2

The Haywire Book and Sweet Shop was empty except for Aunt Letty, and that was just fine and dandy with Kate Denver.

Normally, anyone entering the pink-and-white shop found a world far removed from the realities of life. The colorful sticks of candy and sweet-tasting gumdrops and sugarplums offered a momentary respite from one’s troubles.

Today, however, not even the familiar smell of toffee and cinnamon could erase the pain and embarrassment Kate felt. It was Monday, only two days since her disastrous wedding. She’d been tempted to stay home and hide, but what good would that have done? Eventually, she would have to face the public. May as well get it over with.

Her aunt gazed down from atop a ladder, her well-lined face suffused with disapproval. “I thought you agreed to stay home this week.”

“And I thought you agreed that your ladder days were over.”

For answer, her aunt descended, feather duster in hand. At sixty-five, she was as agile as a woman half her age, but Kate couldn’t help but worry. Aunt Letty was the only family she had. If anything happened to her, Kate would be alone in the world, and she feared that more than anything. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself. She also had many good friends, but that wasn’t the same as having a family of her own, and no one knew that better than she did.

“So, what are you doing here?” Aunt Letty asked.

Kate shoved her purse on the shelf beneath the counter and swiped a strand of red hair away from her face. “It was either come here and work or stay home feeling sorry for myself.” She reached for an apron and lifted it off a peg. “And we have orders to fill.”

Mrs. Jenkins had been promised an array of sweets for her granddaughter’s birthday party, and the schoolmarm, Miss Hopkins, wanted jelly beans for teaching her young pupils to add and subtract. Then there was the standing order of mixed candies for the weekly meeting of the Haywire Women’s Club.

“I whipped up a fresh batch of lemon drops,” Aunt Letty said. “Soon as it cools, we can box it up.”

Kate sighed. Getting her aunt to slow down was like trying to herd a flock of chickens. She and Uncle Joe had started the shop thirty years ago, and it was the longest-running business in town. The small but well-stocked book section had been added during the war to meet the demands of soldiers.

Aunt Letty moved the ladder to the back room, which served as part kitchen and part storage. She returned moments later with a new shipment of dime novels that had arrived on the morning train.

“Have you spoken to Frank?” she asked, slitting the box open.

Kate donned her apron. Yanking the ties, she wrapped them around her waist. “No, and I don’t intend to.” Had it been left to her, Frank would still be in jail—and it would serve him right for the way he’d acted.

Aunt Letty studied her. “It wasn’t his fault that your wedding got ruined.”

Kate scoffed. “Then whose fault was it?”

“You know very well that the Texas Ranger was to blame.” Her aunt gave a derisive snort. “He’s the one who should be in jail.”

“The ranger apologized.”

“And you accepted his apology and not Frank’s?”

“Oh?” Kate tied the apron strings into a bow. “Did Frank apologize? I must have missed it.”

Her aunt pulled a book out of the box and studied the lurid cover. “Where men are concerned, you sometimes have to read between the lines. You know Frank’s a very proud man.”

“I can live with that.” Kate reached for the box of dog cakes and dropped a handful into the treat bowl kept on hand for her furry friends. “What I can’t live with is his jealousy.”

“Now, Kate, you know what happened when Mabel Adams didn’t forgive her husband. He shot himself in the foot to prove how sorry he was.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about Frank harming himself in any way. He can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“Maybe not, but then Ruth Bayer didn’t think her husband would run away with another woman. And I’ll tell you another—”

Fortunately, Kate was saved from her aunt’s long list of horror stories by the bell—or rather a riot of bells jingling on the front door. It was Mrs. Peters, right on time.

She appeared every day like clockwork. A creature of habit, she peered at the colorful candy displayed beneath the glass counter as if unable to make up her mind. After long and careful deliberation, she invariably purchased the same thing: one hickory-nut cup. It was basically how she’d lived her life—safe and careful, never venturing more than a block or two from home.

Today, she was all tutting sounds and sympathetic looks. “Oh, you poor, poor dear. To have your wedding ruined in such an awful way.” She stared across the counter at Kate with faded blue eyes, her crinkled face framed by an old straw bonnet that had gone out of style long before the war. “I can’t imagine how you must feel. What are you going to do?”

Her aunt answered with a meaningful look at Kate. “She’s going to reschedule her wedding, that’s what.”

