The Bounty Hunter's Redemption (9 page)

Carly could barely fathom the close relationship Anna described. The men in her life had been long on orders, short on affection.

If only she could ensure one day Henry would know how to make a woman feel cherished. Why wouldn’t he? He was only seven, but Henry made Carly feel cherished. Perhaps odd for a boy so young. His father’s prolonged absences and unpredictable behavior had brought them closer than most mothers and sons. Good had come from bad, as Scripture promised.

“Carly, you and Nate got off to a bad start. Life has hardened him and he appears gruff, but he’s a good man.” Anna smiled. “He was the sweetest youngster. A chatterbox always excited about something.”

From what Carly had seen, Nate Sergeant fit the pattern of all the men in her life. “Then he’s changed. Hardened is an apt description for him now.”

“He’s considerate and devoted to me. He sees I have what I need, even if he’s champing at the bit to leave.” Anna heaved a sigh. “Nate’s on a mission to save the world.”

Or run from it? Carly fiddled with the fabric. “He said he was responsible for your injury.”

“That surprises me. He usually won’t talk about the accident.” Anna limped to the window, gazing out. “It eats at him like a cancer.”

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

“We grew up on a dairy farm outside a small town much like this. On Saturdays farmers came in for supplies, to buy and sell. That day our folks had business in the bank. They sent us to the mercantile for stick candy.” She turned toward Carly. Anna’s eyes looked glazed, as if she’d traveled back in time. “A drunk banged out of the saloon, firing his six-shooters and spooking a team of horses. Eager to spend that penny clutched in his hand, Nate darted into their path and tripped in a rut, sprawling facedown in the dirt. I grabbed him by his britches and shoved him to safety.”

Carly cringed, dreading Anna’s next words.

“Passersby said the front hoof of the horse knocked me down. The back hoof stomped and shattered my hip. Doc did the best he could, but it never mended right. My right leg’s shorter than the left.”

“Does walking hurt?”

“Not enough to complain about.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Nate’s the one who’s truly hurting.”

All Anna could think about was her brother, yet could that accident somehow have destroyed Anna’s ability to conceive?

Carly walked to Anna and laid her hand on her shoulder. “You’re a wonderful person, Anna Hankins. I’m glad I know you.”

“Thank you, Carly. I have the strongest feeling God brought us together for a reason. And not to fight over this shop.”

This was the perfect opportunity to nudge Anna to forfeit the deed. But looking into those trusting, warm eyes, Carly couldn’t bring herself to ask.

But, she wouldn’t hand the shop over to Anna, either. This was her son’s home, his security. Henry came first. Her father had never thought of her well-being. Never put her first with anything except chores.

“I’d better get back to work. Henry will be home soon.”

At the machine, Carly watched the needle move up and down to the rhythm of her pumping feet. How could she go in front of a judge and testify against this woman who’d lost so much? Her husband, her home, perhaps her ability to conceive?

Yet, Carly must. Somehow she would.

A sniggle of sympathy slid through her for Nate Sergeant, imagining the torment of watching Anna hobble along, knowing he’d caused her injury.

Carly tamped down the feeling. The man was bent on displacing her and Henry and would go to any length to succeed. She suspected his desire to see his sister settled had more to do with pacifying his guilt than concern over Anna’s well-being.

Her foot stilled, the hum of the machine silenced with it. Like Nate, wasn’t she riddled with guilt? Guilt for marrying a man God would never have approved? She’d seen the warnings, yet hadn’t taken time to pray about the decision. Hadn’t trusted God to lead her to a good man.

Forgive me, Lord. I promise to never make that mistake again.

Chapter Seven

N
ate wrestled the rotted board off the wall of the livery and tossed it onto the growing pile. The board landed with a thud, raising dust and a ruckus rivaling the turmoil roiling inside him.

Carly Richards had no idea what drove him to find Shifty Stogsdill. She saw him as a man like her dead husband. A man so despicable he’d shot Walt in the back, then tried to avoid paying for his crime by firing on Nate.

Nothing could be further from the truth. Yet her opinion stabbed at his pride.

Why did he care?

No point in dwelling on it. He’d concentrate on getting this livery whipped into shape. And keep alert for Anna’s welfare.

