Dusty swallowed hard before replying. “I didn’t want that bad man stealing it.”
She pulled him into her arms, and his slight body trembled next to hers. Her gaze traveled over his head to the broken window in front. It was a miracle that neither of them had been injured by the glass. She’d told Dusty he would always be safe in her shop. If anyone picked on him or tried to harm him in any way, he had been instructed to come there. The hooded bandit had put the safety of her shop in question.
She held the boy close, stroking his head and murmuring words of comfort. Warmth gradually returned to his thin frame, and he stopped shaking.
Hearing the back door open, she stiffened at the sound of footsteps. Releasing the boy, she grabbed another jar.
A white handkerchief waved in the doorway. “Hold your fire. It’s only me.”
Relief rushing through her, she lowered the jar to the counter.
Tucker walked out of the kitchen, shoving his handkerchief into his pocket. He looked none too happy. “Lost him,” he said. “This maze of a town is an outlaw’s paradise.” Beneath his wide-brimmed hat, a strand of blond hair had fallen over his furrowed brow. “You okay?” His gazed dropped to the child hiding behind her skirts. “The boy?”
“He’s fine. We both are.”
Dusty pulled away from her to stare up at the tall ranger. “The bad man didn’t get my candy.”
“Good to hear,” Tucker said.
“What did he do?” Kate asked.
“He attempted to rob the bank. Him and his buddies.” Tucker walked around the counter to the shattered window. “Sorry about that. I thought I could nail him before he entered your shop, but my bullet ricocheted.” He pushed back his hat and looked at her over his shoulder. “I was just trying to keep you safe.”
She bristled. “Like you tried to keep me safe when you stopped my wedding?”
“I don’t know what to say, ma’am. ’Cept I’m sorry.” She heard his intake of breath. “I’ll see to it that the glass is replaced as soon as possible.”
His apology sounded sincere, but she wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. Not yet.
“I must say, Mr. Tucker, that ever since you arrived in town, it’s been one catastrophe after another.”
He rubbed his chin. “I was kind of thinking the same thing. Almost seems like Haywire has it in for me.”
“Or you have it in for Haywire,” she said.
“Oh no, ma’am,” he said, holding up his hands. “I have nothing against Haywire. And you can rest assured that as soon as I finish my business here, I’ll be outta your hair.” He backed toward the door and stopped. “Just one thing.” He stared at her over the counter. “Did you happen to notice anything strange about the man?”
“Strange? You mean other than the flour sack over his head and the gun in his hand? No.”
He shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask. You never know.” After a beat, he asked, “Did he say anything?”
“No, nothing.”
He tossed a nod at the broken window. “If I can’t get anyone to take care of that today, I’ll board it up myself.”
She shooed away a buzzing fly with the wave of her hand. “Thank you.”
He studied her, and she felt oddly self-conscious beneath his steady gaze. “Blue,” he said.
At first, she thought she’d heard wrong. “What?”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “I was just taking a guess that your favorite color is blue. Same color as your pretty eyes.”
Heat climbed up her neck to her face. Considering what had just happened, it seemed like a strange thing to say. More than that, she wasn’t used to men complimenting her on her appearance—or even mentioning it. Except, perhaps, to tease her about her red hair and freckles.
“Am I right?” he queried.
She wiped her damp hands on her apron. “Yes, blue is my favorite color, but what has that got to do with the bank holdup?”
“Not a thing,” he said. “I…just wanted to get your mind off what happened. A clear mind is better able to remember details.”
A sense of disappointment washed over her. She’d hoped the compliment had been sincere, but it seemed that everything with Tucker was about his job. She only wished he hadn’t used the color of her eyes to distract her. All it did was call attention to his own sultry blue eyes.
“So, do you recall anything else about him?” Tucker pressed.
She cleared her throat. “All I remember is that the man was a little shorter than you.” Practically every man in Haywire was shorter than the Texas Ranger. “He was also dressed in black.”
