The Bounty Hunter

by Cheryl St. John

  “Have you tried the punch?” he asked.

  “Not yet.”

  Nate filled a cup for her and she thanked him.

  “It’s refreshing on a warm afternoon,” she said.

  “At least the nights are cool here,” he observed. “Some places I’ve been, the nights are as blistering as the days.”

  “That would be most uncomfortable. Have you been to Texas?”

  “I have.”

  “Oklahoma? Nevada?” At his repeated nods, her eyes widened. “What were you doing in all those places?”

  “Hunting men,” he told her honestly.

  “Did you catch many outlaws?”

  “A good number.”

  “What about Indians? Have you fought them?”

  “Made friends with those I could, rode clear of the unfriendlies,” he replied.

  “Are they fierce and frightening, the unfriendly ones?”

  “You might say that.”

  “I confess I’ve read a number of dime novels. Such adventures are told. Do the Indians really cut off people’s scalps?”

  “And carry them on their spears or their belts,” he answered. “Most of the tribes have been forced to the reservations now, though.”

  “Thank goodness for that.”

  He wasn’t going to get into a conversation with this sheltered female about the indignities the tribes had suffered or who the land originally belonged to, so he held his tongue.

  With a rustle of stiff fabric, Beatrice swooped upon them in another of her blue satin dresses. “I shall hold your cups while the two of you dance,” she announced. “Go on with you. Enjoy the party.”

  Nate handed over his cup of punch and led Evangeline to the area where several other couples were dancing in time to the organ music. Her cheeks were flushed when she curtsied and extended her hand.

  “I’m not much of a dancer,” he told her.

  “I haven’t danced with many gentlemen,” she admitted. “In school the girls danced together and pretended.”

  “Well, then pretend most men are as bad as I am.”

  Her silver laugh was a surprise he enjoyed hearing.

  Evangeline was as inexperienced as he was awkward, which made him feel less so. After a few minutes they managed a fairly fluid two-step, and Nate took care not to tromp on her toes.

  Two more musicians with banjos and fiddles joined the group as ranch families arrived, and the music turned more lively. Nate partnered Evangeline for two square dances before Meriel Reed introduced him to her cousin, Lucinda, and Nate danced an obligatory reel with the dark-haired young woman.

  The musicians took a break, and Reverend Bacon sang “Carry Me Back to Old Virginny” while his wife accompanied him on the organ. The crowd applauded, then the reverend took a good-natured bow and he and his wife made their way to the punch table.

  Evangeline stood talking with her friends. Occasionally, one of them glanced his way, making him suspect he was the subject of their clandestine chatter.

  The gaggle of women seemed so young and innocent. He was sure he was an oddity in their midst—a hardened bounty hunter who’d lived on wits and endurance most of his life, while they’d been learning to serve tea and tarts and do needlework. He observed them with interest, returning the curious stares. Their naiveté appealed to his desire to leave his old life behind.

  Thoughts that had been simmering in the back of his mind for weeks and months were now rising to the surface for consideration. He wanted a fresh start. He wanted more. He wanted to feel like a real person.

  Evangeline’s gaze met his across the space that separated them, and Nate liked the way she made him feel. Hopeful.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  NATE TESTED A SMILE on the gathering of females, and most of them reacted with blushes. He couldn’t remember a time he’d been the center of attention without a loaded .45 in his grip. It felt strangely revitalizing.

  “You’re quite the popular fellow,” Reverend Bacon commented from beside him. “A man like you is a rarity in Thunder Canyon.”

  Nate glanced around. “I see a few unmarried ranchers.”

  “Ah, but it’s not only your unmarried status that intrigues the young ladies. Those others don’t possess your air of mystery and romance, because they’re not the exception.”

  Nate shrugged off that notion. “Nothin’ mysterious or romantic about me.”

