The Bachelor Tax Page 2

  “Is it close by? Can we walk there?” he asked. Behind him, his wife waited, an uncertain smile on her lips. “This is Beatrice, my wife, and our children.”

  Rosemary nodded. “I’m pleased to meet all of you, I’m sure.” And if that wasn’t the biggest lie she’d ever told, she’d be forced to eat her hat. Even though she’d much rather cast it to the ground and stomp on it with both feet.

  “We surely didn’t mean to impose on you, Miss Gibson. I know the parsonage was your home for a long time, and the bishop should have given you warning that you would be expected to vacate it for our benefit.” James Worth was obviously distressed by his position as he faced Rosemary in the small parlor.

  “I have nowhere to store my belongings,” she admitted. “Perhaps you can allow me to stay here until I find a house.”

  His smile was brilliant, a hint of relief visible as he nodded his head. “Certainly, certainly. We’ll be happy to give you a week or so to find your way. It will take that long for our own furnishings to arrive.”

  He leaned toward her, his look filled with concern. “Perhaps you have family somewhere who will be happy for your company.”

  She shook her head. “I have no one, sir. My mother died six years ago, and I kept house for my father until last month when he passed away.”

  “It was sudden, I understand.”

  Rosemary nodded. “He simply didn’t wake up one morning. The doctor said he had grieved himself to death over the past years, since my mother…”

  “What a shame. But then, God works in mysterious ways. We know that.”

  And how that bit of comfort was supposed to help her, Rosemary found it difficult to fathom. Right now it seemed that God had totally forsaken her.

  “It worked! By damn, it worked! I asked the little puritan to marry me and she turned me down flat.” Tanner raised his glass high. “I’m free of the Bachelor Tax for another year.”

  “Stupidest blame thing I ever heard of,” Jason Stillwell grumbled from behind the burnished walnut bar. His towel brushed away a speck of dust, and he cast a look of pride at the gleaming length.

  “Well, I beat it, sure enough,” Tanner bragged, downing the remains of his glass of whiskey with one swallow. “Caught her on the station platform just as she was about to meet the new preacher.”

  The memory was fresh and he basked in it. “She’s not too bad lookin’, up close,” he reminisced. “Just too prim and proper for any man to get excited over. Although that head full of dark hair looks to be…” He shook his head, grinning at his own thoughts.

  “I heard tell you were out and about early today,” Jason said. “Sounds like you were up close and right on top of the lady. Sure you wouldn’t like to take her home with you? Your place could use a woman’s touch, if I remember right.”

  Tanner shook his head. “Not a chance. Mama Pearl comes in and does for us once a week. Other than that, we do just fine.”

  Jason grinned. “That’s not what your ranch hands say. I hear that the only decent meal they get all week is when that old woman cooks for them on Wednesdays.”

  Tanner’s brow drew down. “Women are nothing but a pain in the neck.”

  “That’s not what I heard you say last year when you were seeing the Widow Courtland.”

  Tanner shrugged. “She was a nice lady. Too bad she took Hale Carpenter up on his offer.”

  “I’d say you were lucky Rosemary Gibson refused you, Tanner. That was taking a mighty big chance, with her daddy leaving her on her own, and all.”

  “Yeah, I thought about that all day, how I’d risked my neck. Made me crave a touch of the hard stuff.” Tanner considered his empty glass. One drink was all he ever allowed himself, the perils of overindulgence being brought home to him by the memory of his own father. He turned the tumbler upside down and sighed his aggravation at his own good sense.

  With a whisk of his towel and a quick hand on the heavy glass, Jason cleaned away the evidence of Tanner’s single drink for the night. “Gonna stay around to hear my new piano player?” he asked idly, his gaze on the big upright at the end of the bar.

  Tanner shook his head. “Naw. I need to head on back.”

  “You’re gonna miss a real treat. I brought him in from St. Louis. Just got here this morning. A friend back there told me about him, said the young man was wantin’ to try his fortune in the West, and I thought I’d give him a chance.”

  “Just got here this morning? I saw everyone who got off the train, Jason. Didn’t know you’d taken to hiring family men for your place.”

  Jason’s brow puckered. “He’s as much a bachelor as you, Tanner. Take a look—here he comes now.”

