Courting Kate (12 page)

Maybe he could buy a pie. At least that would get him in the door. He checked his pockets. Twenty-five cents.
Wonder if she’d sell me a piece of pie?
He was still pondering his lack of finances, when a commotion down the street caught his attention. Curious, he stopped to watch.

“You get out of my flower garden,” a hefty woman he recognized shouted.

Agatha Grimes waddled down her front steps and waved a broom at a tall, skinny cowboy, who was stretched out over her picket fence.

“Just one little rose?” the man pleaded.

“One rose?” Agatha brandished her weapon. “Not one leaf. I pampered those flowers all year. The frost got most of them. The rest of them are ending up at Kate Deveraux’s house.”

“I’ll pay you for it.” The man reached into his vest pocket.
 

“How much?” She eyed him skeptically. “Roses don’t come cheap.”

“I’ll give you a dollar—for a pretty one.”

The woman snatched up the coin. “All right. But I’ll do the pluckin’.”

One of Kate’s suitors, no doubt. Tanner scowled and moved on down the street. A dollar for one flower. He didn’t even have four bits for a pie.

When he reached Kate’s, she was doing a booming business. Not only did she have customers, the line ran out into the street. Tanner hurried to beat another man also heading in that direction. “She must be a good cook,” he said to the man ahead of him.
 

“She’s getting better. At least they’re eatable now. It ain’t the cookin’ as much as the cook,” he confided. “It’s worth a dollar just to see her smile.”

“Her pies cost a dollar?” That sure let him out.

“Naw. Fifty cents, but most men buy at least two. They get to stay longer that way.”

“Sorry, boys,” a feminine voice called out. “That’s all for today, but I’ll have a fresh batch in the morning. Tomorrow’s choices will be pumpkin and dried apple. Thank you for coming.” She smiled sweetly, hung out a Closed sign and shut the door.
 

“Dadblame it. And I went and got a haircut and everything.” Murmurs of disappointment rose from the gathering, then the group broke up and the men went on their way.

Tanner fingered his own hair. Since he couldn’t buy a piece of pie, he’d get a haircut with his twobits. He went back to Main Street and entered a nook with a red and white striped barber pole hanging over its entrance. Much to his surprise, he had to wait there, too. Finally his turn came, and he took a seat in the chair. “Something going on in town, Jake?”

“No more than usual,” the barber said, tying a long length of cloth around Tanner’s neck. He picked up his scissors and began whacking at a shaggy length of hair. “You mean having to wait?” The fat man smiled. “That’s due to Miss Kate. I guess I ought to thank you, being as you’re the one that brought her here. I hope she stays unattached for a while. All the courtin’ fellers are getting haircuts, plus the ones that ain’t even on the list. I’ve never cut so many heads of hair or shaved so many faces since I’ve been in the business. Heck, the way things are going, I might get rich.”

Tanner scowled. “I suppose you’re one of her suitors.”

“Nope. My gal Bessie isn’t as pretty, but she’s a better cook. I like my vittles, you know.” Jake patted his overstuffed middle.
 

“I’d never have guessed,” Tanner said wryly. “Better give me a shave while you’re at it.”

A while later, Jake removed the bib from around Tanner’s neck and slapped a measure of bay rum between his hands and applied it to Tanner’s cheeks. “There, all done. The cologne is on the house. I figure I owe you that.”

“Thanks, Jake.” Tanner paid the barber and started for the door.

“Are you going to give her away?” Jake asked.

“What?”

“Are you going to give Kate away when she picks a husband?”

“Has she picked one yet?” Tanner asked grumpily.

“Not that I know of, but I think she likes one or two.”

“She does?” He hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Who?”

“Clint Beecher. He’s the foreman of the Circle C. And then there’s Hank Jordon; he owns the Tin Peak mine. And—”

“Since she hasn’t settled on one, I don’t need to worry about it, do I?”

