supper.”
“How thoughtful.” She opened the door. “Please, come in.”
At his mother’s side, Henry turned to Nate. “Are you coming?”
“My sister asked me to run an errand, but I’ll see you around.”
The light in Henry’s eyes dimmed. “Oh, okay. ’Bye,” he said, taking the hand Anna offered and walking inside.
Nate tipped his hat at Mrs. Richards. “Thanks for supper. That was considerate of you.”
Her sapphire eyes held a chill. “Don’t be misled, Mr. Sergeant. If not for you, Anna would not consider taking my shop. That makes you and me adversaries. I’ll do what I must to ensure my son’s future.”
“As I will with my sister’s.”
“We understand each other, then,” she said, closing the door with a click.
Carly Richards might be hospitable to Anna, but she obviously viewed him as the enemy. She somehow knew Anna would forgo ownership of the shop if not for his insistence. And that was why he would stay until the judge ruled.
Nate strode past the livery out to Main Street. Always alert for trouble, his gaze spanned the street and buildings as he turned toward the mercantile.
Most businesses in town looked prosperous and well kept. Ruffled curtains hung on either side of the window of Sarah’s Café. A red-and-white-striped pole heralded the town barbershop. First State Bank, the name hand-lettered in gold across the glass, looked as solid as its stone facade. On down the street Nate spied a grocery and doctor’s office.
Apparently the livery was the only run-down building in town. Gnaw Bone was a nice place for his sister to settle. From what he’d seen, folks here had pride of ownership and weren’t afraid of work.
Nate stepped through the open double doors of Stuffle Emporium, the scents of spices, kerosene, soap and vinegar warring in his nostrils. He zigzagged through a maze of tables piled with stacks 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.
“How thoughtful.” She opened the door. “Please, come in.”
At his mother’s side, Henry turned to Nate. “Are you coming?”
“My sister asked me to run an errand, but I’ll see you around.”
The light in Henry’s eyes dimmed. “Oh, okay. ’Bye,” he said, taking the hand Anna offered and walking inside.
Nate tipped his hat at Mrs. Richards. “Thanks for supper. That was considerate of you.”
Her sapphire eyes held a chill. “Don’t be misled, Mr. Sergeant. If not for you, Anna would not consider taking my shop. That makes you and me adversaries. I’ll do what I must to ensure my son’s future.”
“As I will with my sister’s.”
“We understand each other, then,” she said, closing the door with a click.
Carly Richards might be hospitable to Anna, but she obviously viewed him as the enemy. She somehow knew Anna would forgo ownership of the shop if not for his insistence. And that was why he would stay until the judge ruled.
Nate strode past the livery out to Main Street. Always alert for trouble, his gaze spanned the street and buildings as he turned toward the mercantile.
Most businesses in town looked prosperous and well kept. Ruffled curtains hung on either side of the window of Sarah’s Café. A red-and-white-striped pole heralded the town barbershop. First State Bank, the name hand-lettered in gold across the glass, looked as solid as its stone facade. On down the street Nate spied a grocery and doctor’s office.
Apparently the livery was the only run-down building in town. Gnaw Bone was a nice place for his sister to settle. From what he’d seen, folks here had pride of ownership and weren’t afraid of work.
Nate stepped through the open double doors of Stuffle Emporium, the scents of spices, kerosene, soap and vinegar warring in his nostrils. He zigzagged through a maze of tables piled with stacks 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.
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