“You’re pretty sassy,” he said in her ear.

She spun to face him. “I’m your cook, Tanner. We decided I’d make a better employee than a wife, remember?”

He shook his head. “No, I still haven’t figured out the whys and wherefores.”

“Changed your mind?” she asked breathlessly.

He was too close, his eyes were too knowing as they scanned her. Her heart missed a beat and fluttered. Pressing her lips together, she dared a glance at his face.

His jaw was taut, his nostrils flaring just a bit. And his eyes, those dark orbs that seemed to seek out her thoughts, were fastened on her face.

“No, I haven’t changed my mind, honey,” he whispered. “I want you to know what you’re gettin’ before I marry you.”

“That’s not part of our bargain,” she countered.

“I’m not sure what kind of a bargain we struck,” Tanner said softly….

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Harlequin Historicals, Harlequin/Silhouette’s only historical romance line! We offer four unforgettable love stories each month, in a range of time periods, settings and sensuality. And they’re written by some of the best writers in the field!

Carolyn Davidson is one of those writers. Her Americana stories are meaningful, morally rich and surprisingly sensuous—and they almost always feature tall, dark and handsome heroes. Continuing in that vein is The Bachelor Tax, an endearing marriage-of-convenience story about a least-likely-to-marry “bad boy” rancher who tries to avoid a local bachelor tax by proposing to the one woman he’s sure will say no—the prim preacher’s daughter….

My Lady Reluctant is a thrilling new medieval novel by Laurie Grant about a Norman lady who must travel to court to find a husband. En route, she is attacked by outlaws but rescued by a mysterious and handsome knight…. Rising talent Liz Ireland returns with a darling Western, The Outlaw’s Bride, in which a reputed Texas outlaw and headstrong “nurse” fall in love—despite the odds against them!

And the ever-popular Deborah Simmons returns this month with The Gentleman Thief, a Regency tale about a beautiful bluestocking who stirs up trouble during a season at Bath when she investigates a jewel caper and finds herself scrutinizing—and falling for—an irresistible marquis.

Enjoy! And come back again next month for four more choices of the best in historical romance.

Sincerely,

Tracy Farrell

Senior Editor

The Bachelor Tax
Carolyn Davidson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Available from Harlequin Historicals and CAROLYN DAVIDSON

Gerrity’s Bride #298

Loving Katherine #325

The Forever Man #385

Runaway #416

The Wedding Promise #431

The Tender Stranger #456

The Midwife #475

The Bachelor Tax #496

To the women who share with me one Saturday

afternoon a month, who attend my book signings, buy

my books and then tell me how wonderful I am, this

book is gratefully dedicated…. Without their support and

affection, I would be lost! Thanks to all of you, members

of the Lowcountry Romance Writers of America.

And as always, and especially for the trials and

tribulations I put him through during the writing of this

story, I dedicate this work to Mr. Ed, who loves me.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Chapter One

From the pages of the Edgewood Gazette…

July 6, 1882

Local legislature approved the use of the new Bachelor Tax for our town. Unless our male citizens who claim the status of bachelorhood can prove they have proposed to at least one eligible woman during the past year, they will be assessed a tax. This is for the purpose of promoting marriage among our citizens. All men of legal age are liable for taxation…

Edgewood, Texas, July 25, 1882

This could very likely be the most important day in her life. Rosemary Gibson appraised herself in the mirror hanging over her dresser, reaching to tug at a curl that hung in front of her left ear.

It was the only sign of feminine frippery she allowed herself, that and the matching ringlet on the other side of her face. Aside from those two small indulgences, she felt she was the perfect picture of a churchgoing, teetotalling, virtuous woman.

Hopefully, the image she presented would be enough to entice the man who was due to arrive on the morning train, just ten minutes from now. She lifted the gold watch from her bosom to check the time once more, and nodded decisively. A brisk walk would bring her to the train station just as the locomotive puffed its way into town.

She left the house by the front door, paced quickly down the path to the street, then made her way through the center of town. Her skirts swung just an inch from the instep of her shoes, and she frowned as she caught sight of the coating of dust covering them. And just when she needed so desperately to present a suitable image. Well, it couldn’t be helped.

Her likeness was reflected from the window of the mercantile, and Rosemary tilted her head, admiring the subdued look of her black hat, then straightened her shoulders just a bit more firmly.

She passed the bank, nodding at Pace Frombert as he opened the double doors to the public, then stepped to the street. Crossing the alleyway that led to the row of houses comprising the poorer side of town, she glanced down its length.

Children played in the dusty road, their voices audible in the clear, summer air, and Rosemary smiled at their antics. She lifted her skirt, stepping up to the sidewalk once more. Then looked aside as she approached the bane of her existence, the Golden Slipper Saloon, only too aware of the tall figure positioned by its front door.

Gabe Tanner, he of the scornful glance and dark, piercing gaze. Only on occasion did she cross his path, and those times she was careful to remain aloof.

She dropped her eyes, observing only the scuffed toes of his boots as she passed, then stiffened as a low chuckle followed in her wake. She halted and turned back, unwilling to allow such an insult to go unnoticed.

His lips still curving in a sardonic grin, Tanner leaned back against the wall, hat tilted over his forehead. Dark eyes scanned her from stem to stern, and Rosemary felt a flush creep up her cheeks as she glared at him, then turned away, resuming her progress.

Men like Gabe Tanner should be outlawed from the human race, as far as she was concerned! Whether or not any of their sort appreciated her qualities was not a major issue this morning.

And yet, those same qualities were about to be judged, and very soon. For if the man who was scheduled to depart the train this morning did not deem her fit to be his wife, she might find herself in search of a roof over her head before nightfall. That thought was appalling, and Rosemary shuddered as it raced through her head. Finding a place to store her worldly possessions would be a distinct problem, one she refused to consider right now. Even though their letters had promised much, should Rosemary Gibson not fit the image of a parson’s wife, Reverend Jorgenson had every right to deny her the title.

On the other hand, if he approved of what she had to offer, she might very well be a married woman this very day. Her steps quickened as that thought brought hope to her spinster’s heart.

She’d not been offered for, ever, until the new minister had suggested in his letter that they might form an alliance of sorts. It seemed his bishop preferred married men in the pulpit, and Lars Jorgenson sounded willing to sacrifice his bachelorhood to the effort.

It was a stroke of luck she had not thought to encounter. Since the day her father had breathed his last, she had stayed on, the parishioners allowing her use of the parsonage, awaited the arrival of his replacement, keeping the parsonage in immaculate condition, praying for direction should she find herself without a home.

The final letter last week from the prospective minister had brought new hope to her heart. If he felt they suited, he would immediately notify his bishop. Until then, he felt his tentative plans must be held in abeyance.

Now, in just a few minutes, Lars Jorgenson would step from the train and search her out on the station platform. Rosemary scurried around the corner of the bank and picked her way through the weed-infested shortcut to the railroad tracks.

This might well be the most important day of her life.

Gabe Tanner’s gaze scanned the wooden sidewalk again, the fifth time during the past ten minutes. His indolent posture was but a pose, his mission this morning more important than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

Ah, there she was. That mousy, dark-haired excuse for a woman, with her collar buttoned so tight it was a wonder she could breathe, her mincing little steps making her bosom rise and fall within her dress. She’d have a hissy fit if she knew how it caught his eye, and that thought brought a chuckle to his lips.

She turned back, her eyes widening in anger and insult, then resumed her marching gait, but not before he caught sight of the blush that rode her cheekbones. She ought to pinken them up regularly. It would make her look almost…

Naw, it’d take more than that to put some life into the old preacher’s daughter, Tanner decided. He watched as she paraded on her way, her heels clicking on the wooden sidewalk.

And yet, he had decided, she might very well be the one to save him a bundle, not that the amount was likely to make him mortgage his spread. Rather, he couldn’t abide the thought of the new law, passed less than a year ago and soon to catch him in its web.

Bachelor Tax. The phrase alone was enough to make his mouth pucker in distaste. The thought that a man would be subject to a tax burden such as this was loathsome.

If asking Miss High-and-Mighty to accept his hand in marriage would alleviate the burden for another whole year, he’d give it a shot. The knowledge that she would shudder and step back from his imposing presence was insurance enough to allow his consideration.

He tilted his hat back and stood erect, casting one last glance at the shuttered windows of the Golden Slipper Saloon. Too early for business yet, although the sound of Herbie’s broom sweeping the perpetually dusty floor could be heard beyond the swinging doors. Jason Stillwell was no doubt in bed, owing to the late hours he kept running the place.

Tanner’s footsteps were heavy on the boardwalk as he followed his prey. She was heading for the train station, just as he had suspected.

The new preacher was supposed to be coming in today. Word had it that Rosemary Gibson was holding out hopes the bachelor minister would marry her and allow her to stay on in the parsonage, where she’d already spent the past ten years of her life.

He moved more quickly, noting the puffs of dust that rose as Miss Gibson made her way across the vacant lot. Her hips swayed quite nicely, he thought. Tanner doubted if the new preacher would appreciate the view as much as a rancher with a long dry spell behind him might.

When it got so a spinster looked good at ten o’clock in the morning, a man was in pretty bad shape, Tanner decided.

The train slowed, its whistle announcing its arrival with three short blasts as it shuddered to a stop. The conductor stepped briskly onto the platform and turned to assist the passengers from the metal steps.

