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
