The Bounty Hunter's Redemption (8 page)

With Henry in school, Carly and Anna worked through the morning. Their only interruption being two customers who’d browsed through bolts of fabric, then left. By noon they’d pinned and basted the gown’s bodice together. After the fitting, Carly would run up the seams on the treadle sewing machine.

Anna was a steady worker, not much for chitchat; a blessing when handling expensive fabric. Still, her quiet nature didn’t give Carly an opening to seek information. She couldn’t rest until she knew the details of how Walt had gotten hold of the deed.

Strands of a plan knitted together in her mind. While they ate the noon meal, Carly would bring up that poker game. See if there’d been witnesses and if so, ask Sheriff Truitt to question them. Perhaps they would deny Walt Hankins had won the deed.

Why, Anna’s husband could’ve stolen it. The reason Max had shot him. Carly bit back a sigh, certain Max was the culprit.

“Brides have been known to gain weight. I cut generous seam allowances in case we need to let out the dress,” Carly said, though with only weeks until the wedding that seemed unlikely.

“Where I’m from, a bride’s wedding gown is often worn as her best dress for years. Generous seam allowances make sense.”

“Not this bride. The Schwartz women rarely wear a gown twice.”

Anna’s jaw dropped. “Really? Seems wasteful, especially in a town named Gnaw Bone.”

“I can’t think of a better town to put on the dog,” Carly said, then gave a wink.

Anna giggled. “You’re so much fun to work with, Carly.”

The compliment soaked into Carly’s spirit. “Thank you.”

At noon they stopped to reheat the pot of vegetable soup Carly had made that morning, and then sat at the kitchen table.

With aromas wafting from their bowls on the rising steam, they glanced at one another and bowed heads while Carly thanked God for the food.

Anna blew on the soup in her spoon, then ate. “Mmm, this is delicious, as good as last night’s chicken and noodles.”

“Thank you.” How could she broach the subject? “You, uh, mentioned your husband won the deed. Was he a gambler?”

“Walt? Oh no. To hear he’d joined a poker game surprised me. And surprised the others at the table.”

Carly’s spoon clattered against her bowl. “There were witnesses?”

“Two men at the wake told me about the game. They felt guilty about Walt, him not being a regular. If he hadn’t sat at the table, they figure one of them might’ve turned up dead.”

These men would declare in court that Max had anted the deed and Anna’s husband had won it fair and square. Any other possibility seemed farfetched, especially looking into Anna’s candid gaze.

Now Carly’s only hope for keeping her shop rested with the circuit judge’s interpretation of the law. Her stomach lurched. If he didn’t rule in her favor, Anna Hankins would be cooking in this kitchen and taking care of Carly’s customers.

“I was shocked Walt won. And troubled he’d risked the money Nate sent us on the turn of a card.”

“No more shocked than I was to learn Max had anted the deed.” Once again, evidence her husband hadn’t cared a whit about her and Henry.

Anna flushed. “I’m sorry about what happened. I don’t approve of gambling.”

Walt Hankins hadn’t considered Anna’s wishes any more than Max had considered Carly’s. “It’s not your fault.” The fault laid with Max, a man without a sense of right and wrong. If he’d lived, his example might’ve led his son down that same path.

“I don’t know poker, but the other players said Walt held a royal flush, the best hand there is, like that was an accomplishment instead of merely luck.” Anna sniffed. “Not good luck, either. Winning that deed cost Walt his life.”

“That deed didn’t take your husband’s life. Max did.” She touched Anna’s arm. “I’m sorry. More than I can say.”

“Some mornings I wake and, for a moment, I forget.” Moisture welled in Anna’s eyes. “I can barely believe Walt’s gone.”

Unlike Carly, this widow grieved her dead husband. “What was he like?”

“Kind, gentle, soft-spoken. I’d call Walt a dreamer. Some might call him a failure.”

“But you didn’t?”

“His inventions and schemes weren’t workable. Often he ran ahead of God, but Walt had this quiet way of making me feel cherished.”

Max had never made Carly feel valued. Not from the first day of their marriage. “What drove Walt? A desire for wealth?”

“He had this need to give me a better life, finer things, as if I wanted a life of ease or fancy trinkets.” She shoved aside her half-eaten bowl of soup. “We had a roof over our heads, food in our bellies. We had enough. Plenty.”

