Bartered Bride Romance Collection (59 page)

July 1869

T
he town of Lickwind greeted Thomas Hardin the younger much as it had bid him farewell all those years ago. Fistfuls of fine Wyoming dirt pelted his cheeks, this time flung by nature instead of from the hands of cowboys so angry at Thomas Hardin the elder they didn’t care about the feelings of his impressionable fifteen-year-old son. Of course, in the last eight years, Thomas had seen more than his share of cowboy justice and knew sometimes it was called for, but just as often it wasn’t.

Dust coated his throat, and he coughed as he turned sideways. He’d forgotten about the wicked western wind and how alive it often seemed. Today it whispered angrily as it swirled around him, pressing him to leave.

Leave? Not a chance. As soon as he cleared the grit from his throat, he wanted to meet the town head-on, let it know he’d returned and intended to stay.

Behind him, the pride of the Union Pacific hissed and growled like an angry tomcat, poised for flight but statue still. Heat from the iron horse blistered the air. Thomas blinked a few times, getting his bearings. Train travel might save time and energy, but he’d take a horse any day.

Horses meant freedom. When he’d turned sixteen, he’d jumped on the back of his father’s best gelding and galloped away from his father and a memory that threatened to suck the very breath from his chest.

Horses also meant money.

Thomas took a coin from his pocket and danced it between his fingers. Spotting a young man lounging uselessly against what might be called an excuse for a depot, he called, “Hey, boy.” Time to unload five prime mares, and Thomas could use some help. If bloodlines and spirit could be turned into a profit, he intended to make yet another fortune here in the mire of his childhood nightmares.

Horses also took a lot of time.

“Boy,” Thomas called again, raising an eyebrow. Either times had changed or the young man sitting on the rickety depot step had a hearing problem. Money in Lickwind had never been so plentiful—except for the landowners—that a boy didn’t keep an eye out for a way to make a little extra.

“Bo—”

“I ain’t a boy.”

No, she wasn’t. Thomas could see that now that she glanced up. Freckles spotted high cheekbones. A hint of strawberry blond hair framed a face protected from the sun by an old, ugly, brown hat. A giant gray-and-black-striped cat indignantly climbed off the girl’s lap; and belatedly, Thomas noted the brown skirt that graced the top of scuffed, brown leather boots.

“Roberta Suzanne Craig!” A brunette hurried across a dirt street. This one, from the tips of her high-top laced boots to the lacy bonnet covering her head, was not of the type to be mistaken for a boy.

Before he could move, the boy impersonator jumped up and hid behind him. Peeking over his shoulder, she asked, “How can I earn that money?”

Surprised, he answered, “I wanted help moving my horses.”

“Sure, I can help, but you need to convince my sister.”

He stepped aside as the pretty one skidded to a stop. She looked like a schoolmistress ready to dress down a truant pupil. He didn’t want to get in her way. On the other hand, the tomboy one, Roberta, bobbed up and down like a cork in water. Truthfully, he didn’t know which sister posed the bigger threat. He had the feeling that to side with the pretty one would earn him the ire of the other one.

Women.

He preferred horses.

“Bertie, you come around him now!”

To her credit, the girl—she looked like a Bertie—stepped to the side and met her sister’s gaze head-on. Her lips pursed together, and Thomas decided that he’d like to see these two take on his two top hands, Rex and Mikey. Rex could shoot a mosquito at twenty paces. Mikey used a bullwhip to slice bread.

The pretty girl’s words came out in a rush. “I’ve been looking for you all morning. You were supposed to make Butter Buds this morning. You know train days are always busy. Also, I checked your sewing basket, and there’s enough dust on it to plant a garden. And you left dirty clothes on the floor again.”

Before Thomas had an inkling what she was about to do, Bertie grabbed his arm and yanked him closer to the scolding sister.

“I’m helping with his horses. He’s paying me. He’s new to town. You always tell me we have to be neighborly.”

