Читать книгу The Bounty Hunter’s Redemption - Janet Dean - Страница 13

Chapter Four

The grand dame of Gnaw Bone, all three of her stacked chins quivering with intensity, leaned toward Carly. “Surely you can handle my daughter’s wedding gown and trousseau. I’ll pay you well. More money than you can earn in six months or more,” Mrs. Schwartz said, her no-nonsense tone carrying an edge.

An edge that held a warning Carly couldn’t miss.

The wealthiest family in town, the Schwartz women gave Carly considerable business. Business she welcomed and appreciated. But the sketch of an elaborate creation Mrs. Schwartz had laid on the counter wasn’t just any dress that could be whipped up in a couple of days. This confection was to be Vivian Schwartz’s wedding gown.

A spoiled young woman accustomed to the finest. In Vivian’s estimation, the finest wedding gown could only be created in Paris, France. Not Gnaw Bone, Indiana. Vivian had made that abundantly clear—twice—in today’s meeting.

The bride’s glum expression conveyed her resentment of turning to a small-town seamstress. A miscommunication with the French fashion designer meant the gown and trousseau would arrive long after the ceremony. Telegrams back and forth had riled the designer, who’d refused to rush the order. Apparently the matriarch of Gnaw Bone was no match for a Paris modiste.

Her auburn hair and pale green eyes partially hidden by a flower-festooned hat, turned up in the back and held in place by two hat pins, Vivian jabbed a manicured nail at the front and back sketches on the counter. “Can you reproduce this dress exactly as you see it here?” she said, her young voice rising to an unladylike shrill. “And I mean exactly, down to the last button.”

Carly forced a patient smile. “With less than a month till your wedding, there’s no time to send for the exact lace and silk you specify.”

“Gracious,” Mrs. Schwartz said, her ample bosom heaving, setting the ostrich plumes on her hat in motion. “We would have told you sooner if we’d known about this debacle. Surely you have something similar. At least you had a decent array of imported lace and fabric when I made the selections for my dress.”

A dress that was almost completed. Almost. And now adding a large complicated order to an already tight schedule...

Carly’s smile wobbled. “I’m sure I can duplicate the Paris design. I have a bolt of white silk and several options for lace. Would you care to look, Miss Vivian?”

“Is there no other choice?” Vivian turned to her mother, as if she expected to be whisked off to Paris that very afternoon.

The melodramatic sigh sliding from Vivian’s lips had Carly wondering if this young woman was mature enough to handle life’s disappointments, much less enter a marriage.

For Carly they’d been one and the same.

Would things have been different if she’d waited, been older, more sure of herself and her place in the world? As she was now. She would have seen Max for what he was—a man with no sense of right and wrong—and would have known to refuse his proposal.

She didn’t plan to marry again, but if she did, she’d marry a man of faith who shared her values.

Well, that thought was foolish. Besides, no such man was available.

Nate Sergeant is available.

Absurd. The bounty hunter was another Max—violent, unreliable and chasing after trouble.

“Well, are you going to show us the options?” Mrs. Schwartz asked, jerking Carly back to the task at hand.

“I’m sorry, of course.”

“Mother...” Vivian whined. “Do I have to?”

Mrs. Schwartz took her daughter’s emerald-bejeweled hand. “Yes, unless you want to postpone the wedding.”

“No! What would people think?”

“Then you must be realistic. I’m perfectly happy using Carly for my dress. She’s familiar with both our measurements, and her work is excellent.”

Vivian’s lower lip protruded. “I had my heart set on the wedding dress of my dreams.”

“I’m sorry, dear, but your dream gown wouldn’t have done you much good riding the high seas on your wedding day. To think that snobbish woman refused to rush the work, as if our order was of no consequence. The reason I prefer using Carly, thereby keeping the work in the country.”

“If you’ll follow me, Miss Vivian, I’m sure you’ll find something just as beautiful,” Carly said, leading them to her stock of the finest fabric and lace tucked inside a case, protected from sun and dust.

