The Most Eligible Bachelor Romance Collection: Nine Historical Romances Celebrate Marrying for All the Right Reasons (46 page)

Micah chuckled. “I had a bad case of hero worship back then. What brings you to these parts?”

Rod hitch-stepped to the boardwalk and halted. “Doc says I need to rest this leg. So I thought what better time to visit my long-lost cousin.”

“Hey, I haven’t been the lost one.” Micah grinned. “Where have you been all these years?”

“Well, now that’s a story.” Rod glanced around and stopped short when he faced Gabrielle. A suave smile slid easily onto his countenance, and he tipped his hat.

Gabrielle still stood, as if wondering if she should stay or go. Was she waiting for him to introduce her to his cousin? He should, just to be polite, but—

Thwak!

Leather connected with a solid thump on the side of Micah’s head.

“Sorry, Micah.”

The pouch containing the day’s incoming mail lay at his feet. Micah glanced up. The ends of Hank’s shaggy mustache twitched in chagrin.

Rod tilted his head back and guffawed. “You always were the clumsy one of the bunch. Still the same, I see.”

Micah’s face flamed, and he cast a quick glance in Gabrielle’s direction. She pressed her lips together and dipped her head. Was she laughing at him?

Gabby’s heart cringed when the stranger—did he call Micah his cousin?—laughed. The man needed to learn some manners. She spun on her heel and marched down the boardwalk. She’d intended to tell Micah she left two cents on the counter for the postage, but the way he snatched Papa’s letter and ran out the door puzzled her. Annoyance wiggled through her at seeing Micah embarrassed by his cousin, but frustration also nipped at her. Micah’s demeanor shifted the moment she stepped in the doorway and greeted him. Engaging Micah in conversation was like pulling hen’s teeth, and most of the time he acted as if being near her grated on his nerves. For the life of her, Gabby couldn’t figure out why she felt drawn to Micah North. She simply couldn’t coax her heart to forget about him. Even when they were children, she secretly liked the shy boy who sat behind her in school. Except for the stretch of time when Cullen Poole had come to town more than three years ago and charmed her into believing he loved her, Micah North had always been special to her.

She glanced through the window of Brown’s Apothecary. Millicent Brown, working behind the counter, looked up and waved to Gabby. Millicent and her friends would think Gabby had lost her senses if they knew she was sweet on Micah. Most of the girls in town never gave him a second thought. So why did
her
heart flutter every time he was near?

For goodness’ sake, hadn’t she learned a thing after Cullen left? True, she’d been young—just seventeen—and love struck when Cullen wooed her. Having her heart broken once made her determined to never let it happen again. But Micah was so kindhearted and generous. He would never break her heart, especially since she couldn’t get him to even look at her.

She straightened her shoulders and proceeded toward Murdock’s Mercantile with her mother’s list. Micah’s cousin was certainly handsome, and his voice had a resonating ring. No doubt Papa, as the pastor of the community church, would extend a warm welcome to the newcomer and expect her to do the same. Getting acquainted with Micah’s cousin might change her first impression—there could be a caring, tenderhearted person behind those blue eyes.

A check in her spirit brought her to a halt just outside the mercantile doors. She glanced over her shoulder. An uncanny sensation that someone had just called her name permeated her mind for a brief moment. Growing up as a preacher’s daughter, learning about the Lord from an early age, it only took a moment to recognize the whisper of God. But what was He trying to tell her?

One glance at the pendant watch hanging around her neck prompted her to put aside her uncertainty and hurry. Mama would be waiting for her. Intending to spend time in prayer soon, listening for God’s direction, she pushed open the door. “Hello, Mr. Murdock.”

The jovial, gray-haired man waved a beefy hand. “Mornin’, Miss Gabby. What can I do for you today?”

She handed over Mama’s list. “My mother needs a few things, and of course, she is getting ready to do her canning.”

Mr. Murdock’s grin stretched across his face and he licked his lips. “Is she puttin’ up them plum preserves again this year?”

