Brighter Tomorrows

by Beverly Wells

  His grin had those blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve never met a lady carpenter.” His eyes canvassed the golden hickory wainscot, hardwood floors, hand-tooled crown moldings, and fine window casings.

  “You restored this room…as well as the others?” He set his fork down and looked amazed at such a feat.

  She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “I can’t take full credit. Tom Wallace is a hard working young man. He works at the hardware store, dabbles in carpentry, but he’s a handyman. Since he had a new wife and baby, he’d been looking for some extra money. I did most of the woodwork while he hauled lumber, sawed, nailed. We worked well together.”

  He eased back in the chair. “How do you take in boarders if you’re always under construction?”

  She grinned this time. “It took us a year to finish the first floor, other than my bedroom down the hall. It’ll be last. The upstairs I cleaned, painted, and furnished to suffice so I could open and start bringing in money. Now, I take one room at a time. Next year, I’ll tackle the last one upstairs.”

  “You’re amazing, Miss Lynch. You do superior work. And it’s very relaxing and homey. I wish you much success with your business and your home.” Classy, but not so ornate that it overpowers.

  “Thank you. I’m far from amazing, but I do feel blessed. I thoroughly enjoy cooking and making this my home, but most of all, catering to my wonderful boarders. I have the best friends in the world and the community here is close-knit and more like a family.” Seeing he had finished his chicken, yet had potatoes and vegetables, she retrieved the platter. “More chicken, Marshal?”

  He laughed. “Don’t mind if I do.” He took another piece. “You continue to call me ‘Marshal’ and that’s fine here. But, if we’re in public, will it be difficult to call me Mr. Tate?”

  “Not at all. It won’t be that often, but you can rest assured I’ll remember.”

  “Good girl. I should fill you in on what’s goin’ on and who I’m workin’ with so you don’t have any surprises.”

  She had no idea what those surprises might be. Maybe one of his men running through her home with guns blazing? She nearly laughed, yet found herself delighted to be part of the adventure. His “good girl” had her heart leaping and her face blushing.

  “Not that I’m not eager to hear about your mission, because I am chomping at the bit to hear more. To an easterner like me, it’s more than thrilling. But you’re supposed to tell me about yourself, too.” She refilled their cups.

  “All right.” He forked the last of his potatoes in his mouth and swallowed. “I’ll tell you about me first, and then you’ll understand more about my mission.”

  He set his fork down. “Not much to tell, really. During my last year at college for law and finance, my father died. My younger brother took over running our cattle ranch in Texas. When I graduated, I helped Jeff until he got his feet under him. Didn’t take long to realize I liked law enforcement better than ranchin’. I accepted the local sheriff’s position. Since a few investments I’d made started payin’ off, I bought a place in town, helped out Jeff when needed, and married my long-time sweetheart.”

  Callie heard the pride in his success and saw his satisfaction as well. The fact he wore no wedding band, had had a relative murdered here, and now, an instant later, glowered as if he fought to hold back his rage, hit her like a hurtling boulder. Suspecting who he’d most likely lost here, her breath hitched. She didn’t want to hear him say it.

  Chapter Four

  Discomfited, Callie hopped up. With trembling hands, she started stacking plates and silverware.

  “Yes, Miss Lynch, my wife, Bethany, was one of the six victims who were shot and killed three years ago.”

  Her chest felt as if it would burst. Praying for composure, for his sake as well as hers, she raised her bowed chin and nodded once.

  She wanted to say so much, yet her tongue cemented itself to her dry mouth. She knew the devastation and unbearable pain of losing a loved one. Their circumstances were different, yet so very alike. She never wanted to go down that path again— Couldn’t, and keep her sanity.

  Their woeful gazes met. She recognized his agony, suffered his anguish. She felt a bond form between them, much like kindred spirits; two wounded hearts and lost souls floundering in the cold, cruel world. Relating to him added to her torment. It reopened past raw wounds to sting anew. Inhaling deeply, she fortified her mettle and vowed to remain strong for him during his mission. She’d have time later to again lick her own reopened wounds.