“Guess not. You don’t need to get mad at me, I’m not courtin’ her.”

Tanner shoved his hat on his head and left, slamming the door behind him. He wasn’t courting her either, but apparently he was the only man in the territory who wasn’t.

Next he went to the mercantile and purchased his saw oil, on credit. He still had time enough to get in a few hours’ work if he left right now.
 

On the other hand, he still hadn’t seen Kate, or any of the boys. How could he go home and leave this mess unsettled? He couldn’t.

He strolled around town, passing the time of day with everybody of speaking acquaintance, talking with more people in one day than he ordinarily spoke to in a year. And even though he’d tried to avoid it, the subject of every conversation had been Kate.

She’d stayed cooped up in her house all day. He knew she hadn’t gone anywhere because he’d been watching. Not on purpose of course. It seemed like every time he went anywhere, his feet headed in that direction.

She knew he was in town. He’d caught her peeking at him from her front window. She didn’t wave, or smile. She merely looked at him and dropped the curtain.

Dang it. He at least wanted to see her, talk to her a minute, make sure she was all right. Then, after he’d put his mind at ease, he’d head for home.
 

He glanced at the crimson sky. Sunset already. He hadn’t seen any of the boys yet. Maybe they had already given up on the job. Maybe none of them were coming. If that was the case, then who’d watch over Kate?

The later it got, the more agitated Tanner felt. He still hadn’t gathered up enough nerve to knock on her door. If that courting feller showed up, Tanner would never get the chance—unless he beat him to it. It was now or never, Tanner decided. Besides, it would be a shame to have gotten all slicked up for nothing.

He started toward Kate’s, then his steps slowed. That other man would probably have flowers, or candy, or some other trinket. His own empty pockets wouldn’t support a healthy flea.
 

Flowers.

He wheeled, making his way back to the yard he’d seen earlier that morning. He’d never been a thief, and looked down on anybody that was. He’d also never been quite so desperate. It was full dark now; he might be able to get away with it. He looked both ways down the street. Nary a soul in sight. The gate was wired shut, but the fence wasn’t too high. He vaulted over the row of pickets.
 

Two steps later, he discovered his feet had gotten tangled in something on the ground. He reached down and found his boot wrapped in a maze of wire and string. He yanked and set off a jangle of cowbells. He stepped the other way. Tin cans clattered. Booby-trapped. No telling what he’d step into next.

He hoped it wouldn’t be a bear trap.
 

Too late to hide the fact he was here. He’d better get what he’d come after and get out. “Where is that danged bush?” He groped in the darkness—and latched onto a clump of thorns. “Oww!”

“Clint Beecher is that you again?” Inside the house, a lamp was lit. It moved toward the doorway.
 

He couldn’t get caught like this. He’d never live it down. No time to pick and choose. He knelt, grabbed the base of the bush and yanked.

The plant whooshed from the ground, throwing dirt in every direction.

Tanner landed on his backside, the thorny bush on his chest. “I’ve taken all I intend to,” Agatha yelled. “I’m gonna fill your thieving hide with a load of rock salt. See how you like that.”

He wouldn’t. Tanner grabbed the bush and leapt over the fence.

A shotgun belched fire.

And pellets splattered across his backside.
 

His legs and bottom stinging like he’d sat on a nest of bees, Tanner clutched the bush to his chest and kept on running. When he figure’d he was out of range, he sprinted into a dark alley and stopped to catch his breath.

Better get rid of the evidence. He felt the bush. No roses. Not even a bud. But the blasted thing had more stickers than a cactus. He eased into a ray of light shining down from an upstairs window. “Aww, hell.” No wonder it didn’t have any roses. He’d stolen a dad-blamed quince bush. He tossed it aside in disgust. The motion made him gasp with pain.
 

Agatha had nailed him good. A trail of warmth trickled down his leg. Blood.