“And he wore a ring,” Dusty added.
Tucker turned to the boy. “That’s good, son. Can you tell me what the ring looked like?”
Dusty shrugged. “It was just a ring.”
“Do you remember what finger it was on?”
“This finger,” Dusty said, pointing to his pinkie.
The corner of the ranger’s mouth curved upward in a crooked smile, revealing a flash of white teeth. The smile had been meant for Dusty, but somehow, it managed to steal Kate’s breath.
“Okay, then. If you think of anything else, let Miss Denver know.” To Kate, he said, “You can reach me at Mrs. Crowell’s boardinghouse.” He headed for the door, pieces of glass crunching beneath the soles of his knee-high boots.
With a tip of his hat, he left the shop. Gazing out the broken window, Kate followed his progress as he dodged a horse and wagon and bounded across the street. I was just taking a guess that your favorite color is blue. Same as your pretty eyes.
“Can I have another sugar good?” Dusty asked.
“May I, you mean?” Kate said, turning toward the counter. Ah, the resilience of children. She was still shaken, but Dusty was beginning to look like his old self again. “You most certainly may. In fact, I think we both could use a sugar good.”
6
Little more than an hour later, a crowd gathered in front of the candy shop to stare at the broken window. Mr. Williams from the Haywire Sash and Window Shop had removed the fragments of glass and was now priming the frame to get it ready for a shiny new pane.
Though Kate had already told the spectators everything that had happened, the questions kept coming.
Lucky Lou pushed his way through the crowd. For once, he didn’t have Ringo with him. “Did you recognize him?” he asked.
Kate shook her head. “No, his head was covered.”
“What did the bank robber say?” asked another.
Though Kate had little information to give them, the onlookers hung on her every word. There had been other robberies, of course, but none had ended in a dramatic foot chase down Main. Texas Ranger Tucker was new in town, but already his name was on the tip of everyone’s tongue. Some couldn’t make up their minds whether to condemn him for stopping Kate’s wedding or to praise him for preventing a bank holdup.
Doc Avery shook his grizzled head. “I was sure the ranger would get his man.”
Just then, Aunt Letty’s horse and wagon came barreling down the street and pulled up in front of the shop. She’d left earlier to purchase flypaper. The broken window had served as an invitation to every winged insect in town.
“Lord have mercy!” she exclaimed upon joining the knot of onlookers in front of the store. “Haven’t you folks got anything better to do with your time than stand around gawking?”
“Now, Aunt Letty,” Kate whispered. “They’re just concerned.”
Even as she spoke, the crowd continued to grow. Even Harvey Wells showed up. Never missing an opportunity to demonstrate his latest invention, he immediately set to work.
“Are you tired of walking around with food on your mustache?” he asked of the crowd at large. Without waiting for an answer, he added, “No more, my friends, no more.” He whipped out a piece of met
al attached to two pieces of string. These he tied around his head. “This is what I call a mustache apron.” Showing off the ridiculous-looking piece beneath his nose, he seemed oblivious to the giggles it generated. “Never again will you have egg on your face,” he said with a deadpan expression.
“There ought to be a law,” Mrs. Cuttwell said, her pointy nose twitching. As the town seamstress, she was as quick with her needle as she was with her tongue.
Harvey blinked. “A law?”
Mrs. Cuttwell gave an impatient flick of her hand. “I’m talking about thieves shooting out windows and scaring folks.”
Next to her, Mr. Bellwether, the former mayor, glared at the sheriff, his ponderous girth shaking like a leaf. “There is a law.” It was no secret that he blamed the sheriff for not doing something about the crime rate that had caused him to lose the last election. “And if the sheriff would do his job, we could put the criminals in this town where they belong. Behind bars!”
Sheriff Keeler glared back. He didn’t take kindly to criticism. No one knew how he’d react to praise, since none had ever been given. “If you could do better…”
Bellwether made a face. “I dare say that even our dear Mrs. Cuttwell here could do better.”
