The Bounty Hunter's Redemption (24 page)

Still, Nate couldn’t promise to protect them. His intentions were good, but no one was invincible.

Nate stepped closer and laid a gentle hand on Carly’s arm. She caught a whiff of soap, sunshine and that fresh manly scent she associated only with Nate.

“You look upset. Are you okay?” he said.

“I’m fine.”

But was she really? When her heart raced every time Nate appeared?

“See you at home, Anna,” Nate said and strode out without explaining his reason for riding to Kentucky.

What was he hiding?

Carly stiffened. Had another wanted poster lured him to action? Bounty hunting was in Nate’s blood. He might care about her and Henry and Anna, but not enough to settle down.

Who or what would protect Carly from making yet another foolish choice, from losing her heart to a man who wouldn’t stay?

* * *

Circuit Judge Mark Rohlof drove into Gnaw Bone late that evening, news of his arrival spreading through town faster than a prairie fire in August.

By the time Carly opened the shop Thursday morning, three customers had reported the judge’s arrival, stating Rohlof had been dust covered, looking for a bath and a good night’s sleep.

Sometime today they would learn when and where the hearing was set. She and Anna tiptoed around the subject, both too unsettled to speak the words aloud. Though, with Max losing the deed, did Carly even have a chance?

Either way the judge ruled, the decision would trigger change. Change brought the unknown. Hadn’t she learned change could bring hope or bring disaster?

Lester and Lloyd trooped in, tracking dirt on her clean floors.

“This town surely is abuzz,” Lester said. “Most folks are taking yer side, Miz Richards. Others are backing Miz Hankins, saying possession of that deed’s gotta mean the shop’s hers.”

Lloyd shrugged. “Can’t prove it by me. Only laws I know is the laws Sheriff Truitt says we broke.”

“Me and Lloyd ain’t never done nothing separately. We got ourselves in a scrape or two, but we’re a good team. Leastwise, iffen I can handle his stinky socks and he can put up with me running at the mouth.” Lester toed the floor, looking as nervous as a skittish barn cat. “Been thinking,” he said. “Could you two ladies do the same and share this here shop?”

“The ownership of the shop is out of our hands now,” Carly said, avoiding Anna’s eyes.

The bell dinged. Sheriff Truitt entered, doffing his hat. “Morning, ladies,” he said, then spotted the Harders twins. “Been a while since I’ve seen you two in my jail.”

“Ain’t got no time to shoot up signs, what with working here and at the livery.” Lester puffed out his thin chest. “Nate’s paying us to muck stalls and care for the horses. Even to drive some of the fancy folks coming to town for the wedding.”

Sheriff Truitt reached out a hand. “I’d like to shake you boys’ hands. Good to see the change you’ve made and the men you’re becoming.”

Wearing sheepish grins, the twins shook with the sheriff.

“Morris Mood even is singing your praises,” Sheriff Truitt said. “He’s glad Nate has your help. He and Betsy leave for Arizona tomorrow.”

“We had a nice send-off for them at the church last night,” Anna said.

Carly nodded. “I was so happy Betsy was well enough to come. She promised to write. I’m praying the drier climate will help her.”

“Sheriff,” Lester said, rocking back on his heels, “have you heard they’re placing bets at the saloon on who’ll end up with the shop?”

Sheriff Truitt scowled. “What’s that you say?”

Lester shook his head. “That’s hearsay. We wouldn’t step inside.”

“And that’s a promise,” Lloyd affirmed.

Sheriff Truitt scowled at the twins. “Shouldn’t you two get moving on that list of chores for Mrs. Richards?”

Lloyd gave a sober nod. “Yes, sir. We’re heading out now to till the garden.”

With a tip of their hats, the twins sidestepped the sheriff and loped to the back.

As the lawman’s gaze swept between Carly and Anna, his amused expression fizzled. He suddenly looked edgier than a greenhorn straddling a bucking bronco, probably feeling trapped in the middle between a longtime resident and the newcomer he’d taken a fancy to.

“Circuit Judge Rohlof stopped at the jail this morning. He asked me to tell you ladies proceedings start tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock.”

Carly’s mind scrambled for footing. Tomorrow was a Friday. Henry would be in school. If the hearing went two days as the sheriff expected, she would ask Rosalie Harders to watch Henry on Saturday. Easy enough to close the shop both afternoons.