He couldn’t go to Kate’s. He couldn’t even sit his horse to go home. He couldn’t get the salt pellets out without help. And he sure wasn’t about to tell the boys what he’d been up to. The question was, what was he going to do?
 

Only one thing he could do. A few minutes later he knocked on the doctor’s back door.
 

The bespectacled man peered out, then opened the door and motioned him inside. “Didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Tanner. What’s wrong now? The boys sick again?”

“No. But I kind of have a little problem.” His face hot with embarrassment, Tanner pointed to his backside. “Don’t ask. Just get the blasted rock salt out.”

A while later, much relieved, Tanner held out his hand. “Thanks is all I can give you until later.”

The doctor grinned. “Don’t worry about it.” He pointed to Tanner’s hole-dotted britches. “Looks like you’ve been attacked by a swarm of moths. I think I’ve got a pair of pants that might fit, if you’re interested. They belonged to that gambler fellow who died last month. He won’t be needing them anymore.”

“I’d be much obliged, Doc.”
 

Pants changed, Tanner headed out the door. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any roses.”

“So that’s what happened.” The physician gave him a broad grin. “I might. I do have one bush by the buggy shed. Take this lantern. It’s hard to find even in the daytime. If there is a rose left in town, it will be on that bush.”

Three yellow roses clutched in his hand, resplendent in his inherited striped britches and smelling of disinfectant and cologne, Tanner made his way to Kate’s door, hoping one of her suitors hadn’t beat him to it.

He knocked, then peered through the window. Except for Fluffy, Kate was alone.

She opened the door, and the smile left her face. “Tanner. What are you doing here?”

“Kate, could I talk to you for a minute? Please?”

She looked at him, hesitated, then she sighed. “All right—but only for a minute.” She turned to the dog, who stood directly behind her. “Lay down, boy. He’s a friend.”

Friend
. At least she hadn’t sicced the dog on him. Nevertheless he couldn’t help but wonder how many other ‘friends’ the dog had allowed to enter.

The animal gave him the once-over, then flopped down beside the stove and promptly went to sleep.
 

“I brought you these.” Feeling as awkward as a schoolboy, Tanner snatched off his hat and shoved the roses into her hand. Then he glanced around the room. There wasn’t a flower in sight.

“Oh, dear. Not more.” She eyed the blooms dubiously.
 

“Don’t you like roses?”

“I like them fine—outside.” She sneezed. “I’m allergic.” She sneezed again.

“Figures.” Tanner took them from her and tossed them out the door. “I just didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

She smiled. “I thought you might be avoiding me.”

He followed her to a settee and waited until she was seated. “Whatever gave you that idea?” He took a seat beside her.

“You haven’t been to see me—not since that day you...” She flushed crimson.

“Oh, that.” He cursed the heat that rose to his face. “I guess I was too ashamed.”

“Ashamed?”

“For the way I behaved and all.”

She reached out and touched his head. “You got a haircut.”

“And a shave.” He drew her knuckles down his cheek.

“And new pants. You look quite elegant.” When he released her fingers, she folded her hands in her lap. “Would you like a piece of apple pie?”

“That would be nice, but I thought you’d sold them all.”

“I made more.” She looked at him curiously. “How did you know I sold all my pies?”

“I—uh, heard it around town.”

“Oh.”
 

“Have you seen the boys lately?” he asked, mostly to keep from sitting there like a stump.
 

“They drop by from time to time. All of them except John. How is he?” She crossed the room to the kitchen, then returned with a slice of pie and a fork.

“Growing like a weed,” Tanner said, taking a bite. “He doesn’t stutter anymore. I guess we owe you thanks for that.”

“He’s very sweet.” She gazed up at him, her expression wistful. “Would you bring him by sometime?”

“Sure. He’d like that.” Tanner decided he’d like it too: it would give him another excuse to visit. And he wouldn’t have to buy a pie. He chewed, swallowed, then swallowed again. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to eat one.