Mrs. Cuttwell tittered like a schoolgirl and punched the former mayor playfully on the arm. “Why, Mr. Bellwether. What a nice thing to say.”
Mrs. Peters shuddered and directed her question to Kate. “I can’t imagine coming face-to-face with an outlaw. Weren’t you afraid?”
“Yes,” Kate admitted. “Maybe a little.”
“I don’t know what the world is coming to,” Aunt Letty said. “A body’s not safe anymore. In my day, I could have put my life’s savings on the front porch, and it would have still been there in the morning.”
Ironman Watkins shoved his blackened hands into the pockets of his leather apron. “That’s because more money could be found in the poorhouse,” he said, his comment followed by a ripple of laughter.
Knowing that the blacksmith spoke in jest, Kate joined in the fun, but her laughter died when she spotted Frank shouldering his way through the crowd. Not wanting to deal with him, she turned her back. Coming face-to-face with an outlaw was enough drama for one day.
“The point I’m trying to make,” Aunt Letty said, “is that we were once able to leave our doors unlocked and not have to worry.”
“We still leave our doors unlocked,” Kate said. Most doors didn’t even have locks, and those that did were seldom used.
“Yes, but I no longer feel safe doing it,” Aunt Letty said.
The seamstress folded her arms across her ample chest and lifted her pointy nose. “You’re a fine one to talk, Letty. You’re part of the problem.”
Aunt Letty’s jaw dropped. “Me? What are you talking about? How could you say such a thing?”
“Now don’t go acting all hoity-toity.” Mrs. Cuttwell stuck her cone-shaped nose practically in Aunt Letty’s face. “You know darn well that those awful books you insist on selling are responsible for leading our youths astray.”
Aunt Letty’s face turned an alarming shade of red. Hers was the only shop in town selling books, and she took great pride in keeping the latest dime novels in stock. “I know no such thing.”
Mrs. Cuttwell glowered. “If you don’t, you should. Why just the other day, Johnny Marsh was caught stealing fruit from Gordon’s—two apples and an orange,” she added for the benefit of the crowd. Receiving the appropriate gasps of disapproval, she continued. “He told the sheriff he had been led down the road of iniquity by dime novels.”
Aunt Letty stared daggers at the woman and refused Kate’s effort to drag her away. “I’ve read just about every dime novel that comes through my store, and not one mentioned an apple! You must be thinking of the Good Book.”
“I most certainly am not!” Mrs. Cuttwell’s florid face turned another shade darker. “The very idea! Your books are filled with people killing each other and”—she sniffed—“doing other despicable things.”
Steam practically escaped from Aunt Letty’s ears. “And how would you know that unless you’ve read them yourself?”
“Ladies, ladies!” Mayor Wrightwood positioned himself between the two glaring women and separated them with the spread of his arms. “I think we should put this topic of conversation to rest until another day.”
“I agree,” Kate said, pulling her aunt away from her nemesis and into the store. Since half the population of the town was gaping through the window, she led Aunt Letty into the kitchen where they could talk in private.
Her aunt practically shook with rage. “Oh, that woman makes me so mad.”
Kate refrained from telling her to calm down. That always made her aunt more intense rather than less so. “She makes a lot of people mad,” she said instead.
“It makes me sick to think that she made your wedding dress.”
“Now, Aunt Letty. You know she’s the only seamstress in town, and you can’t deny that she does good work.”
“Yes, well, she should stick to sewing and keep her honker out of everyone’s business.” A worried frown replaced her aunt’s anger, and she quickly changed the subject. “Oh, Kate. I can’t stop thinking about what happened. You could have been injured. Or worse. All that glass.”
For her aunt’s sake, Kate tried to act nonchalant. If her aunt knew how frightened Kate had been, it would only worry her more. “Fortunately, the bullet lodged in a wall by the window, so neither Dusty nor I were in any real danger.” She only wished that Dusty hadn’t witnessed the whole thing. She wouldn’t blame the poor lad if he never set foot in her shop again. “The outlaw’s only interest was in making his escape.”
