The Bachelor Tax. Carolyn Davidson

leaned closer. “They don’t approve of their husbands coming in for a drink or a hand of cards, let alone climbin’ the stairs to visit—” He frowned. “I don’t think you need to hear that, ma’am.”

      Rosemary felt a flush creep up her throat and splash color on her cheeks. “I understand, sir.” She rose and clutched her reticule before her. “It was sort of a last chance, coming here.”

      “I wish I could help, ma’am. If I hear of anything, I’ll get a message to you.”

      Rosemary groped for the doorknob behind her and twisted it, tugging the door open quickly. “Thank you, Mr. Stillwell. I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

      “No bother, ma’am. You be careful going home, you hear?” He watched her, stepping out into the alley as she made her way from sight.

      “You get a job, ma’am?” From the shadows behind the hotel, a slight figure stepped forth. In the moonlight, he exhibited a cheerful smile, sweeping his cap from his head politely.

      Things were going poorly when a grimy scallywag possessed the friendliest face in town, Rosemary decided. At least, the most welcoming smile she’d been offered today. The rejection she’d received from Samuel Westcott was no easier to accept because it had been delivered with a tight-lipped smile. And the grim refusal of Duncan Blackstone at the newspaper office had left her with nothing but a sense of failure.

      Even Pip had found it hard to smile when she turned down Rosemary for a position. The banker, Pace Frombert, had only shaken his head disapprovingly, as if a woman inside his establishment was not to be considered, unless she was a customer.

      At least Jason Stillwell had been kindly in his refusal.

      “Well, at least you’re still smilin’,” the boy before her said cheerfully. “I was afraid you’d need me close by, ma’am. That’s why I hung around till you came out.”

      Rosemary looked down at him gravely. “I do appreciate your thoughtfulness, young man. You’re the Pender boy, aren’t you? Your name’s Scat, if I remember correctly.” She glanced over his shoulder at the houses that lined the back street of town. “Won’t your father be concerned about your whereabouts? It’s been dark for a long time.”

      He shook his head. “No, ma’am. My pa’s got a bottle, and he don’t care where I am.” He stepped back and motioned to the footpath. “I’ll walk you home, if you want me to.”

      Rosemary nodded. There wasn’t anywhere else to go, and James Worth and his family would probably be wondering where she had gotten to, leaving the way she had.

      “All right. Thank you,” Rosemary said, stepping ahead of the lad.

      Hopelessness surrounded her as she trudged the path, turning in at the gate to the parsonage and lifting a hand to wave at Scat. She could not, in all good conscience, stay any longer with the Worth family. They had been kind and generous, but the parsonage was crowded.

      “Don’t you have family, Miss Gibson?” James Worth had asked only this evening at the supper table.

      “No. I have no one.”

      “Well, you are welcome here,” he’d answered staunchly, even as his wife had lifted her brows as if to doubt his offer.

      Rosemary stepped onto the porch, crossed to the door and opened the screen, smiling as the tight spring announced her arrival with a twang. She stepped into the parlor, nodding at Mr. and Mrs. Worth.

      “I’ll be going to bed now. Thank you again for the lovely meal, Mrs. Worth,” she said quietly.

      She made her way to the bedroom she had once called her own. Now a small girl lay sprawled in the double bed and Rosemary carefully edged her past the middle, making room for herself.

      Tomorrow. It was the last day she would look for work in Edgewood. She slipped from her dress and draped it over a chair, bending to roll her stockings down her legs. After tomorrow, she’d have to look beyond the boundaries of town. Maybe she could cook for a rancher or keep house for a farm family. And at that thought, she slid her nightgown over her head and stripped from her petticoat and drawers beneath its billowing folds.

      Tomorrow, she’d decide what to do.

      “Have you heard if anyone needs a live-in?” Rosemary’s hopeful query brought consternation to Phillipa’s round face.

      “A live-in what?”

      Rosemary glanced around the general store, where only two other customers browsed at this early hour. She faced Pip across the wide counter. “Maybe as a housekeeper or…” Her hands gripped each other at her waist as she groped for another position she might be capable of filling.

      Pip shook her head. “Nobody hereabouts can really afford to hire in help. Maybe some of the ranchers, but most all of them have wives.” She halted, her eyes widening.

      “Rosemary…” Pip leaned over the counter, whispering her thoughts aloud. “Maybe you ought to reconsider Gabe Tanner’s proposal.”

      “No!” Her single word of denial exploded, and both browsers turned her way, openmouthed. Rosemary bent her head and spoke in a low tone. “I couldn’t possibly, Pip. I just couldn’t.”

      Bernice Comstock stepped up to the counter. “Hello there, Rosemary. I understand you’ve been looking for work,” she said. “It’s a pity your daddy didn’t provide a little better for you, isn’t it? Though I’d think you’re equipped for something.”

      Rosemary attempted to smile, cringing within at the faint praise the other woman offered. “Well, if I am, I’m sure I don’t know what it is,” she answered. “Whatever my talents are, there doesn’t seem to be a place for them here. I’ve tried at the hotel, the newspaper and even pestered poor Phillipa here.”

      From her left, Geraldine Frombert cut in abruptly. “You need to marry and have a family, child. A young woman with your upbringing would make a fine wife for any man. Matter of fact, I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up before this.”

      Pip opened her mouth, then snapped it shut after a quick look in Rosemary’s direction.

      “The Bachelor Tax will send some of these men scurrying for a wife, I’ll warrant, now that the year’s almost up,” Bernice Comstock said briskly.

      Rosemary’s heartbeat sped up, pounding in her ears. She felt cornered, as if she were a project being taken on by this pair of ladies. “I’d really rather seek employment,” she announced firmly.

      The door opened and all eyes swept in that direction. A hush fell among the women as Dex Sawyer entered the store, removing his hat in deference to their presence as he approached the counter.

      “Ladies.” He nodded at each one in turn, receiving only a frosty glare from Bernice and Geraldine. Pip grinned invitingly.

      “Mr. Sawyer, what can I do for you?”

      For a moment, he looked uncomfortable, then waved at the supply of linens Pip’s father had arranged on the highest shelves. “I’ve found a furnished place to rent. I need to have a set of sheets and a couple of towels, Miss Boone.”

      Pip’s gaze followed his pointing finger and she turned aside, hastening to scoot her ladder into place.

      “May I climb up there for you?” Dex asked politely.

      Pip stood back, allowing him space, and watched as he made his way up several steps until he could reach his goal. “Are these arranged by size?” His hand hesitated, as he glanced down at the woman below.

      She shook her head. “They’re all the same. If your bed is smaller than regular size, you just have to tuck them in farther. The pillowcases are to the right, next to the towels.”

      With an adept twist of his wrist, Dex tugged what he needed from the stack and handed them down to Phillipa. He climbed down, facing her behind the