There was more than one this morning, Rosemary saw with some surprise. All she had anticipated was the man who had been chosen to fill her father’s shoes. Those shoes she had polished for the final time just last month. Her tears fought to escape and she blinked furiously, lest she 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 of relief visible as he nodded his head. “Certainly, certainly. We’ll be happy to give you a week or so to find your way. It will take that long for our own furnishings to arrive.”

He leaned toward her, his look filled with concern. “Perhaps you have family somewhere who will be happy for your company.”

She shook her head. “I have no one, sir. My mother died six years ago, and I kept house for my father until last month when he passed away.”

“It was sudden, I understand.”

Rosemary nodded. “He simply didn’t wake up one morning. The doctor said he had grieved himself to death over the past years, since my mother…”

“What a shame. But then, God works in mysterious ways. We know that.”

And how that bit of comfort was supposed to help her, Rosemary found it difficult to fathom. Right now it seemed that God had totally forsaken her.

“It worked! By damn, it worked! I asked the little puritan to marry me and she turned me down flat.” Tanner raised his glass high. “I’m free of the Bachelor Tax for another year.”

“Stupidest blame thing I ever heard of,” Jason Stillwell grumbled from behind the burnished walnut bar. His towel brushed away a speck of dust, and he cast a look of pride at the gleaming length.

“Well, I beat it, sure enough,” Tanner bragged, downing the remains of his glass of whiskey with one swallow. “Caught her on the station platform just as she was about to meet the new preacher.”

The memory was fresh and he basked in it. “She’s not too bad lookin’, up close,” he reminisced. “Just too prim and proper for any man to get excited over. Although that head full of dark hair looks to be…” He shook his head, grinning at his own thoughts.

“I heard tell you were out and about early today,” Jason said. “Sounds like you were up close and right on top of the lady. Sure you wouldn’t like to take her home with you? Your place could use a woman’s touch, if I remember right.”

Tanner shook his head. “Not a chance. Mama Pearl comes in and does for us once a week. Other than that, we do just fine.”

Jason grinned. “That’s not what your ranch hands say. I hear that the only decent meal they get all week is when that old woman cooks for them on Wednesdays.”

Tanner’s brow drew down. “Women are nothing but a pain in the neck.”

“That’s not what I heard you say last year when you were seeing the Widow Courtland.”

Tanner shrugged. “She was a nice lady. Too bad she took Hale Carpenter up on his offer.”

“I’d say you were lucky Rosemary Gibson refused you, Tanner. That was taking a mighty big chance, with her daddy leaving her on her own, and all.”

“Yeah, I thought about that all day, how I’d risked my neck. Made me crave a touch of the hard stuff.” Tanner considered his empty glass. One drink was all he ever allowed himself, the perils of overindulgence being brought home to him by the memory of his own father. He turned the tumbler upside down and sighed his aggravation at his own good sense.

With a whisk of his towel and a quick hand on the heavy glass, Jason cleaned away the evidence of Tanner’s single drink for the night. “Gonna stay around to hear my new piano player?” he asked idly, his gaze on the big upright at the end of the bar.

Tanner shook his head. “Naw. I need to head on back.”

“You’re gonna miss a real treat. I brought him in from St. Louis. Just got here this morning. A friend back there told me about him, said the young man was wantin’ to try his fortune in the West, and I thought I’d give him a chance.”

“Just got here this morning? I saw everyone who got off the train, Jason. Didn’t know you’d taken to hiring family men for your place.”

Jason’s brow puckered. “He’s as much a bachelor as you, Tanner. Take a look—here he comes now.”

Down the stairway, a golden-haired Adonis approached, a wide smile on his lips. He lifted a hand in greeting to the man behind the bar and headed for the piano. His hands lifted the lid over the keyboard in a reverent gesture, and he seated himself on the stool.

“Damn, that thing never sounded so good before,” Jason said in a subdued tone, as music spilled from the fingers of the talented young man who bent low over the black-and-white keys.

“That’s your new piano player?” Tanner leaned back, both elbows resting on the walnut surface behind him.

“Yup! What do you think?” Jason’s words were filled with pride as he considered his new employee.

“I think he looks more like a preacher. In fact, that’s what I thought he was,” Tanner muttered. “And I’ll warrant that’s what Miss High-and-Mighty thought he was, too.”

“Miss High-and-Mighty? Are we talking about Miss Gibson? Has she met my new piano player?”

“She met the train this morning,” Tanner said, his gaze resting on the man who was filling the saloon with music.

“She thought Dex Sawyer was the new preacher?” Jason Stillwell wore an astonished look as his towel moved faster across the surface of his bar. “Holy cats, Tanner. She turned you down because she thought…”

“Yeah.” Gabe faced the bar. “I wonder what happened to the man she was expecting to see this morning.”

“If we’re still talkin’ about the new preacher, I can answer that. He’s all settled in at the parsonage already, him and his wife and two children.” Jason’s mouth turned down in an expression of gloom. “Probably already plottin’ how he can put a dent in my business. These preachers can’t leave well enough alone, always have to be convertin’ my crowd, instead of stickin’ to their own.”

“I heard tell the new fella was single, and Miss Gibson thought she stood a chance of sharing the parsonage with him,” Tanner said casually.

Jason shook his head. “Who knows? Must be somebody changed their mind.”

“Well, if a whole new family’s coming in, I wonder where the spinster’s going to live?” Tanner asked.

Jason shrugged. “Who’s to know. Probably have to find herself a house, or rent a room somewhere. I imagine she’ll get a job. If she stays around town, that is. Maybe she’s got family back East she can go live with.”

“Maybe.” Tanner eyed the bottles on the shelf behind the bar. A dark, lethal-looking liquid appealed to him, and he wet his lips as he considered the jolt it would bring.

“Thought you were goin’ home,” Jason said, following the path of Tanner’s interested gaze. “Never knew you to take a second drink, Tanner. Is thinking about that Gibson woman drivin’ you to—”

Tanner backed away. “There’s no woman alive capable of doing that, Jason. Certainly not that one.”

Tanner pushed through the doors of the saloon and headed for the livery stable. Just outside the wide double doors, his wagon awaited him, his load of supplies for the ranch neatly in place.

He climbed atop the wagon seat, and with a wave, turned his team toward the ranch. It was a decent ride, almost an hour driving the wagon. Maybe with the moonlight on the road, he could take the team at a faster clip.

Either way, it was time to reflect on his blessings. He’d managed to save himself a tidy sum today.

Chapter Two

“Rosemary, much as I’d like to take you on, the store just doesn’t need another helping hand.”

Rosemary sighed deeply, as if she were sorely disappointed. And so she was, having just been refused work in the Edgewood Mercantile. Not that she felt equipped for the position. It was just that she wasn’t well equipped for much of anything outside a home. Keeping a parsonage neat and clean and ironing white shirts at the rate of seven a week for her father had not served to prepare her for the indignity of looking for a position.

“Maybe you can stay on and be a nursemaid to the new preacher’s little ones,” Phillipa Boone suggested. She sat atop her high stool in a rare moment of relaxation, eyeing the woebegone expression on Rosemary Gibson’s face.

Rosemary looked around the mercantile and sighed. At least there was no one else in the store to share in this moment of shame. To be turned down for her first job application was grating on her pride. Thank goodness Pip was a friend, else the embarrassment would have been unbearable.

“I doubt the new minister can afford to hire me. He looks about as penniless as the rest of his kind. And I ought to know, having lived in a parsonage all of my life.”

Glumly, she eyed the colorful display of fabrics on the counter before her. “And I can’t, in all good conscience, buy myself anything but dark colors for the next year. Papa wasn’t much one for mourning clothes, but my own self-respect is going to limit me.” She ran her fingers over a particularly bright floral print. “Not that I can afford anything new anyway.”

Pip Boone slid from her perch and leaned across the width of the counter. “You could always marry Gabe Tanner. He did ask, after all.” The challenge was whispered, as if the thought were too scandalous to be uttered aloud.

Rosemary’s lips pinched tightly together and she turned away. Ramrod straight, she headed for the doorway.

“Rosemary! Don’t leave. I was only funning you.” Phillipa scooted around the counter, her words calling a halt to Rosemary’s departure.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t possibly marry that man. Even if he were serious, it would be…” Rosemary turned, her cheeks crimson, her breathing rapid. “It would be a sacrilege of the worst sort.”

Phillips’s brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing. “Now, how do you figure that?”

“He’s rowdy, for one thing.” The tip of her tongue delivered moisture to lips suddenly gone dry as Rosemary thought of the teasing grin she’d encountered only yesterday.

“Rowdy doesn’t seem too great a sin to me,” Phillipa said with a grin of her own.

“You know what I mean,” Rosemary told her. “Papa would turn over in his grave if I married a man who frequented the Golden Slipper. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t interested.” Her chin tilted as she considered the unexpected proposal she had received. “Mr. Tanner was only putting me on, anyway.”

Phillipa reached to lay a comforting hand on Rosemary’s shoulder. “But, you didn’t refuse him flat out, did you? You know, Rosemary, your papa would be pleased if you married a man who would treat you well, no matter if he did take a drink once in a while. And from what I hear, Gabe Tanner is far from a drinking man.”

Her eyes wrinkled in delight, as if she considered some pleasant thought. “He strikes me as the sort of man who might treat you even better than you know, Rosemary. And he’s very handsome.”

Rosemary’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Pip Boone! What a thing to say. The man uses vile language and partakes of hard liquor. Besides, I’d be willing to bet my bottom dollar that he was only offering marriage so that he wouldn’t have to pay the new Bachelor Tax.”

