The Bounty Hunter's Redemption (14 page)

“When are we going to eat?” Henry said. “I’m hungry.”

“All the talk about dead animals builds my son’s appetite,” Carly said, her eyes twinkling.

“The Harders mentioned a creek on Hartzell Road. Thought that could be a good picnic spot.”

“Hartzell is at the next crossroad. Turn right. The creek’s in a stand of trees beyond the Pence farm.”

“Pence. Isn’t that the name of the bride I met in your shop?”

“Yes. As I recall you had plenty to say to Debby about grooms and cold feet.”

“Thought she might appreciate a man’s perspective.”

She arched a brow. “A man who’d experienced cold feet, perhaps?”

“No. Once I make a decision, especially an important decision like marrying the woman I want to spend my life with, I wouldn’t vacillate.”

Their gazes locked and held. The connection he’d felt between them tightened. Everything around him fell away as he focused on Carly, only Carly. The woman intrigued him as no other. He wanted to know everything about her, from her favorite food to her childhood memories, to the reason she’d married Max Richards.

Henry tugged at Nate’s sleeve. “Isn’t that where we turn?”

“What?” Nate jerked his gaze to the road. “Oh, you’re right.”

“Mama, Nate’s not paying attention,” Henry crowed. “He woulda missed the turn.”

Heat climbed Nate’s neck. “You’re doing a good job driving, Henry,” Nate said, helping Henry slow the horse and turn right.

In a stand of trees alongside the road, Nate spied a decrepit shed. From the looks of it, a sugar maple shack, abandoned until the first thaws in February. The perfect spot to watch the road undetected.

Up ahead, Nate spotted a house and windmill tucked behind a picket fence and nestled between several outbuildings, all painted white. Off to the side and up a rise a silo towered over a red barn. As they got nearer, he could read Pence 1867 painted above its wide double doors.

Behind the barbed wire fence, horses and cattle grazed. A narrow dirt path led up the hill toward the barn. As far as the eye could see, woods and pastures dotted the landscape. Fields of winter wheat rippled in the breeze and tender shoots of corn and beans pushed through the soil in tidy rows.

Nate’s gaze roamed the area. “Nice farm. Well kept. Fine-looking stock, too. As fine as any I’ve seen as a horse wrangler on a spread in Texas.”

“Mr. Pence breeds and sells thoroughbreds, as well as tills the land. I’m sure more than one potential suitor was disappointed when Debby fell in love.”

“Understandable. A pretty girl with a well-heeled grandfather would make a fine catch.”

“If you’re in the mood for fishing,” Carly said, a smirk riding her lips, “the creek’s just around the next bend.”

Nate met her amused gaze. “No need to wet a line, Carly, when I’m already in the company of the prettiest girl around.”

Henry giggled. “Mama’s not a girl.”

“Well, not far from being a girl and far prettier than most.”

Carly’s cheeks bloomed pink and her gaze darted away.

“Remember, Henry, to compliment a lady. Not merely for how she looks, but for what she does. If she’s cooked a good meal, tell her, and then thank her for the food.”

“Pa never thanked Mama for her cooking, but he cleaned his plate.”

“Reckon that’s another way to show appreciation.”

“’Cepting one time. Remember, Mama? You burned the biscuits. Pa knocked over his chair and throwed ’em at you.”

Shoulders squared and stiff, Carly stared ahead.

“Mama, don’t you remember?”

“I remember,” she murmured, then glanced at Nate, her blue eyes glittering in her suddenly wan face.

Fiery-hot anger roared through Nate’s veins. He’d like to teach that no-good scoundrel some manners. But Max was dead. Nevertheless memories of his cruelty lived on, still harming those who’d lived under his tyranny.

What could he say to ease Carly’s humiliation and pain? “The way your pa acted had nothing to do with burned biscuits, Henry. Nothing to do with your ma.”

“It didn’t?”

“No, your pa was the problem. A man doesn’t treat a woman like that or any human being.”

“When I grow up, Nate, I’m going to be like you, not like Pa.”

Nate swallowed hard. “I hope you’ll live a different life than mine and settle down somewhere with a family.”

“I’m gonna stay with Mama. And take care of her.”

Carly ruffled Henry’s hair. “You’ve got time to plan your life, son. No matter what you spend your life doing, you’re wise to look up to a good man.” She met Nate’s gaze. “A good man like Nate.”

