The Bounty Hunter's Redemption (26 page)

Nate rubbed the back of his neck. “From what I’ve seen, the shop won’t support them all. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about Mrs. Richards’s future. Any man with a thread of decency would rue killing a woman’s husband and a son’s father, even in self-defense.”

“Then perhaps that decency you possess could find a way to settle this between the three of you.”

Nate met and held the judge’s pointed gaze.

Judge Rohlof gave a curt nod. “I have no more questions. You may take your seat, Mr. Sergeant,” he said. He picked up the deed. “I will examine Indiana statutes and my law books. Unless the parties in this dispute come to an agreement first, I will give my ruling tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock. I expect all three of you witnesses to be in attendance.”

Nate bit back a protest. The judge seemed determined to keep him in town. Silly, when he had nothing new to add.

Still, even if he left Saturday after the ruling, he should have plenty of time to ride to Louisville before Stogsdill could arrive.

As Nate strode to Anna, he avoided Carly’s gaze. He’d just told the judge his concern for Carly was based on killing her husband when everyone in town knew she was better off without Richards.

What did it matter? Carly was strong and would find her way, a way far safer for her and her son than getting tangled up with him.

* * *

Wide blue eyes implored Nate, as if his very life depended on her answer. “Mama, can Nate come to supper?”

Carly looked pale, her eyes weary, not in the mood to cook, much less to invite company. Yet Nate yearned to spend time with them just once more before he went after Stogsdill.

“Henry,” Nate said. “I’m sure your ma’s too tired to cook.”

“Did the judge make her work?”

“No, but he asked hard questions, like the teacher does at school sometimes.”

Questions that opened wounds. Questions that dug that chasm brought about by the shop’s ownership still deeper.

“Oh.” The gaze Henry turned on his mom softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

Perhaps Nate knew a way to help them both. “I’d like to treat everyone to supper at Sarah’s Café.” Staring into Carly’s weary eyes, he added, “If you’ve a mind to go.”

“Please, Mama. Say yes. Please.”

Carly heaved a sigh. “All right,” she agreed reluctantly, probably too tired to fight her son.

Ridiculously happy, Nate turned to his sister. Anna looked droopier than a scarecrow missing its stuffing. “Do you need to rest first, sis?”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not up to going. Remembering that day...” The pain in Anna’s voice ricocheted through him. “I’ll heat leftover soup and turn in early.” She tried for a bright smile. “You go ahead and have a good time.”

A closer look revealed Anna’s pallor. “If you’re not feeling well, I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’m wrung out, is all. A good night’s sleep and I’ll be fine as a well-tuned fiddle.” She tousled Henry’s hair. “I know someone who’s eager to go.”

“Me!” Eyes shining, Henry’s head bobbed up and down.

“In that case,” Nate said, “let’s not keep Henry waiting.”

His sister turned away, hobbling toward home, her limp more pronounced, evidence her pain was worse. “Carly, would you and Henry mind going ahead and getting a table? I’d like to see Anna home.”

“Of course.” She took Henry’s hand and they left the shop.

In a few strides, Nate caught up with Anna, wrapping an arm around her for support, then seeing her to the cabin, dodging ruts and uneven ground. Once he’d lit the stove and put the soup on to heat, Anna insisted he join Carly.

“If you’re sure you’re all right,” he said.

She gave him a playful push. “If you don’t hurry, Henry will surely burst.”

He gave Anna a kiss on the cheek, then loped to the café. As he stepped inside, all chatter ceased. Carly and Henry sat at a table in front of the window. He wound a path through the tables, aware every eye followed him. No doubt speculating on Carly’s reaction if she was his target.

Carly sat sipping coffee. At her side, Henry slurped through a paper straw. The dreamy look on his face proved the rarity of the treat.

Nate took the seat across from her, giving him a view of the street and the door, an ingrained practice that had saved his neck more than once. Stogsdill would not have had time to get to Gnaw Bone after he received the wire. Still, a man couldn’t be too careful, especially in the company of a defenseless woman and child.

“Mama got me root beer, Nate,” Henry said. “The fizzy tickles my nose.”

Oblivious to the whisperings of those around them, Henry chattered about his day at school, then focused on his root beer.

“Apparently we’re on the menu, judging by the number of folks looking our way,” Carly said.