“Pooh! No man would propose marriage unless he was prepared to back it up, honey. Even Gabe Tanner wouldn’t take a chance like that, unless…” She glanced away.

“He was sure I’d say no, wasn’t he?” Rosemary’s eyes dampened with hasty tears, and she blinked them away. “He thought he wasn’t taking any kind of a chance at all, coming at me that way. He figured I’d turn him down flat.”

As if she’d been kicked by a recalcitrant mule, she clutched her stomach. “I think I’ve been insulted, Pip. I wish now I’d had the sense to make my position totally clear. I should have said no in a hundred ways, just to be sure he got the message.”

“Well, I think maybe you’re jumping to the wrong conclusion about him. The man probably decided his place needs a woman’s touch, and thought that a fine, upstanding preacher’s daughter would be the perfect choice.”

Phillipa’s staunch reply sounded a bit hollow, but Rosemary smiled anyway. “He looked at me as if I were a drudge all right. I didn’t see one speck of interest in his eyes, just that hateful way he has of looking at me sometimes, as if he can see beneath my clothes and doesn’t like what’s there.”

Phillipa’s eyes rounded and her lips twitched, then widened into a grin. “Why, Rosemary Gibson! You’ve peeked at Gabe Tanner before, haven’t you?”

Rosemary shook her head. “Peeked? I don’t peek. And I certainly—” She spun from Phillipa and looked out the wide front window of the emporium. “This is all a waste of time, anyway. I need to find a place to work and somewhere to stay, Pip. I can’t impose on Reverend Worth and his family much longer.”

“How long before their furniture comes?” Pip asked.

“He said it would be here in a week. That doesn’t give me much time.”

“You can move in with my folks,” Pip offered. “We always have room for one more.”

Rosemary shook her head. “You barely squeeze into that house as it is, Pip. I couldn’t do that.”

“How about a job at the newspaper office? Or maybe the hotel?”

Rosemary nodded. “I thought about working at the hotel, but I’m not sure I could earn enough to live on my own.”

“There’s only one way to find out. Just march on down there and see what Mr. Westcott has to say.”

“I’d surely like to lend a helping hand, Miss Gibson, but the only thing I could put you to work at is emptying slop jars and keeping the floors clean. And that’s stretching it. I’d only need you for about three hours a day. I doubt you could do much more than pay for your food and a bed at the boarding house down the street.” Samuel Westcott looked uncomfortable, standing before his desk, his hands clasped behind him.

“I’d surely like to do something to help you out, seeing as how your father was such a good influence on the town, and all.”

“Thank you, sir. I understand your position,” Rosemary told him, forcing a smile.

“Too bad you’re not a gentleman looking for work. I heard tell that Jason Stillwell is thinking about hiring an accountant.”

Rosemary felt a fine film of perspiration on her forehead as she listened to Samuel Westcott. “Yes, well, it seems that men have the upper hand all the way around, don’t they, sir?”

If she hadn’t been looking through a veil of hot tears, Rosemary would never have missed the ball rolling down the sidewalk. And if the man riding his horse had been looking the other way, he wouldn’t have caught sight of her slender legs as her dress flew up in a billowing flurry.

“Oh, my word!” One foot stepping directly on the leather-encased ball, Rosemary lost her balance. Her arms flapped uselessly, her hat slid over one eye, and her skirts settled around her knees as she landed on the wooden walkway.

“Oh, my,” she repeated, one hand pushing at her hat brim, the other pressing against her chest as she fought to gain her breath.

“Ma’am? Let me help you up.” Directly before her eyes a long-fingered, gloved hand offered assistance.

Rosemary lifted her gaze to find that Gabe Tanner’s was focused on the long length of her lower limbs, properly garbed in black, ribbed lisle hosiery. She shoved at her rumpled skirts, gaining a small amount of dignity as she managed to cover her knees and a good portion of her calves.

“Miss Gibson?” His eyes sparkled with humor as he wiggled his fingers in her direction. “I’d be happy to help you up.” He gripped her hand firmly and tugged, lifting her to stand before him. “Don’t know when I’ve had a young lady throw herself at my feet so nicely before.”

Rosemary’s cheeks burned with shame. “I tripped over something,” she said hastily, shaking her skirts and brushing her hands together. Her palms stung and her bottom felt bruised, but none of that bothered her nearly so much as the painful humiliation of this morning’s series of failures.

Tanner’s voice lowered. “I was only joshin’ you, Miss Gibson. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He released her hand and she staggered at the absence of his touch.

“Ma’am? Can you walk? Are you all right?” He bent to look at her face, one gloved finger beneath her chin.

Rosemary ground her teeth together and glared at him. “I’m fine, thank you. Just a little…” There was no way in heaven she would reveal the particulars of her injury. It was enough that her ankle had twisted as she fell. Admitting to this man that she could not sustain her full weight on her right foot was beyond—

“Miss Gibson, I don’t believe you can walk, can you?”

“Of course, I can. Just be on your way. I’ll be fine, as soon as I catch my breath for a few moments.”

She lowered her right foot to the sidewalk again, gingerly testing it, then balanced precariously on the toe of her boot. Measuring the distance to the emporium, across the street and down past the bank, she drew a deep breath and bit at her lip.

Gabe Tanner backed away, his eyes skeptical, as if he gauged her ability to walk. “You know, ma’am, I can sling you over my horse and take you home, quick as a wink.”

“That won’t be necessary.” She moved gingerly, turning from him and taking two painful steps, only to find herself caught up in strong arms and pressed against a firm chest.

The smell of leather and horseflesh, tinged with a more intangible scent, filled her nostrils. Like fresh hay in the fields, she decided, not at all what she would have expected, and then shook her head at the fanciful thought.

He shifted her in his arms, gripping more firmly beneath her thighs. “You’re just being foolish, ma’am, tryin’ to walk when something is hurtin’ you. What’d you do? Twist your ankle?”

“Yes, I suppose I did,” she blurted, her embarrassment made complete by her position, as he strode across the dusty street.

“I’ll just…” He stopped, halfway across the wide expanse and looked down at her, frowning. “Where am I takin’ you, ma’am? Where are you stayin’ these days? Maybe I’d do better to load you on my horse to get you there?”

Rosemary closed her eyes against the utter humiliation of this day. “Just let me down, sir. I’ll make my way alone.”

He sighed in an exaggerated fashion. “Can’t do that, Miss Gibson. You’d fall on your face, and my mama would roll over if she knew I’d treated a lady so badly.”

“So far, you’ve proposed to me under false pretenses and made a public spectacle of me, carrying me down the middle of the street. How much worse could it get?” she asked, stiffening her body within his hold.

He tightened his grip. “If you don’t stop wiggling, sweetheart, I’ll drop you. And then you will be in a fix.” His eyes darkened, and he glowered at her as if he wished he’d never sullied his hands with her.

She closed her eyes. “Just across the street, please. I’ll walk from there.” Her hands seemed useless appendages, and she folded her arms firmly across her breasts, making fists of her fingers, lest she be tempted to push them against him in a bid for release.

He bounced her in his arms again, as if to get a better grip, and her breath escaped in an audible puff of air. The brim of Rosemary’s hat tilted precariously over her forehead and she was sure that her lower limbs were on view to whoever might be observing from the sidewalk.

The urge to weep was almost irresistible, and she drove her fingernails into her palms, gritting her teeth against the impulse. In moments, Tanner stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk and deftly lowered her to her feet.

“There you go, ma’am. I hope I’ve been of some service to you.”

She cast him a sidelong look, her hands busy with brushing her skirts into place. “Yes, I’m sure you have, Mr. Tanner. You’ve been a real blessing.”

He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Was that a note of sarcasm I heard? And after all I’ve done?”

He was drawing a crowd, Rosemary realized, suddenly aware of the ladies who had stepped from the bank. A handful of old gentlemen lingered nearby, their trip to the emporium for their usual game of cribbage interrupted by her misfortune.

“Just go away, sir,” she managed to whisper, the appearance of tears becoming a real possibility.

He was silent for a moment, unmoving before her, and Rosemary drew in a quavering breath, wishing she might just vanish from this place and from his presence.

Tanner’s fingers gripped her chin and he tilted her face upward, peering down into her eyes. “Are you gonna cry, sweetheart?”

“No! I never cry,” she lied, even as a tear escaped from each eye.

Damn, he was in a spot. Half the town was within hearing distance and he was in over his head, trying to make amends for being a gentleman for once in his life. Even as he mulled over his options, a tear dropped to the front of her dingy dress and soaked into the dark fabric.

She was about the most pitiful sight he’d seen in a month of Sundays, with most all of her hair twisted up somewhere beneath that drooping hat she wore, only bits and pieces of it peeking out. It wasn’t the dark brown he’d thought, but a pretty color, sort of brown and red put together. And somehow she’d managed to hide it under the ugliest piece of black straw he’d ever laid eyes on.

“Ma’am?” His fingers tightened their grip, and he saw her wince. With a grunt of regret, he released her chin, aware of the soft texture of the skin he’d probably bruised with his clumsy touch. Her mouth quivered, and he watched even, white teeth clamp down on her lower lip.

“Ma’am, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he murmured, aware that the ladies who had stepped closer were probably being eaten alive with curiosity. He’d almost put his head in the noose once with this female. Now he’d managed to get himself in a hullabaloo with folks looking on.

“I’m fine, Mr. Tanner. You may go on your way.” She looked to be balanced pretty well on both feet, and Gabe stepped back, sweeping his hat from his head.