  “Obviously, the females think differently.” The reverend sipped from his cup of punch. “I’d like to extend a welcome for you to come to Sunday services, Sheriff. I haven’t seen your face in the congregation as yet.”

  “I’ve never been much of a churchgoer, Reverend. No offense.”

  “None taken. But God is concerned about your spiritual well-being, and He welcomes all into His house.”

  “If God reined in some of His more enthusiastic supporters, we’d all get along a little better,” Nate replied.

  “I assume you’re referring to the Women’s Temperance Prayer League? They are exuberant, aren’t they? We’re admonished not to be lukewarm, and those ladies are not lukewarm.”

  “Seems there’s something about not being judgmental, too, but I’m not as familiar with the principles of faith as you, so I might have it wrong.”

  “You don’t have it wrong, Sheriff. Temperance means restraint and self-control. However, some of the more passionate campaigners don’t always apply that to themselves.”

  “Miss Lily calls them the Intolerants,” Nate mentioned offhandedly. Seemed he was thinking about the woman half the time, and now he was bringing her up in party conversation. To the town preacher!

  “I regret to hear that. I’m sure she feels threatened.”

  Nate thought any threats she felt were justified, but he kept a lock on his tongue this time.

  “Because of her strong independent nature, Lily is greatly misunderstood,” Reverend Bacon said. “If people knew her better, they would know what a kind and generous heart she possesses and wouldn’t think the worst of her.”

  Surprised, Nate eyed the reverend. “And you know her well enough to say this as a fact?”

  “It’s my job to love and care for all of God’s children. Some are easier to love than others, of course. When it comes right down to it, Lily and I are very similar. It’s natural for us to share a bond.”

  What could the town preacher and the owner of a dance hall have in common? They dispensed spirits of completely different sorts.

  “You’re looking at me as though I’ve spoken heresy,” the reverend said with a chuckle.

  “I reckon I’m just surprised.”

  Shirley Staub joined them then, curtailing the conversation, and Nate was disappointed. He wanted the reverend to elaborate on his earlier statement.

  “We miss you at the boarding house,” Mrs. Staub said, “but I’m pleased you’ve decided to become a permanent citizen of Thunder Canyon by purchasing your own home. There’s a strong sense of community here, isn’t there?”

  They were joined by the Reeds and Meriel’s cousin, and once the musicians were back on the platform, Meriel encouraged Nate to dance with Lucinda.

  He managed to extricate himself after one turn around the floor and invited Evangeline to join him for the next few dances.

  Darkness had fallen, and though the saloons were closed, Nate still had to check the stores and businesses. “I’m obligated to make rounds along Main Street,” he told Evangeline. “It’s a quiet night, though. Completely safe. Would you care to join me for the walk?”

  “I’d be delighted,” she replied.

  He grabbed his hat. They strolled along the storefronts, and Nate checked each door. At the corners he left Evangeline standing on the boardwalk while he hurried around to the rear and checked the alley side, then returned.

  “All’s well,” he told her as they stood in front of the darkened hardware store.

  “Everyone feels safe with you watching out for our town,” she told him.

  “I
’m doin’ my job,” he replied. He led her along the boardwalk with no direction in mind. They came to the empty three-story building and Nate checked the doors and windows.

  Evangeline studied the facade. “You bought a house, so I assume you’re planning to stay.”

  “It’s time I settled down, called someplace home.” They moved on. “This is as good a place as any. Better than most.”

  “It’s amazing you’d choose to come here when you’ve been so many interesting places.”

  “What you call interestin’, I call wearin’. Some places just suck the life out of you. Some people do, too. I came here to get away from that.”

  They arrived at the end of the street, with the Shady Lady on their left. Lights illuminated the windows of the enormous house attached to the dance hall.

  “Like to see my house?” he asked on impulse, then had second thoughts realizing her parents wouldn’t approve of her going to a single man’s house. “Maybe it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

  “No, I don’t think it would be,” she replied with disappointment in her voice.

