The Engagement Bargain Page 15

  “I’d best see to Miss Bishop,” Caleb said. “They’re staying at the Stuart house. Is it fit for them?”

  “Mr. Stuart had some of the boys over yesterday to patch the roof and fix the door on the back. Still needs a lot of work, but it’ll be good for tonight if the ladies aren’t too picky.”

  Caleb wasn’t certain. After the Savoy Hotel, what would Anna think of the tiny, neglected house? It was a far cry from Kansas City.

  Yep, he’d do whatever it took to make her happy. Even if that meant ensuring she was back in St. Louis, far away from Cimarron Springs.

  He adjusted the brim of his hat lower over his eyes. “Can anything else go wrong today?”

  “Ask and you shall receive.” The marshal pointed down the street toward the man marching their way.

  Caleb frantically searched for an escape.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caleb backed away from the man charging toward him. He glanced at the marshal for help, but Garrett only grinned and turned his back.

  Caleb groaned. If he backed up any farther he’d be sitting in Anna’s lap.

  Mr. Aaberg thrust a squirming bundle of bleets and hooves into his arms.

  Caleb fumbled with the distraught goat. “This isn’t a good time, Triple A.”

  They’d called Avery Aaberg Triple A for as long as Caleb could remember. The man was ornery and disagreeable, more so since his second wife had died the past winter. Most folks avoided the cantankerous farmer, but Caleb didn’t mind him as much. Triple A kept his barns clean and his animals tended, he never waited until it was too late to save an animal before he came calling and he didn’t expect Caleb to stay for coffee and gossip after a visit.

  Caleb fumbled with the goat, and Triple A crossed his arms over his chest, then stepped out of reach.

  “That one there is a runt,” the man declared. “The others are going to kill it. I can’t look after him all the time. You’ll have to take him.”

  “Find someone else.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m otherwise engaged. This is Miss Anna, she’s—” A loud bleat interrupted his words. “We’ve just gotten back into town and Anna—” Another bleat drowned out his explanation. “Bring the goat around to the house later.”

  Triple A grinned and slapped his shoulder. “Good to hear. I thought Mrs. Stuart was just gossiping again.”

  Caleb gaped. He’d never seen the man smile. Not once. And he’d known him all his life. In twenty-six years he’d never seen Triple A’s teeth full on. Not that he was missing much. They were yellowed and uneven with a large gap down the center two.

  The farmer stuck out his hand toward Anna. “Nice to meet another a, Miss Anna. I’m Avery Aaberg. That’s two a’s in Aaberg. Folks around here call me Triple A.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr., ah, Mr. Triple A.”

  “Just Triple A. We don’t stand on ceremony in these parts. Especially now that you’re one of the family.”

  Anna kept her head facing forward, but her eyes swiveled toward Caleb. “Family?”

  Biscuits and gravy. He was too late. The rumor had started.

  “And now you have a goat.” Triple A clapped his hands together. “Everything is settled.”

  “Wait,” Caleb demanded. “I do not have a goat. You have a goat.”

  He needed time with Anna. Surely she’d understand his explanation. How things had gotten out of hand. How he’d never intended for this to happen.

  “He’s got his ear bit,” Triple A said. “Might be an infection. Thought you better take a look at it.”

  The animal was definitely a runt, about half the size of a normal goat, with light gray fur that turned darker at the tips.

  One hoof dug into Caleb’s side, tearing his shirt and scratching his stomach. “I can take a look at his ear, but then he’s going home with you.”

  “Can’t. Told you. He’s the runt.”

  “Yes, but why is it my responsibility to find him a home?”

  “Do you have any goats?”

  “No. You know that. Three horses, a lame cow and the occasional stray cat.”

  “Then you have room for a goat.”

  “I don’t want a goat.”

  “You’re the vet. You must know someone who needs a goat. He might be a runt, but he eats well enough. He’ll keep the yard cleared. Just mind you don’t have any roses. He likes roses.”

  Triple A turned his back, and Caleb limped after him, the goat impeding his pursuit. “This isn’t a good time. I told you.”

  “If I take him back, the others will trample him,” Triple A said solemnly. “His death will be on your hands.”

  Triple A pinned his mournful gaze on Anna. A muscle ticked along Caleb’s jaw. Triple A was doing this on purpose. The old blackmailer knew exactly what would happen.

  Anna gasped. “Really? They’ll kill him?”

  Triple A scratched the stubble on his cheek, and Caleb shot him a scalding glare. Of course she’d hear that little tidbit.

  “Happens sometimes,” the farmer said. “With these little ones. The other fellows weed out the weak one. It’s a shame, but that’s life on the farm.”

  Anna stood and rested her hand on the goat’s back. “That’s terrible.” She appealed to Caleb. “Couldn’t you find him a home?”

  Triple A shook his head and Caleb glared. The farmer had gone and done that on purpose. Now Anna was looking at him as though he was a black-hooded executioner sending the goat off to the gallows.

  “Tomorrow,” Caleb spoke through gritted teeth.

  “Has to be today.” Triple A was grinning again with that big annoying gap-toothed smile. Right then Caleb missed never seeing the man’s teeth. He didn’t appreciate his sense of humor. “I’m cutting hay first thing in the morning. I won’t be around. I’d hate to come and find him trampled.”

