Bartered Bride Romance Collection (65 page)

Thomas swallowed, watching as a too-big hat enveloped Anna’s face.

Chapter 6

T
homas frowned but didn’t lose his temper. He’d arrived in town a few minutes ago to pick up the fringe-top surrey he’d ordered almost a month ago. Instead of parading through town with a first-class surrey, he surveyed the damage done by what must have been a madman wielding an ax.

Funny, he was more disappointed than mad. When he’d ordered the contraption, he’d been thinking about an Eastern bride, which Bertie Craig wasn’t. Now he realized that when he pictured himself in the vehicle, Bertie’s image was planted firmly by his side. No wonder her sister and brother-in-law worried. He’d been aware of Bertie’s crush since she’d first tagged along with Scotty to pitch in with fixing up the Two Horse. What he hadn’t been aware of was how much he really enjoyed having her around—the squirt.

Townspeople, gathered round as if viewing a social event, took it as a bad omen. With the exception of Saturday night fights involving cowboys letting off steam, this type of crime left Lickwind alone—at least since the rustling problem some years back. In Thomas’s presence, no one mentioned that the Hardin name seemed synonymous with disaster. Since his arrival, the Kincaid place suffered a fire plus the theft of two saddles. Thomas and his men worked daily trying to build a barn, and often either work was destroyed or supplies went missing overnight. Thomas wasn’t inclined to blame acts of nature for any of the calamities befalling him.

“Boss, what do you need me to do?” Rex asked. Along with the surrey, Thomas had arranged for the delivery of a stallion. Rex held Zeus steady. If anything, it was Rex who needed calming. He was not the sort of cowboy to stand around. All Thomas needed to do was point, and Rex would attack.

“Nothing,” Thomas said, a strange sense of calm subduing him. He’d expected Lickwind to be unwelcoming—but he’d expected a frontal attack: bitter looks, refusal of services, and a sense of exile. Instead, looks were impassive or welcoming—thanks to the Craig sisters, especially that spitfire Bertie. His money guaranteed services even from those thoroughly committed to Josiah’s camp. Instead of exile, his ranch was turning into a regular social community—complete with women and children.

And yet someone, stealthy as a shadow, struck when no one was looking. The surrey had been taken from the train and left beside the depot. It couldn’t have been left alone more than an hour, but that was probably about how long it took.

Surprising to think that no one had heard anything. Thomas turned and marched down the street.

“You got an idea?” Rex asked, keeping up.

“A destination.”

The bank was empty. Any customer it might have had now stood in the audience just outside the door. Thomas, more a main attraction than he ever wanted to be, headed for the bank’s office.

Frank Llewellyn was not at his desk; when Thomas turned around to face the door, he met the guarded eyes of the banker. Sweat, courtesy of the August sun, dotted his forehead. Thomas knew in that instant that Frank had been in the crowd by the wrecked wagon—which meant he’d left the bank unmanned.

Their eyes met, the banker and the rancher, and almost in one accord they slowly turned and surveyed the lobby—both sensing what they would find.

Money, with a scrap of paper specifying Thomas’s account.

“How much did you pay for the wagon?” Frank picked up the offering from the little table where customers often sat waiting their turn.

“Seventy-five dollars.”

“Give me a minute. I’ll count.”

It didn’t even take a minute. Frank might consider himself a contemporary of Josiah, but the continuous deposits made to Thomas’s account by a person or persons unknown made Frank and Thomas partners of a sort.

“Seventy-five dollars,” Frank verified. Neither man was surprised that the amount of the deposit matched what Thomas had paid for the wagon. In the past month, a deposit had been made each and every time something belonging to Thomas was stolen or destroyed. Two saddles meant another double eagle in Thomas’s account. The bantam hen fetched a gold dollar.

Whoever made the deposits used quite a bit of patent medicine, because the scraps of paper were the only clues as to the benefactor. The store didn’t sell this particular brand of medicine, which halted Thomas’s momentary foray into detective work.

No one, save Rex, chanced entering the bank. It was as if the town thought an invisible line should keep them from getting too close to Thomas. Stepping out into the sunshine, Thomas looked across the town. Most of the townspeople had the dignity to pretend conversation. Albert Smit and Amos Freeling shook their heads in disgust. Thomas couldn’t tell if their feelings were about him or about the situation. Even Doc Mitchel found the day’s events more interesting than a bottle. Thomas didn’t really care.

Across the street, he could see Bertie’s look of sympathy. Rex tossed Walter a nickel, said a few words, and the boy headed toward Amos Freeling’s blacksmith shop. Surely, something could be salvaged.

Thomas followed his heart to the restaurant. He hadn’t taken the time to dine at the restaurant partly because he was too busy getting the ranch together and partly because he wanted to choose the time to rub his existence into the face of Lickwind.

He might need to rethink his strategy.

The kitchen was a lot smaller than he’d imagined. It had probably, at one time, housed liquor. An iron stove took up one whole wall. Hand-tooled tables were covered with an assortment of dishes and a row of still-steaming desserts. No one could bake like the Craig women. Bertie stood next to a small window. She was just finishing up the final twist of a very long braid.

“Bertie.”

She took an apron from a drawer and turned to face him. He’d seen that face—in the flesh or in his thoughts—almost daily since coming to Lickwind. And always her eyes were snapping, eager, happy to see him. He’d never appreciated that particular “Bertie” trait.

He felt as if he were noticing her face for the first time.