  Nate thought a moment, trying to remember what was acceptable. It had been too long since he’d been around people who observed proprieties. “We need a chaperone, don’t we?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll figure out something. For now, I’ll take you back to the hall.”

  They strolled until they reached the Temperance Hall, where music still played.

  He removed his hat and held it over his chest. “I’ll wish you a good evening now.”

  “Good night, Nathaniel.”

  Turning away, he settled his hat on his head.

  SUNDAY EVENING Lily answered a knock on the kitchen door.

  “I need a job.”

  Lily looked at the middle-aged woman dressed in a worn skirt and frayed shirtwaist. She’d never seen her before. The woman stood in the alley behind the house.

  “Come in.” Lily opened the door wider and gestured for the woman to move into the kitchen. “What kind of work do you do?”

  “Farm work. We have a place to the south. I can cook and clean and sew and do just about anything. Make soap, too.”

  All the household tasks in Lily’s house were filled by the women who lived there. The woman looked down on her luck, but not the sort who’d work in a dance hall.

  “I promised my daughters new coats and shoes before winter if they worked hard making butter. We’ve been selling the butter to Mr. Shaw.”

  Lily gestured for the woman to take a seat at the table.

  “Yesterday I found that my husband took the cash we’d been saving.”

  Lily dreaded these stories. If the man had gambled this woman’s savings in her saloon, Lily’d pay it back forthwith.

  “What did he need it for?”

  “Bought himself a racehorse.”

  Lily walked to the end of the table and back. “I’d like to give you a job, but my girls take care of the house. I have people hired for the dance hall.”

  “I just thought I’d try.” She stood.

  “Wait. You can bring me butter. I’ll buy as much as you can make. And soap. I’ll buy yours. Do you have eggs?”

  The woman’s weary face crinkled into a smile. “I do.”

  “Well, you’ll have those coats and shoes come winter.” She paused. “You should start yourself an account at the bank. Or I could save up for you in my safe.”

  “He’s not takin’ away from my children again,” she agreed.

  They made arrangements for delivery and payments, and Lily saw her to the door.

  She’d have to own ten businesses to give work to all the women who sought her out. Or at least two or three, she thought.

  A swim sounded good that evening, so she locked up the house and took her time walking along the boardwalk.

  No one answered her knock on the door of the house next to the livery. It was late, and it was Sunday night, but Wade Reed had always obliged her by saddling a horse and waiting for her return. In exchange she gave him a bottle of his favorite vermouth every time she ordered fresh supplies.

  Lily had just turned away when the door behind her opened.

  “I thought you must be sound asleep,” she said, turning back with a smile.

  Wade stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him, but he didn’t head toward the livery. His movements seemed nervous.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Lily,” he began.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m just afraid I can’t accommodate your rides of an evenin’ anymore.”

  Lily looked at him in confusion. “You can’t?”

  He shook his head. “It’s my wife, you see. She’s the leader of the Women’s Temperance Prayer League, and she doesn’t think it’s fittin’ for me to be doin’ business with you. I’m sorry, Miss Lily, but please understand— I have to live with the woman. She can make my life hell if I don’t do this. I feel bad, truly I do.”

  Lily took a step away, absorbing his words and his hurtful decision. She wasn’t good enough for the livery owner to do business with? “I suppose you won’t rent me a buggy or a wagon whenever I need one, either.”

  “I’m sorry, Miss Lily.”

  “You know I need a wagon to pick up my supplies, Wade.” Angry, she turned and headed away from the building.

  “I’m real sorry,” he called. “Don’t take it personal.”

  Lily stopped in the middle of the street and slowly faced the man. “Personal? Don’t take it personal? How am I supposed to take it? You’re refusing me as a paying customer. I have nearly fifteen people working for me, and we rent from you aplenty. But you’re turning that away because your wife doesn’t think I’m fit to do business with? That’s personal.”

