The Bachelor Tax. Carolyn Davidson

the breath he’d been holding, and the sound was audible between them. “We’ll see how it works. Maybe something else will turn up that’ll suit you better.”

      She scanned the house, her eyes measuring the height and breadth of the structure, and he turned, wondering what she saw that held her interest. It was just a house, with four bedrooms up and four rooms down, one a big, bright kitchen, another the formal parlor his father had ceased using once his mother left. The dining room was useless these days—never had been much call for formal dining in this house. And then there was the study where his father had done his drinking. Gabe seldom went past the wide doorway. A ghost lived there, and a passing glance could almost persuade him that the grizzled man who had sired him still sat behind that desk some nights.

      “You want to go inside?” he asked abruptly, the vision in his mind making his voice harsh.

      “No, that isn’t necessary. I’ll just have Mr. Comstock take me back to town so I can arrange to have my things brought here.”

      “All right. He won’t be long.”

      As if he had a vested interest in her well-being, Bates Comstock went about the moving of Rosemary Gibson. Driving a heavily laden wagon up to the parsonage the next day, he brought his team of dray horses to a halt and ordered the two sturdy young men to work.

      Rosemary stood on the porch, watching their approach and motioned to her meager belongings. A satchel and three boxes comprised her personal effects, and they were quickly added to the furniture that filled the rear of the big wagon.

      “Hop on up here, ma’am,” Bates said cheerfully, offering her his hand. “We’ll have you all settled right quick.”

      The two young men climbed into the back of the wagon and Rosemary caught her breath. This was really happening. Of all the circumstances in which she might have thought to find herself, this was the least likely.

      And yet it had come to pass, more rapidly than she’d have thought possible.

      From the house, Reverend Worth watched. Then, stepping onto the porch he raised his hand. “Don’t forget what I told you, Miss Gibson.”

      Rosemary nodded, deciding that no answer was required.

      “What’d he tell you, ma’am?” Bates asked.

      Rosemary tugged at the strings of her bonnet and fussed with her gloves. “I suspect you already know, sir.” She looked straight ahead as the wagon made its way down the main street of Edgewood. “He’s going to pray for my safety.”

      Bates slapped the reins across the broad backs of his team. “Nuthin’ wrong with that, I guess. But I’ll tell you one thing, ma’am. Gabe Tanner won’t let any harm come to you out there on his place.”

      “Well, that’s encouraging,” she said, turning her head aside as Dex Sawyer stepped onto the broad sidewalk from the swinging doors of the Golden Slipper Saloon.

      From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of his uplifted hand, and her chin tilted higher.

      “I think the new piano player’s taken a shine to you, Miss Gibson,” Bates said cheerfully.

      “I doubt that.”

      Bates shrugged and grinned. “You’re a goodlookin’ woman. I’m just surprised you haven’t been snatched up before now. ’Course, with your daddy needin’ you in the parsonage, some of the men were kinda put off. Facin’ the preacher and askin’ for his daughter’s hand might’a seemed a bit much to most young fellas.”

      “I didn’t notice any of them lining up on the porch,” Rosemary said, holding her handkerchief to her nose and mouth as the dust billowed up from the horse’s hooves.

      “We sure do need a good rain,” Bates announced, pulling his own kerchief in place from around his neck. The wind had picked up, and a swirling dust devil scampered across the road in front of them, dying out as it reached the grassy verge.

      “The sky was red this morning,” Rosemary said. “That usually means wet weather ahead.”

      Bates nodded and urged his team into a faster gait.

      The furniture was duly deposited in an empty upstairs room, and the two husky young men breathed deeply as they made their last trip into the house with Rosemary’s boxes and satchel.

      “Where will I be staying?” she asked Tanner, who had supervised the move from the top of the stairs.

      “Either in the dining room or one of the other rooms up here, ma’am,” he announced, his words not giving a hint as to his druthers.

      “The dining room?” Rosemary stepped to the wide doorway that led into that dimly lit area, the furniture shrouded as if mourning were the order of the day.

      “There is no door for privacy,” she said quietly, her eyes seeking him as he watched her from the head of the stairs.

      “Your choice, ma’am. There are two other rooms up here, and both of ’em have doors…and locks.”

      The two young men dropped her belongings to the floor and looked at each other, one with a sly grin that bespoke his thoughts.

      It was too much. To start out with such an attitude was unforgivable. “How about the study, Mr. Tanner?”

      His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. “You were in my father’s study?”

      Rosemary scented anger. She’d hit a sore spot, sure enough. “I took the liberty of looking into all the rooms, Mr. Tanner. I didn’t know that any of them were out of bounds to me.”

      “It’s full of my father’s things.” His words were abrupt.

      “Your father?” If the man was here, Rosemary surely hadn’t seen any sign of him.

      “I had a father, Miss Gibson. Like yours, he is no longer with us.”

      She flinched from his words, recognizing his intention to cause pain. The man had a cruel streak. “Then he will no longer be needing the room, will he?” she asked quietly.

      Tanner’s mouth twisted and his nostrils flared briefly, as his boots clattered against the stairs. Reaching the bottom, he halted before her.

      “Now that you mention it, I don’t suppose he will.” His chest rose and fell as he hesitated.

      “If it’s too much trouble, I can…” she began, wishing she had not begun this battle.

      “You’ll have to put up with one of the rooms upstairs, until I can sort his things out. Shouldn’t take me more than a couple of evenings.”

      She cast a look at the dim interior of the dining room. “Why not use…”

      “I’ll take care of it.” His tone ended the discussion and Rosemary pinched her lips together as Tanner looked at the duet of husky men, jerking his thumb up the stairs in the direction of the bedrooms there. In less than a minute, her belongings had been carried up and deposited in the first bedroom, Tanner directing the move.

      Bates spoke from the porch, his voice carrying through the kitchen. “You boys about ready? Supper’s gonna be late, and your ma don’t like keepin’ food hot, Sonny.”

      “All right, Pa,” the largest of the two young men answered, grinning quickly at Rosemary as he passed.

      They were gone. Just that quickly, they climbed aboard the big wagon and Bates disappeared from view.

      Rosemary walked into the kitchen, halting in front of the big bureau that held an assortment of crocks and utensils.

      From behind her, Tanner’s footsteps crossed the floor. “I’ll expect supper on the table in two hours, Miss Gibson. There’ll be six hands and myself.”

      “Do I get to eat, too?” She couldn’t resist. His words begged for rebuttal, and to her dismay, her sharp tongue offered it without