The warmth of Carly’s approving gaze put a lump in Nate’s throat that threatened to choke him. Did Carly no longer see him as merely a bounty hunter? She’d suggested he was a man Henry could pattern himself after.

If only Nate could live up to her expectations and never let her down. But he’d experienced the uncertainty of life, of what tomorrow would bring. Those circumstances could demand actions she wouldn’t approve.

As they reached the creek that wound through the woods, Nate wrapped his hands over Henry’s and guided the horse to the side of the road. “Good job, Henry,” he said as he swung from the seat.

“Thanks!” Henry scrambled after him and jumped to the ground.

Nate rounded the buggy and raised his hands to Carly’s waist. She leaned toward him, laying her hands on his shoulders.

As he lifted her from the buggy, he marveled that this petite, delicate woman, barely weighing more than a feather in his arms, had survived marriage to a brute of a man.

He wanted to cradle her close, to shield her from everything ugly. But how could he when he held the deed to her business? When any day Stogsdill could ride into Gnaw Bone?

“Thank you,” she said, avoiding his eyes as he deposited her on the ground.

Nate grabbed the picnic basket and offered Carly his other arm. With Henry skipping clumsily along in front of them, obviously a new feat needing practice, they walked to the stream drifting serenely between sloping banks.

At least Nate could give Carly this peaceful interlude from her busy life and a past that surely troubled her.

* * *

“Call me when it’s time to eat.” With a whoop, Henry trotted down the bank and jerked off his boots and socks, then scooted to the water’s edge.

“Be careful,” Carly admonished.

Nate shook out the blanket for their picnic. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you.”

Nate’s presence made her feel protected, safe, instead of threatened. He might not be husband material, but she admired his wise council with Henry and his patience with letting her son drive the buggy.

Humming to herself, Carly knelt at the basket and set out the food, more relaxed than she’d been in ages. Apparently she needed this time away from work more than she’d realized.

She rose, catching a glimpse of her son, dangling his feet in the water, as Nate ambled along the bank nearby. When had a man helped supervise her son? Looked out for his welfare? Nate cared about Henry. Listened to him. Taught him to do simple tasks and to treat women well. Her heart stuttered in her chest. Nate would make a good father. Something Henry needed badly.

“Spot any frogs, Henry?” Nate said.

“Yep. I scared ’em and they jumped in.”

Nate chuckled, then the laugh stopped. “Henry, don’t move.”

The authority and urgency in Nate’s voice raised the hair on Carly’s nape. Heart pounding in her chest, she gathered her skirts and ran toward the creek.

An ominous click. A blast of gunfire.

Henry’s wail ripped through her, squeezing the air from Carly’s lungs.
Please, Lord, my son!

Carly watched as Nate scooped up her son. Henry threw his arms around Nate’s neck, whimpering against his chest.

“Is he hurt?” Carly shoved the words past the lump wedged in her throat.

Nate met her gaze. “He’s fine, Carly. Scared, is all.”

As his words sunk in, Carly’s legs wobbled and she wilted to the ground.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, Henry. A water moccasin was slithering toward your bare feet.”

“Is he dead?” Henry released the hold on Nate’s neck and leaned toward the creek, peering in the water.

“Sure is. Want to see?”

“Yes!” Henry wiggled down. “Come see, Mama.”

Nate followed Henry’s gaze, then set Henry on a rock. “Stay put,” he said.

He strode up the bank to Carly. “You okay?”

“I am now.”

“For a minute there I thought you’d fainted.”

“Now what would make you think that?” She forced a wobbly grin. “Just because I fainted on you once before doesn’t mean I will at every provocation.”

He chuckled, took her hand and helped her to her feet and down the slope.

Within minutes Nate had found a twig and retrieved the brown, venomous, now-lifeless snake, and dropped it at the edge of the bank.

Henry inched toward it, his expression rapt, clearly fascinated.

At the sight of that long, thick body, Carly shivered. Her gaze locked with Nate’s. “Thank you for saving my son.”

“I’m just thankful my aim was good.”

She bit her lip. “I was...wrong about carrying a gun.”

“Not all varmints walk on two legs, Carly.”