Across the way, Lester and Lloyd stopped scrubbing the shop window to wave at her, and then returned to the task. Even from here, Carly could see smudges they’d missed.

“This is it?” Vivian’s nose wrinkled, as if picking an unacceptable pig from a poke, but then with a sigh, she begrudgingly made fabric choices from the case and cupboards.

Carly showed her several designs for gowns and day dresses, and then entered selections into a notebook under the S page for Schwartz. “Miss Vivian, I have a record of your measurements from six months ago.”

“That should be fine. Vivian never gains an ounce.” Mrs. Schwartz handed Carly a list of the number of undergarments, nightgowns, day dresses, traveling suits and evening gowns they’d discussed. “Can you finish everything in three weeks? We’ll need a week to pack her trousseau.”

Carly couldn’t risk alienating her best customer. Yet how could she finish all these garments in time?

Somehow she’d find a way, if she had to work day and night.

What if the circuit judge ruled against her, forcing her out of the shop before she could finish this order? Carly’s hands trembled. What would she do then?

She straightened her spine. She couldn’t think about that now. “I’ll have them ready before the wedding,” she vowed.

“Thank you, Carly. You’ve lifted a terrible weight off our shoulders.” Mrs. Schwartz patted the bride’s cheek. “Now come along, Vivian, and I’ll buy you a sweet cake.”

The two women left the shop. Lester and Lloyd doffed their hats and bowed at the waist, as if greeting royalty. Were they poking fun? Or merely acknowledging what everyone knew? The Schwartz family ran the town.

The bell jingled. Lester stuck his head in the door. “We finished the window, Miz Richards. See you tomorrow, first thing,” he said, then joined his brother.

They sauntered across the street toward home; their idea of a full day apparently included an afternoon siesta.

Actually a nap sounded good. Carly dropped onto the settee, surrounded by a pile of tagged fabric and laces. This order was far more than she’d expected. Her pulse skipped a beat. If the judge ruled against her, perhaps with the money she would earn, she could entice Nate Sergeant’s sister to sell. That is, if Carly could finish all those garments in time to earn payment.

No one else in town had the expertise to create Vivian Schwartz’s wedding finery. Normally nothing would please Carly more than turning lovely fabric into fashionable gowns. But this time she might’ve taken on more than she could accomplish.

Lord, I asked for a big job, but now I don’t know how I can manage. Please help me finish in time.

Carly sighed. She’d wanted more time with her son not less. But what choice did she have?

The clock on the shelf chimed three. Soon Henry’s teacher would release the students for the day. She’d walk to meet her son, give herself a chance to think of how to proceed and to ease the tension knotting her stomach. Somehow things would work out.

She flipped the sign in the window from open to closed and hustled out the door.

Into a wall. A wall of hard muscle.

Large hands steadied her.

Heart thundering, she met Nate Sergeant’s dark gaze. “If you came back here to coerce me into giving up my shop, you’ll deal with the sheriff.”

As if he believed she might bite, the bounty hunter set her away from him and took a step back. “Quite the contrary, Mrs. Richards. I brought the deed.”

Carly closed her eyes and fought to slow her breathing before she again fainted on the ruffian. “Where is it?”

He waved a hand toward a wagon. On the seat sat a pretty woman dressed entirely in black. She was wearing a stunning black traveling suit befitting a well-dressed widow that immediately caught Carly’s attention.

Carly’s stomach dipped. The newcomer looked too much like Mr. Sergeant to be anyone other than his sister, the woman who held the deed to the shop and had lost her husband at Max’s hand.

“Mrs. Richards, this is my sister Anna Hankins.”

At the mention of Carly’s name, Mrs. Hankins gave a tentative smile, her eyes filling with uncertainty. “I’m pleased to meet you.”

With every ounce of her well-honed will, Carly fought for composure, and then said the only true and nice thing she could think of to the woman who had the power to ruin her life. “I like your dress.”