  He took a pleading step forward. “Don’t get mad, Lily. I wouldn’t never do this if she wasn’t hell-bent on closin’ the saloons. I like you just fine.”

  “Don’t take this personal, Wade. Go. To. Hell.” Furious now, Lily whirled and marched toward her home, leaving Wade standing in the street.

  Inside her kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and sat at the table, fuming. She needed the use of a wagon and horses for hauling supplies. Meriel Reed wasn’t going to put a dent in her business or her determination. On the other hand, Lily could sure damage Wade’s. An idea came to her, taking the sting from her temper. After thinking her dilemma through, she finished her tea and went to bed with a plan.

  First thing in the morning, she woke Big Saul and asked him to deliver notes to Zeke Taylor and Bernard Kendrick. Lily set about her tasks. The lesson books had arrived, so she saw to it that Violet was working on her numbers and asked Mollie to help prepare food.

  Midmorning both saloon owners showed up at the door of the Shady Lady. She invited them in and offered them sandwiches and coffee.

  Zeke chewed on the sliced beef with obvious appreciation. “What’s the occasion, Lily?”

  “I’ve run into a problem with Wade Reed,” she told them, glancing from one man to the other. “Have either of you been denied horses or wagons yet?”

  Zeke shook his head, but Bernard said, “I sent a boy over this mornin’ and he came back sayin’ something about Wade not having a wagon to rent. I thought that was bull, but I figured I’d just go myself later.”

  She explained what Wade had told her the night before. “Those women intend to cut us off and shut us down,” she said.

  “They cain’t do that,” Zeke said. “Not all the business owners are as stupid as Reed. Or as henpecked. He’s bitin’ off his nose to spite his own face.”

  “We don’t know that the others won’t be swayed by their wives, so we need to stick together,” Lily told them. “We need a plan of our own, and we have to show the town council we won’t be bullied.”

  “What the hell can we do?” Bernard asked.

  Lily flattened her hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’ve got a philosophy that’s
done me well, and it’s gonna carry us through this. Don’t be dependent on anyone. Don’t owe anybody. If you can do somethin’ yourself, do it.”

  Zeke frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

  “We own businesses and property in this town,” Lily stated. “Combined, we probably own more than anybody except Amos Douglas.”

  Bernard shrugged. “So?”

  “So we buy our own horses and wagons and we take care of them ourselves.”

  Zeke scratched his nose. “That’d be a hell of an expense, Lily.”

  “Not if we share the cost and the upkeep. We hire a liveryman to keep up the place and the animals. Who knows, we might even decide to rent out a few wagons of our own!”

  Zeke looked persuaded at that suggestion, but Bernard shook his head. “I don’t know. That’s a lot of work.”

  “Bernard.” Lily stared into his face. “Work is how you get things. It’s how you succeed. If we let the Women’s Temperance Prayer League get away with this—let Reed knock us down—then what’s to stop Howard Shaw or Clive Callahan or Wesley Clark from letting their wives talk them into refusing us supplies or dinners? What’s next?”

  Bernard’s surprised and angry expression showed she’d made her point.

  “But if we stop them,” she continued, “if we show them that not only can we do without their services, but we can hurt their business because of it, they’ll have to rethink their plans.”

  “I’m in,” Zeke said. “What do we need to do first?”

  “We need a permit,” she replied.

  “What if somebody objects?” Bernard asked.

  “Who’s gonna object?” she replied. “We’re just starting a business. Besides, if anyone does have a complaint, Amos Douglas has been hounding me to expand. He’d support our project. I’m not sure why, but he would.”

  Bernard nodded. “What else?”

  “We’ll have to order wagons and purchase lumber for a building. We’ll decide where we’re building these stables and draw up a legal contract that says we will share the expenses and the profits.” She thought a moment. “I own some land past the edge of town that I inherited, but in bad weather, that’d be quite a walk to go get a horse. I own the plot where my garden is—not enough land though.”