The Engagement Bargain

by Sherri Shackelford

  She snapped her fingers, and the goat lifted its head. “Come with me this instant. You’re going home.”

  Sooner or later she had to face Caleb, and the goat had forced her hand.

  She circled around the house, and the goat trailed behind her. Since she and Caleb were practically neighbors, the trip didn’t take long.

  She reached Caleb’s gate in short order and lifted the latch. “Come along, then,” she ordered. “In you go.”

  Though reluctant, the goat followed orders. Anna stepped inside the yard and latched the gate. If Caleb was home, it was best he learned of their problem sooner than later.

  The whole town thought they were engaged.

  They had kissed.

  She inhaled a fortifying breath, stepped onto the front porch and knocked sharply. When no one answered, she circled around the house toward the barn. She’d come all this way, after all.

  She reached the double doors and heard the low timbre of his distinctive voice. Once again the day of the rally came rushing back. Anna gripped the edge of the wooden door and rested her forehead against the rough surface.

  As her heart pounded, she closed her eyes and pictured the flowers behind their little cottage. She imagined the garden in spring, in full bloom, the bushes filled with roses and peonies blossoms bending their stalks. After a moment, her heartbeat slowed and her breath evened out.

  Satisfied she’d gotten ahold of herself, Anna stepped into the barn and waited as her eyes adjusted in the dim light. She followed the sound of Caleb’s voice and discovered him in the last stall, kneeling before a milk cow. He’d removed his coat and rolled his shirtsleeves over his corded forearms.

  Anna cleared her throat, and he lifted his head. When he half rose from his seat, she held up her palm. “No need to stand.”

  His gaze flicked toward her and quickly away. “How is the house? How are you settling in?”

  This was going quite well. Not awkward or uncomfortable at all. Well, mostly not. “The whole place needs a good scrubbing. Izetta’s fallen in love with the garden.”

  “I forgot about that. Mr. Stuart’s mother-in-law planted the flowers.”

  “You will be happy to know that the rumors of her hauntings are grossly exaggerated. I haven’t seen a single specter.”

  He chuckled, and the cow glanced around at the disturbance.

  Soothing the animal with a gentle pat on its neck, Caleb smiled. “You must have talked with one of the local children.”

  “I was warned, yes. And to answer your earlier question, the house and garden are fine, though poorly tended. There are quite a few volunteer plants still making a go of it.” She indicated the tuft of fur hiding behind her skirts. “We had an unexpected visitor today. Your goat is quite fond of roses.”

  Caleb pinched the bridge of his nose. “Was there any damage done?”

  “No, thankfully. We caught him in the nick of time. I rescued him this go-around, but I can’t vouch for his safety if he storms the garden again. Izetta is quite militant.”

  “I’ll check the fence.” He wrapped a length of bandage around the cow’s leg. “I haven’t found the little guy a home yet. Haven’t had time.”

  Entranced, Anna followed Caleb’s nimble fingers. He accomplished his task with an economy of movement, murmuring soothing words all the while.

  This was the first time she’d seen him in his element. From Jo’s teasing and her own observations, his dedication had been apparent. And yet only this moment did she truly understand his calling. His actions were deft and practiced, his concentration absolute until the bandage was in place.

  “How was she injured?” Anna asked.

  “Barbed wire. Her name is Golden.” He chuckled. “Fitting somehow. She’s lucky to have survived. She’ll go back home in a week or two.”

  “Then she was too injured for her owner to look out for her?”

  He lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “It’s harvest time. That’s about all folks can handle.”

  “Which means you’re caring for her instead.”

  Caleb sat back and blotted his forehead with a square of white cloth. “Farmers around here can’t survive without their animals. A good milk cow can cost a season’s pay for some folks. It’s a small thing to do.”

  A small thing, and yet his simple sacrifice might save that family, should something else happen.

  “There’s something more,” Anna blurted.

  Unless she planned on standing out here and making chitchat about goats and cows and chickens and whatever other farm animals she could think of until suppertime, she’d best get this over with.

  “What’s that?”

  “Everyone in town thinks we’re engaged.”

  That got his attention, although not the way she expected.

  Not a hint of surprise showed on his face, only a sort of weary resignation. “I know. I’m sorry. I should have told you yesterday. Mrs. Stuart’s sister lives in Kansas City. She...well... It’s a long story. I was hoping if I didn’t say anything, the rumor would go away.”

  “I don’t think your plan worked.” The goat nibbled at her hem, and she snapped her fingers. The nibbling ceased. “How did Mrs. Stuart’s sister get the idea in the first place?”

  “It’s my fault.” He braced his fisted hand on his knee. “The desk clerk registered you as my guest to keep your identity a secret. He listed me as your fiancé. We were worried about you, after the shooting. Worried about another attempt.” He scoffed. “As much good as that did.”

  She waited for her reaction. The outrage, the betrayal, a hint of annoyance at the very least. He had lied to her, after all. Perhaps not lied, but there was a large omission on his part.

  Snippets of conversation from the past few days suddenly made sense. “That explains a lot.”