Her eyes stared at him as impassive as the crowd outside. “That wasn’t aimed at Tien-Lu; that was aimed at you.”

A month ago, a week ago, maybe even yesterday, he’d have let anger roil over him like a rattlesnake ready to strike. But something he saw in Bertie’s eyes warned him to take care with his words. “Not all men are good, Bertie.”

“You think Josiah did that? You think that’s why he was on your place with that outlaw?”

“Josiah’s not in the crowd outside. I don’t know who to blame.”

“Were you going to take me riding in that surrey?”

“You would have been first.”

They stood there, not touching, but both aware that something was changing. It would take more than a destroyed surrey and protective sisters to stop whatever it was.

One week later, Bertie hung clothes on the line and took a deep breath of the flowers that dotted the fringe of Bess’s garden. She loved Saturday, but since the dismissal of school, Saturday didn’t feel quite so special.

In church last Sunday, Parson Harris spoke about laying your burdens at God’s feet. It was past time for Bertie to hear that sermon. She’d been afraid to put anything at God’s feet since her parents had died. None of her prayers about their safety had been answered. Later, while living with Adele and Ellis, Bertie had tried prayer again.

She’d always kind of thought God had forgotten about her, and that’s when she’d stopped talking to Him. No wonder her sisters wanted to called her Baby. Bertie deserved it. She acted childish; she always had. But maybe bringing her to Lickwind had been the slow-coming answer to her prayer. Corrie always urged Bertie not to expect answer so fast. Corrie advised that Bertie should think of Abraham, who, after so patiently waiting, received what was promised.

Matty always claimed Bertie to be stubborn. Matty was right. It was time to pray again, and Bertie had something to pray about. Thomas had yet to step into church, although Scotty faithfully reminded him about services.

Scotty wasn’t the only one either. Last Saturday morning, Gideon drove Bess and Bertie out to the Two Horse for their first tutoring session. Thomas drove them back, and Bess issued a standing invitation not only to church but to a meal afterward. Thomas didn’t say yes, but he also didn’t say no.

Bertie knew Bess was impressed with Thomas Hardin. As a team, the two women taught both Anna, Trieu, and even Susan lessons. Susan was an apt student and practically beamed at the thought that she might someday be able to read to the child she now carried. Maybe by that time the Lickwind school would be reopened. For the last week and a half, Walter and Regina took their lessons between meals at the restaurant. The Smit boys hadn’t been allowed near Bertie and the family since school disbanded.

It was past time to make some changes. Her first one started weeks ago, when she’d ordered a hat from Mr. Jones. Serving food at the Back Porch gave her a little personal money. Ordering that hat had made giving her father’s hat to Anna seem the right thing to do. And last Monday morning, she became the perfect sister. It did Bertie’s heart good to watch Bess looking so mystified as Bertie willingly picked up not only her piecework but her clothes from the bedroom floor.

Whistling for Ramon, Bertie started back for the house. Two sharp barks greeted her. The dog burst from the back door of Bess’s house and zoomed to Bertie’s side. Rhubarb hissed, arched, and headed for a nearby tree.

“Why are you inside on such a beautiful day?” Bertie asked as she managed not to tumble over the excited poodle.

Inside Bess’s kitchen, all the sisters gathered around the kitchen table. Matthew gurgled happily in an empty washtub on the floor at Matty’s feet. The twins played with sock dolls and engaged in a nonsense conversation.

“We’re finally bringing Parson Harris here full-time,” Matty announced the moment Bertie came through the door.

“And since we already have a church,” Corrie continued, finishing Matty’s sentence, “all we need is a parsonage.”

“So,” Bess added, “we’re trying to think of some kind of fund-raiser. Do you have any ideas?”

The sisters, pink-cheeked and excited, all looked at Bertie. She took a step back. It had to be a conspiracy. They wanted something, but advice about a fund-raiser probably wasn’t it. They never came to Bertie for advice, although they went to each other for advice about Bertie. She narrowed her eyes and waited.

Bess grinned. “I’d love to do a box social, but with Bertie being the only respectable single female besides Regina, it might be terrifying.”

The train’s whistle saved Bertie from making the ultimate sacrifice. She’d been about to enter the kitchen and sit down with her sisters as an equal. Once she took that step, there’d be no turning back. She’d be expected to always sit in a buggy instead of astride a horse. She’d be expected to cook and sew willingly!

“Train’s here,” Bertie said by way of explanation as she bolted out the door. Only four hours overdue, the Union Pacific roared into a town no longer anticipating its arrival. It could not have chosen a better time to arrive.

“You expecting a package?” Linus Hatch winked.

Bertie smiled uncomfortably, although she knew it was too soon for the new hat’s arrival.

Hmmm, Linus never used to wink
.

She tugged her dress down so it covered the tips of her brown leather boots and pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before taking a deep breath of coal dust and heat. It was a warm September. Just over a year ago, she had disembarked from this very train. Her sisters had clutched clothes and determination and responsibility. Bertie had clutched a hatbox containing Rhubarb and the hope that she could recover what was left of her childhood. Her sisters had somehow known that Lickwind represented security and roots. Bertie knew nothing of the sort. All she wanted was a return to a way of life she barely remembered and to figure out why she never felt like she belonged.

Almost against her will, she thought of the Two Horse Ranch. Thomas’s place—where she truly felt she belonged.

But why?

It wasn’t like Thomas greeted her with open arms every time she showed up. No, he treated her much the same way he treated his new cowboys: half suspicious that she’d do something to muck things up and half boss telling her what to do.