Before meeting Anna, Carly had put Walt Hankins in the same category as Max. The two men were nothing alike. Still, even if his intentions had been good, Walt had failed his wife, just as Max had failed her.

Somehow that connected her to Anna. A connection Carly would fight with every particle of her being. She wouldn’t let herself care about Anna. If she did, how could she fight for her business?

Yet fight she must. She’d paid a huge price for this shop. Nine long years under Max’s thumb. Even when he’d been away from home, his presence had hovered over her. She’d never known when he’d return. Never known what mood he’d be in when he did.

“I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to Nate,” Anna said, her hands entwined, twisting in her lap. “I don’t care about that reward money he insists on sending. I care about him.” Her voice trembled. “He’s all I have.”

Nate Sergeant could work in the livery or in countless other jobs, but chose instead to hunt lawless men. To accomplish that, he had to be equally dangerous.

“I’m sorry for complaining.” Anna wiped her damp eyes, then gave a weak smile. “I’m emotional since I lost Walt. It’s a comfort to know you understand the pain and loneliness of losing a husband.”

Anna’s gaze landed on Carly’s dress. Her eyes widened, as if just realizing Carly wasn’t wearing black. Widow’s weeds would chafe, be a sham. Carly had lived a lie her entire marriage and wouldn’t pretend to grieve.

She lurched to her feet. “I’ll make tea. Do you use sugar?”

Anna shot her a quizzical look. “Yes, please. I need to stretch my legs,” she said, then rose and hobbled to the front.

Carly couldn’t admit the loneliness and pain Anna spoke of had occurred during her marriage, not from her husband’s death. She couldn’t admit she’d married a scoundrel without faith. She couldn’t admit in the past month she’d found peace and happiness as Max’s widow.

That is, until Nate and Anna had showed up and put the ownership of her shop in jeopardy.

As Carly added tea leaves and poured hot water into her rose-sprigged teapot, she chastised herself for getting emotionally involved with Anna. In a matter of hours, her enemy had become a woman with whom she could empathize. That would never do. How could she fight for her son’s welfare and not bring Anna harm?

She would focus on what mattered—getting the bridal finery made. She’d pay Anna the wage they’d agreed upon. Hopefully, after expenses, Carly would have enough profit to offer to buy Anna out.

Carly loaded the pot and cups onto a tray, then strode into the shop. What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

Nate Sergeant stood near his sister, filling the room with his presence. As he’d promised, he’d come to look after Anna’s interests, to make sure Carly wasn’t trying to convince Anna to give up the shop.

Mr. Sergeant threatened Carly’s very existence. Well, the years she’d spent living under a man’s intimidation had made her strong. She would not surrender the shop without a fight.

* * *

Nate leaned against the shop counter, legs crossed, trying to appear at ease, as if the conversation he wished to broach was of no consequence. Otherwise Carly might raise those defenses of hers and refuse to hear him out. But inside he was coiled tighter than an overwound spring.

Getting anywhere in Gnaw Bone required a lot of jawing. “I’m looking for someone you might know,” he said, his tone casual.

“Strange as it may sound to a man like you, I don’t rub shoulders with criminals.”

So much for keeping this female tinderbox calm
. “That’s the last thing I’d think. I’m talking about a woman, not an outlaw.”

Carly’s stormy-sea eyes softened from forged steel to hard-packed clay. “I’m sorry. That was rude.” She took a breath. “Why do you want to find this woman? Is she a friend of yours?”

“No. An outlaw I’m pursuing supposedly has a lady friend in the area.”

“In Gnaw Bone? This is a peaceful little town.”

“Has a stranger come into the shop in the past several months?”

“Folks pass through. I can’t know everyone.” She took a sip of tea. “What does this woman look like?”

“I don’t know.”

“Show Carly that wanted poster,” Anna said.

Nate didn’t want to jeopardize his investigation, but if Stogsdill should accompany his floozy into this shop, Mrs. Richards, her son and Anna would be at risk. “Can you keep this to yourself?” he said. “If word gets out I’m looking for this rogue, his lady friend might warn him away.”

“You’ll just have to trust me. If he’s in the area, I should know what he looks like.”

Tamping down a sigh, Nate removed the wanted poster from the pocket of his vest, then unfolded and laid the crumpled paper on the table.

Carly stared at the sketch of Stogsdill’s handlebar mustache, sideburns and long lashes, in sharp contrast to his lifeless, cold eyes.

“He might look different. He could’ve shaved off the facial hair,” Nate said.

