Bartered Bride Romance Collection (66 page)

Lately, he’d acted all stiff and uncomfortable. He almost tripped over himself before driving them back from Anna’s tutoring to make sure Bess sat in front beside him.

Bertie grinned. Come to think of it, he was stuttering again, and she sure didn’t think it had anything to do with Josiah. She liked to think it had something to do with her. “Yes, I’m expecting a package,” she told Linus. “Did it arrive?”

“They’ve not unloaded the mail yet.”

Bertie’s first inclination was to take a seat on the step, but she didn’t want to get her new pink-striped dress dirty. Matty had only finished sewing it last week. Bess said Bertie should save it for good, but lately every day felt good—just in case Thomas Hardin came to town.

Only one passenger disembarked—an older man with brown, rugged skin and the walk of one who was more at home in a saddle. He wore a hat pressed down over his eyes, as if he didn’t want to be recognized.

“Can I help you, sir?” Linus asked.

The cowboy looked at Linus then noticed Bertie. He wearily removed his hat. He had startling blue eyes, familiar eyes, and Bertie thought she’d never seen anybody looking so lost.

Chapter 7

T
he preacher stood in the front of the room. He spoke the words to the sermon, but his eyes were not as bright as usual. Bertie liked and listened to Parson Harris. She knew him well because he was a friend of Scotty’s. Bertie wondered what the man was thinking now that he stood before a crossroad in life. He’d been offered a church of his own, complete with a parsonage: roots, permanence.

It wouldn’t be an easy decision. He was a circuit preacher through and through, and Bertie had spoken with him often enough to know how much he relished his time on the trail. Harris formulated his sermons on the back of his horse. He scratched down the words using his saddle as a desk. He rehearsed his sermons using the stars as his trial audience. And now Lickwind offered him—and his family—refuge. His wife accompanied him for the first time. Mrs. Harris wanted her man beside her every night. She worried when he roamed the open range for days on end. She wanted roots. She wanted their two sons to know their papa.

Harris really didn’t have a choice, Bertie realized in that moment. The pull of family was a powerful magnet.

Bertie did not turn around to look, although she knew Thomas Hardin sat somewhere behind her. She wasn’t surprised. Scotty had told her it would happen and to just wait. She hadn’t seen Thomas arrive, but with the way everyone around her craned their necks at the commotion a short time ago, nothing else could have rated such rapt attention. Bertie didn’t dare adjust her new hat, or Matty would notice and elbow her. The sisters were already atwitter at the idea of Bertie buying a bonnet at a store!

“Don’t tell me what you paid.” Matty had blanched.

“All you needed to do was ask,” Corrie said, “and Matty would have made whatever you wanted.”

Bess shook her head.

But Bertie didn’t want a bonnet made out of everyday, already-been-seen material. She wanted one that was hers alone, and half the fun had been anticipating its arrival. It had taken three weeks and two trains for the color she wanted to arrive.

Lately Thomas was spending more time in town than on his ranch. Nightly he took his meals at the restaurant, always at one of Bertie’s tables.

His stutter had finally stopped, but she’d welcome it back if it meant he said the words she wanted to hear. He didn’t ask Gideon for permission to court. He didn’t say I think I love you.

Think? Was there really any thinking involved? Bertie had considered it something of a lark when the men of Lickwind had flocked around her and her sisters. She’d retreated behind her papa’s hat and old leather boots and been a spectator in a game that now held her firmly in its clutch.

The game of love. Her sisters had all been winners, and for once Bertie intended to follow their example.

She wanted to smile. She wanted the world to know that Thomas Hardin thought enough of her to come to the restaurant most every night and now, finally, to church.

The sermon looked to be nearing summation. Bertie had listened with one ear and agreed with Parson Harris’s premise. It was easier to forgive a stranger than someone you loved. She’d always had trouble forgiving those she loved. She’d not forgiven her parents for dying. She’d not forgiven Adele for marrying a weak-kneed poor excuse for a man. She’d not forgiven herself.

Harris called for a prayer, and all around her heads bowed. Down the pew from her, Bertie noticed the man who’d arrived by train just two days ago. His head was bowed, and Bertie wondered if he knew etiquette called for the removal of his hat.

Bertie bowed her head.

After the amen, Harris called for any sinners to come forward and repent.

The church was a bit stuffy, but nobody was leaving. Even Corrie’s babies and Matty’s little one seemed to sense that now was not a good time to whimper. Parson Harris came from behind the podium and walked to meet the cowboy from the train, the one with the familiar blue eyes. He walked down the center aisle, reached the front of the church, shook the parson’s hand, and turned to face the audience.

“Take off your hat,” Bertie silently mouthed, and as if he’d heard her, the old man slowly removed his hat.

Even before she heard his name whispered, she figured out who the man was. This time Bertie did turn around and then stood up, pushing past Bess and Gideon, stepping over the twins and on Corrie in her hurry to get to Thomas.

To say that Thomas looked surprised to see his father at church was an understatement. Such a mixture of shock, denial, and anger crossed his features that Bertie momentarily paused and lost the opportunity to reach him. When she reached the church’s exit, Thomas was already on his horse and galloping down the street.

A gentle hand rested on Bertie’s shoulder, and Bess whispered, “Give him time.”