“I’m glad I was able to be of service, ma’am,” he mumbled for the benefit of the onlookers. “You’d better get that ankle looked at.” His gaze dropped to where her foot was barely grazing the wood beneath it, only the toe of her boot brushing the sidewalk.

Maybe he should…Hell, no! He wasn’t about to make any offers. He could just see himself pulling off her boot and running his hands over her foot and the bones of her ankle. Then he would be in hot water with the fine female citizenry of Edgewood. They’d have him at the altar in no time flat.

Yet, Rosemary’s legs had been most appealing, he admitted to himself, almost grinning at the memory. Curving up from the top of her low boots, they’d been a tempting sight. He’d warrant her feet were narrow and well formed, her ankles slender.

“Rosemary, are you all right?” From out of nowhere, Phillipa Boone arrived, breathless and concerned.

“She tripped on a ball in front of the hotel,” Tanner offered. “I helped her across the street, but she says she can walk now.”

Phillipa nodded. “I saw you carrying her from my front window.” Her lips curled into a knowing grin. “I’m sure you were a big help, sir.”

Tanner replaced his hat, tugging the brim down sharply over his brow. “I’ll be on my way. Hope your foot’s all right, Miss Gibson.”

He turned from the gathering, aware of Phillipa Boone’s words of commiseration and the answering murmur of Rosemary’s voice. What a mess. Twice now, he’d been in close proximity with the woman. He’d better keep his distance before the creature thought he really was interested in her.

His steps quickened as he headed for his horse, and with a final glance at the ladies who were intent on tending to the preacher’s daughter, he rode toward the livery stable. Bates Comstock greeted him with a grin. “What’s this I hear about you offering for Gibson’s girl, Tanner? You plannin’ on bein’ domesticated like the rest of us?”

Gabe felt a shudder of dread down the length of his spine. “It got me out of payin’ the Bachelor Tax, and that’s a fact. Damn tax is ridiculous anyway. Why the town thinks it has to meddle is beyond me.”

“They’re tryin’ to raise money for the new schoolhouse they want to build.”

“Hell, if they count on the new tax to pay the bill, it’ll be a long time till the first wall goes up. There’s not that many bachelors around these parts.”

“What are you doin’ in town, Tanner?” Bates asked.

“Fact is, I was on my way to see you when Miss Gibson took a fall out in front of the hotel. I carted her across the street and let Pip Boone take over with her.”

“You’re gettin’ in deep, boy. You’d do well to steer clear of that gal, or she’ll be takin’ you up on your offer.”

Tanner kicked at a stone, venting his irritation, one hand propped on his hip. “Forget it, Bates. She’s not about to take me on, and that’s that. Now, I need to know how many horses you want from my place. I’m givin’ you first pick.”

Bates slid his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I need three or four. Town’s growin’ and I get calls most every week for a carriage or somebody lookin’ to buy a horse. Your animals broke to harness?”

Gabe shrugged. “Whatever you’re lookin’ for, I’ve probably got. I’m cullin’ out some of the three-year-olds, those that are saddle-broke and a couple I’ve been working with, pulling my buggy.”

“Let me come out tomorrow and take a look,” Bates said. “How are the prices?”

Tanner grinned. “High. I’ve got the best horses in east Texas, and you know that as well as I do.”

“What are you gonna do with the rest of them?”

“There’s a dealer in Shreveport ready to take anything I’ve got to sell.”

Bates nodded. “I’d best beat him to it then, hadn’t I? I’ll be out in the morning.”

“If I were a man I could have a job doing the accounts for Mr. Stillwell at the Golden Slipper,” Rosemary said, propping her chin on her fist, one foot stretched before her with a cool cloth covering her ankle.

“Don’t even think it,” Pip said sharply. “Even if you were a man, you wouldn’t want to work for a saloon keeper.”

“Not much chance anyway,” Rosemary said with a defeated shrug. “He’d never hire any kin of my father. They were on opposite sides of the fence till the day papa died.”

Pip bent over the injured foot and lifted the towel, swinging it in the air to cool it. “I’ll bet you’re going to be laid up for a couple of days,” she pronounced grimly. “You’ve really done it, Rosemary. I’ll tell you what. As soon as I lock up here, I’ll give you a shoulder to lean on and walk you home.”

The thought of stepping with her full weight on the swollen ankle made Rosemary wince, but there was no getting around it. The parsonage was over two hundred feet from the back door of the store, and she needed help.

The sun was heading for the horizon when the two young women turned the corner and the humble home Rosemary had shared with her father came into view. Before it, a large wagon was backed to the gate, and several men were unloading pieces of furniture.

“I thought it wouldn’t be arriving for three more days,” Rosemary said quietly, too upset by this turn of events to hold back the tears that filled her eyes.

“Where is your furniture?” Pip asked, as a large sofa was turned on end to fit through the doorway.

Rosemary was beyond speech and only shook her head.

“Miss Gibson!” The tall figure of James Worth hastened to where the two women stood. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come and get you when the wagon arrived. We’ve been busy unloading, as you can see. I fear we had to put your things out on the grass, and these gentlemen will load them on the wagon and take them to the livery stable until you can decide what to do with them.”

“All right,” Rosemary answered stoutly, blinking her eyes, determined not to show the sorrow that filled her to brimming. She’d known for three days that a decision must be made, and now she was out in the cold. No miracle had occurred. No angels had appeared to wave their wings on her behalf.

If only Lars Jorgenson had not been set aside for another, she might even now be fixing the evening meal for her husband.

And at that thought, she burst into tears.

Chapter Three

The back door to the saloon was tightly shut, only a crack of light appearing below the heavy pine portal. Rosemary stood in the darkness and listened to the sounds from within. A woman’s laughter rippled past her hearing, then the lower tones of a man’s voice, accompanied by a thumping beat as music from the front of the saloon filtered through the crowd.

Her dark clothing hid her from those who might be passing by the alleyway, a narrow lane running between the town’s business community and a row of houses behind it. Rosemary lifted her hand and formed a fist, rapping hesitantly on the wooden panel.

From within, there was no cessation of sound, only an additional voice added to the others. “I don’t care if you just rinse them out. Get those glasses back to the bar. Ain’t there any warm water on the stove?”

The female answered with assurance. “I’m neither cook nor dishwasher, Jason. You’re just lucky I’m good-natured, or I wouldn’t be helpin’ out.”

“And you’re lucky I’m payin’ you good money for sashayin’ your fanny across that stage, Laura Lee. Most places, you’d be workin’ for tips from your gentlemen friends out front.”

“Go take care of your customers, sweetie. I’ll bring your glasses out in a minute,” the woman’s voice replied.

Rosemary lifted her hand to rap again.

“You’ll have to pound harder, miss. They can’t hear above the noise, lessen you bang good and loud.” The voice from behind her spun Rosemary in place. She staggered as her injured ankle gave way, and her hand grasped for purchase on the shoulder of the young boy facing her.

“You startled me,” she croaked. “I thought I was alone here.”

He grinned widely, tugging his cap from his head. “I don’t make no noise, ma’am. I been watchin’ you, and I figured you needed some advice.”

Before Rosemary could utter a word of protest, his fist made contact with the door three times, each thump hard enough to rattle the hinges. She looked around, anxious lest anyone should see her in such a place, and was about to make her escape when the door creaked open.

“See, what’d I tell you?” the boy asked, his grin visible in the light streaming from the open doorway.

“Ma’am?” The golden-haired woman inside the building appeared to take Rosemary’s measure. Her lips curled in a smile of amusement and she swept her hand in welcome. “Come on in, why don’t you? No sense in standin’ around outside. You come to see old Jason? Or maybe to convert the customers?”

Rosemary stepped within the doorway, casting a glance behind her for the youth who had hastened this moment. He was gone, not even a shadow betraying his presence.

“You’re the preacher’s girl, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

Rosemary nodded, assailed by the scent of hard drink and heavy perfume. “I wanted to talk to the owner, Mr. Stillwell, if he’s available.”

“He’s at the bar,” the blond woman told her. “I’m Laura Lee, his…” She smiled, then waved her hand in Rosemary’s direction. “I work here, honey. What do you need with Jason?”

The door across the room swung open and a dark-haired man strode in, the noise from behind him assailing Rosemary’s ears with a harsh symphony of sound. “Where in hell’s those glasses, Laura Lee? I need them now.”

He halted abruptly when he saw Rosemary, and his brows rose in question. “Didn’t know we had company,” he said slowly.

“I’ll get the glasses,” Laura Lee told him, turning to the sink. “The young lady wants to see you, Jason.”

Jason moved closer to Rosemary. “Last time I saw you, you was walkin’ behind your daddy’s coffin on the way to the cemetery. You’re a long way from the parsonage, ma’am.”

“I wanted to see you, Mr. Stillwell, and I thought this might be the best time. I hesitated to come to your business establishment during the day.”

He nodded, and then, as if he had just remembered his manners, he pulled a chair from the table and offered her a seat. Rosemary settled herself on the edge of the chair, aware of the sidelong looks she was receiving from Laura Lee, who splashed water from the stove into a dishpan.

Rosemary leaned forward, hoping she would not sound too much like a beggar asking for alms. “I need a job, Mr. Stillwell, and I heard that you were looking for an accountant to do your books. I’m very good with figures, sir, and I desperately need work. I thought I might be able to—”

Jason held up a hand, halting her effectively. “You want to work for me, ma’am? I don’t think so.” He grinned widely. “I’d have every woman in town after my head if I were to take you on in any way, shape or form. Surely a lady like you can find respectable work without having to knock on my back door.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you,” Rosemary said glumly. “But, I’ve been everywhere in town that might need help, and no one has a position open.”

