Gabriel's Atonement (10 page)

Lara allowed him to guide her back into town simply because she didn't have the strength to resist him. She glanced down at her dirty, faded skirt then over at his clean, stylish suit. Suddenly he stopped and met her gaze. A boyish gleam twinkled in his eyes and a smile tugged at his mouth, making Lara's insides tingle. In spite of his citified dress and fair complexion, he wasn't a bad-looking man.

“I just realized that I don't know where the doctor's office is.”

The irony of the situation tickled her, and she smiled in spite of her aches. Here she was, allowing him to lead her, and he had no idea where he was going.

The blind leading the blind
.

She swallowed at the unwarranted thought and waggled one finger westward. “It's the second door past the sheriff's office. But really, it's not necessary.”

He gave her a mock glare then propelled her forward. “Guess that's handy at times.”

Confused, she glanced up as he guided her down the street. “What do you mean?”

He flashed her a wicked grin. “Oh, you know, having the doctor's office so close to the jail. I imagine the sheriff has need of the doctor on occasion.”

She supposed so, though Caldwell was normally a sleepy little town except when the cowboys from the area ranches came into town after riding herd on cattle for a month.

A short while later, they exited the doctor's office. Lara's hand still stung from his removing the torn nail and putting some smelly, burning medicine on her fingers. How would she get any work done with her hand bandaged?

She must be getting used to Mr. Coulter's assistance because she looked up to discover herself being escorted into the mercantile. She didn't like the man's bossiness but couldn't help enjoying the feel of someone caring for her for a change.

“We need ten pounds of flour, five pounds of cornmeal, and three pounds of sugar.”

“What? No, that's too much.” Her gaze darted to his. “I didn't have any sugar.”

“I insist.” He held up his palm to halt her objections. “I realize it's more than you originally purchased, but I hope the difference will make up for the pain and trouble I've caused.”

Mrs. McMann glanced curiously at them but turned aside and starting filling bags, obviously happy for the sale.

Embarrassed to be caught in Mr. Coulter's intense gaze, Lara slid hers to the window and studied a frenzied fly struggling futilely to get outside. Mr. Gabe Coulter was just as insistent as that fly. “It wasn't your fault that boy ran into me.”

He pressed his lips together and looked patronizingly at her, his dark brown eyes serious. “As I said earlier, he wouldn't have done so if I hadn't been chasing him.”

Lara had no argument for that. She peeked around the store, thankful that no one else would witness her humiliation at having someone buy supplies for her. The townsfolk still considered her a married woman, and having this man so new to town doing things for her was sure to raise questions. She needed to get away from him as soon as she could, even though she was more than grateful to him for helping her and replacing the supplies.

“So did you catch that little thief?” Mrs. McMann thunked the heavy bags onto the counter, sending up a puff of flour.

“No. The rascal got away.”

“It's a crying shame.” Mrs. McMann shook her head as she wiped her hands on her apron. “We never had this problem until all them Boomers swarmed into town, bent on getting free land. Probably less than half of them will get a claim. I hate to think what will happen to all of the others. Anything else you folks need?”

He looked around, stroking his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Give me two pounds of coffee and a dime's worth of those peppermint sticks.”

Lara wondered what he needed with coffee and a whole ten-cent bag of candy. Surely if he was only in town on business he'd be staying at one of the hotels in town and wouldn't need a stock of food.

“What happened to your hand?” Mary McMann laid the package of coffee next to the other bags. “You only just left here a short while ago.”

“I had a run-in with a tree.”

Mrs. McMann quirked one eyebrow then selected ten peppermint sticks and dropped them into a small bag. Thankfully, she didn't question Lara further, though she cut a quick, curious glance at Mr. Coulter. Peeking up at him, Lara caught him staring at her, a twinkle dancing in his eyes. He lifted both brows, as if to say, “A tree?” She shifted her gaze away from his intriguing eyes and studied the worn gray planks of the mercantile floor.

“How are you going to carry all this home?” Mrs. McMann set the small bag next to the others.

Lara shrugged. Even with both hands healthy, she wouldn't have been able to carry so much all the way home.

“I'll see that she gets there.” Gabe reached into his pocket and pulled out a stack of folded dollars.

Heat rising to her face, Lara peeked up at the store clerk. “Mr. Coulter arrived right after that boy knocked me down and has been very kind to help me.”

Mrs. McMann bent to tally their purchase. “It's none of my business if he wants to be a Good Samaritan.”

Shifting from foot to foot, Lara ached for escape. Mrs. McMann was generally kind, but the woman made it her business to know everyone else's business. She could only hope that the clerk didn't tell others about Mr. Coulter assisting her. It was highly improper for an unmarried man to aid a married woman—even if she wasn't officially still married.

Not nearly soon enough for Lara's taste, Gabe touched the small of her back and guided her out of the store, under the probing stare of Mary McMann. Lara couldn't begin to imagine what the woman thought, and prayed she wouldn't begin any idle gossip.

Mr. Coulter carried the bucket overflowing with all their purchases in one arm, as well as the sack of flour under his other. He barely touched her elbow. People she knew nodded their heads or cast inquisitive glances her way. Oh, why hadn't she stayed home today?

He stopped in front of the livery and set the bucket down. “If you'll wait right here, I'll get a buggy and drive you home.”

Lara straightened and hiked her chin, hoping to maintain a minuscule shred of dignity. The pain from her fall must have dulled her senses for a short while. How else could she explain allowing a stranger to take such control over her life? “That isn't necessary, Mr. Coulter. You've done more than enough already.”

His wide, ornery smile made her stomach flip-flop. “I insist.” He strode past her before she could object further, sending a whiff of fragrant cologne in her direction.