“With all the interest over the shop’s ownership, the hearing will be held in the church.”

Carly’s stomach knotted. Why hadn’t she hired legal counsel from Louisville? True, she’d been busy with the Schwartz order, but she’d known this day was coming. She must’ve suspected, if she didn’t have legal ground to stand on, no amount of oratory from a big-city lawyer could impact the outcome.

“Judge Rohlof will give each side time to make your claims. Once he’s mulled over the testimony, he’ll rule, most likely Saturday afternoon.”

In a few minutes’ time the judge would pronounce his verdict. Just that quickly, Carly could lose all this.

Her gaze roamed the shop, a tidy place of business with its cupboards filled with bolts of silk, satin, muslin, rolls of ribbon and lace, spools of thread and drawers of notions. The shiny black Singer sewing machine she’d bought with her first year’s earnings had increased her efficiency.

Before she’d reopened the shop after more than a year of sitting empty, the place had been a mess. She’d swept up mouse droppings, scrubbed every nook and cranny, stitched curtains, made a dress for the mesh mannequin in the window, hoping to draw in the ladies for a more detailed look at the latest fashion.

With every ounce of a well-honed will, Carly tamped down the panic suddenly swelling within her. Henry had taught her she could trust God’s love. But God also loved Anna.

Carly’s gaze darted to Nate’s sister. With no husband, no children and a brother set on wandering, Anna had no one. A place to put down roots would mean everything to her.

Sheriff Truitt turned to Anna. “The judge wants your brother to testify to what he knows.”

“Nate’s leaving,” Anna said, her voice dismayed. “May already be gone.”

Nate banged in, setting the bell into a frantic dance. “Sheriff, Lester said you were here. Judge Rohlof insists on me testifying at the hearing tomorrow. The timing’s put a kink in things. Any chance you can get me out of it?”

“’Fraid not. I’ll ride out this evening and warn Pence.”

The gazes of the two men locked. Then, with a brisk nod, Nate excused himself, saying he needed to get back to the livery.

What was going on? “Sheriff, are Debby or her grandparents in danger?” Carly asked.

Sheriff Truitt shook his head. “No reason to believe that, but, if they were, old man Pence is good with a gun. Why, a few years back, he shot the highest number of rabbits ever bagged in the county in one day. That record still stands.”

Rabbits didn’t shoot back. Was there a possibility Mr. Pence would need to protect his wife and granddaughter while Nate and Sheriff Truitt sat in a courtroom? The only threat Carly could think of was Stogsdill. If Stogsdill was nearby, that explained why Nate had vowed to protect her and Anna.

If so, life and death hung in the balance. In comparison, the shop’s ownership was of no consequence.

“Well, better get back to the jail.” Sheriff Truitt fiddled with the brim of his hat. “Hate to think of either one of you ladies losing out. Judge Rohlof will need the wisdom of Solomon.”

As the door swung closed behind the sheriff, Carly and Anna’s gazes found each other. Sudden tears brimmed in their eyes. They rose and wrapped each other in a hug.

For surely all those furtive looks and puzzling comments between Nate and Sheriff Truitt implied trouble.

As if they didn’t have enough trouble already. By Saturday afternoon the judge would have ruled, and their lives and livelihoods would be forever changed.

Chapter Eighteen

T
he day of reckoning had arrived. Carly had once found the delay of the circuit judge’s arrival irksome. But now? Now her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach a queasy mess, her hands clammy inside her kid gloves.

At least, with Henry in school, she had no concern for her son.

Carly straightened her shoulders and entered Gnaw Bone Christian Church a little before one o’clock, the usual peace she felt inside the house of worship replaced with dread.
Lord, what’s Your will in this dispute?

No matter who won the shop, she and Anna would lose something precious. Shared goals, shared work, shared camaraderie.

The oak pulpit on the platform had been moved, replaced with a small table and chair. Another chair sat off to the side. No doubt an improvised witness stand.

Near the front, Sheriff Truitt stood, his gun belt riding his hips, his badge gleaming. He gave Carly a warm smile, then directed her to the first pew on the left. “Rise when Judge Rohlof enters.”

“I will,” she choked out, then sat, alone, in the pew.

Across the aisle, Anna shared the pew with Nate, distress plain on her face, her brother’s expression unreadable. The man kept his emotions in check, an asset in his occupation.

