23

All during the following week, Kate included the same fortune in every bag of candy, per Brett’s instructions. It read:

On the day of the next full moon, your path will be bathed in gold.

Most of her customers would probably not give the handwritten fortune a second thought. But if Brett was right and one of her regulars was a Ghost Rider—and took such things to heart—the fortune might force him into action.

Nothing, of course, had been left to chance. Brett had personally seen to it that word had discreetly filtered out about a big shipment of gold coins heading for Haywire by stage on Thursday. Not only did that day correlate with Reverend Johnson’s visitations, but also with the full moon. Even nature seemed to be working in their favor.

Now all that was left to do was wait.

Kate felt honored to have such an important task to do. But even as she dutifully played her part, she hoped and prayed that none of her customers were involved.

That included Mr. Thornton, who’d entered the shop that morning with his usual grim-faced expression just as Harvey Wells was unveiling his latest invention to a curious crowd.

Hoot Owl Pete moved to make a spot for Thornton. Next to them, Mrs. Tremble watched with her poodle cradled in her arms. Mitzie’s sharp-eyed gaze was fixed on Ringo happily chewing on a dog cake. Standing between former mayor Bellwether and Reverend Johnson, Lucky Lou switched the dog leash from his right hand to his left and helped himself to the plate of candy Kate had set out. The cinnamon candy was new, and she wanted to test it before offering it for sale.

Harvey pointed to the strange-looking contraption on the counter that resembled a paddlewheel. “This here is every candy-maker’s dream,” he said with a flourish.

Mrs. Cuttwell made a face. “I certainly hope it works better than the dressmaker’s dream you invented,” she said with a haughty shake of her head. She turned to the crowd. “He said his mechanical scissors would take the drudgery out of cutting, but all they did was fray the fabric.”

“Anything’s gotta be better than that danged horseshoeing machine.” The blacksmith imitated Harvey’s high-pitched voice. “Just put the horse’s hoof in the hole, and the machine will do the rest.” Ironman returned to his normal voice. “It did the rest, all right. The horse jumped sky-high and never did come back down.”

Harvey cleared his throat, “Yes, well, even the greatest inventors experience a setback or two.”

“Or three or four,” Hoot Owl Pete said and then promptly reminded Harvey about the mannerly hat that automatically raised in polite salutation. “It raised, all right, along with half the scalp.”

Ignoring his critics, Harvey drew everyone’s attention back to his current invention and continued. “The moment of greatest achievement has finally arrived.” He proceeded to demonstrate. “This is what I call a taffy puller,” he explained. “It’s easy to use. All you do is wrap the taffy mixture around these paddles here, like this.” He pulled a mass of sticky, boiled sugar out of a bowl and demonstrated. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “you are about to witness candy-making history.” He then turned the crank.

The glossy ribbon of sugar twisted and turned.

Kate clapped her hands. “Oh, Harvey, that’s amazing. That’ll save us so much time.”

Even Aunt Letty seemed impressed. “I’ll say.”

Looking pleased, Harvey turned the crank faster.

A strand of taffy broke loose and flew across the shop, hitting the dressmaker square in the face. All heads swiveled in her direction and, for a long moment, no one uttered a word.

Then all at once, the most amazing thing happened. The man who hadn’t cracked a smile in all the years Kate had known him suddenly doubled over in laughter, tears running down his cheeks.

One by one, the others joined in until the shop rang out with howls of delight.

Aunt Letty rushed to the dressmaker’s side, her eyes flashing angry sparks. “It’s not funny!” she said, her sharp voice stifling all but a few titters. She tugged on Mrs. Cuttwell’s arm. “Come on, Helen, let’s get you cleaned up.” She coaxed her nemesis around the counter and into the kitchen.

Looking sheepish, Harvey gathered up his machine. “Back to the drawing board,” he said with a nervous titter. With that, he slithered out of the shop.

Kate waited for the others to leave before dropping on hands and knees to scrape the taffy off the floor.

She was still on bent knees when her aunt walked out of the kitchen, her voice preceding her. “Oh good, they’re gone.”

Kate stood. “Where’s Mrs. Cuttwell?”

“She snuck out the back, poor woman.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. Poor woman? She wrapped the glob of taffy in paper and dumped it into the wastepaper basket. “That was a very kind thing you did. Can I assume that the two of you have put your differences aside?”

When her aunt said nothing, Kate studied her vacant expression. “Aunt Letty?”

This time her aunt jumped. “Hmm?”

“I said that was a kind thing you did. Taking care of Mrs. Cuttwell like that. I know she’s not your favorite person.” When her aunt failed to respond yet a second time, Kate joined her behind the counter. “Is something wrong?”

“I was just thinking about Priscilla Manning.”

Kate arched an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Remember how she told us she had a terrible premonition that something awful was going to happen? Then a day later, a blue norther blew down her house.”

“That happened years ago, Aunt Letty. Why are you thinking about it now?”

“I have a similar feeling.”

Kate glanced out the window at the clear blue sky. “You think our house is going to blow down?”

“No, no, no. This has nothing to do with the house. It’s about the man who knocked me down at the bank. Remember I told you I heard his keys rattle?”

Kate nodded. “Yes.”

“I heard those same keys today. Here in the shop.”

* * *

Foster gaped at Brett and waved the stitching awl in his hand. “Shakespeare? Is that what you said? Man alive, you’re out of your cotton-pickin’ mind!”