  Anna sucked in a breath.

  “That is blackmail.” The goat kicked him in the gut. “Oomph. Could we talk about this tomorrow?”

  He was stuck with the goat. No amount of arguing was changing that.

  “He won’t last the night.”

  Caleb groaned and set down the squirming animal. Triple A tipped his hat toward Anna. “Pleasure to meet you, Miss Anna.” Then he stuffed his hands in his pockets and set off toward town.

  Caleb angled his head. “Is he whistling?”

  Anna stifled a grin. “Yes. I believe he’s whistling ‘The Battle Hymn of the Republic.’”

  “That old coot. What am I going to do with a goat?”

  Anna leaned down and cupped the goat’s face in her hand. “I think he’s just precious. Why, he’s smaller than a collie. Will he get much bigger?”

  Caleb squinted at the goat. He was barely more than six weeks old, with that curious shade of gray that darkened at the tips of his fur. “Probably not.”

  The goat bleated and tipped its head. One ear hung at an odd angle, a bit of dried blood matting its gray fur.

  Anna stared up at him, her gaze appealing. “Can you fix his ear?”

  There was no help for it, the animal needed medical attention. At the very least, Caleb was finally back in his element. Finally taking care of something he understood.

  Since this detour also gave him a reprieve from telling Anna about the engagement rumor sweeping through town, he’d forgive Triple A. For the moment.

  “That ear needs tending,” Caleb said. “I’ll have to get him home for a better look.”

  Mrs. Franklin appeared again, fording her way through the crowd like a steamship through rough waters. “I have secured our baggage. I had to suffer the indignities of opening each trunk and box, proving that no additional bodies had been secreted in our baggage.” She sniffed. “As though a grown man could fit
in a hatbox. Perhaps they assumed he’d been chopped up and distributed equally amongst the tissue paper and bows.”

  Anna blanched.

  Caleb fought a grin that tugged at the edges of his mouth. While there was a certain absurdity to the situation, a man had lost his life.

  Mrs. Franklin pulled at her collar. “I suggest we continue on to the hotel. I could use a strong cup of coffee. This has already been an eventful day.”

  The goat nibbled on her skirts.

  Mrs. Franklin leaped back. “Why do you have a goat?”

  “He’s injured,” Anna said. “He’s the runt. The other animals have been bullying him.”

  Mrs. Franklin took another cautious step back, her wary attention focused on the goat. “It appears Mr. McCoy has his hands full for the foreseeable future. We’ll save him a seat.”

  “Much appreciated.”

  Caleb hoisted the goat into his arms once more and nodded. “My home, I mean my office, well, my home and my office are just down the street. A block or so after the hotel.” He raised the goat a notch and pointed. “The Stuart house is a couple doors down and across the street. I’ll tend to his ear and meet you. Jo should be around here somewhere.”

  “Don’t worry.” Anna scratched behind the goat’s good ear. “We’ll manage.”

  Caleb offered a serene smile, pivoted on his heel and grimaced. He’d just gotten home and already there’d been a dead body, a goat and an engagement rumor. Not exactly a good first impression. What did any of that matter, anyway? She wasn’t staying long.

  Only her opinion did matter. Her opinion mattered too much. He just hoped she’d forgive him once she realized everyone in town thought they were engaged.

  * * *

  Anna stared wistfully after Caleb. While she wanted lunch, she wasn’t quite certain if she was up to the task of meeting more people.

  Izetta dusted her hands. “Dead man or no dead man, goat or no goat, I’ve a mind to see this house where we’ll be staying. I want to see what needs to be done.”

  She marched toward a wagon and a man leaning against the baseboard, and Anna realized she must be arranging for their luggage.

  She glanced down and discovered Caleb’s familiar battered leather satchel resting on the bench. She stuck her arms through the sleeves of his coat and stood.

  Catching up to Mrs. Franklin, she hoisted the bag. “Mr. McCoy may need this. Why don’t I meet you at the hotel later?”

  “I’m not surprised he forgot it in all the confusion. I shall have this gentleman deliver our bags and meet you at our new home.”

  “Perfect.” Anna blew out a relieved breath. “If you see Jo, tell her where I’ve gone.”

  The day had been too full of surprises and unexpected news. She needed quiet. The idea of making small talk with a group of strangers sounded exhausting at that moment. Any excuse for escape was welcome.

  Clutching Caleb’s bag against her chest, she set off down the boardwalk. Though carrying the heavy bag tugged at her wound and had her side aching, the wind on her cheeks had revived her flagging reserves of energy.

  She reached the end of the boardwalk and searched the street. There were three houses on the left side, spaced well apart, each featuring a barn and an outbuilding.

  A gentleman passed her, and she caught his attention. “I was looking for Mr. McCoy’s home?”

  The bearded man paused. “Which Mr. McCoy would that be? There’s a whole passel of them around these parts.”

  “Caleb McCoy.” Anna indicated the bag she carried. “I came with him from Kansas City. He forgot his bag.”