An urge to shake some sense into him gripped her. If not for Nate, she and Anna could’ve figured out a solution. But even as the thought came, Carly admitted she had to agree with Nate’s assessment. The shop’s earnings wouldn’t support three.

Behind her, townspeople chatted, their voices rising and falling as they rapidly filled up the pews.

Carly kept her hands clasped in her lap to keep them from trembling. Adept at holding her troubles close to her chest, she would soon be forced to reveal the bad choice she’d made by marrying Max and the debacle that was their marriage. She hadn’t fooled many. But no one spoke of such things, at least not in her hearing.

By one o’clock most seats had been taken, as if the whole town had turned out to witness the proceedings. Far more than Pastor Koontz drew for his Sunday sermon. If only all the churchgoers in town could join together for worship instead of for this spectacle.

If she knew for certain she would lose, Carly would’ve handed the shop over to Anna rather than endure this hearing. But she hadn’t been able to release the speck of hope that somehow she would keep her shop, their home, everything solid and familiar.

“All rise,” Sheriff Truitt said.

Judge Rohlof entered, took his seat at the table and laid a paper in front of him.

The sound of shifting feet and creaking pews indicated those behind her had also returned to their seats.

Judge Rohlof fiddled with his spectacles, polishing the glass with his handkerchief and letting his steely gaze roam the crowd. “You onlookers are just that. You’re not to speak up or interrupt in any way. If you should need to leave, you may not return. Anyone who can’t accept those rules will be escorted out by Sheriff Truitt.”

The judge put on his spectacles and landed his gaze on Carly. “Tell me your name, please.”

“Mrs. Carly Richards.”

“Ah, the defendant in this case.” He turned toward Anna. “That means you must be Mrs. Anna Hankins, the plaintiff.”

“Yes, sir,” she said in a voice as shaky as Carly’s.

His gaze shifted to Nate. “And I take it you’re Mrs. Hankins’s brother?”

“Yes. I’m Nate Sergeant, Judge.”

Judge Rohlof nodded. “Now that I know who’s who, I’ll explain procedures. This isn’t a criminal case, even a trial, but I’ll still ask you to swear on the Bible.”

Sheriff Truitt walked to the front, carrying a Bible.

“I’ll start with you, Mrs. Richards.” Judge Rohlof gave Carly a smile. “Come on up.”

On shaky limbs, Carly staggered to Sheriff Truitt, who gave her an encouraging smile, then placed her right palm on the cover of the Bible he held.

“Do you swear the testimony you’re about to give is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?” Sheriff Truitt said.

“I do.”

Judge Rohlof waved toward the chair. “Have a seat right here, Mrs. Richards. Tell me about this shop.” He glanced at the paperwork on the desk. “Lillian’s Alterations and Dressmaking. How’d it get that name?”

“The shop was owned by Lillian Richards. My deceased husband Max Richards inherited the shop from his mother when Lillian died.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Ten years ago in March.”

“You said she left the shop to your deceased husband. Were you married to Max Richards at the time of his mother’s death?”

Carly swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. “No. We married a year later.”

“So you’ve run the shop for nine years, give or take.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Did the shop come stocked with fabric, thread, whatever a seamstress needs to open her doors?”

“No, sir. The store was empty. Max must’ve sold all the merchandise. Or perhaps his mother did when her health failed. I bought what I needed.”

The judge nodded and wrote on a slip of paper. “Is business good, Mrs. Richards?”

“I keep busy and make enough money to support myself and my son.”

“How old is your boy?”

“Seven.”

“Young to be without a pa.”

Carly bit her lip, then nodded, hoping the judge wouldn’t drag Max into this. No matter how miserable Max had made her life, he wasn’t on trial. She knew of no law against a man disappearing for weeks at a time. She knew of no law against a man making his family cringe when he walked in the door. She knew of no law against foul breath and an unwashed body.

“Mrs. Richards, I have before me the deed to Lillian’s Alterations and Dressmaking.” The judge motioned to the paper on the desk. “The name on this deed is Max Richards. Why didn’t he add your name to the deed when you married?”

“I never asked him, but I suspect he didn’t want to give up control.” Her gaze dropped to her lap. “Of the shop.”

“And of you, perhaps?”

Carly met Judge Rohlof’s shrewd hazel eyes. “That’s likely.”