The Bounty Hunter’s Redemption. Janet Dean

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СКАЧАТЬ them. Perhaps they would deny Walt Hankins had won the deed.

      Why, Anna’s husband could’ve stolen it. The reason Max had shot him. Carly bit back a sigh, certain Max was the culprit.

      “Brides have been known to gain weight. I cut generous seam allowances in case we need to let out the dress,” Carly said, though with only weeks until the wedding that seemed unlikely.

      “Where I’m from, a bride’s wedding gown is often worn as her best dress for years. Generous seam allowances make sense.”

      “Not this bride. The Schwartz women rarely wear a gown twice.”

      Anna’s jaw dropped. “Really? Seems wasteful, especially in a town named Gnaw Bone.”

      “I can’t think of a better town to put on the dog,” Carly said, then gave a wink.

      Anna giggled. “You’re so much fun to work with, Carly.”

      The compliment soaked into Carly’s spirit. “Thank you.”

      At noon they stopped to reheat the pot of vegetable soup Carly had made that morning, and then sat at the kitchen table.

      With aromas wafting from their bowls on the rising steam, they glanced at one another and bowed heads while Carly thanked God for the food.

      Anna blew on the soup in her spoon, then ate. “Mmm, this is delicious, as good as last night’s chicken and noodles.”

      “Thank you.” How could she broach the subject? “You, uh, mentioned your husband won the deed. Was he a gambler?”

      “Walt? Oh no. To hear he’d joined a poker game surprised me. And surprised the others at the table.”

      Carly’s spoon clattered against her bowl. “There were witnesses?”

      “Two men at the wake told me about the game. They felt guilty about Walt, him not being a regular. If he hadn’t sat at the table, they figure one of them might’ve turned up dead.”

      These men would declare in court that Max had anted the deed and Anna’s husband had won it fair and square. Any other possibility seemed farfetched, especially looking into Anna’s candid gaze.

      Now Carly’s only hope for keeping her shop rested with the circuit judge’s interpretation of the law. Her stomach lurched. If he didn’t rule in her favor, Anna Hankins would be cooking in this kitchen and taking care of Carly’s customers.

      “I was shocked Walt won. And troubled he’d risked the money Nate sent us on the turn of a card.”

      “No more shocked than I was to learn Max had anted the deed.” Once again, evidence her husband hadn’t cared a whit about her and Henry.

      Anna flushed. “I’m sorry about what happened. I don’t approve of gambling.”

      Walt Hankins hadn’t considered Anna’s wishes any more than Max had considered Carly’s. “It’s not your fault.” The fault laid with Max, a man without a sense of right and wrong. If he’d lived, his example might’ve led his son down that same path.

      “I don’t know poker, but the other players said Walt held a royal flush, the best hand there is, like that was an accomplishment instead of merely luck.” Anna sniffed. “Not good luck, either. Winning that deed cost Walt his life.”

      “That deed didn’t take your husband’s life. Max did.” She touched Anna’s arm. “I’m sorry. More than I can say.”

      “Some mornings I wake and, for a moment, I forget.” Moisture welled in Anna’s eyes. “I can barely believe Walt’s gone.”

      Unlike Carly, this widow grieved her dead husband. “What was he like?”

      “Kind, gentle, soft-spoken. I’d call Walt a dreamer. Some might call him a failure.”

      “But you didn’t?”

      “His inventions and schemes weren’t workable. Often he ran ahead of God, but Walt had this quiet way of making me feel cherished.”

      Max had never made Carly feel valued. Not from the first day of their marriage. “What drove Walt? A desire for wealth?”

      “He had this need to give me a better life, finer things, as if I wanted a life of ease or fancy trinkets.” She shoved aside her half-eaten bowl of soup. “We had a roof over our heads, food in our bellies. We had enough. Plenty.”

      Before meeting Anna, Carly had put Walt Hankins in the same category as Max. The two men were nothing alike. Still, even if his intentions had been good, Walt had failed his wife, just as Max had failed her.

      Somehow that connected her to Anna. A connection Carly would fight with every particle of her being. She wouldn’t let herself care about Anna. If she did, how could she fight for her business?

      Yet fight she must. She’d paid a huge price for this shop. Nine long years under Max’s thumb. Even when he’d been away from home, his presence had hovered over her. She’d never known when he’d return. Never known what mood he’d be in when he did.

      “I don’t know what I’ll do if something happens to Nate,” Anna said, her hands entwined, twisting in her lap. “I don’t care about that reward money he insists on sending. I care about him.” Her voice trembled. “He’s all I have.”

      Nate Sergeant could work in the livery or in countless other jobs, but chose instead to hunt lawless men. To accomplish that, he had to be equally dangerous.

      “I’m sorry for complaining.” Anna wiped her damp eyes, then gave a weak smile. “I’m emotional since I lost Walt. It’s a comfort to know you understand the pain and loneliness of losing a husband.”

      Anna’s gaze landed on Carly’s dress. Her eyes widened, as if just realizing Carly wasn’t wearing black. Widow’s weeds would chafe, be a sham. Carly had lived a lie her entire marriage and wouldn’t pretend to grieve.

      She lurched to her feet. “I’ll make tea. Do you use sugar?”

      Anna shot her a quizzical look. “Yes, please. I need to stretch my legs,” she said, then rose and hobbled to the front.

      Carly couldn’t admit the loneliness and pain Anna spoke of had occurred during her marriage, not from her husband’s death. She couldn’t admit she’d married a scoundrel without faith. She couldn’t admit in the past month she’d found peace and happiness as Max’s widow.

      That is, until Nate and Anna had showed up and put the ownership of her shop in jeopardy.

      As Carly added tea leaves and poured hot water into her rose-sprigged teapot, she chastised herself for getting emotionally involved with Anna. In a matter of hours, her enemy had become a woman with whom she could empathize. That would never do. How could she fight for her son’s welfare and not bring Anna harm?

      She would focus on what mattered—getting the bridal finery made. She’d pay Anna the wage they’d agreed upon. Hopefully, after expenses, Carly would have enough profit to offer to buy Anna out.

      Carly loaded the pot and cups onto СКАЧАТЬ