The Bounty Hunter's Redemption (18 page)

Nate could feel Carly watching him, no doubt recalling that he’d caused Anna’s limp. Nate couldn’t tell Henry the truth, the one person in Nate’s life who thought Nate could do no wrong.

“That’s nothing to worry about. Just remember horses are powerful, at times unpredictable.” Nate chucked Henry under the chin, then eased to his feet.

“Yes, sir.”

As Nate stripped leather and double-tied the mare, he explained each step to Henry, then they cleaned and stored the gear. With each trip to the tack room, Nate felt Carly’s gaze upon him. Her smile, the gentle approval in her eyes, suggested she’d absolved him of responsibility for Anna’s injury.

The strangest sense of elation filled him. As if he’d found a rare treasure that could be his for the asking.

“Run the brush like this,” Nate said, showing Henry how to curry the mare’s coat, then handing him the tool.

Henry ran the bristles along Lady’s back. “Next time, can we ride someplace funner than inside the corral?”

“One step at a time. Once you’ve had more experience, we’ll ride out a piece.”

Henry beamed. “We could have another picnic.”

What would it be like to follow Carly up the trail? Or ride companionably side by side? Did she even ride? He wanted to know everything about her.

“How can you leave the livery?” Carly asked.

“The Harders give me a hand.”

“I’m surprised you’d leave them in charge.”

“For all their foolishness, they’re good with horses. The responsibility is making men of them and is giving me some freedom. Freedom for another picnic, perhaps.”

Nate lost himself in the depths of her eyes, bluer than the brightest summer sky. A flush bloomed in her cheeks, and her gaze skittered away. Whether she’d admit it, Nate affected her.

That awareness drew him closer, until he stopped mere inches from her skirts. “Are you willing?”

“If you’re providing the food,” she said, “I might be.”

“I’m game, if you are.”

A soft smile curved her cheeks. “We’ll see.” She touched his forearm. “Thanks for protecting my son earlier.”

“He would’ve been okay, even if I hadn’t intervened.”

“Perhaps. You know, you’re Henry’s hero. Well, except when he’s the hero,” she added with a chuckle.

“As a kid, I was the hero, too...in my imagination.”

“Well, for saving my son twice, today you’re mine.”

His gaze lowered to her lips, rosy, soft, kissable. “Just for today?” he murmured.

“With the issue over the shop, I’d say that’s more than generous.”

Her words doused him like a bucket of cold water, ripping him back to reality. He’d been thinking about kissing her, not appropriate with Henry looking on. Besides, too much divided them. If only Carly could keep the shop...

For that to happen, he’d have to sacrifice Anna’s security, her happiness. How could he do that when she’d taken to the shop and this town as though she’d been born to it?

If only the shop could support Anna as well as Carly and Henry, but from what he’d observed, except for this big order, business was slow. The reason Nate would ensure his sister got what she deserved.

“Time to go,” Carly said, turning to Nate, “Thank you for your patience with Henry.” She ruffled the boy’s hair. “It’s not something...he’s seen much of.”

“Pa got real mad when I got near his horse,” Henry said. “I wasn’t s’posed to touch him.”

“Your father probably worried if you weren’t careful, you’d get hurt.” Nate bent to Henry’s level. “Horses can get spooked, remember?”

His expression somber, Henry nodded. “Is that why Pa got mad at you, Mama? So you’d be careful?”

“Henry, I don’t think—”

“’Cuz he knocked you down. He was so mad, he scared me. Why did he do that?”

Nate sucked in a breath, his gaze darting to Carly’s.

Sudden tears welled in her eyes; tears that shredded Nate’s heart. She laid a shaky hand on Henry’s shoulder and the boy leaned into her. “We’ll talk about it later, sweetie.”

If only Nate could’ve had the chance to talk some sense into Max Richards before he’d harmed his wife, a defenseless woman, and branded his innocent son with that terrible memory. The more he heard about Richards, the more Nate understood those walls Carly erected.

“I wish I’d been there,” he grumbled from between clenched teeth.

Alarm filled Carly’s eyes. As if the man could come back from the grave and hurt her still. Or did she believe Nate was just another violent man like Max?

Nate longed to prove otherwise, to tug her and Henry close, to promise he’d never allow anything bad to happen to them again, but he couldn’t. Not when Stogsdill ran free.