Aunt Letty scoffed. “That still doesn’t explain why he shot out our window.”
Kate didn’t dare relieve her aunt of that false notion. If Aunt Letty knew that the same man who had disrupted the wedding was the real culprit, there was no telling what she would do.
“Guess he panicked.”
“Hmm.” Aunt Letty was about to resume the conversation but then changed her mind. “Do you want me to make the deliveries today? You must still be upset. I know I would be.”
“There’s no rush. They can wait till tomorrow. It’ll give me a chance to stop at Connie’s.” Kate hadn’t seen her best friend since the wedding. Truth was, she hadn’t felt much like socializing.
“Good. Maybe Connie will talk some sense into you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Her aunt planted her fists on her ample hips. “You know darn well what that means. It’s been nearly a month since your disastrous wedding, and you’re still brooding.”
“It’s only been three weeks, and I am not brooding,” Kate said.
“I saw how you looked at Frank out there,” Aunt Letty argued, crossing her arms. The stubborn look on her aunt’s face told Kate she had no chance of winning that argument. None.
Fortunately, the bells on the door jingled, giving Kate an excuse to end the conversation.
* * *
Seated at Foster’s kitchen table, Brett stifled a yawn and debated whether to indulge in another cup of coffee or leave. A glance at his pocket watch told him it was after ten p.m., and he could use some shut-eye.
It had been a frustrating day. If only he hadn’t been cursed with such a strong sense of justice and responsibility. He took any burden to bear upon his shoulders. Fool that he was, he always tried to make things right.
In his mind, every wrong had to be remedied. In that regard, his conscience wouldn’t let him rest until he’d made amends and brought Kate and Foster back together again.
But that wasn’t the only thing weighing him down. He’d failed yet again. Yes, failed with a capital F. He’d practically had that would-be bank robber and possible Ghost Rider in his clutches. Had his bullet not ricoch
eted off the lamppost and into the candy shop window, he might have succeeded.
Instead, the outlaw had vanished somewhere between Outhouse Alley and the maze of streets running parallel to Main. Had it been Foster One? God, Brett hoped not. It pained him to think that the man he hated more than he’d ever hated anyone might have escaped yet again.
He’d never met Foster One, not personally. No one could have been more shocked than Brett was to learn of his stepsister Alice’s marriage to a man she’d known for only a short while. But by the time Brett had taken leave from the Texas Rangers and traveled home to meet his new brother-in-law, it was too late. Foster had already vanished, taking what little money his stepsister had and breaking her heart in the process. Breaking Brett’s too.
He’d blamed himself as much for Alice’s death as he blamed Foster. He was only sixteen when his parents died. His brother, Paul, was fourteen and Alice only twelve. Being the oldest, Brett took it upon himself to care for both siblings and, working a series of odd jobs, he’d done just that.
When Alice turned eighteen, she’d landed a position as a housekeeper to a cattle baron. That was the year he’d fallen in love with Deborah Freeman. Convinced that Alice had a real home and a secure future, he was ready to ask Deborah to marry him and settle down. His plans came to a screeching halt when he found out that his brother had been seeing her on the sly, and the two had eloped. Heartbroken, Brett had left town and joined the Texas Rangers.
How was he to know that Alice would meet up with the likes of Foster One? Had Brett stayed home and watched over her like he should have, Alice might still be alive.
Now, Foster Two set a fresh cup of coffee in front of him, bringing him out of his reverie and reminding him of the purpose of his visit.
“Her favorite color is blue.” Brett was willing to bet it wasn’t just any blue Miss Denver liked, but a blue that was brilliant and clear and matched the depths of her eyes.
Foster plopped down in the seat opposite him, his expression grim. It sure looked as though that old monster, jealousy, was about to rear its ugly head again.
Cowboy Charm School Page 5