  Down the stairway, a golden-haired Adonis approached, a wide smile on his lips. He lifted a hand in greeting to the man behind the bar and headed for the piano. His hands lifted the lid over the keyboard in a reverent gesture, and he seated himself on the stool.

  “Damn, that thing never sounded so good before,” Jason said in a subdued tone, as music spilled from the fingers of the talented young man who bent low over the black-and-white keys.

  “That’s your new piano player?” Tanner leaned back, both elbows resting on the walnut surface behind him.

  “Yup! What do you think?” Jason’s words were filled with pride as he considered his new employee.

  “I think he looks more like a preacher. In fact, that’s what I thought he was,” Tanner muttered. “And I’ll warrant that’s what Miss High-and-Mighty thought he was, too.”

  “Miss High-and-Mighty? Are we talking about Miss Gibson? Has she met my new piano player?”

  “She met the train this morning,” Tanner said, his gaze resting on the man who was filling the saloon with music.

  “She thought Dex Sawyer was the new preacher?” Jason Stillwell wore an astonished look as his towel moved faster across the surface of his bar. “Holy cats, Tanner. She turned you down because she thought…”

  “Yeah.” Gabe faced the bar. “I wonder what happened to the man she was expecting to see this morning.”

  “If we’re still talkin’ about the new preacher, I can answer that. He’s all settled in at the parsonage already, him and his wife and two children.” Jason’s mouth turned down in an expression of gloom. “Probably already plottin’ how he can put a dent in my business. These preachers can’t leave well enough alone, always have to be convertin’ my crowd, instead of stickin’ to their own.”

  “I heard tell the new fella was single, and Miss Gibson thought she stood a chance of sharing the parsonage with him,” Tanner said casually.

  Jason shook his head. “Who knows? Must be somebody changed their mind.”

  “Well, if a whole new family’s coming in, I wonder where the spinster’s going to live?” Tanner asked.

  Jason shrugged. “Who’s to know. Probably have to find herself a house, or rent a room somewhere. I imagine she’ll get a job. If she stays around town, that is. Maybe she’s got family back East she can go live with.”

  “Maybe.” Tanner eyed the bottles on the shelf behind the bar. A dark, lethal-looking liquid appealed to him, and he wet his lips as he considered the jolt it would bring.

  “Thought you were goin’ home,” Jason said, following the path of Tanner’s interested gaze. “Never knew you to take a second drink, Tanner. Is thinking about that Gibson woman drivin’ you to—”

  Tanner backed away. “There’s no woman alive capable of doing that, Jason. Certainly not that one.”

  Tanner pushed through the doors of the saloon and headed for the livery stable. Just outside the wide double doors, his wagon awaited him, his load of supplies for the ranch neatly in place.

  He climbed atop the wagon seat, and with a wave, turned his team toward the ranch. It was a decent ride, almost an hour driving the wagon. Maybe with the moonlight on the road, he could take the team at a faster clip.

  Either way, it was time to reflect on his blessings. He’d managed to save himself a tidy sum today.
r />   Chapter Two

  “Rosemary, much as I’d like to take you on, the store just doesn’t need another helping hand.”

  Rosemary sighed deeply, as if she were sorely disappointed. And so she was, having just been refused work in the Edgewood Mercantile. Not that she felt equipped for the position. It was just that she wasn’t well equipped for much of anything outside a home. Keeping a parsonage neat and clean and ironing white shirts at the rate of seven a week for her father had not served to prepare her for the indignity of looking for a position.

  “Maybe you can stay on and be a nursemaid to the new preacher’s little ones,” Phillipa Boone suggested. She sat atop her high stool in a rare moment of relaxation, eyeing the woebegone expression on Rosemary Gibson’s face.

  Rosemary looked around the mercantile and sighed. At least there was no one else in the store to share in this moment of shame. To be turned down for her first job application was grating on her pride. Thank goodness Pip was a friend, else the embarrassment would have been unbearable.

  “I doubt the new minister can afford to hire me. He looks about as penniless as the rest of his kind. And I ought to know, having lived in a parsonage all of my life.”