  He rested his forehead against the cow’s rounded side. “Are you very angry?”

  “No.” She couldn’t help a grin at his mortification, especially considering she’d felt the same way only moments before. “Not at all. I was actually more concerned about you. The jilted suitor and all that.”

  “Don’t mind me. I’ll survive.” He straightened. “You do realize this will be a difficult rumor to stop. The more we deny the engagement, the more people will think it’s true.”

  “I know. Perhaps your first idea was correct. We say nothing. Simply let the whole thing blow over on its own. Once I’m gone, none of this will matter, anyway.”

  “I’m not making any guarantees.” He rolled his shirtsleeves down his arms. “The marshal thinks it’s a good idea. The engagement. Gives people something to talk about. Makes them protective of you.”

  “Maybe.”

  This was a close community of people, and yet she wasn’t one of them, no matter what he said. She was a stranger.

  The goat head-butted her leg. “My goodness. You are a persistent little fellow, aren’t you?”

  “I think he likes you. Animals are very perceptive.”

  Her throat constricted. He’d paid her a great compliment.

  Dust motes swirled in the shaft of light slicing through the half-open door. A combination of hay and feed and animal filled the air. As he slipped into his jacket, her gaze lingered on his broad shoulders. She longed for the warm comfort of his arms, the quiet thud of his heart against her ear, the scratch of his wool jacket against her cheek.

  Did he ever sit on the porch swing and watch the setting sun, his heel braced against the floor, gently rocking?

  She grimaced. Of course he didn’t. He was a man, not some romantic fool. Had she become the one thing she’d been warned against? A romantic ninny with nothing but fluff in her head?

  If she didn’t change the subject soon, she feared she’d say something entirely inappropriate. Something along
the lines of...are you sorry you kissed me?

  She was sage enough to know that one did not ask questions if one did not want the answer.

  She wasn’t sure which answer she feared the most—yes or no.

  Instead she asked, “How is Jo?”

  “Happy to be home.”

  A spark of guilt dampened her mood. “I’m sorry I missed supper the other evening. I hope your mother wasn’t upset.”

  “You were tired. Everyone understands.”

  She considered telling him about her visit from Mrs. Phillips, then discarded the idea. The woman had taken her into confidence, and Anna honored her trust. She’d speak with the marshal instead—pointing him in the right direction was for the best. He seemed fair and open-minded. Jo obviously adored him.

  “You didn’t miss much at dinner, anyway,” he said. “Mostly the boys gossiped about Mrs. Phillips and the dead man. I imagine she wishes she could change her identity right now. For a little peace.”

  Finding peace was not easy as people supposed.

  “You know, it’s odd. I thought I’d like to be someone else. Even for a day. I think I miss being myself.”

  The visit from Mrs. Phillips had reminded her of her true purpose. This was an interlude, a brief stop along the tracks. There were greater fights ahead of her. There simply weren’t enough soldiers in the battle. If she bowed out, they’d lose one more.

  If anything good was to come of her injury and her subsequent absence from her scheduled speaking engagements, she’d make a difference. She’d make a difference in the life of one person, and she’d prove that small changes were just as good as grand gestures.

  Caleb kept his gaze fixed on the ground. “About the other day.”

  The moment she’d been avoiding. Clutching her hands together, she breathed deeply. Here was the reckoning. There was no reason for either of them to linger over a lapse that had most certainly been quite out of character for both of them.

  Anna held up her hands. “Don’t worry, it will never happen again.”

  * * *

  A swift kick of disappointment socked him in the gut. She’d said the words on the tip of his tongue. Then why did he suddenly feel such a crushing loss?

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  Actually, I know exactly what came over me. You’re beautiful and funny and smart and kind, and every time you’re near I want the seconds on the clock to tick slower.

  He’d altered their easy camaraderie with his careless actions. He’d kissed her, and she’d practically run from his house. He’d ruined things between them, and he had only himself to blame.

  Her face grew thoughtful. “We’ve been thrown together in odd circumstances. I had a lot of time for thinking in Kansas City. Because of what we went through that day, I believe we feel a false sense of intimacy.”

  Well, that was one way of saying it. “Yep.”

  “About the engagement rumors.”

  “What about them?”

  “You’re all right if they stick?”

  “Like I said, the marshal thinks it’s a good idea if we keep up the front. People around here look out for one another. If people think we’re engaged, well, it explains a lot of things. Gives them something else to talk about besides why you’re here in town.”

  He and his brothers had played outlaws and lawmen down by Hackberry Creek for years. This wasn’t all that different. They didn’t even have to lie. As long as neither of them confirmed nor denied the rumor, everyone else would fill in the pieces.

  Pretending to love Anna was far easier than pretending he was a lawman.

  “I think you’re right.”

  The air whooshed out of his lungs. “Really?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry. You needn’t be concerned about any false intimacies.” Her cheeks flamed. “You needn’t worry I’ll misconstrue the established boundaries of our relationship.”

  He gave a crooked grin at her obvious discomfort. “I’m not worried.”