  A wide grin spread across the man’s face. “Of course, of course. Second house, the one with the porch swing.”

  Anna smiled her thanks. My, but people were friendly around here.

  She walked the distance and paused before the tidy little house. The home was a perfect square with steeply pitched pyramid roof. A wrought-iron weather vane with a stamped rooster perched on the peak. From the direction of the rooster’s tail feathers, the brisk fall wind was blowing from the north.

  A bricked walkway flanked by two towering elm trees bisected the yard to the front porch. Though the burnt orange leaves were already falling, the trees must have shaded the whole yard in summer. She pictured sitting on the porch swing, cooled from the dappled sunlight.

  One of the crisp leaves fluttered to the ground, and she caught the papery edges in her fist. This was most definitely a bachelor’s residence. Painted white, there were no feminine adornments visible anywhere. No flowers lined the area below the porch railing, no colorful curtains hung in the window. Only the porch swing smacked of anything domestic. Though plain, the home was neat and tidy, the native grasses none too tall.

  Three wide steps led to the porch. The door was open, leaving only the screen door in her way. She knocked on the wooden edge.

  “Come in,” a voice called.

  Suddenly shy, she winced at the loud creak of the hinges. Inside, the house had been portioned off into another perfect square. A parlor to her left, and on her right, an area sectioned off with double doors, she presumed to be Caleb’s office, with what must have been a kitchen and a bedroom behind them. From her vantage point, the corridor stretched through the center of the house, leaving a line of sight out the back door toward the barn. The design would allow a refreshing cross breeze.

  She turned toward the glass double doors on her right and cautiously pushed one open.

  “Watch your feet!” Caleb shouted.

  The goat had broken free of his grasp and dashed toward Anna. She scooted into the room and slammed the door behind her.

  Caleb sat back on his heels. “That is an incredibly stubborn goat who does not want my assistance.”

  “Can I help? I brought your bag and your coat.”

  She extended her hand, and he took the bag from her, his knuckles brushing against her fingers. The simple touch was sweetly intimate. Anna shivered and stepped back.

  “I’m sorry there’s no heat,” Caleb said, misinterpreting her reaction. “I haven’t had time to start a fire.”

  “That’s quite all right.” She rubbed her arms.

  His brief touch had caused the reaction, but there was no need to tell him that.

  The air was a touch chilly. “Is there something I can do to help?”

  “There’s a garden patch out back. I think there’s some late potatoes growing. They should distract this little guy while I’m tending him. Unless you’d rather stay with the goat.”

  “I’ll fetch the potatoes.”

  While Caleb held the goat, Anna slipped out the doors once more. She navigated the corridor, pausing before the kitchen door. The space was bare, and if she didn’t know better, she’d have thought the house deserted. There were no pictures on the walls, no tables holding decorative objects. The place was scrupulously clean, and she admired his efforts in that regard at least.

  Except the house felt lonely. Caleb clearly preferred the simplicity, and yet he struck her as a family man. A man who wanted a wife and children.

  Her heartbeat skittered. Children. They’d have green eyes and dark hair. Or blue eyes. Anna reared back. If she didn’t cease thinking about Caleb in terms of the future, she’d be asking for heartache. She wasn’t the sort of wife he needed, and they were both well aware of the obstructions.

  After passing through the screen door at the back of the home, she imagined once again the lovely breeze that must come through the house in the spring and summer. There was something inexorably peaceful about the setting.

  The two garden patches were laid out in precise rows, mirroring the tidy efficiency of the house. A path led through the center to the barn, and she followed the bricks. Each square on either side of the pathway was protected with a short mesh fence. Havin
g never had a garden, she wasn’t quite certain what she was looking for.

  She tapped her front tooth with one finger. “If I were a potato, where would I be?”

  “In that patch on your left.”

  Anna shrieked and whirled around. An identical copy, albeit a younger version, of Caleb stood behind her.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Although I don’t know why you’d want to be a potato.”

  “You must be one of Caleb’s brothers.”

  “Yep. Abraham. People call me Brahm.”

  “I’m Anna. I was just getting a potato.”

  “I figured that.”

  She mentally slapped her forehead. The poor man must think her a dolt. “For Caleb.”

  Oh, yes, that helped. He definitely wouldn’t think of her as an imbecile anymore.

  He glanced at the door behind her. “Does this mean Caleb’s home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Maxwell’s supposed to be doing his chores, but he went into town and left them for me today.”

  “I’m sure Caleb is grateful for your assistance.”

  He stepped over the wire mesh fencing surrounding the garden patch and stared at the tufts of green, then leaned down and dug in the dirt for a moment. He straightened, turned toward her and held out his hands.

  She cupped her fingers together, and he dumped three potatoes the size of eggs into her outstretched palms.

  “There’s been a frost,” Brahm said. “That’s the best you’ll get this late in the season. Hope you weren’t planning on a big meal.”

  “This should be enough. They’re for a goat.”

  “Yep.”

  Oh, dear. This was not going well at all.

  “I’ll just—” she jerked one shoulder toward the back door “—go back inside now.”

  He stepped around and grasped the handle, swinging open the screen door. Anna blushed. With her hands full, the task was impossible on her own.