Many did. And Nate had made it his life’s work to bring them in. Not an existence she could abide. Yet she admired his strength. Strength he tempered with gentleness. He was a responsible, caring man who looked after others; something she’d not seen in her father or Max. If only he could give up his mission to catch Stogsdill—

Yet she knew he would not. Could not. That sense of duty she’d seen and admired with Anna wouldn’t allow him to quit.

Nate pulled Henry onto his shoulders while Carly gathered his shoes. Together they climbed the bank to sit on the blanket and eat hard-boiled eggs, potato salad, bread-and-butter pickles and baked beans, leftovers from last night’s supper.

Finished with their meal, they sat on an outcropping of rock, watching Henry toss stones into the creek, his feet shod and staying clear of the water.

“He’s a great kid, Carly.”

“And he might not be here if not for you.” She laid a hand on his arm. “If anything had happened to him...” Her voice trailed off. “He’s my life, all I’ve got.”

“I feel the same about Anna.”

Nate’s love for his sister only added to the terrible burden he carried.

“Anna told me about her accident.”

“Wasn’t an accident. I...I caused my sister’s lameness,” he said, his voice hoarse, low, as if he could barely get out the words.

“From what she said, you weren’t much older than Henry.”

“I was ten, old enough to check the street before crossing.”

“You were a child. I suspect a rambunctious, carefree little boy full of energy. That’s far better than a careful child, afraid of making a mistake, of displeasing a parent.”

Nate’s brow furrowed. “Are you talking about Henry?”

“Yes, when Max was around,” she said, studying her hands. “I shouldn’t have married Max.”

“Why did you?”

She gave a shrug, then stared across the creek to the far bank, eroded from years of meandering water and the occasional flood. One misstep on that thin earthen ledge and the ground could give way, as fast as the flimsy foundation of her marriage had crumbled. To share her reason was too risky, would leave her vulnerable.

“Mercy, we need to head home. Poor Anna is probably exhausted.” She scrambled to her feet. “Come, Henry. Time to go.”

For, if Carly stayed one more moment under the scrutiny of those intense gray eyes, Nate would surely see her true motivation for marrying Max. And would never understand the decision she’d made.

Chapter Eleven

S
aturday was normally the busiest day of the week at the livery, and today was no exception. With Morris holed up in the office all morning, Nate had been scrambling to care for the horses and rent rigs.

Western Union had delivered a wire. The telegram from the lawman in Porter County had all but burned a hole in Nate’s pocket. Until he’d found a moment to read the Porter City Bank had been robbed. None of the bandits fit Stogsdill’s height and weight.

As customers came in, they took time to jaw with Nate, obviously not in a hurry. Would these men feel the same way when they realized he’d come to Gnaw Bone to take over Carly’s shop?

Surely not. He couldn’t blame them. He wasn’t happy about ousting the pretty widow and her son.

Lawrence Sample, the rotund, bald town barber, had come in to rent a wagon to move his daughter, Elnora, back home. Sample had told him, sopping up the flow of tears with a red handkerchief, that Elnora had lost her husband in a logging accident and would arrive at the depot today with all her belongings and a baby. The poor man fretted if he’d make enough money cutting hair and trimming whiskers to provide for two more. By the time the barber finished the story, Nate found himself clapping Lawrence on the back and agreeing to pray for them. As if God would answer Nate’s prayers. Still, his hair needed a trim. One thing Nate could do was use his services.

Then Tuffy Garfield arrived with Rosie Johnson on his arm, both of them blushing and giggling. Their happiness helped ease the sad encounter with Lawrence. They’d rented a fancy surrey for a drive in the country. With a grin, Nate had told Tuffy to return the buggy before dark, or he’d come looking for them.

All the while craving another picnic in the country with Carly. He doubted that she’d go, after the abrupt way she’d ended the day. She obviously hadn’t wanted to talk about Max Richards and why she’d married him. She probably had no idea what she’d seen in the man, any more than he did. She was far too good, too gentle, to be wedded to that worthless brute.

“Anyone here?”

Nate stepped into view and greeted Mark Rowland, the town dentist. In the two weeks Nate had been working here, Rowland had come in regularly to ride Duchess, the horse he kept stabled at the livery. People said Rowland could yank a tooth faster than a gunslinger could draw. Nate hoped he’d never have to test the claim.

“I told Duchess you’d be in today,” Nate said.

The grin beneath Rowland’s reddish mustache revealed even, white teeth, a credit to his profession. “Would you mind exercising her next week while I’m visiting my ailing mother back east?”