Kate walked around the counter to join him. “He’s trying to call Ringo back. That’s a dog whistle he’s blowing.”
“Dog whistle?”
“It’s another one of Harvey’s inventions,” she said. “But this one seems to work.”
“Work how?”
“Harvey said that dogs can hear the high-pitched sound, even though we can’t.”
Brett met her gaze, a faint light twinkling in their depths. “You mean Wells actually came up with an invention that works?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” Kate bent over to pick up the keys and other things that had fallen out of Harvey’s purse. “Of course, it wasn’t his idea,” she added, placing the objects on the counter. “But the original whistle is too bulky to carry around. Harvey took that same idea and created a whistle that fits in a pocket.”
Just then, Ringo returned. Tail wagging, the dog bounced around the wooden sidewalk before standing on hind legs to greet his owner.
“See?” Kate said. “Works every time.”
But Brett was no longer watching Harvey; his gaze was fixed solely on her.
“Kate…” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for putting you in danger. I would never have suggested Foster take you to Austin if I thought something would happen.”
She blinked. “It was your idea?”
A pained expression crossed his face. “I wanted you out of town. I worried that the Ghost Riders would figure out the part you’d played in their capture. I also knew that Foster planned to propose. It seemed like a good idea on both accounts.” He splayed his hands. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
She stared at him. He had known Frank would propose? Fighting the hurt inside, she lashed out. “Oh, I’m sure you are. Then you would no longer have to feel guilty for breaking us up!”
Leaning back as if he’d been slapped, he gave her a puzzled look. “I…I thought that’s what you wanted. You and Foster.”
For some reason, she couldn’t admit to having feelings for a man who didn’t return the favor. Maybe it was pride. Or maybe she was simply trying to protect herself. In any case, she hid her true feelings behind a mask of indifference.
“Of course it’s what we want,” she said, the words feeling like acid on her lips.
Before Brett could respond, the door to the shop flew open, and Aunt Letty returned, shaking her head. “That darn dog’s back, but we don’t know what he did with the money.”
Kate struggled for control. “Oh dear.”
Brett backed toward the door. “I…I better be going.” Bidding her aunt a brusque goodbye, he left.
Aunt Letty studied Kate with a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “Did I interrupt something?”
“What?”
“You and the cowboy looked mighty serious when I walked in. Did I interrupt something?”
Kate glanced out the window, but Brett had already vanished from sight. Ignoring the squeezing pain inside, she shook her head. “No, not a thing.”
* * *
After shooting out of the candy shop like a rattler out of a box, Brett headed for Foster’s Saddle and Leather Shop.
He’d been so close, so very, very close, to asking Kate if she really meant what she’d said about wanting to marry Foster. Had her aunt not walked in, he would have done just that.
Did she love him with her whole heart and soul? Did she count the days, the minutes, the seconds until Foster’s ring would be back on her finger? Did she want to spend the rest of her life as Mrs. Frank Foster?
Foster was convinced that she did. Had told Brett as much.
But sometimes when Brett looked deep into her eyes, he could swear he saw flames of desire directed at him. He even caught glimpses of what looked suspiciously like the stirrings of something deeper for him and him alone.
Was it only wishful thinking on his part? Was he only seeing what he wanted to see? Probably.
Thank God, her aunt had arrived in time. She’d saved him from being a bigger fool than he already was. But he still wasn’t out of danger. Not yet.
Foster had sent a note to the boardinghouse saying he wanted to see him. He’d made it sound urgent. Brett walked up the steps of the boardwalk. It’d better be about the train robbery. Maybe Foster had recalled some vital clue. Just don’t let it be about Kate.
Any hope that Foster had summoned him to talk about the holdup died the moment Brett walked through the door. Foster greeted him with a wild look, waving his arms like a madman.
“Take her to a play, you said. Propose to her as the sun goes done, you said.” Foster’s eyes blazed with fury. “What could possibly go wrong?”
“Okay, now calm down—”
“Calm down!” Foster stared at him from behind a half-finished saddle. He didn’t have any welts or spots, but his face was purple with rage. “Is that all you can say? Don’t you understand? They stole my ring.”
“So you said.” Brett rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think. “You have the worst luck of anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Yeah, and it all started the day you blew into town. That’s it. I’m not listening to you anymore.” He motioned with his hand. “We’re done. Finished.”
Brett couldn’t blame him for feeling as he did. Not one bit. He had made a mess of things. But stopping Foster’s wedding was the least of it. Brett’s feelings for Kate had now reached mammoth proportions. He’d tried fighting them, ignoring them, and denying them, but it was no use.
He lowered his voice, hoping Foster would do likewise. “Okay, forget the ring for a second. Do you think Kate was going to…you know…say yes?”
Foster looked at him as if he were out of his mind. “Of course she would have said yes. How could she not? I sat through the worst jibber-jabber known to mankind.” He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “If I never hear another word of Shakespeare, it will be too soon.”
