Courting Kate (6 page)

“For the f-funeral? M-maybe she l-likes to look at d-d-dead people,” little John suggested.
 

Matt snorted. “Don’t be silly.”

The more Mark thought about his saddle, the more he wished he still had it. Then he could sell it and use the money to get himself and the rest of them out of town. Now he and the boys were flat broke and winter was coming on.
 

Too agitated to settle, he gazed out the window and made a mental note to trim away the leafless limb that seemed intent on scratching a hole in the side of the house.

Winter.

With Tanner.

Bad enough under the best of circumstances. But with Tanner mad...
 

A chill not caused by the weather sent him back to the fireside where his brothers were still engaged in a morbid conversation about death and funerals.

Mark added his own comment to the glum observations. “I’ve got a feeling death might be real pleasant compared to what Tanner will do to us if he finds out what we’ve done.”
 

* * *

The storm from the day before had blown itself out during the night, and Tanner had hoped to get an early start. Heading down the mountain, he cursed the luck that made him waste valuable hours, especially on a day when the sun was shining. At least the mule wasn’t limping and they were making good time. If it didn’t take the smithy too long, he could still get back and put in a few hours’ work before dark.

But when he reached the blacksmith’s, he discovered that his usual bad luck still ran true. A freighter had left a whole string of animals that the man had to shoe before he could even get to Tanner’s mule.

“Buford, I can’t wait that long,” Tanner protested. “Isn’t there something you can do?”
 

“I’ll try to get Jake in to help me, but he’s been feelin’ poorly of late,” the smith said. “If not, I’ll do a few of the wagon mules, then slip your critter in. Check back in a couple of hours, Tanner.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate it.” Tanner had turned to leave, when a saddle hanging at the entrance of the smithy caught his eye. “That looks like Mark’s rig.”

Buford chuckled. “It is. He brought it last month, seemed in a real hurry to sell it. I couldn’t give him what it was worth, but he took it anyhow. I figure I’ll hang onto it for a while in case he wants it back.”

“Mark skinned fence posts for a year to get that saddle. Couldn’t see what he wanted with it myself. He doesn’t even have a horse. Kids.” Shaking his head, Tanner left the livery and strolled down the street.
 

Recalling a harness that needed mending, he turned in to J. A. Brunner & Bro.‘s store and picked up a length of leather to do the job. After exchanging pleasantries with Joe Brunner, the elder Brunner’s son, Tanner dug into his pocket and handed over the correct amount of coin.

The freckled-faced young man dropped the money into the register. “By the way, Tanner, I hear somebody is looking for you.”

“Who?”

“Don’t know. One of the Britt boys mentioned it.” Joe tied a string around the parcel and passed it over the counter.
 

“Thanks.” Perplexed, Tanner left the store, taking note of the new construction as he headed for the center of town. If the place kept on growing, it would soon be so crowded they wouldn’t all have enough air to breathe.

That was one problem he and the boys didn’t have. They didn’t have a neighbor for miles.
 

He went into the Wells Fargo office and stepped up to the window. “Howdy, Lester. Any mail for the Blaines?” He doubted there would be. They usually picked it up once a month, and Luke had come into town after feed only the week before.

“Yeah. There was a letter, but I guess the boys already got that. And Mark came in to mail something several days back.” The clerk squinted over his spectacles. “The boys order something special? One or the other of them have been in here pert’ near every day.”

“Is that right?” That explained the unfinished chores and the mysterious whispers. “They probably sent for something out of one of those mail-order catalogs.” That might be why Mark sold his saddle. But the letter? Tanner didn’t know of a soul his brothers could be writing to—let alone anybody that would be writing back.
 

“More than likely, that’s the case. We get a lot of catalog orders through here.” The clerk raised a finger. “Almost forgot. Heard somebody was looking for you.”

“Yeah, I heard. Who was it?”

“I don’t know. Another customer told me.”
 

“Okay, Lester. See you next month.” Frowning, Tanner left the post office and strode down the boardwalk. Whoever was looking, he hoped they didn’t find him. He wanted to get his chores done and get home. He had neither the time nor the disposition for any distractions.

Besides, nobody had any reason to be looking for him—unless his brothers had gotten into mischief, and somebody was expecting him to pay the damages. It had taken him forever to replace that window they’d broken on the Fourth of July. They were good boys and hadn’t done it on purpose. But it did seem that where his brothers went, trouble followed. And they had been hanging around town.

His frown turned into a scowl. “Damnation, that’s all I need.”
 

When his rumbling stomach reminded him he’d had no breakfast, and it was nearing noon, Tanner checked his watch to see if he had time to grab a bite to eat before he headed back to the blacksmith’s. Deciding he did, he returned the timepiece to his pocket and strolled into the Stars and Bars, a local eatery. He picked a table near the window and gave the waitress his order.
 

She called it out to the cook and returned with a cup of coffee. “Ain’t you Tanner Blaine?”

“That’s my name,” he said, almost reluctant to admit it.
 

“A woman was looking for you. Must be a stranger, ‘cause I ain’t never seen her before.”

“A woman?”

His brothers weren’t old enough to get into
that
kind of trouble. And he hadn’t been with a woman since spring. He uneasily thought back to the last time and mentally counted the months. Seven. He’d been careful, but still... He stared up at the waitress. “You said she was a stranger?”

“Yep. I know everybody in town. She ain’t from around here.” Another customer came in and caught her attention. After that the place became so busy she barely had time to deliver his steak, let alone answer any more questions.
 

The meal was well-cooked and plentiful, and ordinarily Tanner would have really enjoyed the treat. But today, with his mind so preoccupied, he might as well have been eating sawdust.

