate’s arm. “Thanks.”
Sarah dropped off the bill and they rose, scraping the legs of their chairs on the wooden floor.
At the cash register, Nate peeled bills out of his money clip. “Keep the change.”
“’Preciate it,” Sarah said, the glare she’d fixed on him softening.
Outside he and Carly meandered along the sidewalk toward the shop. Nate had never felt more relaxed, more at ease. This harmony was what it would be like to have Carly and Henry in his life permanently. Henry skipped along in front of them, trying to whistle; a shrill, feeble sound. He’d have to teach the boy.
They reached the shop. Nate scrambled to think of a reason to avoid ending the evening.
“Thank you for supper,” Carly said.
“It was my pleasure.” He grinned. “That boy can eat.”
“He’ll be talking about root beer for days.” Carly cleared her throat. “I...I meant to ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Yesterday Sheriff Truitt said he’d warn Pence. Why? Did Debby write Stogsdill? Tell him the engagement was off?”
“Well, uh, no.”
Carly’s blue eyes widened. “Why not? Surely she doesn’t want to marry the man now that she knows his true identity.”
“If Debby had cut things off, who knows when Stogsdill might decide to show up and try to change her mind? I couldn’t risk that.”
“How could you stop it?”
“I asked Mr. Pence to wire Stogsdill that his delay was giving his granddaughter second thoughts and if he hoped to marry her, he should pay Debby a visit.”
With a sharp intake of air, Carly whirled to face him. “You concocted a plan to bring Stogsdill here, to Gnaw Bone?”
“Well, yes, but I’d planned to ride to Louisville yesterday in ample time to meet the train. That is assuming Stogsdill left St. Louis as soon as he received Pence’s telegram.”
“You believe Stogsdill is coming to Gnaw Bone, and you didn’t think you needed to tell me this?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. If he was on the train, I’d have gotten the jump on him and turned him in to the authorities there.” Nate released a heavy sigh. “But then the judge insisted I testify. I seriously doubt the telegram can be delivered immediately. Still, I should have tim—”
“You concocted a plan that puts my son in danger?” Carly’s eyes flashed, icy and cold. “Surely even you wouldn’t put capturing Stogsdill ahead of a child’s safety?
”
* * *
Carly’s gaze darted to Henry, then swept the street. Everything looked routine; a peaceful evening in Gnaw Bone. That peace could be shattered in an instant.
Thanks to Nate.
Never had Carly felt more defenseless. Not even married to Max. “Henry, go inside and get ready for bed.”
“Mama, I want to show Nate—”
“Mind me, young man.”
Steps lagging, Henry dragged himself onto the porch and inside the kitchen, then took one last look and shut the door.
Once her son was out of sight, Carly shoved a fingertip into Nate’s chest. “You didn’t think about Henry, did you? All you could think about was getting the reward.”
“Surely you know me better than that. Money has nothing to do with this,” he said, the muscle in his jaw ticking.
If not the money, then what?
Rachel. The fiancée Nate had reluctantly spoken of at the hearing. Murdered by Stogsdill.
Carly exhaled. “All right, not the money, but admit it. You’re obsessed with catching him.”
“Try to see this from a lawman’s perspective.” Nate reached his arms toward her.
This time those arms didn’t make her feel safe. This time she had no desire to walk into them.
“Stogsdill wouldn’t have taken Debby’s rejection lying down. Not knowing when he’d arrive was far more dangerous than my plan.”
“Did it ever occur to you, that if not for your telegram, he might not come at all? He’s stayed away for weeks.”
“All the more reason to believe he’ll come. Carly, I understand your concern, but you and Henry are not Stogsdill’s target. He doesn’t even know you exist.”
“Anyone seen with you is a target. Doesn’t Rachel’s death prove that?”
Pain exploded in his eyes, as if she’d hauled back and slapped him.
“I’m sorry, that was cruel. I’m sorry your fiancée was killed. Sorry for the pain that brought.”
“I know you are,” he murmured. His eyes lowered to his feet. “Rachel was so young. So full of life.”
“I let my temper get the better of me. I’m just afraid for my son.”
“Do you believe I want to put you and Henry and my sister in harm’s way?”
“I don’t believe you want us hurt. If anything, my fear for my son makes me understand your desire to make Stogsdill pay. But, anyone in town could tell Stogsdill the bounty hunter and Widow Richards are in a controversy over the ownership of her shop.”
“Stogsdill’s face is on a wanted poster. He won’t risk questioning folks. Still, you make a good point. The less we see of each other, the better.”
Carly pulled in a fortifying breath. “You’ll stay away? Away from the shop?”
“Yes,” he said. “As soon as the hearing ends tomorrow afternoon and I’m free to leave, I’ll ride to Louisville. If Stogsdill isn’t on the next train from St. Louis, I’ll head back here and hole up in the deserted shack in the woods not far from the Pence farm, the perfect spot to lie in wait.”
“What if Stogsdill doesn’t come that way? Or knows about the shack, too?”
“You’ll just have to trust I’m good at my job.”
“Good at your job?” she all but shrieked. “Do you believe you’re invincible? What if Stogsdill ambushes you first?”
What if he killed Nate? The possibility shot through Carly, careening against every muscle and nerve. She couldn’t imagine her world without Nate in it. When had he taken root in her heart?
She stifled a sigh. Nor could she imagine her world with Nate in it, at least permanently. Too much stood between them—his job, the shop, his lack of faith.
Her gaze locked with Nate’s. “If Stogsdill should get to Debby first and learns you showed Debby his wanted poster, he won’t rest until he gets revenge.”
“He’s been gunning for me for years. Yet I’ve managed to survive.” He traced her cheek, his fingertips sending a chill down her spine. “I’m grateful you don’t want to see me six feet under.”