Brett’s spirits sank. He hated the part of him that wanted—hoped—to hear doubt in Foster’s voice. See doubt on his face. In his eyes. Instead, Foster sounded completely confident. “Are…are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure. A man knows these things. Had it not been for the holdup—”
“I know, I know.” Brett rubbed his head. Was it possible to feel any worse? Any lower as a human being? Any more disgusted with himself for wanting Kate to himself?
Foster let out a long moan. “I can’t propose till I order a new ring.” He tossed a nod at the mail-order catalog on the counter. “And that could take weeks.”
Brett picked up the catalog and thumbed through the pages. Something tiptoed on the edge of his consciousness, a memory that continued to tease even as it refused to materialize.
Shrugging the thought away, he studied each ring in turn. Solitary diamond rings were interspersed with elaborate filigree rings embedded with rubies, emeralds, and sapphires. It wasn’t hard to envision how each ring would look on Kate’s dainty hand. One particular ring caught his attention. The rose-gold ring held a solitary diamond surrounded by little pieces of sapphire the exact color of Kate’s eyes.
Brett abruptly closed the catalog and tossed it aside. The last thing he wanted was to help Foster pick out a ring for Kate. He pulled out his money clip and peeled off several bills.
“Here.” He slapped the money on the counter.
Foster frowned. “What’s that for?”
“I’m partly to blame for the theft of the ring. The least I can do is help you pay for a new one.” With that, he stalked out of the shop.
He’d hoped that paying for the ring would relieve him of his responsibility and he could put the matter out of his mind. But the truth was, it only made matters worse. For now, he would have to live with the fact that he had helped pay to put another man’s ring on Kate’s finger.
27
Kate took a big breath and walked
into Frank’s leather shop with a feeling of dread. It was late, and most of the other shops in town were closed.
Frank looked up as she entered and quickly walked around the counter to greet her. “Katie. I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”
Kate moistened her lips. “We need to talk.”
He frowned. “Are you okay? You’re not still upset over what happened on the train, are you? The ring…”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about.” She hesitated. The words she’d rehearsed all day now seemed inadequate. Cold, even. Still, beating around the bush wouldn’t do either of them any good.
“I…I don’t think we should get married, Frank.”
The words hung between them for a moment before Frank jerked back as if she’d slapped him. “What are you saying?”
She sighed. “Frank, I love you. You’re a good friend. But I’m not sure that what we have is…real enough for marriage.”
His eyes widened. “How can you say that? Is…is it because of my jealousy?”
She shook her head. “That no longer seems to be a problem.”
He brightened. “See? I can change. I am changing.”
“I know, Frank, and I appreciate how hard you’ve been trying. But—”
He took both her hands in his. “I know what the problem is.”
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
“I’ve been rushing you. You’ve had two run-ins with the Ghost Riders, and your aunt was knocked down by one. You’re upset. Who can blame you? No wonder your head’s messed up.”
Kate drew in her breath. Frank spoke the truth. Things had been crazy of late, and her nerves were still in a jangle. Maybe she wasn’t thinking right.
“Give me another chance, Kate. Things were good between us before, and they can be good again. Please, say you will. I swear you won’t be sorry.”
She pulled her hands away. “Frank, listen to me—”
“A month. That’s all I’m askin’ for. No, make it sixty days. By then, if you’d have forgotten about the train robbery and—”
“I’ll never forget the train robbery!”
“Maybe not, but at least you’ll be able to think clearer. Just give me till…till July…to the Independence Day dance to prove that what we have is real.” When she hesitated, he added, “I’ll bet you’ll feel a whole lot different by then.”
“I-I don’t know…”
“Ah, come on, Katie. What can it hurt to take more time to think about this? I’ll do anything you want me to. Just tell me.”
Frank looked so desperate to please that Kate felt her resolve crumble. “I don’t know that sixty days will make all that much difference.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“All right,” she said, though everything inside her screamed no. “Sixty days. But I don’t want you getting your hopes up.”
A look of relief crossed his face and, like the Frank of old, he grabbed her hand and shook it as if pumping water from a well. “You won’t be sorry, Kate.”
She pulled her hand away. “Frank, I can’t promise.”
“I know, I know.” He studied her with knitted brow. “Could we not tell anyone that things are still up in the air between us? If your aunt gets wind of this, you know she’ll interfere. She means well, but somehow she always makes things worse.”
As much as she loved her aunt, Kate knew he spoke the truth. Though in the case of marriage, Aunt Letty always took Frank’s side. “I won’t say anything.”
Since there didn’t seem to be anything more to be said, she pleaded exhaustion and left, her mind in a muddle.
Outside his shop, she took a gulp of the cool night air and tried to shake off her uneasy thoughts. Frank had asked her to wait till July before making a final decision, and that seemed reasonable enough. Still, pouring out her heart tonight had been hard. How much harder would it be two months from now should her feelings not change?
* * *
Last night’s encounter with Frank was very much on Kate’s mind the following morning as she prepared the last of the orders for delivery.
Loud voices from outside drew her gaze to the window. The bullies were at it again and now surrounded Dusty. As she watched, one of the boys shoved him, and her temper flared.