Two pairs of eyes focused all their attention on him. He stammered, “Wh–wh–whoa, now. I j–ju–just …”

“Just what?” Hands went to her hips as Mrs. Bossy frowned at him.

“I th–thought she w–was a boy,” Thomas admitted. He wished his tongue would return to normal size and that he’d never noticed the urchin sitting on the stoop.

Masculine laughter rang out behind him. At the sound, Thomas felt his teeth clamp together viselike. Mrs. Bossy smiled a halfhearted greeting. It was Bertie who caught Thomas’s attention, and his opinion of her increased. She looked like a foul smell accosted her, and Thomas easily identified the source. Unless he was mistaken, Josiah Temple stood behind him.

This was not how Thomas wanted to face Temple.

Thomas wanted his wealth and power to counter Temple’s local prestige. Instead, Temple not only heard Thomas stutter, but also witnessed him mistake a girl for a boy.

Lickwind may have grown, what with the railroad and all—and where had all these women come from?—but in other ways, it stayed small or at least small-minded. No one escaped the scrutiny of Josiah Temple. Thomas likened the man to a burr of a cholla cactus. He’d discovered the stubborn pricklies in the Arizona Territory. About the time he cleared a squatter from his right pant leg, three more settled on his left boot. They seemed to know when he wasn’t looking, and here they came, clinging and pestering. Rex said he’d seen one jump more than a mile just to annoy a man.

“Mrs. Riker.” Josiah took off his hat. “Good afternoon.” With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he turned to Bertie and said, “Boy.”

Bertie stuck her tongue out.

Although it annoyed him to ape Temple, Thomas swept the hat from his head. He plain wasn’t expecting womenfolk in Lickwind. Mrs. Riker didn’t seem to notice, but the homely girl grinned and did the same. Thomas shook his head. Nothing about this day was turning out as he wanted. At least Bertie kept her tongue in her mouth as she smirked at him.

Mrs. Riker grasped Bertie by the arm. “Roberta Suzanne—”

“Bertie!” the urchin insisted.

“Roberta Suzanne, you are too old to be sticking out your tongue. Now march right—”

Bertie dug in her heels. “I’m helping him with the horses.”

“That might mean you’re assisting a horse thief.” Temple’s mustache barely moved, yet the words sounded as loud as thunder.

Thomas’s fingers itched. Just one minute, no, two—that’s all it would take to toss this depraved fool to the ground and pound his face to pulp.

But he couldn’t. It looked like Lickwind had turned respectable. It had ladies, one who might swoon and another who might join the fight. Neither circumstance appealed to him. A lifetime of hate wouldn’t let him walk away from Temple, but common sense warned that Thomas not act so rash as to find himself facing the end of a rope during his first day in town.

“You look just like your father,” Temple said.

At age fifteen, Thomas had looked up to all the cowboys and few landowners. Not any longer. Now, he pretty much expected them to look up to him. “And you look like a man who’d pound a nail into the casket before the doctor filled out the death certificate.”

“Tommy,” Temple advised, “the best thing for you to do is hop back on that train and leave.”

Thomas grinned. “Not a chance.” Temple said nothing.

“You got a problem with me?” Thomas didn’t stutter now.

“That a threat?” Temple noted the gun and stepped in front of the ladies.

No doubt they—or at least the pretty one—thought he was being a gentleman.
Yellow-livered
. Just the thought made Thomas smile. “You’re not worth my time.” Thomas put his hat on and winked at Bertie before walking away.

Bertie felt the hair at the back of her neck prickle. Usually Josiah Temple couldn’t round a corner without her knowing. He’d snuck up on her today. She’d thought Rhubarb took off because of the man on the train, but now Bertie blamed Josiah for the cat’s desertion. Cats were great judges of character, and Rhubarb never erred. The cat adored James, Luke, and Gideon. As for Josiah, Rhubarb wouldn’t stay in the same room.