“I’ve never seen the man.”

Anna laid a hand on Carly’s arm. “I hope you never do. Shifty Stogsdill is a heartless killer.”

“From reports of bank robberies he’s been involved in, I don’t believe Stogsdill is here now. But, perhaps you can help me track down his female friend,” Nate said.

“I want this rogue caught, but I don’t see how I can help.”

“Do you remember a customer who looks different than most?”

“The ladies who frequent my shop are not about to be attracted to an outlaw.”

“Perhaps she doesn’t know he’s an outlaw. Perhaps—”

“Don’t pester Carly. If she knew anything, she’d tell you.” Anna rose, walking to where Nate leaned against the wall, her gait more unsteady than usual. “You’re obsessed with catching Stogsdill. Won’t have peace until you do. Well, I won’t have peace as long as you’re putting your life at risk.”

“You know why I have to bring him down.”

“Bring him
down
?” Anna lifted a palm to his cheek. “‘Vengeance is mine...saith the Lord.’”

“The law will avenge, not me.” He shifted on his feet. “Once I capture him, I’ll give you the reward money.”

“No amount of money could take your place!” A sob escaped her lips. “I’m sorry. I...I need a moment alone,” she said, then limped to the back.

Carly Richards leveled Nate with her gaze. “Are you so hard-hearted you don’t care Anna fears for your safety?”

Her words battered him like an uppercut to the jaw. But he couldn’t rest until he’d caught Stogsdill and knew Anna would be taken care of for life. “Of course I care. My concern for Anna is the reason I want her to have this shop.”

“Paint a pretty picture if you can. But the truth is you want Anna to own this shop so you can be on your merry way, chasing after an outlaw.”

Nate knew the cost the women in his life had paid for loving him. He owed them. If only he could change the past. Undo those moments searing his brain with the hot branding iron of guilt.

Why try to explain to a woman who’d use his sister as a way to save her shop?

Nate turned and stalked to the entrance. Yet the truth of Carly’s words couldn’t be denied. He was a bounty hunter, not a man his sister or any woman could count on. Anna was better off without him.

At the door Nate turned back. “Once, my sister was a tomboy, running races, climbing trees, riding bareback.” His voice wobbled. “Now she’s crippled. Because of
me
. The reason I owe her everything.” His gaze locked with Carly’s. “The reason I’ll make certain she gets this shop.”

* * *

A chill slid through Carly, raising goose bumps on her arms. What had Nate Sergeant done to cause Anna’s injury? Whatever had happened, the guilt that ate at him made him a formidable foe.

Anna slipped into the shop, her eyes swollen, but a smile firmly in place. Her gaze swept the space. “Where’s Nate?”

“He left.” Carly refilled their cups. “Have a cup of tea. I find it soothing.”

With a sigh, Anna took her seat. “I’m sorry for making a scene in front of you.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re recently widowed and fear for your brother’s life. That’s a heavy load to carry.”

“You’re recently widowed and with a child to rear, yet you’re strong. The Good Lord is seeing you through your heartache.”

“I have a lot to be thankful for,” Carly said, fiddling with the lid on the teapot, avoiding Anna’s eyes.

“Me, too. I’m thankful for this job and that little cabin behind the livery and a brother who cares about me.” She sighed. “Even if he refuses to listen to a word I say.”

“I don’t understand how he can abide worrying you so. Makes me wonder if you’re as close as I first thought.”

“We love each other, make no mistake, but...I wouldn’t say we’re close.” Anna’s mouth twisted, as if trying not to cry. “Nate holds himself at arm’s length.”

“What man doesn’t?” Carly sat at the sewing machine and laid two pieces of the bodice under the pressure foot, then lowered it, guiding the fabric as she pedaled.

“Walt didn’t.” Anna’s tone grew soft, wistful. “We’d leave the curtains open at night to watch the stars twinkling outside our window and talk. He’d share his dreams. I’d say I was sorry there’d been no babies.” Anna’s smile wobbled. “He’d declare I was enough. All he needed.”

Anna and Walt weren’t able to have children
.

What would Carly do without Henry? Her precious boy gave her joy, comfort and purpose. Hope for the future.

Carly’s throat knotted. How many years had Anna hoped and prayed for a baby? Month after month she’d seen that hope shattered. Yet she’d pressed on, though inside, her childlessness surely broke her heart. Anna’s faith and relationship with Walt had kept her going.