  A little flattered, but definitely not worried. Perhaps he’d read the situation all wrong. Her flustered speech had him hoping she wasn’t as immune to him as she’d declared.

  He allowed himself a moment to simply admire her. She should have been out of place, standing in a barn, her soft leather boots scuffing across the hay-strewn floor. Instead she appeared perfectly natural. Perhaps it was the way she approached every situation with an innate curiosity and a genuine interest that was so delightfully appealing.

  “I have two conditions of our engagement bargain,” she continued briskly.

  Yet another interesting turn in the conversation he hadn’t been expecting. “What are those?”

  “First, your mother must know the truth.”

  “Agreed,” he said.

  As though he could keep the truth from his mother.

  “Second, when this is all over, I want you to jilt me.”

  “Why is that?”

  Nothing had gone the way he’d expected with this conversation—why should her second demand be any different?

  “Because I don’t want everyone in town feeling sorry for you. If they think you’re that unlucky in love, you’ll gain ten pounds during the Harvest Festival with all the free slices of pie and ice cream.”

  Despite her teasing smile, he fought an inexplicable burst of anger. He wasn’t an object of pity. He wasn’t a pathetic schoolboy with his first crush.

  The cow shifted and lowed. Caleb patted the animal’s side before standing.

  “I’m not one of your causes, Anna,” he spoke gruffly, his anger simmering just below the surface. “You don’t have to rescue me.”

  Her expression transformed slightly. The change was so subtle, he might have missed the difference a week ago.

  “I know that. But I owe you. You saved my life.”

  She’d sensed his anger, and the realization had hurt her.

  “Anybody would have done the same.”

  “They didn’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “You did.”

  The last of his fury ebbed away. “Jo made me do it.”

  Anna only smiled. “Either way, I owe you. No one is going to feel sorry for you or treat you like the jilted suitor.”

  She hadn’t been pitying him at all. Instead, she thought she was protecting him.

  “You aren’t going to give up until you save me, are you?”

  “Nope.”

  His gaze drifted toward her lips. How did he tell her he was already too far gone?

  A scuffle sounded, and he peered around Anna. A young boy stood in the doorway of the barn, a dripping burlap sack in his hands. The bag moved.

  Anna gasped and Caleb stepped forward. “You’re Jasper, aren’t you?”

  The boy gave a hesitant nod. Caleb stifled a sigh. He was too thin for his age, his clothing barely more than rags. Caleb had heard through his sister that Jasper wasn’t allowed to attend school more than a few months a year, which put him behind the other kids. When they started teasing him for the difference, he’d stopped going to school altogether.

  Jasper’s dad was a great bear of a man with a fierce temper, and his mother was little more than a shadow.

  Caleb motioned with his hand. “What you got there?”

  “Kittens.”

  Anna clutched her mouth.

  Caleb gently extracted the squirming bundle from the boy and crouched. He rolled back the soaking edges of the bag, revealing two tiny squirming kittens, both of them orange tabbies. The boy snuffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Pa said we had enough cats around the farm, so he figured he’d drown them. Triple A fished ’em out of the pond. He said you’d maybe help.”

  “I’ll help.” Caleb stood and crosse
d the barn, snatching a blanket draped over one of the stall doors.

  Caleb gave each of the kittens a quick exam. They’d been weaned too early; he noticed that right off.

  Anna hovered near his shoulder, offering assistance when needed, handing over a prettily embroidered handkerchief for their bedding.

  The kittens would require constant attention for the first days. After drying them off as best he could, he snatched the pail of milk from outside the stall and measured a portion onto the plate he’d set over the top as a lid. The kittens lurched the distance and lapped up the treat. Once sated, their bellies full, they curled up on the blanket.

  How can someone do such a cruel thing?” Anna asked Caleb, out of earshot of Jasper.

  The boy had taken up vigil near the kittens and didn’t show any signs of moving.

  A myriad of emotions flitted across her expressive face—anger, sorrow and frustration. She held up her shaking hands as though she wasn’t quite certain what to do with them.

  He clutched her chilled fingers and stilled their trembling.

  She blinked rapidly. “I’m furious. I have a few choice words for that man.”

  “Let me deal with him.” The thought of her confronting Jasper’s father sent a cold chill through his heart. “Stay away from him.”

  All that she’d been through the past few weeks had finally caught up with her. He tangled his hand in the hair at the nape of her neck, and she pressed her forehead into his shoulder. He’d seen worse, he’d seen far worse.

  He’d spoken more harshly than he’d intended, and by way of an apology he added, “I’ll find good homes for the two kittens.”

  After a moment she straightened. “I’m not usually such a watering pot.”

  She reached for her handkerchief and realized her error.

  He gestured toward the kittens. “You’ve given up your embroidery for a good cause.”

  A fat tear rolled down her cheek. He’d deal with Jasper’s father, all right. If he could fix this, he would. If he thought he could make her happy, he’d never let her go.

  He retrieved his own handkerchief, a plain starched square with no lace and no embroidery. This time he realized his own hands were trembling.