Nate ushered mother and son toward the door. At the entrance to the livery, Henry stopped abruptly. Nate grabbed Carly before she plowed into her son. She thudded against him, every soft curve fitting up against him, shooting shivers along his spine.

Startled blue eyes flashed to his. Then, as they lowered to his mouth, a blush climbed into her cheeks. She took a hurried step back. “Thank you for Henry’s lesson.”

He cleared the lump from his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“He’ll be back tomorrow. I won’t,” she quickly added. “Too much to do.”

Carly was running scared. How could he blame her, after being tied to that low-down husband of hers? Well, keeping her distance was better for everyone.

As Carly headed toward the shop, Henry lagged behind, his gaze lingering on Nate, his big blue eyes filled with longing.

What the boy wanted was a father. The poor kid hadn’t known, as Nate had, the kind and patient love and instruction of the man who gave him life. Max Richards had cheated his son and his wife out of far more than losing that deed.

Nate watched Carly and Henry walk away hand in hand. If only he could be that man, could be that father, that husband. But inside he was hardened, a driven man. They deserved better.

“Mighty pretty woman, isn’t she?”

Nate reeled to the speaker. He’d been so wrapped up in Carly that he’d forgotten his job, hadn’t been aware anyone was around.

Well-dressed in a suit, vest and bowler, sporting muttonchop whiskers, the stranger extended his hand. “Josiah Schwartz.”

“Nate Sergeant, Mr. Schwartz. What can I do for you?”

“I’m here to reserve Mood’s fanciest carriage for my daughter’s nuptials.”

The bride’s father. An image slid through Nate... Of Carly walking up the aisle toward him, her eyes shining at the prospect of becoming his wife.

With every ounce of his will, Nate forced away the notion. “Your daughter’s wedding has the seamstress shop humming,” he said, his voice gravely. He quickly cleared his throat.

“A little less than three weeks till the big day.” Mr. Schwartz hooked his thumbs into his vest pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Can’t say I’ll be sad to see it come and go. The ladies have been in a tizzy for weeks.”

Nate murmured some mindless comment, but in his mind he calculated the days. Anna had told him about the circuit judge’s concussion. Surely, he would be mended enough to arrive and settle the dispute before the Schwartz wedding. And Nate could leave before he got more wrapped up in a life he couldn’t have.

“Come with me,” Nate said, leading Mr. Schwartz to the barn alongside the stable and the only fancy carriage on the premises, a white brougham that had seen better days. Perhaps he could repair that small rip in the cushions. “This work? It’ll look better once it’s polished.”

“Guess it’ll have to do. We’ve got our carriage and the groom’s but need another to haul guests and their luggage from the depot.”

A good job for the Harders twins. The more they worked, the less time they’d have to carouse. “I can get all the drivers you need to deliver your guests and their baggage.”

“Appreciate it. Some will stay with us. Others, at the hotel.”

“Let’s go back to the office and get the particulars on paper.” In case Nate had to leave town suddenly. Or the livery sold and the responsibility rested with another man. Though they hadn’t had inquiries by prospective buyers.

“Do you have any interest in buying the livery, Mr. Schwartz? It’s solid and profitable.”

He held up a hand. “Sorry. I got too many assets tied up in property.” Mr. Schwartz leaned against a post, obviously not in a hurry to transact business. “Why not buy it yourself? From the moony way you were looking after Mrs. Richards, I suspect you’ve got designs on her.” He removed a pipe from his coat pocket and fiddled with it. “Could work out nicely for you both. Assuming gossip’s correct and you won the deed to her shop from that worthless husband of hers.”

Small-town secrets didn’t remain secret long. He sized up the older man. Was Schwartz insinuating Nate would fake affection for Carly to ensure he got the shop? “My sister’s husband won the deed, not me. Richards killed him for it.”

“Is your sister planning to take ownership?”

“The circuit judge will decide who the rightful owner is.”

“Folks won’t cotton to Mrs. Richards losing her business.”

Nate didn’t miss the point. He and Anna were seen as outsiders, intent on bringing harm to one of the town’s own.

“Still, a bounty hunter in town could discourage some unsavory characters.”

Something about the expression on the man’s face made Nate ask, “Have you seen someone of that ilk?”

