of readymade clothing, linens, pots and pans. Along the back wall he found wrought iron rods that would fit the bedroom windows. The curlicues on each end would please Anna. He gathered them up, along with supports and screws. No need to buy a hammer when Anna had Pa’s metal box filled with tools.
Toting his finds, he walked to the long counter. Behind it, shelves reached from the wooden floor to the stamped-tin ceiling. J. B. Stetson hats lined a section of one shelf. A brown Stetson caught his eye. An exact replica of the hat Pa had given Nate on his twelfth birthday. “When you do a man’s work, you need a man’s gear,” Pa had said, placing the hat on Nate’s head. Though his father’s praise had been overstated, Nate had worn the hat with pride and tried to live up to his words.
A lanky, tall man, his large hands folded over the apron covering his middle, stepped over and flashed a smile. “I’m Clarence Stuffle, proprietor of this here establishment. You must be new in town.”
“Name’s Nate Sergeant. My sister and I just moved into Morris Mood’s house.”
“Ah, that makes you the bounty hunter planning to fix up the livery.” He thrust out a hand and they shook. “Pleased to make your acquaintance. Morris can use the help. Like an old clock, he’s harder to wind and keep a’tickin’.”
“I’m glad for the work.”
“So what brings a bounty hunter to Gnaw Bone?”
Nate had no intention of sharing his reasons. But, word would get out. “Gnaw Bone seemed like a nice little town for my widowed sister to make a new life for herself.”
“Carly Richards is doing the same. I reckon you’d know about that, having killed her husband.”
Nate straightened, holding the proprietor’s gaze.
Stuffle raised a palm. “Not that I’m not holding it against you, leastwise as long as you keep that revolver holstered. Most folks didn’t cotton to Max.”
“I’m not a threat to anyone on the right side of the law.” When had Nate spoken a bigger lie?
“In that case, welcome.” Stuffle motioned to the items Nate had laid on the counter. “Our blacksmith made the rods. A wooden rod, even a strong cord would do, but womenfolk like things fancy.” He glanced at the paper in Nate’s hand. “Anything else you need?”
Nate handed over the list. Apparently, Stuffle hadn’t gotten wind of the controversy over the shop’s ownership. Once the judge arrived, the entire town would know. If the judge ruled in his sister’s favor, as Nate expected, would Anna be an outcast? As if his occupation didn’t already bring enough censure.
Nate’s jaw tightened. He might have the skill to track and bring outlaws to justice, but he had no way to protect his sister from mistreatment. If folks gave Anna a chance, they’d like her. How could they not? She always thought of others, put them first. Still, to ensure her happiness, he would come back to Gnaw Bone as much as he could while pursuing Stogsdill.
Obviously not a man to hurry, the proprietor shuffled back and forth from the shelves to the counter, piling up the items on Anna’s list. Finally he rang up each on the brass cash register and told Nate the tally.
If Stogsdill’s rumored girlfriend lived in the area, he might’ve been in this store. “I’m guessing you don’t have many newcomers in town,” Nate said, doling out the money.
“Not many.” Stuffle shut the cash drawer, then handed Nate his change. “Reason you’re big news.”
Nate wouldn’t show the proprietor Stogsdill’s wanted poster or give the outlaw’s name. If he recognized the man, word might get out and scare Stogsdill off. Nate’s best chance was to locate the rumored girlfriend.
As Stuffle boxed the purchases, Nate leaned in. “I’ve heard an outlaw I’m pursuing has a girlfriend in these parts.”
Stuffle frowned. “Some woman from here is entertaining a criminal? What’s her name?”
“Don’t know. Can’t describe her, either.”
“Reckon finding a nameless, faceless woman is harder than locating a copper penny in a pigsty. My wife works Fridays and Saturdays. She would remember a new face in town, especially a woman. Most likely know all about her before she got out of the store.” He grinned, revealing a gap between his front teeth. “My Myra’s got a nose for news.”
“I’ll be back to speak to your wife.”
“Oh, better yet, talk to Mrs. Richards. Ladies like to ogle lace and feathers while their men do business at the bank.” He chuckled. “Or in the saloon.”
“Thanks for your help and the advice.” Nate gathered the box and strode toward the livery and the small house out back.
Tomorrow he’d stop in at Mrs. Richards’s seamstress shop to ask if she’d waited on a newcomer in town. Hopefully one of these ladies would have what he sought: a lead to Shifty Stogsdill’s girlfriend. That girlfriend could lead him to Stogsdill. A ruthless killer who’d taken Rachel’s life—a lovely, innocent young woman who’d never harmed anyone.
Until Nate brought Stogsdill to justice, he would never be free to settle down, never have a wife and children, never have the comfort of a normal existence. Nothing would make him happier than to end the outlaw’s reign of terror.
Nothing that is, except seeing Anna settled behind the shop counter with her name on the sign out front, knowing his sister had a future, even if Stogsdill saw that Nate lost his.
Carly unwound the fabric, sending the bolt of silk thumping along the counter. This beautiful white fabric, surely as pretty as anything in Paris, would become Vivian’s wedding gown.
On the other side of the counter, her brow furrowed in concentration, dark ringlets of her hair dancing around her jaw, Anna smoothed the fabric, while Carly pinned on the pattern pieces. Pattern pieces contoured to fit the bride perfectly.
“I’ve got to get this right,” Carly said, setting aside the pincushion and reaching for the scissors. “I don’t have extra fabric if I make an error.”
Anna stretched across the table and grabbed Carly’s free hand, then bowed her head. “Lord, give Carly clarity of thought and steadiness of hand to cut this dress out perfectly. Amen.” With a gentle smile, Anna released Carly’s hand. “Sorry for taking the lead, but I’ve never worked with material this fancy.”
Carly had never prayed before cutting into fabric, but after hearing the simple request, she wondered why she hadn’t. “I appreciate God’s help. And yours.”
With Henry in school, Carly and Anna worked through the morning. Their only interruption being two customers who’d browsed through bolts of fabric, then left. By noon they’d pinned and basted the gown’s bodice together. After the fitting, Carly would run up the seams on the treadle sewing machine.
Anna was a steady worker, not much for chitchat; a blessing when handling expensive fabric. Still, her quiet nature didn’t give Carly an opening to seek information. She couldn’t rest until she knew the details of how Walt