A woman. A stranger.
Since he didn’t know anybody from anywhere else, she had to be a stranger to him, too. He chewed his steak. It could be somebody needing some work done. But usually the menfolks handled all those details. He shook his head, then sopped up the last of his gravy with his biscuit and popped it into his mouth.

He went to the register and paid for his meal, waiting while the waitress counted out his change. “She didn’t say what she wanted?”

“Who? Oh, her. No, just asked for you.”
 

“Miss, can I have some more coffee?” a customer called out.

“Got to go, Mr. Blaine. Hope you find her.”

Not so sure that he
wanted
to find her, Tanner left the restaurant and crossed the street. He went into the mercantile, ordered the sack of flour and had the proprietor, Homer Ames, add it to his account. “Thanks, Homer, I’ll pick up the flour on my way out of town.”

“Go ahead, Tanner. It’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Nodding, Tanner strode out the door. At least
she
hadn’t been in the mercantile. Curiosity getting the best of him, he checked his watch. He still had a half hour. If some strange female was asking for him the banker would know. Nothing escaped Cornelius Beekman’s keen ears or eyes. Tanner entered the bank and approached a gray-haired, bearded man seated behind a desk. “Can I have a word with you, Beek?”

“Hello, Tanner.” The banker gave him a broad smile. “There’s a young lady down at the hotel that will be mighty glad to see you. She came in on the stage last night.”

“What does she want?” he asked, hoping the banker might know that, too.

Beekman chuckled. “Don’t try to pretend with me. The cat’s out of the bag, Tanner.” The banker leaned forward. “But how you managed to keep
that
secret is beyond me,” he said in a whisper loud enough to draw the interest of everyone in the bank.

That?
That what? While Tanner wanted to demand that Beekman explain, he had the feeling that he wouldn’t want whatever it was told to the whole town. Noting the inquisitive looks he was getting from the other patrons, he uneasily ran a finger around his collar. “You said she’s at the hotel?”

“Yes. And if I were you, I wouldn’t keep a lady like that waiting,” Beekman boomed out.

A lady like that?

Fearing the banker would blurt out more, Tanner whirled and pushed through the gilt-lettered doors.

Cat’s out of the bag? Secret?
 

Tanner had the feeling he was in big trouble—even if he didn’t have any idea what it was. The only person that could tell him was at the hotel, and he didn’t even know her name.

Although he wasn’t a drinking man, he wistfully eyed the saloon down the street. But the nearer he got to the hotel, the more he decided that it might be better if he faced whoever it was cold sober. He had a feeling he might really need that drink later on.

Pausing on the sidewalk in front of the hotel he checked his reflection in the glass windows. Not exactly dressed for calling on a lady. With his patched britches, wild hair and heavy mackinaw, he looked like a scarecrow. Seeking to improve his appearance, he dipped his hands in the horse trough and slicked down his thick black hair.

He checked the window again, then snorted in disgust. He still looked like a scarecrow—with wet hair. Deciding there was no way he could make himself any more presentable, he opened the door and entered the hotel.

The lobby was empty. He picked up the brass bell on the counter and gave it a shake.

The ring brought the clerk to the front desk.

“Can I help you?” the small man asked, peering disapprovingly over his spectacles.
 

“Name’s Blaine, Tanner Blaine. I understand somebody is looking for me.”

The clerk smiled. “Yes, sir. She will certainly be happy to see you.” He reached under the counter and took out a ledger. “The banker vouched for you, so I put Miss Deveraux’s noon meal on your tab. I expect you’ll want to take care of that now.” He handed Tanner the bill.
 

Tanner stared at the paper, then shoved it back. “Two dollars? For one meal? I could feed my whole family for half that much.”
 

“Somebody owes me for Miss Deveraux’s lunch,” the clerk insisted, waving the ticket.

“Who is this female? And how come she expects me to pay for her eats?”

“Mr. Beekman assured me you’d take care of it.”

“Just because Beekman owns the bank don’t give him no call to be so free with
my
money. He’s got more than I do. Get him to pay for her meal.”

The clerk drew himself up like an outraged banty rooster. “But Miss Deveraux said—”

“I’ve never heard of this Miss Dever— whatever her name is, and I’m not paying her bills. You can tell her that next time you see her.”

“You tell her yourself.” The little man twisted away and called, “Miss Deveraux, would you come in here?”

“What is it, Mr. Perkins?” a soft feminine voice inquired.

Tanner whirled.

A curvaceous vision in blue glided through the doorway and walked toward him. She was little. Her crown of ebony curls would barely reach his shoulder. Young, too, he decided. But not any schoolroom miss. Her features were delicate: a small, slightly tilted nose, a bow-shaped mouth, and bone structure that told him she would be beautiful even in old age. Her skin was pale as fresh cream and just as smooth. Clearly a lady of refinement. Certainly nobody from around here. He couldn’t imagine what such a creature would want with him.

“It seems your feller’s finally got here,” the clerk announced.

Her feller?

He gave her a questioning look, but the gaze of her long-lashed violet eyes slid right past him.
 

She peered toward the hotel entrance. “Where is Mr. Blaine?” she asked, her voice soft and Southern.

“I’m Tanner Blaine.”

She jerked her head and stared at him. The color draining from her face, she shook her head. “That’s impossible. You can’t be.”

He scowled. “I
am
Tanner Blaine.”

“Oh, my,” she murmured. She studied him from head to foot and back again, apparently finding him sadly lacking. “Oh, my.”
 

Feeling more than a bit insulted, Tanner eyed her as intently in return. But unlike himself, she looked even better the second time than she did the first.
 

“Mr. Blaine refuses to pay your bill,” the hotel man announced.