“Thank you.” Anna smoothed her skirt with gloved hands. “I designed and made it myself.”

Tiny tucks adorned the bodice, each one exactly like the next. Covered buttons down the front and on the cuffs had not the slightest pucker. The buttonholes were neat and evenly spaced. From collar to waist, the bodice fit Mrs. Hankins’s slender frame to perfection.

Apparently the woman had the skill to create exquisite clothing. Skill and time and most certainly an interest, but that didn’t mean she had the know-how to operate a seamstress shop.

“I love to sew,” Anna said. “I can while away an entire day making a dress. I’ve only done a little sewing for ladies at my church. Just pin money, really.” She waved a gloved hand at the shop. “I admire your talent for running a business.”

The compliment didn’t match Carly’s image of Nate Sergeant’s sister. “Well, thank you.”

“I know the circumstances are unusual, even uncomfortable,” Anna said, shooting her brother a pointed glance. “I’m very sorry about all that’s happened.”

The bounty hunter clamped his jaw, wisely keeping his own counsel.

“Me, too. You have my sympathy,” Carly said, her face heating with humiliation that Max had not only killed this woman’s husband, he’d threatened her life.

“As you have mine.”

Did Mrs. Hankins actually believe Carly grieved for a man like Max? “From what the sheriff said, the decision on the shop’s ownership rests with the circuit judge.”

“When’s the judge expected?” Nate Sergeant said.

Carly shrugged, refusing to discuss the matter with him and turned to his sister.

“I’d love to spend a day in your shop,” Anna Hankins said. “The idea of running a business feels a lot like jumping into a dark pool without knowing what rocks lay hidden beneath the surface.” She sighed. “I know I’d be way over my head. Not that I expect to need the information,” she added quickly, her cheeks flooding with color.

Without wanting to, Carly found herself connecting with Anna Hankins. Almost liking her. Almost.

Carly didn’t want to help this woman succeed if the judge ruled in Mrs. Hankins’s favor. Still, Carly well remembered those feelings when she’d first reopened the shop.

Anna Hankins had talent and a sweet spirit. Carly’s breath caught. Could she be God’s solution to Carly’s dilemma? She’d prayed for help making the wedding trousseau, never expecting that help to come from her adversary. But no one else had the time and that kind of skill.

“You’re welcome to spend a day in my shop.”

From the look on Nate Sergeant’s face, he found Carly’s offer startling. Had he expected her and Anna to put up their fists and fight for ownership? Probably. What bounty hunter could conceive of peaceful opponents?

If the woman worked in the shop, perhaps Carly could learn exactly what had happened at that poker game. If the judge ruled against Carly, Mrs. Hankins might agree to sell. Or as they got to know each other better, she might see that taking Carly’s shop was akin to taking food out of Henry’s mouth.

“I’ve got a big job I might be unable to manage alone,” Carly said. “Since we have no idea when the circuit judge will arrive, I suggest we set aside our differences and do the practical thing. I need help. You want to learn how to run a shop. Would you be willing to work here?”

Mr. Sergeant choked out a laugh. “You want my sister to work for you.”

“With me.” Carly folded her arms across her middle. “Proof, Mr. Sergeant, I’m not as awful as you insinuate. Working in the shop will benefit us both.” Carly arched a brow. “Maybe once your sister gets a firsthand look at running a business, she’ll change her mind about wanting that pressure.”

“Don’t think that you can—”

“I can speak for myself, Nathanial.” Anna turned to Carly. “I’d love the opportunity. Thank you.”

For the first time since Nate Sergeant had walked in her door, Carly smiled. Truly smiled. If not for the obstacles between them, she could imagine forging a friendship with Anna. “Shall we discuss the particulars inside, Mrs. Hankins?”

“Anna, please.”

“Call me Carly.”

“I’d like that.”

His fierce expression an indication of his disapproval, the bounty hunter helped Anna down. She took his arm and leaned on him as they walked toward the entrance.

