Janet Dean - The Bounty Hunter’s Redemption

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Into a wall. A wall of hard muscle.

Large hands steadied her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As you have mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t think that you can—”

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

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

“Anna, please.”

“Call me Carly.”

“I’d like that.”

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

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

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

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