“Your daddy didn’t leave you too well fixed, did he?”

“No. He truly thought he had years ahead of him to see to my future. There was only a little money in the bank, and the funeral took a good share of that. I need to find work and a place to live.” She cast him a look of chagrin. “Believe me, I looked everywhere else first. I still can’t believe I had the nerve to come here. You were my last resort.”

Laura Lee sashayed past with the tray of wet glasses, and leaned down to whisper loudly in Jason’s ear. “You could always use a new singer, Jason. Bet she has a repertoire that’d set your customers on their ear.”

“Don’t give the lady a hard time, Laura Lee,” he said with a chuckle, one wide palm swatting the blond’s ruffled skirt as she passed the table and went on through the swinging door.

“I need a bookkeeper, sure enough, Miss Gibson, but it’s a job for a man. Besides, you know I wouldn’t dare hire you. I only stay in business by the skin of my teeth as it is, what with half the women in town wantin’ to close me down.”

“They do?”

Jason leaned closer. “They don’t approve of their husbands coming in for a drink or a hand of cards, let alone climbin’ the stairs to visit—” He frowned. “I don’t think you need to hear that, ma’am.”

Rosemary felt a flush creep up her throat and splash color on her cheeks. “I understand, sir.” She rose and clutched her reticule before her. “It was sort of a last chance, coming here.”

“I wish I could help, ma’am. If I hear of anything, I’ll get a message to you.”

Rosemary groped for the doorknob behind her and twisted it, tugging the door open quickly. “Thank you, Mr. Stillwell. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

“No bother, ma’am. You be careful going home, you hear?” He watched her, stepping out into the alley as she made her way from sight.

“You get a job, ma’am?” From the shadows behind the hotel, a slight figure stepped forth. In the moonlight, he exhibited a cheerful smile, sweeping his cap from his head politely.

Things were going poorly when a grimy scallywag possessed the friendliest face in town, Rosemary decided. At least, the most welcoming smile she’d been offered today. The rejection she’d received from Samuel Westcott was no easier to accept because it had been delivered with a tight-lipped smile. And the grim refusal of Duncan Blackstone at the newspaper office had left her with nothing but a sense of failure.

Even Pip had found it hard to smile when she turned down Rosemary for a position. The banker, Pace Frombert, had only shaken his head disapprovingly, as if a woman inside his establishment was not to be considered, unless she was a customer.

At least Jason Stillwell had been kindly in his refusal.

“Well, at least you’re still smilin’,” the boy before her said cheerfully. “I was afraid you’d need me close by, ma’am. That’s why I hung around till you came out.”

Rosemary looked down at him gravely. “I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, young man. You’re the Pender boy, aren’t you? Your name’s Scat, if I remember correctly.” She glanced over his shoulder at the houses that lined the back street of town. “Won’t your father be concerned about your whereabouts? It’s been dark for a long time.”

He shook his head. “No, ma’am. My pa’s got a bottle, and he don’t care where I am.” He stepped back and motioned to the footpath. “I’ll walk you home, if you want me to.”

Rosemary nodded. There wasn’t anywhere else to go, and James Worth and his family would probably be wondering where she had gotten to, leaving the way she had.

“All right. Thank you,” Rosemary said, stepping ahead of the lad.

Hopelessness surrounded her as she trudged the path, turning in at the gate to the parsonage and lifting a hand to wave at Scat. She could not, in all good conscience, stay any longer with the Worth family. They had been kind and generous, but the parsonage was crowded.

“Don’t you have family, Miss Gibson?” James Worth had asked only this evening at the supper table.

“No. I have no one.”

“Well, you are welcome here,” he’d answered staunchly, even as his wife had lifted her brows as if to doubt his offer.

Rosemary stepped onto the porch, crossed to the door and opened the screen, smiling as the tight spring announced her arrival with a twang. She stepped into the parlor, nodding at Mr. and Mrs. Worth.

“I’ll be going to bed now. Thank you again for the lovely meal, Mrs. Worth,” she said quietly.

She made her way to the bedroom she had once called her own. Now a small girl lay sprawled in the double bed and Rosemary carefully edged her past the middle, making room for herself.

Tomorrow. It was the last day she would look for work in Edgewood. She slipped from her dress and draped it over a chair, bending to roll her stockings down her legs. After tomorrow, she’d have to look beyond the boundaries of town. Maybe she could cook for a rancher or keep house for a farm family. And at that thought, she slid her nightgown over her head and stripped from her petticoat and drawers beneath its billowing folds.

Tomorrow, she’d decide what to do.

“Have you heard if anyone needs a live-in?” Rosemary’s hopeful query brought consternation to Phillipa’s round face.

“A live-in what?”

Rosemary glanced around the general store, where only two other customers browsed at this early hour. She faced Pip across the wide counter. “Maybe as a housekeeper or…” Her hands gripped each other at her waist as she groped for another position she might be capable of filling.

Pip shook her head. “Nobody hereabouts can really afford to hire in help. Maybe some of the ranchers, but most all of them have wives.” She halted, her eyes widening.

“Rosemary…” Pip leaned over the counter, whispering her thoughts aloud. “Maybe you ought to reconsider Gabe Tanner’s proposal.”

“No!” Her single word of denial exploded, and both browsers turned her way, openmouthed. Rosemary bent her head and spoke in a low tone. “I couldn’t possibly, Pip. I just couldn’t.”

Bernice Comstock stepped up to the counter. “Hello there, Rosemary. I understand you’ve been looking for work,” she said. “It’s a pity your daddy didn’t provide a little better for you, isn’t it? Though I’d think you’re equipped for something.”

Rosemary attempted to smile, cringing within at the faint praise the other woman offered. “Well, if I am, I’m sure I don’t know what it is,” she answered. “Whatever my talents are, there doesn’t seem to be a place for them here. I’ve tried at the hotel, the newspaper and even pestered poor Phillipa here.”

From her left, Geraldine Frombert cut in abruptly. “You need to marry and have a family, child. A young woman with your upbringing would make a fine wife for any man. Matter of fact, I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up before this.”

Pip opened her mouth, then snapped it shut after a quick look in Rosemary’s direction.

“The Bachelor Tax will send some of these men scurrying for a wife, I’ll warrant, now that the year’s almost up,” Bernice Comstock said briskly.

Rosemary’s heartbeat sped up, pounding in her ears. She felt cornered, as if she were a project being taken on by this pair of ladies. “I’d really rather seek employment,” she announced firmly.

The door opened and all eyes swept in that direction. A hush fell among the women as Dex Sawyer entered the store, removing his hat in deference to their presence as he approached the counter.

“Ladies.” He nodded at each one in turn, receiving only a frosty glare from Bernice and Geraldine. Pip grinned invitingly.

“Mr. Sawyer, what can I do for you?”

For a moment, he looked uncomfortable, then waved at the supply of linens Pip’s father had arranged on the highest shelves. “I’ve found a furnished place to rent. I need to have a set of sheets and a couple of towels, Miss Boone.”

Pip’s gaze followed his pointing finger and she turned aside, hastening to scoot her ladder into place.

“May I climb up there for you?” Dex asked politely.

Pip stood back, allowing him space, and watched as he made his way up several steps until he could reach his goal. “Are these arranged by size?” His hand hesitated, as he glanced down at the woman below.

She shook her head. “They’re all the same. If your bed is smaller than regular size, you just have to tuck them in farther. The pillowcases are to the right, next to the towels.”

With an adept twist of his wrist, Dex tugged what he needed from the stack and handed them down to Phillipa. He climbed down, facing her behind the counter. “I’ll need foodstuffs, along with these linens.”

“I’m sure my mother has an extra quilt she can let you use,” Pip said, her cheeks pink, her eyes shining as she spoke.

From either side of her, Rosemary noted the departure of the two women. Probably didn’t want to associate with a man who made his living at the saloon, she thought. He turned to Rosemary, and his eyes were kind. “I don’t mean to infringe on your privacy, Miss Gibson, but I wondered if you had found employment yet, or a place to live.”

Pip turned away, Dex’s list in her hand, gathering items from the shelves. Rosemary shook her head.

“No, not yet. I can’t pay rent for a room until I have some income. I fear it’s a vicious circle, Mr. Sawyer.”

He leaned closer, lowering his voice as he glanced aside at Phillipa, as if assuring himself she was not within hearing distance. “I have to admit I’ve been thinking about you. If you have nowhere else to go, I can offer you a haven, ma’am. I have room and to spare.”

Rosemary’s cheeks burned with a rush of heat. “I couldn’t even consider such a thing,” she said hastily.

“It would be better than nothing,” he said quietly.

Rosemary was stunned for a moment at his words. “Are you offering me a room, sir? Or a position?”

“Perhaps I should not have put such a suggestion to you. However…”

“You want me to be your…” She could not utter the word aloud. The insult was too great to be considered, and Rosemary turned away, her injured ankle not allowing as dignifed an exit as she would have liked.

He was behind her, his hand grasping her elbow. “Wait. I didn’t mean to give offense, although I’m sure it must seem that way to you. I’m offering room and board in exchange for your services in my home.”

Rosemary shuddered, her perception of Dex Sawyer shattered. At first glance, on the train platform, she had thought him the picture of elegance, a perfect choice for the new preacher and certainly for a husband.

Now, he had proved himself to be a blackguard of the worst kind. She jerked from his grasp. “I cannot tell you how outraged I am at your suggestion,” she said between gritted teeth.