  Glumly, she eyed the colorful display of fabrics on the counter before her. “And I can’t, in all good conscience, buy myself anything but dark colors for the next year. Papa wasn’t much one for mourning clothes, but my own self-respect is going to limit me.” She ran her fingers over a particularly bright floral print. “Not that I can afford anything new anyway.”

  Pip Boone slid from her perch and leaned across the width of the counter. “You could always marry Gabe Tanner. He did ask, after all.” The challenge was whispered, as if the thought were too scandalous to be uttered aloud.

  Rosemary’s lips pinched tightly together and she turned away. Ramrod straight, she headed for the doorway.

  “Rosemary! Don’t leave. I was only funning you.” Phillipa scooted around the counter, her words calling a halt to Rosemary’s departure.

  “I couldn’t. I couldn’t possibly marry that man. Even if he were serious, it would be…” Rosemary turned, her cheeks crimson, her breathing rapid. “It would be a sacrilege of the worst sort.”

  Phillips’s brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing. “Now, how do you figure that?”

  “He’s rowdy, for one thing.” The tip of her tongue delivered moisture to lips suddenly gone dry as Rosemary thought of the teasing grin she’d encountered only yesterday.

  “Rowdy doesn’t seem too great a sin to me,” Phillipa said with a grin of her own.

  “You know what I mean,” Rosemary told her. “Papa would turn over in his grave if I married a man who frequented the Golden Slipper. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t interested.” Her chin tilted as she considered the unexpected proposal she had received. “Mr. Tanner was only putting me on, anyway.”

  Phillipa reached to lay a comforting hand on Rosemary’s shoulder. “But, you didn’t refuse him flat out, did you? You know, Rosemary, your papa would be pleased if you married a man who would treat you well, no matter if he did take a drink once in a while. And from what I hear, Gabe Tanner is far from a drinking man.”

  Her eyes wrinkled in delight, as if she considered some pleasant thought. “He strikes me as the sort of man who might treat you even better than you know, Rosemary. And he’s very handsome.”

  Rosemary’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Pip Boone! What a thing to say. The man uses vile language and partakes of hard liquor. Besides, I’d be willing to bet my bottom dollar that he was only offering marriage so that he wouldn’t have to pay the new Bachelor Tax.”

  “Pooh! No man would propose marriage unless he was prepared to back it up, honey. Even Gabe Tanner wouldn’t take a chance like that, unless…” She glanced away.

  “He was sure I’d say no, wasn’t he?” Rosemary’s eyes dampened with hasty tears, and she blinked them away. “He thought he wasn’t taking any kind of a chance at all, coming at me that way. He figured I’d turn him down flat.”

  As if she’d been kicked by a recalcitrant mule, she clutched her stomach. “I think I’ve been insulted, Pip. I wish now I’d had the sense to make my position totally clear. I should have said no in a hundred ways, just to be sure he got the message.”

  “Well, I think maybe you’re jumping to the wrong conclusion about him. The man probably decided his place needs a woman’s touch, and thought that a fine, upstanding preacher’s daughter would be the perfect choice.”

  Phillipa’s staunch reply sounded a bit hollow, but Rosemary smiled anyway. “He looked at me as if I were a drudge all right. I didn’t see one speck of interest in his eyes, just that hateful way he has of looking at me sometimes, as if he can see beneath my clothes and doesn’t like what’s there.”

  Phillipa’s eyes rounded and her lips twitched, then widened into a grin. “Why, Rosemary Gibson! You’ve peeked at Gabe Tanner before, haven’t you?”

  Rosemary shook her head. “Peeked? I don’t peek. And I certainly—” She spun from Phillipa and looked out the wide front window of the emporium. “This is all a waste of time, anyway. I need to find a place to work and somewhere to stay, Pip. I can’t impose on Reverend Worth and his family much longer.”

  “How long before their furniture comes?” Pip asked.

  “He said it would be here in a week. That doesn’t give me much time.”

  “You can move in with my folks,” Pip offered. “We always have room for one more.”

  Rosemary shook her head. “You barely squeeze into that house as it is, Pip. I couldn’t do that.”

  “How about a job at the newspaper office? Or maybe the hotel?”

  Rosemary nodded. “I thought about working at the hotel, but I’m not sure I 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?”