In the crook of his elbow, Nate wiped the sweat from his brow, then slid the claw of his hammer under a rusty nail and pried. As the nail pulled free, the board squeaked in protest, as reluctant to let go of its purpose as he was. He should be tracking Stogsdill. Appease that all-consuming fire in his belly to rid this world of an outlaw who’d destroyed those he loved.

With a release of pent-up frustration, he grabbed the plank and tossed it in the direction of the pile.

A high-pitched voice squealed.

Nate whirled toward the sound. A mere three feet from that last flying plank, Henry stood, wide-eyed but apparently unscathed. “Are you okay? I didn’t know you were there.”

Nate hadn’t looked. He thanked God that tossed timber hadn’t hit the lad. If it had...

Nate tamped down the countless dire possibilities swarming his brain and strode to Henry. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“I wasn’t scared.”

So like his mother.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Replacing rotted boards with new ones.” Nate motioned toward the stack of new lumber nearby.

The boy crinkled his nose. “Stinks in here.”

“I think horses and manure smell good.”

Puzzled blue eyes rested on his. “Where’d you put ’em?”

“The horses? I turned them outside while I’m working.”

Henry scampered to the window facing the corral and climbed onto a bale of straw, then stood on tiptoes, peering out. One strap of his overalls had slipped from his narrow shoulders. His shirttail bunched around his middle. That cowlick stood at attention. He’d obviously had an active morning.

“I wanna learn to ride.” The longing in Henry’s tone nudged at Nate. “But Mama sold Buck. She said Pa’s horse is a mean critter.” He sighed. “Mama don’t have time to teach me anyway,” he said, jumping to the floor.

The words had shot out of his mouth like a geyser at Yellowstone.

The boy was old enough to ride, but Nate wasn’t about to interfere.

“Can I help?” Henry said, his tone brightening.

Nothing kept the lad down for long.

“This isn’t a job for a boy.”

Shoulders slumping, he shuffled toward the livery door.

At Henry’s age, Nate had helped his pa around the farm. But, if the boy got hurt, his tigress of a mother would come after Nate with claws unsheathed.

Still, how could he let Henry go, looking as though he’d lost his best friend? As though he was of no use to anyone? The boy wanted to do more than lend a hand. He wanted to spend time with a man. Do a man’s work.

“I could use help rounding up the rusty nails I dropped. If you want to help, grab that pail by the door.”

Henry turned back, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Sure!”

The boy darted toward the pail while Nate turned to where he’d torn the last slat from the studs. Three more in this section and he could nail up new boards.

“I found one!” Henry said, plucking a nail from the floorboards and holding it up for Nate’s inspection.

“You’re sharp-eyed.”

As Nate yanked out each nail, Henry stood beside him, holding out the pail, grinning ear-to-ear at the chink of the nail dropping inside. “You got big muscles, Mr. Sergeant.” He made a fist and bent his arm at the elbow, grinning at his nonexistent muscle. “Me, too.”

Who could resist this boy? “If we’re going to work together, call me Nate.”

“Yes, sir!” Henry beamed up at him, adoration shining in his eyes.

The lad would turn somersaults to please him. Nate swallowed hard against the lump shoving up his throat. Nothing about Nate warranted admiration.

“Could you teach me to ride the gray spotty horse? I like her best. I could help you work so you’d have time. I can carry this old wood outside. See.” Henry tugged on a board almost as tall as he was, grappling with it, his face scrunched up with the effort.

“Be careful,” Nate said, holding his breath.

“Ouch!” The board dropped from Henry’s hands, teetered on the pile, and then tumbled. Landing inches shy of the boy’s shins.

Nate knelt in front of Harry. “Did a nail nick you?”

Henry thrust out his right thumb. “It’s a splinter. Can you get it out?”

If Nate didn’t watch the youngster’s every move, he’d get hurt, far worse than a splinter. “Show your ma. She’ll know what to do.”

“Mama uses a needle to dig ’em out. She’s good at splinters and sewing stuff and baking cookies, but she can’t fix our pump.”

“What pump?”

“The kitchen pump.” He puffed out his small chest. “Mama says I’m a big help with toting water.”

Dirty clothes and a dirty boy surely required hauling lots of water. “If it’s okay with your mama, I’ll look at her pump.”

“I’ll tell her.”

“Let me talk to her first.” As if Carly Richards would welcome any help of his. “After I finish here.”

“Thanks!”

“Better run along and get that splinter out.”