Mr. Schwartz shrugged. “A few weeks back, I was west of town looking for that five-point buck. With the scarcity of deer, hunters for miles around are trying to bag him. Never saw the buck, but I spotted two men cooking rabbits on a spit, their horses tethered nearby.”

West of town. In the general area of the Pence farm. Could those men be members of Stogsdill’s gang? Or Stogsdill himself? “Did you talk to them?”

“No. Something about them looked unsavory. With one of me and two of them, I opted to skirt their encampment.”

“How long ago was that?”

“March twenty-fifth. I remember the date because we’d had a late snowfall. Good time to track deer.” Mr. Schwartz eyed him. “Are they trouble?”

“Doubt they’re still around.” If Stogsdill was Debby Pence’s fiancé, she had indicated the outlaw hadn’t been in these parts for weeks. Perhaps around that same date. “I’ll ride out and have a look.”

“Appreciate it.”

“What’s the nearest landmark?”

“I was in the woods across from the Pence and Slater farms out on Hartzell Road. Both men had given me permission to hunt. The men I saw weren’t far from a run-down shack Slater stored maple syrup spigots and buckets in, so they might’ve been bunking there.” The older man pocketed his pipe and pulled away from the post. “Better reserve that brougham and get back to the bank.”

Nate followed Mr. Schwartz to the office. The special moments he’d had with Henry and Carly, a peek at family life, had been shaken loose by the report of strangers outside of town. A reminder of Nate’s purpose.

A reminder that no matter how nice folks in town were and how much he enjoyed time with Carly and Henry, he dared not trust that cozy picture and get complacent.

Even now, evil might be lurking.

Chapter Fourteen

W
ould Carly’s fried chicken and mashed potatoes tempt her son to listen to reason and knock Nate Sergeant off that pedestal Henry had him on?

For a while today, toward the end of Henry’s riding lesson, the three of them had seemed like a nice little family, living one of those moments she’d craved and never had with Max.

But then Henry had started talking about his dad and she couldn’t leave the livery fast enough. What must Nate think of her for living with the man, for subjecting her son to Max’s temper?

Then Nate had showed up at their door an hour ago with a brand-new Stetson; a gift for Henry that had thrilled her son.

No wonder Henry revered Nate. Nate never had a sharp word. Never made a threatening move. Never disappeared for weeks on end.

Oh, but he would.

Nate would climb down from that pedestal and leave town. If she didn’t prepare her son, Henry’s heart would be broken.

Beside her, Henry stood on the stool, wearing the new cowboy hat, pounding the potato masher into the creamy mound as Carly held the crock in place to ensure her energetic son didn’t knock the bowl off the counter.

“I’m getting the lumps, Mama.” Head bent, Henry attacked those potatoes with all of his strength, but his hand wobbled.

Carly leaned toward him, intending to ask if he’d like help. Just as a glob of potatoes shot into her face.

Her son’s eyes rounded in surprise, and then he crowed with laughter, his shoulders shaking with mirth.

“You little monkey. We’ll see how you like it.” She scooped two fingers into the bowl and dabbed mashed potatoes on his left cheek.

Henry swiped a finger across his face and stuck it in his mouth. “Mmm, good,” he said, leaning into Carly, laughing up at her. “Try ’em, Mama.”

Carly slid the potatoes off her cheek and tasted them. “Needs a little salt.”

Henry made a dive for the shaker, but Carly was faster. “I’ll do that.” A couple shakes, a dash of pepper, a quick stir and Carly pronounced the mashed potatoes perfect.

“Can I put the taters on the plates?”

As Henry plopped potatoes on the plates, leaving a trail on the counter, even a blob on the floor, Carly dished up the fried chicken and sliced beets, a vegetable Henry disliked. But an occasional taste wouldn’t hurt him.

She grabbed both plates, set them on the table and sashayed toward her son, singing, “All around the cobbler’s house, the monkey chased the people. And after them in double haste, Pop! goes the weasel.”

With a squeal of laughter, Henry raced around the kitchen with Carly chasing after him. Just as she reached him, he plopped onto his chair, grinning up at her.

“One day I will catch you, Henry Richards.”

“Next time I’ll be the monkey and catch you.”

“You can try,” she said with a smile, waggling her brows. “Are you hungry?”

At the mention of their second silly game, Henry giggled. “Yep, hungry enough to eat worms.”

“That’s hungry!”

“Are you hungry?” he asked, leaning toward her.