Justin's Bride. Susan Mallery
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and cried out.
Justin ran up the steps, and grabbed the basket with one hand and the woman with the other. He held on to her arm until she was steady. She clutched at him, her small black straw-and-feather hat shaking in the late-afternoon breeze.
“Thank you, sir. I just about tumbled down those stairs. At my age, that would be enough to send me to meet my maker.” She straightened and looked up at him. Small green eyes focused on his face. She let out her breath with an audible whoosh. “Well, well. If it isn’t Justin Kincaid.”
Justin stared down at Widow Dobson and groaned silently. Of all the people to run into. He gave her a forced smile. “Afternoon, ma’am. If you’re steady on your feet, I’d best be—”
“You just stand there and let me look you over, young man.” Her tone said she wasn’t willing to be argued with. “I’d heard it was you, but I couldn’t believe you’d come back to town.”
Mrs. Dobson had never had any trouble speaking her mind. Looks as if that hadn’t changed. She’d also been the only person in town who had cared when his mother had taken sick. She’d brought soup and home remedies to their small, dark room, and sat up with his mother until she died. Justin wanted to hand her back her basket and walk away. He couldn’t. The widow had never wanted to hear a word of thanks, nor had she accepted the money he’d tried to give her. Listening to her berate him was a small price to pay for such a large debt.
She looked exactly as he remembered. Small and plump, with a generous bosom, and dressed entirely in black. The thick wool cape that fell from her shoulders gaped slightly, exposing a dark dress underneath. He didn’t recall her caring about Mr. Dobson as much in life as she seemed to in death.
“I’m back here, ma’am,” he said politely. “For the next year. I’m the new sheriff.”
“I’d heard that.” She pointed at him. “Take off your hat. Let me get a look at your face.” He let go of her and did as she requested. She shook her head. “The women always said you’re handsome as sin. You know what I say?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Sin makes its own kind of trouble. Are you here to cause trouble?”
“I’m here to keep trouble from happening. I enforce the law, Mrs. Dobson.”
“I hope you’re right. It’s my recollection that trouble seems to find you whether you want it to or not.” She gave a little cackle. “Tongues are wagging over you. Guess you’ve set everyone on their ear. Now, help me down these stairs and be quick about it.” She softened her words with a smile.
He’d always thought of the old lady as one of the judgmental old guard. But after she’d tended his dying mother, he’d realized her gruff words hid a tender heart.
He held out his hand. She placed hers on top and he backed down the stairs, making sure she stayed balanced.
When they reached the planked boardwalk, she shook her head again. The black feather on her hat danced with the movement. “There’s folks who aren’t going to be happy to see you back here.”
“I kind of figured that. I aim to win them over to my side of things.”
“Is that why you came back?”
He handed her back her basket. “You be careful, ma’am. I wouldn’t want you to take a tumble. I might not be there next time.”
As she grabbed the basket, it shifted suddenly. A soft sound drifted out.
“Now, you girls hush,” Mrs. Dobson said. “We’ll be home soon. I’ve got some cream for you.” She looked up at him. “Kittens. Doc Ramsey told me their mother is a good mouser.”
She drew back the red-and-white-checkered cloth that covered the basket. He bent down. Three kittens were curled up together, feet and tails overlapping. Two were black-and-white with bits of marmalade color on their faces, the third was a small calico with big green eyes.
“I only wanted the two, but old Doc Ramsey snuck the third one inside with the others.” She glanced down and patted the kittens. “Silly thing is too small to be much good. But he said if I didn’t take it, he’d drown it.” She pulled the cover over the basket. “I’ve never had cats before. My dog always took care of the mice, but he didn’t make it through the winter. And with my fence in need of mending, another dog seemed like too much trouble.” She shifted her burden to her other hand. “So now I’ve got three cats. We’ll see if we like one another.”
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
She glanced around as if suddenly realizing how long they’d been talking. “Mercy, I’ve got to get on home. It wouldn’t do for me to be seen talking to a handsome young man. What would people say?” She gave him a quick smile, then turned away. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You’re welcome.” He watched her walk by the public water pump. Her basket bounced wildly as if the kittens had decided to start playing. They sure were cute, especially the little calico one.
He got the thought about the same time his feet started moving. It was a silly idea. Then he grinned. Why not?
“Mrs. Dobson,” he called as he hurried after her.
She stopped, turned and looked at him.
“If you don’t want the little cat, could I have her?”
She couldn’t have looked more shocked if he’d tried to steal a kiss. “You want a kitten? They’re not going to let you keep it in your room at the hotel.”
He didn’t bother asking how she knew where he was staying. The widow had always known everything about everybody. The only secret he’d ever kept in this town was the one about him and Megan. No one had known they’d been spending time together. No one had known that he’d asked her to marry him and she’d said yes. No one knew what she’d said to him that last day when he’d asked her to come away with him.
He pushed away those memories, knowing he would have to face them sometime but not wanting it to be today. “It’s a gift for someone.”
“A girl you’re bringing in from wherever you used to live?”
“There’s no girl coming, and no, I didn’t go and get married, either.”
Mrs. Dobson didn’t even have the grace to flush. She tilted her head. “You trust this person to take care of the cat?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” She reached in the basket and pulled out the little calico. “Here. She’s probably hungry, so don’t dawdle.”
He hadn’t been accused of dawdling since he’d been about eight, but there was no point in correcting her. He thanked her, tipped his hat and hurried toward the Bartlett General Store.
The kitten curled against his chest, then shivered. The wind was picking up in force and the temperature had dropped. He pulled open his coat and set the kitten into an inner pocket. After making sure the animal was comfortable, he carefully held the edges of his coat together tight enough to keep out the chill, but not so tight that she couldn’t breathe. He could feel the tiny vibration of her purring.
When he crossed the street in front of the general store, he stepped carefully so as not to jar the kitten, then shook his head in disgust. The little creature had probably received plenty of jostling in Mrs. Dobson’s basket. Still, he moved with care.
He was so intent on his passenger, he didn’t realize he was close to the store until he stopped in front of it. The big windows, ordered special from the East, gleamed. The painted name looked freshly touched up. Lace curtains hung over the glass in the door, and between the glass and lace was a sign saying Closed.
He swore under his breath. He should have remembered that the town kept winter hours until well after the spring thaw. Blizzards could crop up without warning, trapping the unwary for the night. Everything