“Don’t be silly,” Carly huffed. “But admit it. You don’t have control of this situation. You don’t know what train he’ll board. When he’ll arrive. All this is speculation.
“Anna and I deserved to know your plan.” Carly stepped out of his reach and thrust her hands on her hips. “Once Stogsdill has you in his sights, he’ll discover your sister works with me. He’ll discover you’ve been seen with Henry and me.”
“Surely you know I care for you. You and Henry. I’ll protect you with my life.”
Carly wouldn’t say what sprang to mind: Like you protected Rachel. As frightened as she was, she could never be that cruel and blame Nate for failing the woman he loved. No one could provide absolute protection.
“I’m relieved Debby won’t be marrying the man, but this plan of yours puts her life in danger.”
“Her grandfather and Sheriff Truitt are prepared to protect Debby and Mrs. Pence, if Stogsdill should get past me.”
“When did Mr. Pence send that telegram? How long did you say we have before Stogsdill arrives?”
“He sent the wire late yesterday. If he comes by train, the trip from St. Louis to Louisville takes most of a day.”
“That means he could arrive tonight!”
“Carly, I don’t believe he could get the wire immediately. If the judge rules tomorrow afternoon, I should be able to arrive in time to meet the first train he can possibly be on.”
“I pray you do, Nate, because I can’t consider what will happen if you’re wrong. Well, I need to put Henry to bed,” she said, and then hurried inside.
One day. One day before a monster could arrive in town.
The man she’d feared falling in love with had shown his true colors, as she’d always known he would. He’d put his goal to bring in Stogsdill ahead of his concern for her and Henry.
Why was she surprised? No man had ever put her or her son’s well-being first.
Lord, no one has the power to protect us but You.
Not even a fast-draw bounty hunter spouting promises of protection. Promises he’d already failed to keep.
Chapter Twenty
One o’clock Saturday afternoon Carly entered the church, her stomach tied into more knots than a curly headed tot with molasses in its hair.
This was the day the judge would rule. The day she’d learn her fate. One more day, even today, and Stogsdill could arrive in town.
No matter how much Nate claimed to care about her and Henry, did he even want home and hearth? Once he captured Stogsdill, would that satisfy him? Or was bounty hunting in his blood? Vengeance forever in his heart?
The side door opened. Wearing a sober expression and a gun on his hip, Judge Rohlof entered the makeshift courtroom.
Carly rose to her feet, along with a packed sanctuary, then sat once the judge took his seat at the table, this time a single sheet of paper in his hand.
“Sheriff Truitt was called to a ruckus at the saloon. Please follow the same procedure as yesterday. Even with the sheriff away, I’m prepared to toss anyone who can’t behave out on his ear.”
An already quiet courtroom got quieter still.
“After hearing testimony on the ownership of Lillian’s Alterations and Dressmaking and consulting my law books, I’m prepared to rule. The deed to the shop in question was wagered and lost by Max Richards on the afternoon of April 1, 1898, three days before his death on April 4, 1898. Therefore, the deed was not part of Max Richards’s estate and would not pass on to his widow.” His gaze darted to Carly, then on to Anna. “Therefore, I rule on behalf of the plaintiff. Anna Hankins is now legal owner of Lillian’s.”
As a muffled gasp rose from those in attendance, Carly closed her eyes, taking deep breaths, fighting for calm. She’d known her chances were not good, but nevertheless she’d clung to hope.
Everything had changed. She’d lost her livelihood. She’d lost their home. She’d lost a future here in Gnaw Bone.
&nbs
p; Soon she would lose Anna, who’d become like a sister to her. And the man who had no idea how to put away his pistol and settle down.
“However,” the judge went on to say, “my decision does not include the shop’s contents. Mrs. Richards purchased every spool of thread and bolt of fabric and lace. Therefore, I instruct Mrs. Richards to give a fair estimate of their value. Mrs. Hankins can either reimburse Mrs. Richards, or return the contents of the shop to her. I’ve instructed the sheriff to see that this transfer occurs in a timely fashion. With the sensible heads these two ladies possess, I’m sure they will come to a mutually satisfactory solution.”
With the buzzing going on in her head, Carly struggled to decipher the judge’s words. Please, Lord, don’t let me faint.
Judge Rohlof tugged off his wire-rimmed spectacles. “I’d like Mr. Sergeant and Mrs. Richards to approach the bench.” He gazed at the onlookers. “The rest of you head on home. The show’s over.”
Carly got to her feet as her neighbors shuffled up the aisle. Some stopped to pat her hand or to wrap her in a hug. By the time she reached the judge, her throat was clogged with unshed tears.
As she stepped to Nate’s side, the misery she saw in his eyes stiffened her spine. He’d gotten what he wanted, hadn’t he?
“I’m sorry,” he said, then opened his arms.
She sidestepped those arms, arms that might’ve once brought comfort, but that comfort was merely an illusion. He’d brought all this on them. How dare he pretend the outcome upset him?
Judge Rohlof cleared his throat and turned kind eyes on them. “It’s not in my jurisdiction to rule on matters of the heart. However, anyone can see you care about each other. During the hearing, I noticed the furtive glances passing between you. Sheriff Truitt tells me you work at the livery, Mr. Sergeant. Do you earn a decent wage there?”
“Yes, sir.”
The judge folded his hands on the sheet of paper detailing his ruling. “Then you can afford to support a wife and child. My suggestion—quit ignoring your feelings and get hitched, thereby keeping the shop in the family and making everyone happy.”
Carly tried to work up a smile but failed. “Thank you for your concern, Judge Rohlof, but Mr. Sergeant has a quest and won’t be staying.”