  She’d let him know she could relate to his loss. “You have my deepest sympathy, Marshal. I know what it’s like to lose one you’ve deeply loved, and I empathize with you. They say time heals all. You must give it time before you feel peace once more within your heart, and allow your soul to heal. Someone once said, ‘believe in the Lord and he shall help you set the world aright again’.”

  “Yeah? Well he can’t bring my wife back—or our unborn child she carried. It’s taken me this long to stick to his trail like glue, but this time around, I’ll make it right. Amos Marten and his three misfits will never harm anyone again,” he said, his voice full of bitter conviction.

  At hearing his added loss, his words blasted her heart, deep and painful. She needed to help him be strong. He desperately needed his faith restored, to reconcile with a past that could not be changed. “You can’t change the past, but you can learn from it, deal with it and then go on and strive to become wiser and stronger because of it.”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “You’re a very wise, sincere woman, Miss Lynch. Did you ever contemplate preaching in your spare time? You could turn a few lost souls into God’s children.”

  A retort stung the end of her tongue, ready and willing to spring free—

  “Thank you,” he said with a tentative smile. “I meant what I said as a compliment. If I could be reminded of that more often, I might be able to see the brighter side of life.”

  His words meandered over her like a gentle flowing stream warmed by the summer sun, his smile as intimate as a kiss. Lord help me and keep me safe. This man’s smile could melt a rock into molasses.

  “I’d be happy to remind you every chance I get.” She found it impossible not to return his smile. Yet, she’d not offer more than friendship. She only dared the most minuscule affection to any male. No matter how devastatingly handsome, well-muscled, or well mannered he might be.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  After Callie refused help tidying up after breakfast, Chase sat on the front porch swing finishing his coffee and gazed across the broad expanse of front lawn. A pretty white church sat across the street down aways. His gaze followed toward the town proper. Birds chirped their good mornings from tall tree tops as the early morning sun peeked through the wispy clouds and a faint breeze gave promise to temper the afternoon heat. Planting his boots flat against the floor, he pushed the swing leisurely back and forth. Four potted green leafy plants sat throughout the porch. The relaxing and peaceful ambience Callie’s porch offered lulled him. He liked the name Callie. It suited her.

  The screen door creaked opened. “Dishes all done,” she said, holding a broom. Her eyes twinkled as she watched him swing.

  “This swing is incredible. More comfortable than I thought. I haven’t enjoyed sitting and admiring such a peaceful morning in a very long time. Town has sure changed since I was here last. Please, come join me for the few minutes I have before I have to leave.” He stopped swinging, set his cup on the wooden stand and stretched his left arm out along the top of the swing.

  She hesitated and gripped the broom tight. She resembled a mouse staring into the eyes of a big ol’ Tom cat. Chase still had his moments, dealing with his wife’s and unborn child’s deaths, but this lady had fears to beat all. Had she been abused? Or, did she just fear a man’s touch? Either would be a crying shame.

  “I don’t bite. I don’t usually holler—much—and I’m not a molester. Does that help?”

  “It’s me,
not you. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said as a blush appeared. “Let me sweep the porch right quick and then I’ll join you.” She started sweeping. “Why were you here…last? You have relatives here?”

  He was silent a moment. Then, “We were visiting some friends in the area—I…haven’t been back here since then. And they’ve since moved away.”

  “I see…”

  Silence fell again, with the soft “whisk whisk” of the broom the only noise.

  “You always sweep your porch when there’s no more than a fine dusting?” Chase asked.

  “Marianne claims I’m possessed with cleanliness,” she laughed, sashaying across the porch, making efficient sweeps. “I simply like things neat. Every morning, I set the porch to rights. It has to always look charming, homey and say a strong welcome to everyone.”