Thomas Hardin the elder was no longer a typical cowboy. He sat at Bertie’s table and passed his sheriff’s badge around. Bertie poured him another cup of coffee and tried to imagine him stealing cattle.

The restaurant had no more room, and customers were eating while leaning against the wall. Josiah Temple was conspicuously absent. Even Albert Smit, looking pained, came to hear what Hardin had to say. Bertie didn’t think Smit had ever put out money for a meal, not even for baked goods.

Jim and Luke frowned at the badge but listened to Hardin’s story while Thomas’s cowboys, Rex and Davey, flanked the sheriff as if worried he’d bolt.

Sheriff Hardin had no trouble talking. “I found the Lord, or should I say, He found me? I need to make sure my boy knows the truth. I didn’t steal them cattle. I admit, I’m not proud of my behavior in those days. I was young and had more responsibility than I felt I could handle. I took to the liquor a bit more than I needed to. I did make mistakes, and I’ve laid my guilt at the foot of the cross. But I didn’t steal them cattle. I had me a good job and good wages back then.”

Jim spoke up, “Then why didn’t you protest? Why didn’t you say you weren’t guilty? I remember the day you were run out of town. You acted guilty.”

The sheriff had the grace to look at his feet. “Somebody paid me off. Just a few minutes before the posse arrived, I found a note in my saddlebag along with enough money to give me and my boy a new life—if we left and didn’t say anything. I’m ashamed now to say I took it. That money meant the kind of life my late wife had always dreamed of for our son.”

“Is that how Tommy got enough money to buy the Kincaid spread?” Amos Freeling asked.

Both Sheriff Hardin and Donald Potter shook their heads.

Rex said, “Tommy hasn’t taken a cent from his old man. Not that it’s anybody’s business, but he’s made his money from the railroad and more recently right here in southwest Wyoming, investing money in a very lucrative mine.”

“That’s right,” Sheriff Hardin said. “It didn’t take me but a few weeks to realize that in accepting that bribe, I’d paid the ultimate price—my son. He had no reason not to believe I’d become a rustler, and before I realized the importance of telling him the truth, he’d run away. If it weren’t for Scotty tracking me down, I’d not know Thomas’s whereabouts today. Looks like, in spite of me, my son has made something of himself.”

“How many cattle were you accused of rustling, Mr. Hardin?” Frank Llewellyn stood up. He’d just finished a bowl of jackrabbit stew and clutched a spoon in his fist, swinging it like a judge’s mallet.

Sheriff Hardin shrugged. “About twenty.”

“And,” Frank continued, “that was roughly eight years ago. Does anybody know about how much cattle would have been worth back then?”

Jim and Luke looked at each other.

“Depends on the weight of the animals,” Jim said. “And where they were sold,” Luke added.

Frank gripped the spoon tightly, deep in thought. “Mr. Hardin, just how much money were you given?”

Sheriff Hardin took a piece of faded leather pouch from his belt. He unfolded it so that a small pile of bills spread across the table. “It’s right here. Once Tommy left, I didn’t spend no more, and I replaced what I had spent. It’s a hundred and fifteen dollars.”

“Cattle were fetching good prices back then,” Luke remembered.

“Then we can figure you were given the cost of the cattle,” Frank said.

“Makes sense now, but that sure didn’t occur to me then.”

“So, you were paid for stealing the cattle?” Luke asked. ”

But I didn’t steal the cattle.”

“Whose cattle were stolen?” Linus Hatch wanted to know. ”

A few head, here and there,” Luke said.

“Josiah Temple’s,” Jim remembered.

Zeus had arrived with the broken surrey; and as of yet, none of the cowboys had been willing to climb on the beast’s back. Over fifteen hands and high-strung, the stallion was purchased for breeding purposes, but every animal on the Two Horse needed to pull its load, and it was time for Zeus to be broken. The horse snorted and threw his head in a catch-me-if-you-dare attitude.

The horse’s rebellion reminded Thomas of his father. Just how long had the man been in the area? Thomas shook his head. He wanted to blame his father for the mishaps on the ranch. But why? His father had nothing to gain by sabotaging his son. Why come back now?

Thomas stood, one foot perched on the bottom rung of the gate and the other planted firmly in the dirt. He’d been standing thus for over an hour trying to clear his mind, all the while debating the foolishness of breaking Zeus without the help of his men.

It was his fault. He had saddled up this morning bound for church. Rex, blinking away sleep and surprise, had followed, which inspired some of the other cowboys to see just what was going on. Susan and Jack always attended.

His cowboys were still in town with the church crowd. A crowd that hadn’t blinked twice when he entered the door. Thomas actually felt welcomed as he took his place on a bench. At the moment, he couldn’t figure what inspired him to saddle up this morning carrying the Bible Scotty had given him so many years ago. A Bible that hadn’t entered a church since Scotty owned it.

Nothing had gone as planned from the moment Thomas stepped into Lickwind. He’d stuttered in front of Josiah. He’d bent the rules to allow Trieu on his place; and before he could blink an eye, along came Susan. Bad luck plagued the ranch, and the culprit eluded detection. His bank account reflected activity he had no control over. And now his father was in town and going forward in church.