A look of relief floated across Mrs. Peters’s face. “Oh, of course. I should have known.”

After much consideration, she decided on the usual hickory-nut cup and slid a coin across the counter with a gloved hand.

Kate placed her order in the bottom of a paper sack and added a strip of paper with a handwritten prediction that was meant to be amusing. It was a tradition started by her uncle. As far as Kate knew, few customers took the fortunes seriously, but they were good for a laugh or two.

Mrs. Peters giggled like a young girl. “The last prediction said that I was about to meet a tall, handsome stranger, and he would sweep me off my feet.”

Kate smiled. “Maybe you will.” Though her husband had died long before the war, Mrs. Peters still wore widow’s weeds.

“You know that’s not going to happen. Men prefer younger women. For a man to be interested in me, he’d have to be a hundred.”

Kate laughed. She felt better already. How she loved her job, loved bantering with her customers. Loved making them smile, even on days when it felt like her own heart was breaking. “Have a good day, Mrs. Peters.”

“You too.” Holding her purchase in one hand with the care one would give an injured bird, Mrs. Peters hobbled out of the store.

The moment their customer left, Aunt Letty started in again. “About your wedding…” She turned to the calendar on the wall. Having planned Kate’s wedding with the care of a general plotting an attack, she looked no less determined this second time around. But then she’d always been a hopeless romantic.

Now she stabbed at the calendar with her finger. “I think we should reschedule it for a week from Saturday. That will give us time to get word out and—”

“Auntie, please.” Kate felt a pang of guilt for having to disappoint her aunt, but it couldn’t be helped. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”

Aunt Letty turned, her expression a combination of surprise and disapproval. “But we have to talk about it, and there’s no time like the present. You know what happened to Missy Gaylord when she put off her wedding. That awful war started, and she never saw her fiancé again.”

Kate sighed. “I don’t think we’re in danger of another war.”

“You never know.” Her aunt’s thin, gray eyebrows knitted. “So, when can we talk about it?”

Kate was tempted to say never, but she didn’t have the heart to upset her aunt any more than necessary. Despite her aunt’s best efforts at matchmaking, suitors had been few and far between through the years. Most men were put off by Kate’s independent ways. Some even felt threatened by Kate’s ability to match skills in just about any male endeavor. Aunt Letty had sworn that Kate was doomed to spinsterhood. That is, until Frank had walked back into Kate’s life.

It never seemed to bother him that Kate was more adept at changing a wagon wheel and shoeing a horse than hosting a quilting bee or a tea party. Even candy making was considered a male occupation, and Kate excelled at that—or would once she mastered her uncle’s prized cut rock-candy recipe.

“I remember a time when you and Uncle Joe didn’t even like Frank,” Kate said.

“Oh, we liked him all right. It’s just that you and he were spending so much time together. It wasn’t a problem when you were still children. But when you turned thirteen, people began to talk.”

At the time, Kate couldn’t understand what all the fuss was about. Why was it okay to run around with Frank one year and not the next?

Aunt Letty took another stab at the calendar. “What about two weeks from Saturday?”

Kate shook her head. “I need time to think. I want…to make sure my marriage is just as perfect as yours and Uncle Joe’s was. If Frank continues to be jealous whenever a man so much as glances at me, I don’t see that happening.”

Aunt Letty scoffed. “If it’s perfection you want, become a nun. Perfection has no place in a marriage.”

“That’s not true, Auntie. Why, no marriage was more perfect than yours.” Her uncle had died more than two years ago, and they both still missed him dearly.

“Fiddlesticks. You need flint and steel to make a spark, and the same is true of a marriage. When things went wrong, your uncle and I talked about them.” Aunt Letty tossed her head. “Sometimes in loud voices.”

Kate reared back in surprise. “I don’t ever remember you and Uncle Joe arguing.”

“That’s because we battled out our differences in the barn where you couldn’t hear us.” Aunt Letty pulled off her apron and hung it on a wooden peg. “Your uncle could be stubborn at times.”

Kate gave her aunt a loving smile. “And you’re not?”

“Certainly not.” Aunt Letty sniffed. “I’m not stubborn. I’m persistent. Not the same thing.”

Kate sighed. Arguing would get her nowhere. Once her aunt made up her mind, not even an act of Congress could change it. “All right. I’ll talk to Frank.”

