The Bachelor Tax. Carolyn Davidson

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СКАЧАТЬ meet Lars Jorgenson with damp cheeks.

      A woman stepped to the platform, a small boy right behind her. Next, a tall man with a tiny girl clutched against his shoulder eased past the conductor. They stood there, looking around as if they expected to be met, and Rosemary glanced over her shoulder at the empty platform. Surely they were someone’s relatives, or perhaps simply a new family moving to Edgewood, Texas, and in need of a conveyance.

      The sight of Gabe Tanner rounding the corner of the station platform caught Rosemary’s eye and she turned quickly from the cocky grin he shot in her direction.

      Another passenger stepped from the train and Rosemary held her breath. Surely this was Lars, this fine-looking, youthful gentleman whose gaze searched the length of the wooden platform. She lifted her head, settling a pleasant smile on her lips as she allowed her eyes to rest on his handsome face.

      Behind her, a hand touched her shoulder and she spun about, a muffled shriek passing her lips.

      “Ma’am?”

      “I beg your pardon.” Her words might have been cast in stone, so firmly did they fall from her lips.

      Gabe Tanner swept his hat from his head and his grin showed an abundance of white teeth, marred only by the slight chip gracing the one directly beneath his left nostril.

      “May I have your attention for just a moment?” he asked politely.

      She glanced back distractedly at the gentleman who watched her from the side of the train. “What is it?” she muttered, her gaze cutting to Tanner’s sun-warmed face.

      “I’d like to ask you to be my wife,” he said simply. “Will you marry me, Miss Gibson?”

      She felt her eyes widen, even as her mouth dropped open in total amazement. “You…surely you…” The words would not come. She dampened her lips with the tip of her tongue and blinked at the man facing her, his dark hair ruffling against his collar.

      “I take it that was a yes?” he asked, his grin widening.

      Her mouth opened and closed, as if she were struck speechless. And then she uttered one word.

      “Why?”

      “Why?” he parroted.

      “Yes, why? Whatever would make you ask me such a thing?”

      “I need a wife, ma’am. And you seem a likely candidate.”

      She shook her head again. “Do not molest me further, sir. I am here to welcome the new minister to my father’s church.”

      “Yeah, I know,” Tanner said, with glee spilling from his dark eyes. “I take it that was a firm refusal then, ma’am?”

      “I cannot believe this!” Rosemary spun from him and tugged at her black bombazine jacket, relieved as she heard his boots strike the platform in retreat.

      The young man still watched her and she smiled, just a bit. He approached her, sweeping his hat from his head, exposing a lush head of golden hair. Of course, she thought, with a name like Lars Jorgenson, he would be fair-haired, and blue-eyed, too, she noted.

      “Pardon me, miss. Do you know where I could find the owner of the Golden Slipper at this time of day?” He ducked his head a bit. “I’m sure you would have no direct knowledge of the man, but perhaps…”

      Rosemary gulped, choking on the very air she breathed. “The Golden Slipper?”

      He nodded. “I’m to be the new piano player there, and he was to meet the train this morning.” His eyes appraised her carefully. “You wouldn’t know, would you?” he asked, a trace of regret in his voice.

      “No, certainly not. In fact, I assumed…” And at that fallacy, she shook her head. “Well, never mind that. I just thought you were someone else, sir.” With her breath still fluttering in her chest, she watched him as he walked away. It was unbelievable, truly unbelievable. He had fit the description her heart had supplied, and disappointment filled her to the brim.

      Rosemary turned, her attention caught by the flurry of activity behind her. The family of four had gathered their belongings from the baggage car, and the gentleman approached her as she hesitated. Her eyes still searching the Pullman car windows for another passenger about to disembark, she welcomed him with a distracted air.

      “Was there another gentleman leaving the train behind you, sir?”

      “Why, no. I don’t believe so.” He paused, then swept his hat from his head. “Are you by chance Rosemary Gibson?”

      The momentary silence was pierced by the shrill cry of a hawk, swooping midair to catch his prey. Rosemary looked up, then back at the gentleman facing her.

      “Yes, I am, sir.”

      He extended his hand and grasped the one she offered in an automatic gesture. “I’m the new minister for your father’s church,” he said, just a bit of pride coloring his words.

      “But…I expected…”

      He nodded, his eyes darkening as he considered her for a moment. “The bishop changed his mind at the last minute,” he said quietly. “He decided that young Jorgenson was not the man for this church, not being married and all. He thought a family man with responsibilities would be a better choice.”

      “Oh!” Rosemary knew the meaning of despair as his words washed over her and engulfed her in that most hideous of emotions.

      “Ma’am? Can you direct us to the parsonage perhaps? My wife is bone weary from the train ride, and I fear my son is becoming downright testy.”

      Rosemary nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll ask the stationmaster to watch your things until we can arrange for them to be transported.” Her steps were rapid as she approached the open window and bent to speak to the old man within.

      “Mr. Pagan…”

      “Yup, I heard what you said to the gentleman, missy.” Homer Pagan nodded his head. “I’ll have my Joey run to the livery stable and ask for a wagon.”

      “Thank you,” Rosemary said, her thoughts muddled as she turned back to the man who awaited her.

      “Is it close by? Can we walk there?” he asked. Behind him, his wife waited, an uncertain smile on her lips. “This is Beatrice, my wife, and our children.”

      Rosemary nodded. “I’m pleased to meet all of you, I’m sure.” And if that wasn’t the biggest lie she’d ever told, she’d be forced to eat her hat. Even though she’d much rather cast it to the ground and stomp on it with both feet.

      “We surely didn’t mean to impose on you, Miss Gibson. I know the parsonage was your home for a long time, and the bishop should have given you warning that you would be expected to vacate it for our benefit.” James Worth was obviously distressed by his position as he faced Rosemary in the small parlor.

      “I have nowhere to store my belongings,” she admitted. “Perhaps you can allow me to stay here until I find a house.”

      His smile was brilliant, a hint СКАЧАТЬ