Nate chuckled. “I think they’re hoping we’ll climb into the boxing ring, Gnaw Bone’s version of Sullivan and Ryan.”

He could think of far more pleasant ways to resolve the dispute. But Carly would want no part of the image he carried in his mind, of kissing her, of holding her in his arms. He dared not give in to longings that would tie him to anyone, not even Carly, who lured him like a stagecoach carrying gold enticed a robber.

The noise level and the click of silverware suggested the diners had forgotten them and had returned to their meals.

The swinging doors separating the kitchen from the café banged open, and Sarah stepped through. Long and lanky in face and body, her every movement clipped, the café owner exuded no-nonsense efficiency. Face flushed, flyaway strands of hair floating around her face, Sarah toted heaping plates to the next table.

“Hope you enjoy the food,” she said, depositing each plate with a plunk.

Then she stepped to Henry’s side, pad in hand, spectacles perched on her nose.

“You look shorthanded, Sarah. Where’s Lucille?” Carly asked.

“Sick. On the busiest day I’ve had in ages.” Sarah’s stern gaze settled on Nate, as if to say, “That’s your doing.” She glanced at the wall clock. “I’ll warn you now. Food’s gonna be slow.”

“We’re in no hurry.” Nate smiled, pleased to have more time with Carly and Henry.

“Got fried steak, chicken, stew in the kitchen. What can I get you?” Sarah glanced at Carly.

“Henry will have the small portion of the fried chicken dinner, just a leg with his,” Carly said. “I’ll have the stew and more coffee.”

“Got it.” Sarah turned to Nate. “For you?”

“Fried steak and black coffee.”

Sarah scrawled the order on the pad, then grabbed the menus and scurried to the kitchen.

As they waited for the food they talked about Henry’s riding lessons, the Schwartz wedding, the church ice-cream social scheduled for early June, avoiding the one topic surely on both of their minds: the day of testimony.

Sarah returned with two plates lined up on one arm, carrying the third in her other hand and set them down in front of them.

The delicious aromas teased Nate’s nostrils, reminding him of all the meals his mother had cooked, all the times they’d spent around the table, much like the three of them did now. As they ate and talked, like all the families around them, Nate felt part of the town, part of Carly’s family, part of what God had intended from the beginning of time.

A heavy longing pressed against his lungs until he could barely breathe. What he’d give to form a family with Carly and her son. To have a place to call home, to have this woman and child to share each day with, perhaps to be blessed with a second child of their own.

That longing was futile. He’d ridden alone for eight years. The one time he hadn’t, he’d caused an innocent woman’s death. Maybe one day when his presence no longer put Carly and Henry in jeopardy...

The mere idea was ludicrous. Every time Nate thought he had Stogsdill in his sights, the outlaw would vanish, as if he were made of smoke.

Sarah returned with the pot and refilled their cups, leaving room for cream in Carly’s. “How’d the hearing go?”

Carly shrugged. “We each had our say and spoke the truth. The outcome is up to the judge.”

The café owner’s gaze bored into Nate. “Hate to think what would happen to me if I lost this business,” she said, then hurried off with the pot, refilling cups on her way back to the kitchen.

Nate met Carly’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish—”

She held up her hand. “Let’s talk about something else. Something that’s good for digestion.” She smiled at her son. “Like the A that Henry got on his spelling test.”

“Last week I spelled ‘monkey’ wrong,” Henry said, propping his chin in his hand. “I forgetted the
e
.”

“You know, we learn the most from the mistakes we make. I doubt you’ll misspell monkey again.”

“Teacher said there’s a key in monkey and that’s how we turn him on.” He giggled, then leaned toward his mother. “I got two wrong on my ’rithmetic paper today.”

“You are a monkey, Henry Austin. The key to doing well in school is to work hard, exactly what you do. But Nate’s got a point.” A flush bloomed in her cheeks and her gaze fell to her plate. “We do learn the most from our mistakes,” she added softly.

Carly had regrets the same as Nate. Somehow that knowledge bonded them, made him yearn to erase the sadness in her sagging shoulders. “Some mistakes bring rewards,” he said, then glanced at Henry.

A smile lit her eyes. “You’re right. Some mistakes bring all that matters.” She reached across the table and laid a gentle hand on Nate’s arm. “Thanks.”

Sarah dropped off the bill and they rose, scraping the legs of their chairs on the wooden floor.