The man on the train obviously felt the same way. Bertie could almost forgive him for mistaking her for a boy.

“Nothing good ever came from a Hardin.” Josiah looked bright, but Bertie didn’t think it ran deep. Not if he didn’t recognize the expression on Bess’s face. Of course, Josiah wasn’t even looking at Bess; he watched the man he called Hardin walk toward Donald Potter’s law office.

Hardin. Bertie liked the sound of it. If Rhubarb had kittens again, Bertie would name the biggest, toughest one Hardin.

Bess’s nose twitched just a bit. A true sign she’d been offended. “You know the man enough to judge?” she asked Josiah.

When Bess used her “teacher” voice, grown men cowered. Even Corrie’s little girls, Brianne and Madeline, quieted. Bertie practiced the tone, but she never got it right. Matty said it had something to do with maturing.

Yup, Josiah was for true a fool. He rambled on, still watching Hardin. “I knew his father well enough to judge. We ran Tommy and his old man out of town when it barely rated as a town. Weren’t but four or five settling families hereabouts. The Smits, when the boys were younger and before Rachel died.” His voice dropped; and if Bertie hadn’t known better, she’d think he was being reverent. “Then the Webbers moved on; they didn’t squat but a few months and claimed it got too crowded. As I recall, I think the missus died right before they left. The Collingswoods, but I don’t need to tell you about them.” Josiah was too much the politician to leer, but Bertie wished she were a man so she could wipe that look off his face.

Josiah was a talker, always, but seldom did he concentrate on anything but himself. Tommy Hardin’s arrival really must have shaken him. He barely took a breath before continuing, “The Kincaid brothers were among the first settlers. They beat me here. Cyrus, he was a smart one, not like his brother. Then, there was me. The cowboys were a lot rougher back then—’twasn’t anything like it is today. Tommy Hardin’s pa was the worst of them. Worked at the Kincaid spread.”

Josiah finally turned to face Bess, and Bertie thought he took a step back. But he still wasn’t smart enough to stop talking. “Caught Tommy Hardin’s daddy rustling my cattle. I wanted to string him up.”

Bertie waited to hear more, but Josiah stopped talking as the land office door closed behind Hardin.

Was Tommy Hardin a cowboy? He didn’t dress like one or smell like one. Or was he a rustler like his father?

“It was just a surprise, seeing Tommy.” Josiah had the good grace to look sheepish. “Excuse me, ladies, I said too much. Fact is, Scotty stuck up for the Hardins and so most of the men were willing to go easy on his dad.”

It was a good thing Bess was just as mesmerized with today’s events as Josiah, because it not only saved Josiah from the tongue-lashing he deserved, but it allowed Bertie to slink away unnoticed. Standing behind the railroad depot, she waited until Bess was safely inside their restaurant, The Back Porch, before hurrying in the opposite direction.

Oh, Grandmother’s bloomers! Bertie couldn’t remember anything so exciting as Thomas Hardin, unless you counted her sisters’ weddings. And watching Josiah Temple puff up and then deflate just made Bertie’s day.

Bertie peeked around the corner of the train. Any minute now Bess would realize she had neglected to retrieve her student. Escape now meant retribution later, but it would be worth it. Who could she get to accompany her to Matty’s and Corrie’s place so she could find Scotty? He’d saved Tommy Hardin’s father from death. Scotty was a master storyteller. Bertie couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t already divulged this exciting tale.

Bertie pivoted but didn’t manage even one step. In front of her stood the smallest man she’d ever seen. He smiled as Rhubarb wove between his ankles. The cat’s tail stood straight up, a true sign of feline contentment. After a moment, Rhubarb deserted her bandy-legged quarry and investigated a cart so loaded with trunks that Bertie couldn’t imagine this man pulling it. Bertie got the distinct impression he approved of her. Not a notion she gleaned from most of the adult population in Lickwind.