Carolyn Davidson - The Bachelor Tax

“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.