The Bounty Hunter’s Redemption. Janet Dean

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.

       Chapter Six

      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 had gotten hold of the deed.

      Strands of a plan knitted together in her mind. While they ate the noon meal, Carly would bring up that poker game. See if there’d been witnesses and if so, ask Sheriff Truitt to question them. Perhaps they would deny Walt Hankins had won the deed.

      Why, Anna’s husband could’ve stolen it. The reason Max had shot him. Carly bit back a sigh, certain Max was the culprit.

      “Brides have been known to gain weight. I cut generous seam allowances in case we need to let out the dress,” Carly said, though with only weeks until the wedding that seemed unlikely.

      “Where I’m from, a bride’s wedding gown is often worn as her best dress for years. Generous seam allowances make sense.”

      “Not this bride. The Schwartz women rarely wear a gown twice.”

      Anna’s jaw dropped. “Really? Seems wasteful, especially in a town named Gnaw Bone.”

      “I can’t think of a better town to put on the dog,” Carly said, then gave a wink.

      Anna giggled. “You’re so much fun to work with, Carly.”

      The compliment soaked into Carly’s spirit. “Thank you.”

      At noon they stopped to reheat the pot of vegetable soup Carly had made that morning, and then sat at the kitchen table.

      With aromas wafting from their bowls on the rising steam, they glanced at one another and bowed heads while Carly thanked God for the food.

      Anna blew on the soup in her spoon, then ate. “Mmm, this is delicious, as good as last night’s chicken and noodles.”

      “Thank you.” How could she broach the subject? “You, uh, mentioned your husband won the deed. Was he a gambler?”

      “Walt? Oh no. To hear he’d joined a poker game surprised me. And surprised the others at the table.”

      Carly’s spoon clattered against her bowl. “There were witnesses?”

      “Two men at the wake told me about the game. They felt guilty about Walt, him not being a regular. If he hadn’t sat at the table, they figure one of them might’ve turned up dead.”

      These men would declare in court that Max had anted the deed and Anna’s husband had won it fair and square. Any other possibility seemed farfetched, especially looking into Anna’s candid gaze.

      Now Carly’s only hope for keeping her shop rested with the circuit judge’s interpretation of the law. Her stomach lurched. If he didn’t rule in her favor, Anna Hankins would be cooking in this kitchen and taking care of Carly’s customers.

      “I was shocked Walt won. And troubled he’d risked the money Nate sent us on the turn of a card.”

      “No more shocked than I was to learn Max had anted the deed.” Once again, evidence her husband hadn’t cared a whit about her and Henry.

      Anna flushed. “I’m sorry about what happened. I don’t approve of gambling.”

      Walt Hankins hadn’t considered Anna’s wishes any more than Max had considered Carly’s. “It’s not your fault.” The fault laid with Max, a man without a sense of right and wrong. If he’d lived, his example might’ve led his son down that same path.

      “I don’t know poker, but the other players said Walt held a royal flush, the best hand there is, like that was an accomplishment instead of merely luck.” Anna sniffed. “Not good luck, either. Winning that deed cost Walt his life.”

      “That deed didn’t take your husband’s life. Max did.” She touched Anna’s arm. “I’m sorry. More than I can say.”

      “Some mornings I wake and, for a moment, I forget.” Moisture welled in Anna’s eyes. “I can barely believe Walt’s gone.”

      Unlike Carly, this widow grieved her dead husband. “What was he like?”

      “Kind, gentle, soft-spoken. I’d call Walt a dreamer. Some might call him a failure.”

      “But you didn’t?”

      “His inventions and schemes weren’t workable. Often he ran ahead of God, but Walt had this quiet way of making me feel cherished.”

      Max had never made Carly feel valued. Not from the first day of their marriage. “What drove Walt? A desire for wealth?”

      “He had this need to give me a better life, finer things, as if I wanted a life of ease or fancy trinkets.” She shoved aside her half-eaten bowl of soup. “We had a roof over our heads, food in our bellies. We had enough. Plenty.”

      Before meeting Anna, Carly had put Walt Hankins in the same category as Max. The two men were nothing alike. Still, even if his intentions had been good, Walt had failed his wife, just as Max had failed her.

      Somehow that connected her to Anna. A connection Carly would fight with every particle of her being. She wouldn’t let herself care about Anna. If she did, how could she fight for her business?

      Yet fight she must. She’d paid a huge price for this shop. Nine long years under Max’s thumb. Even when he’d been away from home, his presence had hovered over her. She’d never known when he’d return. Never known what mood he’d be in when he did.

      “I