Gabby stifled a giggle. “Yes sir.” Mama’s plum preserves were legendary in the town of Whitley. She probably could have sold them for twenty-five cents a jar, but she simply gave them away to everyone. “I’ll be sure to put a jar aside for you.”

The merchant’s eyes twinkled in anticipated pleasure. “Thanks, Miss Gabby.”

“Have the new yard goods come in yet?”

“Couple of days ago.” His jowls quivered when he tipped his head toward the rear shelving.

As Gabby perused the bolts of yard goods, one in particular caught her eye—a soft ivory with a muted paisley pattern. She rolled off a length and held it up to her.

“That one would look right smart on you, Miss Gabby.”

She smiled. “Mama says I handle a needle and thread like a crowbar.” She studied the fabric again. The vision of a new dress for the upcoming church picnic made her smile, and Mama would help her. Her face warmed with conviction. Vanity was unbecoming, Mama always said. But could a new dress—one that enhanced the color of her eyes—capture Micah’s attention? “I’ll take a dress length, Mr. Murdock.”

The tinkling of the door’s brass bell welcomed three girls, arms linked, scurrying inside. Daphne, Trudy, and Clara—best friends since grade school—sought Gabby out.

“Here you are. Millicent said she saw you pass by the apothecary awhile ago.” Daphne seized Gabby’s hand while Trudy fairly danced in place. Clara, the quiet one, chewed on her thumbnail.

“Did you see him?” Daphne’s dramatic tone made Trudy giggle like a ten-year-old.

Gabby arched her eyebrows. “Did I see who?”

“Who?” It was more of a demand than a question. Daphne spread her arms wide. “The man who just got off the stage. He’s
so
handsome.”

Trudy tugged on Gabby’s sleeve. “Millicent said you were there, so you must have seen him. I think he’s friends with… what’s his name—the guy at the depot.”

The guy at the depot?
Couldn’t Trudy even remember Micah’s name? But Micah wasn’t the object of the trio’s excitement. “Yes, I saw him. His name is Rod, and he’s Micah North’s cousin.”

Chapter 2

M
icah looked up from his desk when the depot door opened. Heavy boots thumped the floorboards. Since the building housed not only the stage depot but also the post office and telegraph office, his duties varied every time someone entered. This time, however, the noisy footsteps belonged to Jed Franklin, his relief man.

Jed hung his hat on a peg. “I ain’t late, am I?”

Micah suppressed a smile. Jed was fifteen minutes late every day. “Jed, if you got here any earlier, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

An indignant snort flapped Jed’s lips. “You sound like my ol’ sergeant, and I ain’t even in the army no more.” He nudged Micah out of the chair, plopped down beside the telegraph key, and crossed his arms. “Heard your cousin come to visit. He was down at the café awhile ago keepin’ folks entertained with his stories.”

Micah glanced at the old soldier. “That right? What kind of stories?”

A toothy grin split Jed’s face. “Reckon you’ve already heard most of ’em—’bout his adventures with the Pinkertons and all.”

“Pinkertons? No, I haven’t heard that.” Micah reached for his hat.

Jed slapped his knee and waggled his finger. “Have him tell you the one about Sly Sonny Sykes.” He shook his head. “That’s a good one.”

Micah headed for the door. “I’ll do that. See you in the morning, Jed.”

As he tramped down the short trail that led to his cabin, Micah puzzled over Jed’s words. His cousin hadn’t mentioned he was a Pinkerton agent. For that matter, Micah hadn’t even known where Rod was living. They’d simply lost touch.

He pushed the cabin door open and found Rod sitting on the settee with his feet propped on the hearth. His cousin turned when Micah stepped inside.

“Here’s the workingman. I thought only law enforcement officers kept long hours.” Rod swung his feet down to the floor. “I went and found a place to eat. I was starving.” He pushed off the settee and stood, pausing a moment before limping across the room. “I made some coffee. Of course, it’s Pinkerton coffee, so you might have to sift it through your teeth first. Not too many people can drink the stuff.” He took a cup from the shelf and poured some coffee into it. “You want some?”