  He scanned the two large clay pots at the bottom of the steps with their red and purple blossoms, the painted “WELCOME” sign to the left of the porch. Even the arched sign that read, “Apple Grove Inn”, attached to the front of the roof, greeted strangers warmly. She’d done an excellent job.

  When she finished, she opened the screen, stood the broom inside, and joined him on the swing. He again set the swing into a steady motion. When she relaxed and leaned back fully, the mere touch of her thick hair and back against his coat sleeve warmed his blood. Realizing she hadn’t flinched, he knew an inner satisfaction he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “Everyone comments on this swing. It turned out better than I’d imagined.” She focused on the doves and pigeons pecking around the base of the big cottonwood tree.

  “Do not tell me you made this.” Shaking his head, he glanced her way. He continued rocking back and forth.

  “All right, I won’t take full credit,” her eyes twinkled. “Clive Horner, our cooper, can bevel a stave to perfection in minutes. He slightly curved the staves where your backside sits for more comfort. Our blacksmith, Evan Burrows, made the wrought iron braces, the hooks and chains. I took them my plans, they did their part. I stained and varnished the staves, and then Tom helped me put it together and hang it.”

  She was one smart cookie and an enterprising one at that. “Y’all did an outstanding job. You’re a great team; you should go into business together and produce these.” His burdened heart lightened as she beamed from his praise. He gave her shoulder a slight squeeze. The instant he felt her stiffen, he lifted his hand. His intent had been to let her know he offered no threat as well as… Well, hell, he came here to see Bethany’s killer apprehended, not to start something he would never be able to offer.

  She acted as if nothing had happened. “We gave it some thought after several people commented on it.” She looked him in the eye and grinned. “If it comes to fruition, we may need an investor to get it off the ground. Do you think you might be interested, Mr. Tate?”

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  When Chase burst out laughing, an infectious deep belly laugh at that, Callie joined in with him. The man’s hearty guffaws and smile could turn a nasty, grouchy, old biddy into kicking up her heels and asking for a dance. While she doubted she would ever trust another man with her affections, she, from the very first, appreciated his devilishly handsome face, and all the other attributes. She found herself extremely conscious of his virile appeal. And the blasted man had a sense of humor. Well, shoot! That made him twice as hard to resist.

  Chase stopped the motion of the swing, stood and turned to her. “I better skedaddle. I don’t anticipate them before two or three days, but I can’t take any chances.” He reached for his Stetson. “And I don’t want to hold you up from your paintin’.” His wink sent a warmth scurrying through her. He turned, made his way down the steps, and strode down the road.

  She might live by the code to never take interest in or trust a man again, but she found herself admiring his vitality, and again, sensed some bond between them. Maybe it was the fact they had simply loved and lost. She needed to remember the pain, the insult, the sheer agony a man could cause a woman without a second thought.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Lunch and supper passed with both relating the day’s events. Callie had finished the painting, and now concentrated on rearranging furniture and adding new draperies. Chase had reviewed plans and schedules with Sheriff Millet, Deputy Hollis, Matt, and several others. Though Callie flinched and worried over his casual “showdown” and what that might entail, they both laughed as he reenacted how his young recruit had become moon-struck upon meeting Callie’s friend, Marianne Grover.

  Callie lay in bed agonizing over the strange attraction. For years, she had resisted the pull to any man, no matter how handsome or how nice. So, why now? And why would she suddenly feel her heart yearn for a man who still loved his deceased wife? She wouldn’t repeat her mistake of believing she could take another’s place. When she punched her pillow, she cried, but no tears came. They never did.

  Chapter Five

  Callie leaned back in her chair and enjoyed watching Chase devour the last of his breakfast. It always pleased her to watch a man fully appreciate something she had cooked.

  “I’ve shopping to do, so I may see you in town,” she said, setting down her coffee cup.

  He glanced up. “Be happy to get what you need and save you a trip.”

  “I appreciate your offer, but I’ll need the wagon. I need several odds and ends, plus a lot more flour and corn meal for the corn bread I’m making for the Fourth’s celebration. I should stop to see Marianne, and then Laura at the Chat-a-While, too. I’ve neglected them all week.”