The frown melted from Aunt Letty’s face. “That’s my girl.” Apparently thinking her mission accomplished, she reached for her purse. “Since you’re here, I’ll go and pick up supplies.” She pulled a glove over her hand. “We need cream of tartar. Anything else?”

Kate checked the notebook next to the cashbox. “We’re running low on molasses.”

With a nod and a wave, Aunt Letty was out the door, and Kate immediately set to work.

She picked up a spatula and started by scooping pralines for the afternoon quilting bee into a cardboard box. The ladies preferred chocolate to the nut-and-sugar confections, but despite her best efforts, Kate had yet to find a way of keeping it from melting in the Texas heat. Not even adding more sugar to the recipe helped. Chocolate was a luxury best kept for cooler weather.

Now that she was alone, she felt her spirits drop. For months, she had dreamed of the perfect wedding. The perfect marriage. The perfect life. She’d spent hours taking measurements and picking out wallpaper for the apartment over Frank’s saddle and leather shop. She couldn’t wait to turn it into a real home for the two of them. At least until they had saved enough money to build a house.

Staring down at the cardboard box, Kate bit back tears. She and Frank had a long history together. Though still angry, she missed him dearly. During her childhood, no one had been as much fun to be with as Frank. He’d taught her how to play poker and horseshoes and how to hit a ball with a stick. He figured she could do anything he could do, and that’s what she had loved about him.

It had nearly broken her heart when her aunt and uncle insisted that she stop seeing Frank and act more ladylike when she became a teen. That meant tedious hours spent learning to embroider, play the piano, and carry on polite conversation. Though she and Frank had enjoyed arguing politics, no such talk was ever allowed to sully her aunt’s parlor.

Despite Aunt Letty’s best efforts, Kate had never given up her wild ways. After her uncle died, she’d started working at the shop full time and had less time to herself. Still, she never completely stopped doing the things she loved. It was at the old swimming hole where she and Frank got reacquainted on a whole different level, and the next thing she knew, the town seamstress was measuring her for a wedding gown.

She’d always known that Frank had a jealous streak, but she’d honestly thought that once they were wed, he would change his ways and learn to trust her. How foolish to think that such a deep-rooted problem could be so easily resolved!

She swiped away a tear just as the shop door flew open. Recognizing the rugged square face staring at her from beneath a pearl-gray Stetson hat, she dropped her spatula.

Oh! It was him.

* * *

Brett Tucker walked into the Haywire Book and Sweet Shop with more than a little dread.

Judging by the looks he’d received around town since Saturday’s fiasco, he was probably the most despised man in Haywire. Not that he didn’t deserve public scorn. If only he could think of a way to make amends.

Upon entering the shop, he paused to get his bearings. A strong but no-less-pleasing aroma that was all sweetness and light greeted him, taking him back to his childhood. He’d liked the scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and licorice then, and he found that he liked them just as much now.

What the pleasant scents did to his sense of smell, the burst of bright colors did for the eye. No shop in his memory had been so gaily decorated.

Paper whirligigs dangled from a pink-striped ceiling. Pink curtains fluttered at the open windows. Jars of colorful stick candy stood like soldiers on counters and shelves. Quilts hung on walls that were also plastered with neatly printed signs. A Balanced Diet Is a Piece of Stick Candy in Each Hand, read one sign. There were quotes from Shakespeare and Elizabeth Browning. Another sign read, Candy Makes the World a Sweeter Place.

His gaze zeroed in on the woman behind the counter, and his breath caught. Thanks to the morning paper, he now knew her name was Kate Denver. She looked just as fetching today as she’d looked in her wedding gown.

The eyes watching him flashed with blue fire. Her bright-red hair looked like it was in flames, too, thanks to the sun slanting through the transom over the door. She wore her hair pinned back in a snood, tendrils curling around her ears. Her long-lashed eyes looked even larger than he remembered. Freckles marched over her nose and rosy cheeks, all the way to the shiny balls twirling at her ears.

Somehow, the combination of red hair, freckles, and turned-up nose worked together to make a very pleasing whole. That Foster fella didn’t know how lucky he was. What a dang fool.

Light shadows skirted her eyes, suggesting she’d gotten little sleep since her disastrous wedding. A wave of guilt washed over him as he tugged on the brim of his hat.