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m sure there is a misconception here, Miss Gibson. I am simply offering you shelter. I beg your pardon for infringing on your dignity, but I only meant that you could cook my meals and keep my house in order until you find a better position.”

“The only offer I will ever accept from a man will be an honorable proposal of marriage,” she said firmly.

“Have you had one?” His tone was dubious.

Her chin tilted and her mouth was primly set as she spoke her reply. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have.”

A flush rose to color his cheeks, and Dex ducked his head. “I beg your pardon, Miss Rosemary. I spoke in haste, and I fear I have offended you greatly. I can only offer my deepest apologies.”

“They are not acceptable, I fear,” Rosemary whispered, her only thought that of escape from his presence. With steps that limped ever so slightly, she left the store. Glancing back, she hesitated for just a moment as Pip mouthed words she could not hear, her arms full of foodstuffs.

From the other side of the glass, Dex watched her departure, his mouth twisted in a half smile that hinted of regret, even as he lifted two fingers to his brow in a salute.

It was impossible that the man would think she’d even consider such a thing. Rosemary’s feet scuffed up clouds of dust as she crossed the street. How could he think she would keep house for a single gentleman? She could only imagine the gossip such an arrangement would cause. The wooden sidewalk beneath her feet now, she barely felt the pain in her injured foot, so great was her distress.

How he could even imagine that she would take him up on the idea was beyond her comprehension. And yet, what had anyone else offered her? she asked herself in a burst of honesty. At least the man had been aboveboard with his proposal. And quick with his apology.

Proposal. She’d thrown the word in his face. She’d said in no uncertain terms that a proposal had been offered. And so it had. An ambiguous proposition, to be sure. And yet…

She stopped suddenly, coming to a halt in front of the newspaper office. Inside, Duncan Blackstone glanced at her, then quickly away.

She ignored his back as he turned away, her mind on the conversation with Gabe Tanner when he had offered his hand so casually and with such a lack of dignity. Had she turned him down flat? She didn’t think so.

The scene filled her mind. She’d told him not to molest her. She’d sputtered words she could not even recall. Yet…she hadn’t refused him outright.

Not once had she said the single word he’d apparently expected to hear.

He was not off the hook.

As first choice, he rated below a rattlesnake, she decided. And yet, what were her other options? To be housekeeper to the piano player from the saloon? To beg on the street corner? To degrade herself further by going from ranch to ranch, seeking employment?

Maybe she could make a deal with him. Perhaps she could earn her way without having to…The thought of what being Gabe Tanner’s wife entailed was almost too much for her to consider.

At any rate, she’d reached the bottom of the barrel. Staying at the parsonage was not an option any longer, and living with Phillipa’s family would be an imposition.

She turned on her heel and marched haltingly toward the livery stable. If passersby spoke, she was not aware of their greetings, her mind set on the goal she must attain before she lost her nerve.

Bates Comstock, leading a bay mare, stepped from inside the big barn. He tipped his hat politely. “Miss Gibson, what can I do for you? You wanting to go for a ride?”

“How much would it cost to rent a buggy from you for a couple of hours?” she asked.

“Whereabouts you heading?” He tied the mare to a hitching post and slid his hands into his pockets.

She felt the flush climb her cheeks. She’d done more blushing lately than in the whole past year, and it seemed she had no control over it. “I need to ride out to Gabe Tanner’s place.”

Bates hesitated for a moment, then grinned, his eyes crinkling with what appeared to be an inordinate amount of delight, Rosemary thought. Why her destination should inspire such interest on his part was rather odd.

“Well, it happens I’m on my way there myself,” Bates said jovially. “He’s sellin’ me three horses and I’m gonna pick them up this afternoon. Why don’t I just take the buggy instead of my mare, and I’ll give you a lift. Won’t cost you a thing.”

Rosemary cast him a doubtful look, then considered the paltry sum she had in her reticule. “That sounds fine,” she said politely. “I’m ready to go whenever you are.”

Chapter Four

Gabe Tanner squinted his eyes against the afternoon sun, peering at the conveyance that was approaching his house. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Bates Comstock was hauling that Gibson woman around in his buggy. With a muffled curse, he left the barn.

If it wasn’t Rosemary Gibson, it was her twin. And whatever her reason for coming, it probably didn’t bode well for him, he decided glumly.

The buggy halted with a flourish, the mare tossing her head, her hooves pawing at the ground. Bates snapped on a lead line and tied it to the hitching rail, then turned back to assist his passenger from the buggy.

“You come for your horses, Bates?” Gabe asked, hat tilted back, arms akimbo.

Bate’s grin was wide as Rosemary’s feet touched the ground amid a flurry of skirts. “Yeah. I was about to ride out on my mare when Miss Gibson here walked up and asked for a buggy to hire. Thought we’d kill two birds with one stone and take the trip together.”

“You were coming to see me?” Tanner turned his gaze upon Rosemary. “You’re wantin’ to buy some horses, too?”

“Don’t make sport of me, Mr. Tanner,” Rosemary told him. “I’m sure you’re more than aware that I have no use for your livestock.” She glanced around, her eyes flitting from house to barn, to the chicken coop and back again.

“Lookin’ things over, Miss Gibson?” Tanner drawled.

She met his look squarely, her nostrils flaring, her mouth fixed. “You know why I’m here, Mr. Tanner.”

One big hand over his mouth, Bates muffled his laughter as best he could, attempting to turn the snorting noise into a coughing spell.

“Do I, now?” Tanner stepped forward, his callused palm reaching to tilt Rosemary’s face upward. Defiant blue eyes met his, and a shiver snaked its way down his back.

“No,” he said in a harsh whisper, “I don’t know why you’re here. Why don’t you tell me?” His fingertips moved ever so slightly, brushing the delicate texture of her skin and his gaze shifted, as if drawn to the movement.

“May we speak privately?” she asked, her eyes darting to the side, where Bates watched, wide-eyed.

“Bates, go check with Cotton about your horses,” Tanner said through clenched teeth, his gaze intent on the woman his fingers held captive.

Bates shuffled away, obviously disgruntled by this turn of events. Probably the best fun he’d had all week, Tanner thought.

But if the female before him was enjoying the event, she took great pains to hide the fact. Her skin had lost its color, her eyelids fluttered, and she had her teeth clenched firmly into her lower lip, just inches from where his fingers touched her skin.

“You’re gonna be bleedin’ in a minute if you don’t quit chewin’ on your mouth like that,” Tanner warned her, then winced as her teeth clenched and a tiny speck of blood formed on her lip.

“Ah, hell, cut that out!” Tanner’s whisper rose to a growl and Rosemary’s eyes flew open.

His grip tightened. “Just spit it out, Miss Gibson. I’ve got work to do. Tell me what you’re doin’ on my place, and I won’t be gettin’ riled up.”

She jerked from his touch, and he watched with dismay as four small red marks appeared where his fingertips had pressed her skin. The word he muttered beneath his breath opened her eyes wider still, and she looked around as if seeking a way out of the predicament she’d managed to create.

“I think I’ve changed my mind.” She backed from him until her skirts touched the wheel of the buggy.

He followed, his anger appeased by the confusion she could not hide. She was breathless, her lush bosom almost vibrating with her effort to fill her lungs, and he found it impossible to keep his eyes from the sight.

“Please let me get back in the buggy, Mr. Tanner. I shouldn’t have come here.”

He shook his head. “You’re the one who came visitin’, sweetheart. Now, tell me why.” He’d never enjoyed pestering a woman so much, and for a moment he was ashamed. She was no match for him, this big-eyed little fugitive from the parsonage.

Amusement won out over shame and he leaned closer.

It was a mistake. Her mouth was trembling, her eyes frantic in their appeal, and her hands lifted to spread against his chest. The movement carried with it a faint scent of flowers and he bent his head, inhaling the hint of fragrance. Dowdy be damned. She smelled good enough to eat, and for a moment he felt starved for sustenance.

Those fingers clenched into fists and her chin lifted defiantly. “I think you’re trying to intimidate me, Mr. Tanner.”

He grinned. “No, I’m tryin’ to figure out what you smell like.” His nose dipped into the curve of her neck, just beneath her ear, and she swallowed a shriek, its sound muffled in her throat.

Her whisper was thready. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You smell good, sweetheart. I noticed it the other day when I carried you across the street in town.”

“It’s apple blossom cologne,” Rosemary said hastily. “Pip sells it at the emporium.”

His thighs leaned into her, and he nudged her face with his own, tilting it upward. Her lips were pink, almost matching the flush that bloomed from her throat to her forehead, and he watched as they parted.

The movement of her mouth caught his attention, and with a muffled sound he kissed her, planting his lips directly on hers.

She had nothing to compare it with, this hot, damp capturing of her mouth. No other man had ever claimed her lips in this manner. Granted, her experience was sorely limited, only a chaste brush against her cheek one afternoon in the churchyard, years ago.

Rosemary sagged against him, her fists captured between their bodies, her eyes crossing as she fought for breath. She uttered muffled imprecations, only to find his tongue whispering along the seam between her lips, as if he would beg admittance. Her head was captured by a large hand that had somehow scooped beneath her hat to fit long fingers through her carefully twisted and pinned locks.

Not only had he taken her breath, but now the ribbon of her bonnet was cutting into her throat as his hand wedged between the black straw and her head. And then, as if he had discovered her plight, he eased the fingers of his other hand beneath her chin, and with a quick movement, the bonnet was released and tossed to the ground.