Brett grunted. No truer words had ever been spoken. Ever since he and Kate had kissed, he’d been half out of his mind with crazy thoughts. Thoughts he had no business entertaining. Thoughts that were tying him up in knots.

As a ranger, he needed a clear, focused mind. That’s how crimes got solved. The muddled mess inside his head was not helping. His thoughts were as jumbled as straw in a mattress. If Foster One got away this time, Brett would have only himself to blame.

As for Shakespeare, he’d known it wouldn’t be an easy idea to sell. Nothing with Foster Two ever was.

“Kate likes Shakespeare.” At least Brett assumed she did based on the number of Shakespeare’s quotes on her store walls. “You need to come up with a way to make up for the mess you made last week. Taking her to Austin to see one of his plays is just the thing.”

“Mess?” Foster slammed the awl on his workbench. “Everything was going just fine and dandy until that blasted calf showed up. You’re the one who suggested I take Kate for a ride by the river.”

“Okay, so things didn’t go as planned,” Brett conceded.

He had no desire to argue. There was too much work left to be done. His latest plan to catch the Ghost Riders had to be foremost in his mind. That’s all he could think about now. Nothing could be left to chance.

He’d purposely avoided the candy shop these past couple of days, as much for Kate’s sake as for his own. He’d told himself that nothing had changed after their kiss, but that wasn’t true. Their kiss hadn’t just left its mark; it had been a source of guilt, not just for him, but for her as well. He’d witnessed it in her eyes, heard it in her voice, and for that he felt bad. Really bad. Obviously, she still had feelings for Foster and was just as anxious as he was to forget what had happened.

“Tell me, Foster. Do you love her?” The question was not his to ask, but he had to know the depth of Foster’s feelings. Had to know that bringing them together really was the right thing to do.

“What?”

“I said, do you love her?” Do you dream of her at night? Do you ache to hold her in your arms? Does each second away from her seem like hours?

Foster frowned. “What kind of question is that? ’Course I do. Do you think I’d go to all this trouble if I didn’t?”

Brett sucked in his breath. “What about Kate?” He hated himself for asking. Hated himself for hoping the question brought doubt to Foster’s eyes. The Tucker blood ran thick through his veins, and he was no better than his brother. God help him. “Is there any doubt that she might not share your feelings?”

Foster looked affronted. “She’s got as many locks on her heart as she has in her hair, but that’s about to change. After what happened with that cow, she’s been real nice to me.”

“All right then, so what’s the problem?”

“I have a business to run,” Foster said, indicating the still-unfinished saddle. “I can’t just close up shop.”

“It’s only for a day. And it’s time to put your ring back on her finger where it belongs.”

He couldn’t tell Foster that the real reason he wanted Kate out of town was so she would be safe. If one or more of the Ghost Riders got wind that she had played a part in trapping them, there was no telling what might happen.

“A day in Austin should do the trick.”

Foster didn’t look convinced. “It sounds like another one of your harebrained schemes.”

“Trust me on this, it’s not.”

“Trust you!” Foster’s lip curled. “Kiss her till dawn, you said. Heck, after rescuing that blasted calf, I couldn’t even get near Kate with my swollen face, let alone kiss her.”

A pain shot through Brett’s middle. Foster would have to mention kissing her. He cleared his throat. “There are no cows in a Shakespearean play.”

“That doesn’t mean the plays don’t stink!”

“Come on, Foster. Think about it. Kate likes the Bard. She even adds his quotes to the candy she sells.”

Foster scoffed. “Easier to quote Shakespeare than to sit through one of his plays.”

“Trust me, it’ll be the perfect day.”

“Yeah, like the drive by the river was supposed to be perfect. Like the dinner at the hotel was supposed to be perfect. Like—”

“This time will be different, I swear. You take the train to Austin. Go to the theater. On the train ride back, just as the sun is setting in the west, you propose. No cows. Guaranteed.”

Foster scowled. “What’s with you and the sun?”

Brett’s casual shrug belied the seriousness of his thoughts. He couldn’t admit the truth. That the golden rays of the sun set Kate’s hair on fire and made her eyes sparkle like blue glass. Nor dare he say how the sun’s warmth was a reminder of her brilliant smile.

“The sun stands for…consistency, like love.”

How he came up with that explanation on such short notice, he had no idea. But it did the trick. The stubborn look on Foster’s face was now tempered with hope.

“You think this plan will work?”

“Of course it will work. Just act like you’re enjoying the play. It’s a comedy, so laugh when others laugh and clap when they do.”

Foster still didn’t look fully convinced. “I don’t know…”

“Kate will love it. You know she will. And what better way to prove that you’re a changed man?”

He felt bad for forcing Foster into something he didn’t want to do, but it was for his own good. With a little luck, the plan to capture the Ghost Riders would succeed, but there was always the possibility that something could go wrong, prolonging Brett’s time in Haywire.

When Kate returned from Austin, the ring had better be on her finger. Because if it wasn’t, there was no telling how much longer he could keep his feelings to himself.

“You can do it,” he said. “Shakespeare is a small price to pay for spending the day with the woman I…uh…you love.” He hated pleading with the man, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

When Foster still hesitated, Brett sighed with impatience. “Come on, Foster. Think about it. A whole day alone with Kate.” He spaced each word for emphasis. “What could possibly go wrong?”