With each step, Anna dipped and rose like a small sailboat on a stormy sea. Carly’s heart tumbled. Anna Hankins was handicapped. Was each step as painful as it appeared?

Max had ended Anna’s husband’s life. Now she must fend for herself. Well, not entirely, not with that gun-toting brother at her side. Still, Anna’s disability must complicate her life.

Did her lameness explain her brother’s resolve to take the shop? Carly resisted the temptation to respect this man; a brother fighting for his sister’s well-being. No, he was a bounty hunter, a violent man who didn’t deserve admiration. But also a man with regrets. Something she understood all too well.

Inside the shop, Anna moved around, soaking up every detail, oohing and aahing as she examined cases of fabric and trimmings.

She turned to Carly. “Your shop’s beautiful, prettier than I’d imagined.”

“Thank you. Would you like to see a finished gown?”

“Oh, yes!”

Carly opened the armoire and motioned to the dress hanging on a hook. “It’s just waiting for the bride to come in for the final fitting.”

“What a sweet neckline,” Anna said. “I used batiste to make my wedding gown. A cool fabric for a summer wedding.”

As Anna moved on to examine the case of gloves, out of earshot, Nate leaned in. “I understand you’re trying to protect your son. But I hope you don’t use this job as an opportunity to talk my sister into giving up the deed.”

Heat flooded Carly’s cheeks. “I merely offered her a job,” she said. “The judge will decide the rest.”

“I’ll be close by until the judge rules.”

As close as now? Two feet away? Close enough to catch his fresh manly scent. To stare into those gray, deep-set eyes. To touch that chiseled jaw and those powerful shoulders.

Everything about the man shouted danger. He’d killed Max, spent his life tracking outlaws, and now threatened her way of life. So why did she feel this strange sense of safety in his presence? As if he would allow nothing or no one to hurt her.

Had Nate Sergeant been telling the truth when the man had told Henry that he would help her?

She bit back a snort. The man would stop at nothing to see that his sister owned the shop.

Eyes sweeping every nook and cranny, a dreamy smile on her face, Anna inched toward them with hitching steps.

The bounty hunter’s gaze softened. “Now you’ve met Anna and can see her options are limited. My sister is a good-hearted soul and doesn’t want to benefit from your misfortune. It would be tempting to take advantage of her sweet nature,” he said, lowering his voice.

Carly’s gaze skittered away from those probing, suspicious eyes. The bounty hunter didn’t trust her. Had he somehow read her mind? Suspected she wanted information, even a bond with his sister in the hope Anna would hesitate to claim the shop?

Well, she wouldn’t badger Anna, but she had to find a way to protect her son.

“Anna, are you ready? I want to get settled in.”

“Yes, I’m eager to see the cabin.” She turned to Carly. “Thank you for giving me the job. I’ll be here first thing Monday morning, before the store opens.”

“If you’re not too tired tomorrow, I’d like to invite you to First Christian Church. Services start at nine o’clock.”

“Thank you.” Anna’s gaze darted to her brother. “I’ll be there.”

At the door the bounty hunter stepped aside, letting his sister precede him, then turned to Carly. “I’ll be back.” He flashed a smile. “Don’t let the anticipation overwhelm you.”

That towering hulk of a man threatened the harmony Carly prized. Yet as she stared into those eyes, an unwelcome thrill of attraction slid through her, shooting heat up her neck and into her cheeks. She groped for a rebuke that would conceal the turmoil churning inside her. “One thing I can say for certain, Mr. Sergeant. Nothing about you overwhelms me.”

He arched a brow and had the audacity to wink. As if he had read her mind and found her claim amusing.

Carly shut the door behind him, leaned against it and took a deep breath. No matter what she’d said, Carly had never felt more overwhelmed. And of all things, by a bounty hunter.

A handsome bounty hunter, her heart whispered.

She pulled away from the door and steeled her spine. A handsome, strong-minded bounty hunter who would stop at nothing to see that his sister owned this shop.