What a rascal!

With her good hand, she tried to lift the heavy wooden bucket laden with supplies. As much as she hated to admit it, she was right in thinking she couldn't carry it all the way home one-handed. Facing the town, she lifted the brim of her bonnet and searched the busy streets for her sister. Most likely Jo had gone to visit Alma Lou. She thought about asking Mr. Coulter to run by there, but she didn't want to be beholden to him for anything else. And she didn't particularly care to answer Jo's questions about Mr. Coulter. She hadn't even told her sister about Tom's death yet.

A horse whickered behind her, and Lara jumped at its nearness. The buggy creaked as Mr. Coulter stepped down right in front of her and gave a bow. “Your carriage awaits, madam.”

Had she been a young schoolgirl, she would have been giddy at the charming man's attention, but she was a widow—one who should be in mourning and wearing widow's weeds—not gallivanting all over town and the countryside with an alluring bachelor.

Pushing aside her reservations because she had no other options, she allowed him to help her into the buggy. He retrieved the heavy bucket as if it weighed nothing and set it on the floorboard near her feet. The buggy creaked and tilted to her left as he climbed in and sat beside her. Ignoring his manly scent, she scooted as far to her right as she could, hoping the ride would be over with quickly.

P
ayton Reeves flicked his cheroot to the ground and stamped the life out of it as he watched his nemesis escort Tom Talbot's wife into the mercantile. A white swath of gauze covered her hand, and she cradled it as if in pain.

He narrowed his gaze and pressed his palm on the handle of his pistol. What was going on?

How did a gambler from Kansas City even know Lara Talbot? And what was his business with her?

Besides that, what was Coulter doing in Caldwell? Payton rubbed his trigger finger against his thumb, thinking how he'd like nothing more than to pull out his 45 and blow that thieving snake away.

The swell of people crowding the streets of Caldwell faded as he remembered that fateful day in Kansas City. Gabe Coulter had been playing cards at his usual table in the back of the Lucky Chance saloon when Payton and his younger brother, Judah, had come into town for some fun. They'd been herding cattle at the Double S Ranch all week, and Payton was thirsty and hankering to win a bundle of money. He'd talked Judah into coming with him, even though his brother had preferred to stay on the ranch. Judah was saving his money and planning to return home to his young wife at the end of the month, but Payton wanted his brother's company.

He knew Gabe was a professional gambler, but he'd never seen a luckier man. Coulter won all but five hands that night, including the last three games, and had taken every last dollar he and Judah had.

Payton ground his back teeth together as he remembered his brother's desperation. At the end of the month, Judah went home to his pregnant wife, but when he turned up nearly empty-handed, she left him and went back to her parents' home. No amount of pleading and begging on Judah's part could change her mind. Finally, Judah sold his little house, sent the money to his wife in Topeka, and rode off. Payton had tried to stop him, begged him to stay, but Judah was determined to leave.

His gaze focused, and he looked toward the livery where Coulter was settling Mrs. Talbot into a rented buggy. He snorted a laugh.
I wonder if Tom Talbot knows his wife is two-timing him
. Not that Talbot had a right to say anything after the time he spent with the trollops above the saloon. Still, it didn't sit well with a man to know his wife was spending time with another man. It was different somehow. Wrong.

If Payton had time, he'd ride back to that ranch up near Kansas City where he'd worked with Talbot for close to a year and see if the man was still there. See if he would partner up with him in taking down Gabriel Coulter, but he didn't want to lose Coulter's trail now that he'd found him. He needed his revenge, although he wasn't exactly sure the best way to get it. Merely shooting Coulter was too simple—unless maybe he did the deed when they were far from town. He could take that pretty horse of Gabe's and leave the man gut-shot and dying. It would be a long, painful death—unless a wolf or some other critter found him first.

He pushed away from the wall outside of the saloon and jumped off the boardwalk into the street, feeling vengeance within his grasp. A cloud of dust covered his already dirty boots. A fire burned in his gut, aching to be quenched. He climbed on his horse, wondering if he'd ever see his brother again.

Judah had never even laid eyes on his own son, born five months after he left town.

Somebody had to pay for all the pain his family had endured.

Gabe jiggled the reins and made a kissing sound at the horses. Lara Talbot's surprised crystal-green gaze zipped his way, as if he'd tried to sneak a smooch. A reddish tinge stained her cheeks, and she quickly looked away.

He smiled and held back a chuckle. The young widow was as edgy as a newly captured mustang. She made it quite obvious that she didn't want his help, but the problem was…she
needed
his help. Evidently that didn't sit well with her.

He couldn't help wondering if her aloof attitude had to do with him being nearly a stranger to her or if she was merely highly independent.

Either way, she intrigued him more than any woman he'd ever met. He was surprised to learn he enjoyed doing things for Lara Talbot and making her life easier. He would have bought half the store if he thought she would have accepted his gift.

His attraction to her didn't make sense. He cut a glance Lara's way, remembering the roughness of her hands when he'd helped her into the buggy. Glancing at his palm, he rubbed his thumb over his smooth fingertips. A shaft of guilt choked its way down his throat and lodged in his gut at the imbalance of it all. He was a man. He should be the one with callused hands and clothes dirty from hard work. There was a time when they had been.

The continual
clip-clop
of the horse's hooves lulled him into a relaxed state. The swishing of the tall prairie grass against the sides of the buggy reminded him of when his little brother, Stephen, and he had sat in the back of the family buckboard and dangled their feet in the grass, hoping to catch some grasshoppers to use for fishing bait. The years he'd lived on the farm with his mother and stepfather came into focus in his mind. They were the best—and the worst—years of his life.