  “They your two best friends? Heard tell the Chat-a-While serves the best pie in Wyoming and more,” he said with a bright grin.

  “They’re both like sisters. And you better believe it. Laura serves good food, but her pies are absolutely scrumptious. She’ll have five or six kinds at the celebration. You’ll want try them all.”

  “Coming from you, I’ll do that. Love pie, any kind. Sheriff Millet said they do up a quite a big shindig here for the Fourth.”

  “They sure do. All afternoon, there’s games and contests, crafts sales, and socializing. Supper goes on forever. At dusk, the music and dancing start, followed by fireworks. Lots and lots of fireworks.”

  “I can tell you like the fireworks the best,” he said with a chuckle. “Will you save me a dance, pretty lady?”

  His compliment arrowed straight to her heart. She trembled in anticipation of dancing with him, and that was surprising. And only four more days. “I certainly will, but I thought you’d be guarding the bank. Don’t robbers prefer to break in when no one’s there?”

  “You read too many dime novels?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. “If no one’s there, they’d have to blast it. Takes way more time, more brains than they have, and before the boom stopped there’d be people swarmin’ the place. Nope, they’ll plan it the day before or after the holiday. We’ll take turns watching the bank throughout the fourth but only as a precaution. Got men trackin’ their progress.”

  “Would you like more coffee, Marshal?” she asked as she sipped the last of hers.

  “I’m full to the brim, but thank you, Miss L—” He shook his head. “You said you like to cut to the chase, so let’s do it. I’d more than welcome you calling me Chase when it’s just the two of us. And I’d be honored if you’d allow me to call you Callie. Callie short for another name?”

  “Calinda,” she almost gagged, “is my given name, but I prefer Callie, please.” She hadn’t meant to sound curt, but she hated the memories attached to the other.

  She noted his intense eyes probing, sharp and assessing. “And will you let me hear you say ‘Chase’ before I leave?” His lips curved slightly as he pushed back from the table.

  “Chase.” Her heart hammered at the intimacy.

  “I like hearing my name on your lips, Callie,” he said as he stood, gathered his plate and utensils and took them to the kitchen.

  “I’ll hitch your wagon before I leave.
At lunch, I’ll carry in the heavy things for you, so just leave them in the wagon.”

  “Thank you, but you don’t ha—”

  “I know I don’t. Let me have the pleasure of helping.” He flashed that darn wink and left. The July heat in no way matched her bloodstream.

  ♥ ♥ ♥

  Once Callie made all her purchases at Harper’s and Jacob had loaded them in the wagon, she ran across the street to chat with Laura over coffee.

  A little while later, Callie drew her wagon up in front of Grover’s Sweet Scents and rushed inside to greet Marianne. At twenty-one, Marianne had lost her mother years ago and her father just last year. Keeping the house, she sold off most of the farm land, cattle, and horses, but continued to raise rabbits and ducks for sale. She had three cats and two dogs and, of course, one cow and a buckskin mare. She had opened Sweet Scents where she made and sold her perfumes and colognes, soaps, lotions, candles, herbs and potions. With her new Singer sewing machine, she offered ready-made dresses, gloves and hats. She now stocked men’s and women’s boots and shoes that were more stylish than what Harper’s carried.

  The two chatted like magpies while they dusted the front window displays. Marianne turned dreamy-eyed and her smile widened. Callie felt a laugh try to escape when Marianne’s next words stopped her cold.

  “Oh, Callie, I met the handsomest, nicest man two days ago. His name is Matt Tremayne and he’s passing through to a new job on a ranch north of here, but he…oh Lord, he set my heart to pounding when he first looked at me. He’s only twenty-four, but he seems so much more mature, and his voice—” She broke off, and in a moment, went on shyly, “Just to hear him talk sent thrills through me to my toes like I’ve never felt before. And he never once commented on my gimpy leg.”