Wait till she got her hands on those hooligans! Just as she started for the door, she recalled something Uncle Joe had once said about catching more flies with sugar than vinegar. Stopping short of rushing out to the fray, she tried to think. Warning the boys hadn’t worked in the past. Neither had talking to their parents. Maybe it was time to try her uncle’s remedy.
She reached for the plate of candy she’d made that morning. So far, no one had appreciated the effort that had gone into adding a leaf to the center, but maybe not all was lost.
“Okay, Uncle Joe. We’ll try it your way.” Flinging the door open, she walked outside, forcing a smile. “Hello, gentlemen,” she called, keeping her voice light and friendly.
The mocking voices stopped, and the boys turned to face her. The leader’s name was Charley. Though only sixteen, he stood nearly six feet tall and was as thin as a broomstick. Next to him was his brother Bobby, younger by two years. The third boy was known simply as Spike, probably because of the way his cowlick stood straight up.
“Would you boys like to try some new candy? I just made it this morning, and I’m calling them…Dusty…Dusty Drops.”
Dusty’s eyes widened. “Did you really name them after me?” he asked.
His enthusiastic response not only made her smile but gave her an idea on how to turn the bullies into Dusty’s friends. “Absolutely,” she said. “Try one.”
The older boys glanced at one another before staring at the plate she held out to them.
Bobby was the first to reach for a candy. He studied the green design in the center of the creamy white filling. “What is that?” he asked.
Spike looked over Bobby’s shoulder. “You dummy,” he said. “Anyone can see it’s a beetle.”
“It’s not a beetle,” Dusty said, studying the candy in his hand. “It’s a mushroom.”
With a shrug of his shoulders, Bobby popped it into his mouth. “Hmm.” He nodded. “S’good.”
Encouraged by his approval, the other boys reached for a piece.
“How did you get the mushroom in the center?” Dusty asked.
She gave him a mysterious smile. “Oh, I can’t tell you that. It’s a trade secret. Do you like the name? I thought it would be fun to name my new candy after one of my friends. And that’s you.”
Dusty beamed. “I like it a lot,” he said, popping the candy in his mouth.
“Here, have some more,” Kate said. The boys didn’t have to be asked twice. Each of them eagerly grabbed another piece.
“Next time, I want to put a different design in the middle,” she said. “Maybe a sailing ship or an animal. Of course, a new design will need a new name. What name should I use?” She pretended to think. “How about Charley Chunks or Bobby Bars?” She cast a glance at Spike. “Hmm. What do you think about…Sugar Spikes?”
Charley made a face. “That’s dumb. Who ever heard of naming candy after people?”
“Why, it’s done all the time,” Kate assured him. “Mr. Whitman named his chocolate after himself. And overseas, there’s a famous candy company named Cadbury, after its founder.”
Spike’s eyes shone with interest. “Okay, then, name it after me.”
She studied him. “What design should I add?” she asked and brightened. “I know. You like to play baseball. What do you think about a ball or bat?” Those designs should be easy enough to master.
“I like it,” Spike said and grinned. “I like it a lot!”
Bobby elbowed his friend. “Spike’s a dumb name for a candy. A Bobby Bar sounds better.”
“It
’s not how a name sounds,” Kate said gently. “What matters is what people think when they hear it. The name Dusty, for example, makes me think of the person it’s named after, and that makes me think of goodness. I just know that when I pop that candy into my mouth, it’ll taste delicious.”
The boys didn’t say anything, but she had their attention. “I’ll tell you what. I won’t be making another batch until the end of the month. I’m making Dusty my official candy helper. And so it’ll be up to him to name the next candy.”
All three boys turned their attention to Dusty, but he was too busy watching Brett across the street to notice. “Hey, Mr. Ranger,” he called before she could stop him. “Come and see what Miss Denver made.”
“I’ll be right there,” Brett called back.
Kate swallowed hard. Oh no. She wasn’t ready to face him. Not after their last conversation. Still, there was nothing she could do but make the best of it. “His name is Mr. Tucker,” she said gently.
Brett put something in his horse’s saddlebag and then darted across the street to join them.
Dusty held up a piece of candy in greeting. “Look, Mr. Tucker. They’re called Dusty Drops. And they have a mushroom in the center, but Miss Denver won’t tell us how it got there.”
“It’s a trade secret,” Charley added. “But it’s not a mushroom; it’s a beetle.”
Brett’s gaze met Kate’s. “Well, what do you know? A trade secret, eh?” He popped a piece in his mouth and gave it his full consideration. She distinctly remembered him sampling the same type of candy the day before and knew he was putting on a show for the boys. “Hmm, not bad.”
Dusty looked pleased. “And I get to name the next candy.”
“Choose me,” the three boys said in unison.
“I’m the oldest,” Charley said. “The candy should be named after me.”
“Oh, you can’t rush him,” Kate cautioned. “Naming candy is a very important task. Only the most special people get to have a candy named after them. People who we don’t want to forget and who we love or admire. So, you see? He’ll have to think about it for a while.”
Cowboy Charm School Page 21