“Yes, sir.” Henry lifted his hand to his face, studying his thumb. “Even if she pokes and pokes with a needle, I won’t cry. Us men aren’t crybabies. We’re tough.”

Nate bit back a smile and ruffled the boy’s hair. “That we are.”

Henry had lost a father. Not much of a father, but a father all the same. Soon Henry would lose his home. Thanks to him.

Nate’s hand fell away and he took a step back. Was there another solution? A way to avoid hurting this boy?

No, as much as Nate wished things were different, his sister’s welfare came first.

With a wave, Henry raced off. At the threshold, he caught a toe and sprawled facedown in the dirt. Nate sprinted toward him, picturing a goose egg or gash on the boy’s forehead.

Before Nate reached him, Henry sprang to his feet, shot Nate a sheepish grin, then ran on.

A shaky breath slid from Nate’s lips. Henry was a great kid, but on the clumsy side. Without a father to teach him all the countless things a boy needed to know, Henry might not fit in with the other boys in town. Surely, with all the losses in his life, Henry should be allowed to ride.

Did he dare broach the subject with Carly?

* * *

Wasn’t claiming Carly’s business and her home enough? Must that bounty hunter try to worm his way into her son’s life, too? The man wasn’t a good example for an impressionable boy.

Hands balled into fists, Carly strode to the livery, ready to have it out with the man.

Across the alley, Nate Sergeant hauled boards on his shoulder to a barren spot near a rusty barrel and dumped them onto the growing pile, raising dust and a clatter. He then ambled toward where she waited with that loose, easy stride of his.

Carly’s breath caught and her hand sought her collar. Why, he looked like a cowboy, capable of single-handedly handling a herd of stampeding cattle.

Sunlight glinted off the gun belt riding low on his hips. She stiffened. Did he wear a firearm while working around the livery? That gun could go off. A bullet could strike her son. Henry’s safety was at risk. Yet another reason to keep him away from the livery.

As he drew near, Carly planted hands on hips, ready for battle.

He tipped his hat, his deep-set eyes unreadable. “Ma’am.”

He swiped at the moisture beaded on his brow, then leaned against the open door. Shirtsleeves rolled, collar unbuttoned at the neck, hair damp with perspiration, he looked work-worn.

And far more handsome than a man had the right to be.

“Mr. Sergeant, I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t allow my son in this livery. It’s a hazardous place.”

“Figured you’d pay me a visit.”

She eyed his holster. “Must you always wear a weapon, as if danger lurks behind every tree?”

“No lawman worth his salt is without his gun.”

“You have no jurisdiction in Gnaw Bone. Besides, guns are dangerous,” she said, wanting to add,
you’re
dangerous.

He folded brawny arms across his chest and merely looked at her as if she was a pesky fly not worthy of his time.

“I spent ten minutes prodding a sliver out of Henry’s thumb,” she went on.

“Sorry about the splinter. Henry was just trying to help.”

“You should’ve sent him home immediately.”

“The boy’s hard to resist.”

The smile he turned on her softened every hard angle of her heart, every wall she’d built to protect herself and her son. Not what she intended. This man was violent, like Max.

“He’s a great kid. Wants to please.” He studied her. “Truth is, the boy’s hungry for a man’s attention.”

She couldn’t deny Henry needed a man in his life. A good man. A God-fearing man. Someone to show him how to lead, to work and to care for a family. Not this gun-toting drifter.

“I...I appreciate your concern for Henry’s welfare, but please don’t interfere. I will decide who fits that role.”

“You’re his mom. Decision’s yours.” His mouth crooked up in a cocky grin. “Not sure I can keep him away.”

The truth of his words sank inside her, jarring her to the core. She had no idea why, but she couldn’t deny Henry was enthralled by Nate Sergeant. All he’d talked about while Carly dug out that splinter was Nate this...Nate that. Had Henry bonded to the man when she’d fainted? And saw him as a hero?

She took a shaky breath. “Look, I’ve got a shop to run. A huge order to handle. A son who needs my attention.” Of their own accord, tears sprang into her eyes. She willed them away, as she’d done countless times before. “I can’t be worrying about Henry’s safety.”

“You’ve got a lot to deal with. Maybe I can help.” He removed his Stetson, shoved a hand through his black unruly hair and then clamped the hat on his head. “Henry mentioned your kitchen pump’s broken. Care if I take a look? See if I can fix it?”