Micah shook his head and pulled the pot of yesterday’s stew to the front of the stove where the fire burned hotter. “When my relief man, Jed, came in, he told me you’d been telling stories down at the café.” He turned to look at Rod while he stirred the pot. “You didn’t tell me you were a Pinkerton agent.”

Rod took a noisy slurp. “Uh-huh.” He pulled a chair away from the small table, turned it around, and slung his leg over the seat to sit backward. “It can be a grueling job sometimes. In the saddle for weeks at a time, going days without a meal, enduring untold hardships… but we always get our man.”

Micah cast a doubtful glance at his cousin. “I thought that was the Mounties.”

Rod shrugged. “Them, too, I suppose. But nothing stops a Pinkerton from putting his man in handcuffs. We never sleep, you know.”

Micah retrieved a chipped crockery bowl from the shelf and ladled lukewarm stew into it. He took a day-old biscuit from a cloth-wrapped plate and settled down in the chair across from Rod. He bowed his head over the simple meal. When he raised his eyes, Rod studied him.

“So, how have you been, Rod? We didn’t get much of a chance to talk when you arrived.” He broke off a piece of biscuit.

“Well, I’ve been pushing myself pretty hard. But then, I have quite a few arrests to my credit. Some outlaws think they can outsmart me, but they usually learn in the end.” He took another slug of coffee. “They put up a pretty good fight, though. That’s how I got this.” He motioned to his leg. “Doc told me I better take some time off and let it heal. Otherwise, my days of taking down the criminals might be shortened, and we can’t have that.”

Micah shoveled a spoonful of stew into his mouth and glanced down at Rod’s leg. “What happened?”

He could have sworn Rod’s chest swelled. A smirk tweaked his cousin’s lips when he leaned down and rolled up his pant leg, revealing a partially healed gunshot wound. “I was on the trail of Asa and Newell Garfield. I’m sure you’ve heard of them.”

Micah shook his head. “No. Don’t think I have.”

Rod hitched his thumbs under his suspenders. “Well, they’re two of the most bloodthirsty, notorious outlaws between here and Louisville.”

For the next fifteen minutes Rod regaled Micah with details of the dramatic account. Finally, after draining his coffee and refilling his cup, he leveled his stare at Micah. “So, even with a bullet in my leg, I brought those two in.”

Micah polished off his stew with the last few crumbs of biscuit. “Did you tell that story down at the café?”

The corners of Rod’s mouth tipped up. “I might’ve.”

“Well, it sure sounds a lot more exciting than anything that goes on around here.” Micah rose and crossed to the dry sink with his bowl and spoon. “Whitley’s a pretty quiet town.”

Rod yawned and stretched. “It’s a nice change.”

Micah pointed to the door leading to the cabin’s only bedroom. “You take the bed. I’ll bunk out here on the settee. I’m up pretty early. You can sleep late, since the doc wants you to rest and all.”

“Thanks, Cousin. I’m obliged. How about a game of pinochle?”

Micah rooted under the dry sink for his toolbox. “Sorry, I can’t. I have something I need to take care of. In case you’re already in bed by the time I return, I’ll see you… tomorrow sometime.”

The sun was dropping behind the trees to the west as Micah made his way through the gathering twilight. Still enough light by which to see, but he’d have to hurry. When he arrived at the church, he gripped the rickety front stair railing and shook it. It wobbled like a drunken man picking his way through a briar patch. He extracted a handsaw, a hammer, and small bag of nails from his box and glanced back and forth over his shoulders before starting on the quick repair. Since Reverend Lockridge injured his back a few weeks ago, some of the chores around the church had gone undone. Micah knew the pastor worried someone could be hurt if the flimsy railing gave way. He cut two support pieces from a length of scrap lumber and anchored them firmly on either side of the handrail. Then he drove more nails through the supports and into the railing upright.