Tanner’s mouth eased from hers, brushing back and forth, each tingling increment sending shivers down her spine.

Her hands clenched, fingers gripping fabric warmed by the flesh beneath it, and she leaned against him, her legs seemingly useless beneath her.

If Tanner had thought to frighten her half to death, he was well on the way to success, Rosemary thought frantically. His big body was wedging her against the buggy wheel and his mouth had taken unforgivable liberties. His grin had vanished, and now he was looking at her as if he were angry as sin.

His dark eyes were mere slits, his skin was pulled tight over his cheek and jaw, and his mouth was only inches from her own. Rosemary opened her lips, whether to speak or call for help, she couldn’t decide, and then closed her eyes against the sight of his frightening visage.

“Now, sweetheart,” he whispered harshly. “Tell me why you came to visit.”

Her lashes flew open, and he shook his head. “No, just shut those blue eyes and answer me.”

“I can’t,” she wailed.

His voice was a purr. “Sure you can.”

She inhaled sharply and the words spurted forth, as if shot by rifle fire. “I came to take you up on your offer, but I’ve changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind? Why?”

“I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

“Did you get a better offer?” His eyes glittered, his head lifting a bit as he scanned her face.

“No!” She shrank from him, the buggy wheel unforgiving against her back.

“I thought you didn’t want to marry me. You turned me down, Miss Gibson.”

How he could call her by such a formal address when his tongue had been almost touching her teeth just moments ago was beyond her comprehension. “I didn’t, actually,” Rosemary muttered.

“Sure sounded like it to me.”

Rosemary shook her head. “As I recall, I only asked you why you wanted to marry me. I didn’t turn you down flat.”

He leaned back, his eyes flashing, his jaw jutting forward. The lips that had touched hers were still damp and he barely opened them as he spoke. “You didn’t?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Now you’ve decided to take me up on the offer?”

“I don’t think so. Well, maybe.”

His hands moved, long fingers tugging at the pins that held her hair in place. The heavy bone pins fell to the ground, and she was aware of the weight of her long hair falling around her shoulders.

“What are you doing?”

“If you’re gonna marry me, I have a right to look at what I’m gettin’, don’t I?”

“Now?”

His grin was quick and lethal, taking her breath. “I can’t think of a better time.” He lifted the weight of her hair and allowed it to cling to his long fingers, running his hands through the tresses, watching intently as the waves flowed across her shoulders to rest against her bosom.

“Please, Mr. Tanner,” she managed to squeak. “I think you’re taking liberties with me.”

His fingers clenched for a moment, and then he released her with an oath muttered beneath his breath. She cringed from the sound.

“I haven’t hurt you, Miss Gibson. You’ve no reason to flinch from me.” He stepped back from her, and his wide palms and long fingers formed fists.

Her gaze sought the whereabouts of those formidable weapons and she shivered, even as hot sunshine poured from above. “You look ready to do battle, Mr. Tanner.”

He followed her gaze and slowly unclenched his hands, wiping them distractedly against the sides of his denim pants. “I might use them on a deserving sidewinder on occasion, but I don’t hit ladies. Ever.”

“That’s most reassuring, sir.” She hated the slight tremor in her voice, despised the weakness in her knees, and abhorred the fate that had sent her to this man. And yet, there was no help for it. She’d had to come. Her mind grasped at words Bates Comstock had spoken during the hour long ride.

Perhaps she might have the answer to the problem. She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

“Maybe marriage is not the answer for us. I understand you need a cook,” Rosemary said, calling forth her reserves of courage. Whether or not she could bear the sight of this man on a daily basis was not a question to be considered right now. Nor was his ability to send icy fingers of alarm down her backbone.

He frowned, looking puzzled. “A cook?”

Rosemary smirked at him. Tanner decided there was no other word to describe the look that possessed her features as her gaze slid over his face. “Yes, you know. One of those women who stand in front of a stove and serve up food for hungry menfolk.”

He shoved his palms into the back pockets of his pants and rocked on his heels. “Oh, yes. I’m very aware of the duties of a cook, Miss Gibson…but I didn’t know that you were.”

“Really? You might be surprised. Perhaps you would like to hire me. I bake wonderful pies.” Rosemary’s eyes were defiant, her jaw set.

“Mama Pearl does for us. What makes you think I’m in the market for someone else?” he asked. “Besides, I thought you were hell-bent on being my wife.”

Her lashes drifted to rest against her cheek for a moment, then rose, and he was struck by the brilliance of her eyes, as blue as the birds that nested in his fenceposts on the far side of the pasture.

“Put that aside for the moment. I have to wonder what you eat the other six days of the week when Mama Pearl isn’t here,” she murmured, those smart-aleck words sliding artlessly from between rosy lips.

“We make do.” And that was the truth. “Make do” was about the best he and his men had done. They’d gotten sick of meat tossed into a frying pan and cooked to shoe leather. They’d eaten eggs every which way but edible, and choked them down because not one man Jack of them knew how to make them taste any better than the last.

“Make do?” She eyed him dubiously. “Just what does that mean?”

Tanner’s chin jutted, and he felt the heat rise from his throat. Now she had him defending the food his ranch hands ate. And how the conversation had taken this tack he surely didn’t know.

“It won’t matter once I marry you, will it? And who told you I needed a cook here, anyway?”

“Mr. Comstock mentioned it on the way out from town.”

“I’ll just bet he did,” Gabe muttered, his frustrated glare aimed at the barn. “So which position are you applying for, Miss Gibson? Or are you just tryin’ to get my goat?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? Maybe, what?”

“I’ve been looking for a job in town, without much success. Perhaps working for you might be the answer. To tell you the truth, cooking for you beats accepting your marriage proposal.”

“I think I just took it back, anyway,” Tanner said bluntly. “I’m not sure you’d be the sort of wife I need.”

Gabe watched as her jaw clenched, and her skin lost its color. Then his gaze traveled her length and he bit at his tongue, almost ashamed of the scornful words he’d aimed in her direction.

He’d be willing to bet his best filly that she was shaking in her boots. But, damn! He had to give her credit. She was toe-to-toe with him and not backing down one little bit.

“I’m not sure a marriage proposal is retractable,” she told him primly. “Not if you plan on dodging the new tax on bachelors, anyway.”

“Make up your mind, sweetheart. Either you want to be my cook or my wife. Which is it?” And then he waited for a long moment as she hesitated. It’d be just like the woman to call his bluff, and if there was anything Gabe Tanner didn’t need, it was a female nagging at his heels every blessed day of his life.

At least not one that had any rights over him.

“I’d just as soon try the job as a cook, if it’s all the same to you,” she said.

He dragged his gaze from her mouth and his thoughts from the memory of how sweet those lips had tasted. His mind registered the words she had just spoken.

A cook. He’d just hired himself a cook, and for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how that piece of business had come to pass.

“You got your duds with you?” He peered into the buggy, then stepped back. “Must be you’re plannin’ on walkin’ back and forth to town every day. Or else buyin’ a rig to travel in. You sure don’t want to live on a ranch with a bunch of rowdy cowhands and a bachelor.”

Rosemary shook her head. “I don’t believe I could be here in time to cook breakfast, Mr. Tanner. And as for living in your house, I wouldn’t mind. You could always join your men wherever they sleep, I suppose.”

“I hardly think so, ma’am.” He tilted his head, nodding at the long, low building at the far side of the barn. “That there’s the bunkhouse.” He turned, aiming one long finger at the dwelling he’d helped to construct. “That’s my house. I sleep in it, every night of my life.”

Her gaze followed the line his pointing finger indicated, and he watched as her throat moved, grinning as he recognized the swallow she could not conceal. “I suppose the house is large enough for me to find a space for my belongings, Mr. Tanner.

“I have several pieces of furniture that I would need to store, sir. Perhaps there might be an extra room I could use.” She swung her head to face him and her eyes were bleak, the brilliant blue fading, as if sadness had drawn a shade, making her gaze colorless and dull.

“Furniture?”

She nodded. “Some things of my mother’s. Things I can’t…well, just family…” She halted, her hands moving helplessly against her dress.

Suddenly the baiting ceased to be enjoyable, and he spoke soberly. “There are a couple of empty rooms, Rosemary.” How he’d managed to acquire a cook was a moot question. Now that he had, the particulars of the situation were the issue to be faced.

“You know you’ll be the talk of the town, don’t you?”

Her shrug was eloquent. “I haven’t found employment there. I shouldn’t think it would be anyone’s business. Besides—” she looked up at him and hesitated. “I need a place to stay.”

The woman was in desperate straits. He released the breath he’d been holding, and the sound was audible between them. “We’ll see how it works. Maybe something else will turn up that’ll suit you better.”

She scanned the house, her eyes measuring the height and breadth of the structure, and he turned, wondering what she saw that held her interest. It was just a house, with four bedrooms up and four rooms down, one a big, bright kitchen, another the formal parlor his father had ceased using once his mother left. The dining room was useless these days—never had been much call for formal dining in this house. And then there was the study where his father had done his drinking. Gabe seldom went past the wide doorway. A ghost lived there, and a passing glance could almost persuade him that the grizzled man who had sired him still sat behind that desk some nights.

“You want to go inside?” he asked abruptly, the vision in his mind making his voice harsh.

“No, that isn’t necessary. I’ll just have Mr. Comstock take me back to town so I can arrange to have my things brought here.”

“All right. He won’t be long.”