At the cash register, Nate peeled bills out of his money clip. “Keep the change.”

“’Preciate it,” Sarah said, the glare she’d fixed on him softening.

Outside he and Carly meandered along the sidewalk toward the shop. Nate had never felt more relaxed, more at ease. This harmony was what it would be like to have Carly and Henry in his life permanently. Henry skipped along in front of them, trying to whistle; a shrill, feeble sound. He’d have to teach the boy.

They reached the shop. Nate scrambled to think of a reason to avoid ending the evening.

“Thank you for supper,” Carly said.

“It was my pleasure.” He grinned. “That boy can eat.”

“He’ll be talking about root beer for days.” Carly cleared her throat. “I...I meant to ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“Yesterday Sheriff Truitt said he’d warn Pence. Why? Did Debby write Stogsdill? Tell him the engagement was off?”

“Well, uh, no.”

Carly’s blue eyes widened. “Why not? Surely she doesn’t want to marry the man now that she knows his true identity.”

“If Debby had cut things off, who knows when Stogsdill might decide to show up and try to change her mind? I couldn’t risk that.”

“How could you stop it?”

“I asked Mr. Pence to wire Stogsdill that his delay was giving his granddaughter second thoughts and if he hoped to marry her, he should pay Debby a visit.”

With a sharp intake of air, Carly whirled to face him. “You concocted a plan to bring Stogsdill here, to Gnaw Bone?”

“Well, yes, but I’d planned to ride to Louisville yesterday in ample time to meet the train. That is assuming Stogsdill left St. Louis as soon as he received Pence’s telegram.”

“You believe Stogsdill is coming to Gnaw Bone, and you didn’t think you needed to tell me this?”

“I didn’t want to worry you. If he was on the train, I’d have gotten the jump on him and turned him in to the authorities there.” Nate released a heavy sigh. “But then the judge insisted I testify. I seriously doubt the telegram can be delivered immediately. Still, I should have tim—”

“You concocted a plan that puts my son in danger?” Carly’s eyes flashed, icy and cold. “Surely
even you
wouldn’t put capturing Stogsdill ahead of a child’s safety?”

* * *

Carly’s gaze darted to Henry, then swept the street. Everything looked routine; a peaceful evening in Gnaw Bone. That peace could be shattered in an instant.

Thanks to Nate.

Never had Carly felt more defenseless. Not even married to Max. “Henry, go inside and get ready for bed.”

“Mama, I want to show Nate—”

“Mind me, young man.”

Steps lagging, Henry dragged himself onto the porch and inside the kitchen, then took one last look and shut the door.

Once her son was out of sight, Carly shoved a fingertip into Nate’s chest. “You didn’t think about Henry, did you? All you could think about was getting the reward.”

“Surely you know me better than that. Money has nothing to do with this,” he said, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

If not the money, then what?

Rachel
. The fiancée Nate had reluctantly spoken of at the hearing. Murdered by Stogsdill.

Carly exhaled. “All right, not the money, but admit it. You’re obsessed with catching him.”

“Try to see this from a lawman’s perspective.” Nate reached his arms toward her.

This time those arms didn’t make her feel safe. This time she had no desire to walk into them.

“Stogsdill wouldn’t have taken Debby’s rejection lying down. Not knowing when he’d arrive was far more dangerous than my plan.”

“Did it ever occur to you, that if not for your telegram, he might not come at all? He’s stayed away for weeks.”

“All the more reason to believe he’ll come. Carly, I understand your concern, but you and Henry are not Stogsdill’s target. He doesn’t even know you exist.”

“Anyone
seen with you
is a target. Doesn’t Rachel’s death prove that?”

Pain exploded in his eyes, as if she’d hauled back and slapped him.

“I’m sorry, that was cruel. I’m sorry your fiancée was killed. Sorry for the pain that brought.”

“I know you are,” he murmured. His eyes lowered to his feet. “Rachel was so young. So full of life.”

“I let my temper get the better of me. I’m just afraid for my son.”

“Do you believe I want to put you and Henry and my sister in harm’s way?”

“I don’t believe you want us hurt. If anything, my fear for my son makes me understand your desire to make Stogsdill pay. But, anyone in town could tell Stogsdill the bounty hunter and Widow Richards are in a controversy over the ownership of her shop.”