Ducking beneath a whirligig, he stepped closer to the counter. “Miss Denver. I’m afraid we didn’t get properly introduced the other day. I’m Brett Tucker, Texas Ranger.”

“I know who you are,” she said, her voice as hard as the peanut brittle in the glass counter standing between them.

He sucked in his breath. If looks could kill, he’d be a goner for sure. Not that he could blame her. Thanks to him, not only was her interrupted wedding the talk of the town, but the Haywire Dispatch had planted the story on the front page beneath a bold headline: “Wedding Ends in Disaster.”

Brett cleared his throat. “I…eh…came to apologize again for what happened. I had no idea that there were two Frank Fosters.” Thinking that an explanation was in order, he continued, “The Foster I was looking for is a wanted man. I’ve been on his trail for a long while.” Twice, Brett had almost caught him. Both times the man had slipped away. “When I heard that someone by that name was getting married, I immediately assumed it was the fugitive I’ve been chasing.”

Miss Denver crossed her arms. “Next time, you might want to look before you leap.”

“I hope to God there isn’t a next time, ma’am. I never want to stop another wedding.” He rubbed his still-sore chin. “All I could think about was saving you.”

“Saving me?” She stared at him. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not personally, ma’am, that’s true. But the Frank Foster I’m after is a danger to any woman.” She said nothing, and he continued. “I hope you’ll let me make it up to you. If there’s anything I can do…”

“I believe you’ve done quite enough already, Mr. Tucker,” she said.

He drew in his breath. She wasn’t making it easy, but then, why should she? Still, he wasn’t ready to give up. “There must be something. I tried bailing your fiancé out of jail, but he refused to accept my help.”

Something flickered in the depths of her eyes. “If you’re serious about wanting to do something, you’ll leave town and not return.”

Tilting his Stetson forward, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m afraid that will be a little hard to do, ma’am.” A crime wave had hit the county, overwhelming local lawmen. The opportunity to serve as a special Texas Ranger couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. Brett had been sent to Haywire to assist the sheriff in bringing the culprits to justice, but the reason he’d volunteered for the job was far more personal.

When he’d heard about the crime wave in Haywire, he was convinced that Foster—not her fiancé but the other Foster—was behind it. The methods were the same. Men dressed in black and wearing flour sacks over their heads robbed stages and an occasional bank and then vanished without a trace until the next holdup. Either it was the same gang who had wreaked havoc in San Antonio and other towns, or a copycat gang was on the loose.

“I’m here on special commission from Captain McMurray.”

Miss Denver greeted his news with a look of disdain. “Then I suggest you attend to your business and stay away from the rest of us.”

Attending to business was exactly what Brett planned on doing. “As you wish,” he said.

She slanted him a look of curiosity. “What did this man…this second Mr. Foster…do?”

Brett hesitated. Even after all this time, it hurt to talk about it. “Among other things, he caused my sister’s death,” he said, his voice thick.

A shadow flickered across her forehead as if she fought against giving him any slack. In the end, empathy won out and her expressive eyes softened. “I’m so sorry.”

She didn’t press for details, and for that, he was grateful. “So am I.” He backed away from the counter.

“You look like you could use some candy,” she said. “It’s on the house.”

Surprised by her sudden change of heart, he studied her for a moment before lowering his gaze to the tempting display of confectioneries behind the glass counter. “If it’s not too much trouble, ma’am. Some caramels would be nice.”

She bent down and slid the glass door open. He watched as she carefully arranged the caramels in a paper sack. She then dropped a slip of paper into the sack, folded the top over, and handed it to him.

He reached into his pocket to pay her, but she shook her head.

“Like I said, it’s on the house.”

He stared at her with knitted brow. “Why would you do such a thing, ma’am? After the trouble I caused?”

She lifted her gaze to his. “A man who cares as deeply for his sister as you seem to can’t be all bad.”

“Much obliged, ma’am,” he said, doffing his hat. “I won’t bother you any further.”

He made quick strides toward the door before stopping. Glancing over his shoulder, he found her watching him. “Your dress,” he said. “I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d let me pay for any damage.” He had no idea the cost of a wedding gown, but it couldn’t be cheap.

“Go,” she said with a beseeching look. “Please. Just…go.”