As if he had a vested interest in her well-being, Bates Comstock went about the moving of Rosemary Gibson. Driving a heavily laden wagon up to the parsonage the next day, he brought his team of dray horses to a halt and ordered the two sturdy young men to work.

Rosemary stood on the porch, watching their approach and motioned to her meager belongings. A satchel and three boxes comprised her personal effects, and they were quickly added to the furniture that filled the rear of the big wagon.

“Hop on up here, ma’am,” Bates said cheerfully, offering her his hand. “We’ll have you all settled right quick.”

The two young men climbed into the back of the wagon and Rosemary caught her breath. This was really happening. Of all the circumstances in which she might have thought to find herself, this was the least likely.

And yet it had come to pass, more rapidly than she’d have thought possible.

From the house, Reverend Worth watched. Then, stepping onto the porch he raised his hand. “Don’t forget what I told you, Miss Gibson.”

Rosemary nodded, deciding that no answer was required.

“What’d he tell you, ma’am?” Bates asked.

Rosemary tugged at the strings of her bonnet and fussed with her gloves. “I suspect you already know, sir.” She looked straight ahead as the wagon made its way down the main street of Edgewood. “He’s going to pray for my safety.”

Bates slapped the reins across the broad backs of his team. “Nuthin’ wrong with that, I guess. But I’ll tell you one thing, ma’am. Gabe Tanner won’t let any harm come to you out there on his place.”

“Well, that’s encouraging,” she said, turning her head aside as Dex Sawyer stepped onto the broad sidewalk from the swinging doors of the Golden Slipper Saloon.

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of his uplifted hand, and her chin tilted higher.

“I think the new piano player’s taken a shine to you, Miss Gibson,” Bates said cheerfully.

“I doubt that.”

Bates shrugged and grinned. “You’re a goodlookin’ woman. I’m just surprised you haven’t been snatched up before now. ’Course, with your daddy needin’ you in the parsonage, some of the men were kinda put off. Facin’ the preacher and askin’ for his daughter’s hand might’a seemed a bit much to most young fellas.”

“I didn’t notice any of them lining up on the porch,” Rosemary said, holding her handkerchief to her nose and mouth as the dust billowed up from the horse’s hooves.

“We sure do need a good rain,” Bates announced, pulling his own kerchief in place from around his neck. The wind had picked up, and a swirling dust devil scampered across the road in front of them, dying out as it reached the grassy verge.

“The sky was red this morning,” Rosemary said. “That usually means wet weather ahead.”

Bates nodded and urged his team into a faster gait.

The furniture was duly deposited in an empty upstairs room, and the two husky young men breathed deeply as they made their last trip into the house with Rosemary’s boxes and satchel.

“Where will I be staying?” she asked Tanner, who had supervised the move from the top of the stairs.

“Either in the dining room or one of the other rooms up here, ma’am,” he announced, his words not giving a hint as to his druthers.

“The dining room?” Rosemary stepped to the wide doorway that led into that dimly lit area, the furniture shrouded as if mourning were the order of the day.

“There is no door for privacy,” she said quietly, her eyes seeking him as he watched her from the head of the stairs.

“Your choice, ma’am. There are two other rooms up here, and both of ’em have doors…and locks.”

The two young men dropped her belongings to the floor and looked at each other, one with a sly grin that bespoke his thoughts.

It was too much. To start out with such an attitude was unforgivable. “How about the study, Mr. Tanner?”

His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. “You were in my father’s study?”

Rosemary scented anger. She’d hit a sore spot, sure enough. “I took the liberty of looking into all the rooms, Mr. Tanner. I didn’t know that any of them were out of bounds to me.”

“It’s full of my father’s things.” His words were abrupt.

“Your father?” If the man was here, Rosemary surely hadn’t seen any sign of him.

“I had a father, Miss Gibson. Like yours, he is no longer with us.”

She flinched from his words, recognizing his intention to cause pain. The man had a cruel streak. “Then he will no longer be needing the room, will he?” she asked quietly.

Tanner’s mouth twisted and his nostrils flared briefly, as his boots clattered against the stairs. Reaching the bottom, he halted before her.

“Now that you mention it, I don’t suppose he will.” His chest rose and fell as he hesitated.

“If it’s too much trouble, I can…” she began, wishing she had not begun this battle.

“You’ll have to put up with one of the rooms upstairs, until I can sort his things out. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple of evenings.”

She cast a look at the dim interior of the dining room. “Why not use…”

“I’ll take care of it.” His tone ended the discussion and Rosemary pinched her lips together as Tanner looked at the duet of husky men, jerking his thumb up the stairs in the direction of the bedrooms there. In less than a minute, her belongings had been carried up and deposited in the first bedroom, Tanner directing the move.

Bates spoke from the porch, his voice carrying through the kitchen. “You boys about ready? Supper’s gonna be late, and your ma don’t like keepin’ food hot, Sonny.”

“All right, Pa,” the largest of the two young men answered, grinning quickly at Rosemary as he passed.

They were gone. Just that quickly, they climbed aboard the big wagon and Bates disappeared from view.

Rosemary walked into the kitchen, halting in front of the big bureau that held an assortment of crocks and utensils.

From behind her, Tanner’s footsteps crossed the floor. “I’ll expect supper on the table in two hours, Miss Gibson. There’ll be six hands and myself.”

“Do I get to eat, too?” She couldn’t resist. His words begged for rebuttal, and to her dismay, her sharp tongue offered it without pause.

“You’d better make plenty, or there might not be any left for you, ma’am. You’re cookin’ for hungry men.”

That was an understatement, Rosemary decided later, watching as the seven men devoured her efforts. In less than ten minutes they had plowed through two platters of beef steak she’d breaded and fried, then placed in the oven to bake. A big bowl of pale gravy was poured without prejudice over their plates, covering potatoes, biscuits and meat, the spoon she had provided even now staining the tablecloth she’d used.

Two quart jars of green beans had disappeared, and the dried apples she’d made up into a dessert, with sugar and cinnamon and sweet dough on top, were but a memory.

It was as if a horde of locusts had descended and devoured every scrap of available food, she decided, watching with wide eyes as one of the men wiped the gravy bowl clean with a piece of biscuit, then stuffed the dripping bite into his mouth.

“Sure is good grub, ma’am,” he announced, shoving his chair back from the table as he gained his feet. “Pert near as good as Mama Pearl’s.”

The glow ignited by his offhand compliment faded as Rosemary registered his final words. “What does Mama Pearl cook for you?” she asked hastily as the men clustered at the doorway, filing out onto the porch.

Tanner sat at the other end of the long table and leaned back in his chair. “You’ll get a chance to ask her tomorrow. It’s her day to show up here.”

He eyed the empty bowls and his grin was unrepentant. “Doesn’t look like they left you much, Miss Gibson. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

She nodded. “That’s true.”

Tanner rose from his chair, nodding at her as he pushed it beneath the table’s edge. His fingers raised in a half salute as he strolled from the kitchen. “I might as well start on the study, ma’am. There may be part of a loaf of bread left in the pantry if you’re hungry.”

“I took you at your word, Mr. Tanner,” she said beneath her breath.

He paused at the doorway. “Oh? How’s that?”

She turned, opening the oven and, with a heavy pot holder, drew forth a plate upon which she had placed a generous portion of the meal she had prepared.

“I got mine first. Just in case.” With a flourish, she sat down at the table, spreading a dish towel across her lap. Folding her hands before her, she closed her eyes, her mind searching for words of thanksgiving.

For the first time in her life, she met a blank wall. The presence of the Almighty seemed not to occupy this room, and the simple prayer she was accustomed to speaking before her meals was somehow gone from her mind.

She compromised, closing her eyes, whispering a few words of thanks for her food, and asking only for safe refuge in this place. The image of Gabe Tanner’s face flashed before her closed eyes, his lips curved in a smug grin, his gaze flashing a challenge.

Her eyes opened and she gritted her teeth. The man was determined to be an aggravation. With fingers that trembled, she picked up her knife and fork and sawed at a piece of steak, reconsidering her quick petition to the Almighty.

Perhaps, she thought, she should have asked instead for patience.

Chapter Five

The rain began during the night, blowing through the window, sending a fresh breeze into Rosemary’s bedroom. She awoke with a start, only a sheet covering her, the residue of a dream fogging her mind. Rising quickly, she moved toward the window, where filmy curtains billowed in the wind, the fabric soaking up the dampness. Beneath her feet raindrops spattered the floor, and she shivered as chills vibrated through her body.

Arms circling like those of a windmill, her legs wobbling beneath her, she slid in an awkward dance across the wet, bare wooden floor. With a loud thump, her left hand banged against the wall, and she cried aloud as she fell, her bottom landing with bruising force. The fabric of her nightgown soaked up the puddle she sat in, and between the throbbing of her hand and the chill of the soggy material wrapped around her, she was beyond discomfort.

Outside the open window the rain increased, and she winced as the lightning flashed, a loud clap of thunder following on its heels, battering her eardrums. It was not, she decided, an auspicious beginning for this, her first night in this house.

“Miss Gibson? Rosemary?” From the doorway, Tanner’s booming voice filled the room. He stepped quickly to the bed as if he sought her there, and then moved around it to where she sprawled inelegantly on the floor in front of the open window.

“If you want to take a bath, there’s easier ways to go about it, ma’am.” He reached past her to close the window, before squatting beside her. Bathed in another flash of light, he leaned toward her, bare chested, his smile raffish. It was too much to bear—this man with his sarcasm, the rain drenching her, a wet curtain draped across her head, and the knowledge that she wore her only clean nightgown.

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