She hefted the shotgun, blocking him when he attempted to step inside. “You are not my family, Mr. Dorchester. Now get out of here.”
His face darkened, and she once again glimpsed the evil she suspected lived inside him. “I have someone interested in buying that property. It’s time for you to stop this foolishness so I can sell it.”
“What happened to wanting to keep it in the family?” she sarcastically asked. “That property belonged to my husband. He willed it to me. My attorney said it was legal and proper. I will do what I choose with that property, and for now, I choose not to sell it.”
She didn’t take her gaze off his face, but out of the corner of her eye she spotted Deputy Carlisle riding up.
Taking a step forward, she forced Dorchester out of the doorway and onto the front porch where Carlisle hopefully couldn’t miss what was happening.
“You will regret crossing me, Katherine.”
“That’s Missus Dorchester to you, sir.”
Deputy Carlisle did, in fact, spot the confrontation, because he spurred his horse faster until he slid to a stop in front of her store, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake. He leapt off his mount and ran up to the porch, his hand on the butt of his revolver.
“What’s going on here? What’s wrong, Miz Dorchester? This man bothering you?”
Dorchester Senior didn’t say anything at first, just shot her a murderous glare. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m leaving.” He jabbed a pudgy finger at her. “But don’t think we’re through, Katherine.” He turned, stormed off the porch, climbed into his buggy, and snapped the team’s reins.
Once he turned the corner out of her sight, the tremors hit. It wasn’t until she felt Deputy Carlisle’s gentle hands on hers, taking the shotgun from her, that she realized she was also crying.
“Miz Dorchester?” His voice sounded kind and gentle. “Let’s get you inside and you tell me what’s going on.”
She nodded and let him escort her into the back room, where her knees gave out and she heavily sat at the table.
He knelt in front of her. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Who was that man? Did he threaten you?”
A ragged laugh escaped her. “He’s my former father-in-law. A greedy son of a buck who thinks he can get his way by threats and bullying.”
Joe’s stable boy had Mason’s horse saddled and waiting at the hitching post outside the front porch. Mason jammed the three shirts, as well as a pair of trousers he’d forgotten needed the seat mended, into a saddlebag. The twenty-minute ride into Brooksville was, as usual, uneventful. As the sun rose in a hazy blue May sky, indicating the high pressure system sitting over the top of their area, he knew it meant another scorcher. The rainy season should start soon, bringing momentary afternoon relief from the heat every day even though it also meant a return of the horribly muggy afternoons.
Then he rounded the corner.
When he spotted Widow Dorchester standing there outside her shop and holding a man at bay with her shotgun, he urged his horse forward at full gallop. He didn’t know her very well, but he and the other deputies tried to keep an eye out for her as much as they could, as did the volunteer fire brigade members when they were at the firehouse.
After the man left and Mason got her inside, she told him the story. He fought the urge to hop on his horse and go after the man and teach him a thing or two about manners. He knew of Widow Dorchester’s story from around town, but had never had an up close conversation with her before since he didn’t often work on this side of Brooksville. “Has he been bothering you, ma’am?”
“Not lately. But now that he’s back I’m guessing his threats will resume. He said he wants to sell the property. It’s not his to sell, it’s mine! My lawyer said so!” She blew her nose in a handkerchief and despite the circumstances, he realized for the first time how cute the strawberry blonde was. Definitely feisty. Dorchester had a good foot in height on her, and she’d stood tall against him.
She looked at him. “Thank you for coming along when you did,” she said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. Can I make you a cup of tea or something?”
“No, ma’am, that’s all right. Actually, I was on my way here.” He explained his mending problem.
She smiled, but it looked sad and careworn. “Please, bring them in. I’ll do them for you right now.”
“I don’t mind leaving them.”
“Nonsense.” She stood and smoothed her skirts. “After the grief you’ve saved me this morning, it’s the least I can do. Won’t take me long at all. Truth be told, my nerves are still a little rattled. I wouldn’t mind the company for a while longer.”
He retrieved the items from his saddlebag as she opened her shop. He sat and watched her as she found matching buttons for the missing ones and quickly sewed them on. Her hazel eyes keenly focused on her work, yet she easily talked with him while her needle rose and fell.
She smiled at him over the ripped seam in his trousers as she poked her hand through it and wiggled her fingers. “I hope you weren’t bending over in front of any ladies when this happened.”
He laughed. “Nope. Just my cousin. Believe me, Joe teased me something fierce about it.”
He loved her smile. From the worry lines around her eyes and on her forehead, he suspected she didn’t smile very much. “I’m sure he did, Deputy.”
“Please, call me Mason.”
Did he imagine she blushed a little? “All right, Mason.”
“May I be forward, ma’am?”
She blushed a little more. Could she look anymore beautiful if she tried? “Forward, Mason? And please, call me Katie.”
He took a risk. “Katie, would you allow me to take you to the dinner at the Methodist church tomorrow night?”
Her first instinct was to say no. The word caught and hung on the tip of her tongue. Then she spotted the unmistakable hope in his sweet brown eyes. How had she missed his good looks before? Then again, she’d never had much contact with him before, despite hearing many local women talk about his charming ways and handsome features.
She took a deep breath. “I would be honored to accompany you to the dinner.” Considering it was only across the street, and she’d been planning on going anyway, what harm could come from that? If she had the handsome deputy on her arm, it would help ward off the unwelcomed advances from single men—or their well-intentioned relatives—that invariably occurred at the local shindigs.
He smiled, turning his hard face even more handsome. She knew he and his cousin, Joseph Lansing, lived just outside of Brooksville. Two confirmed bachelors, according to the young single townswomen who’d unsuccessfully attempted to claim either of them. Plenty of times she’d overheard gossip from one girl or another who’d plotted strategy to become Mrs. Joseph Lansing, wife of a successful cattle rancher and business owner. But Mason’s cousin proved as tenaciously single as he was.
“I’ll call for you around six, if that’s all right?”
“That would be fine.” She finished mending the seam, tested it, and neatly folded the trousers to add them to the pile of clothes. “There. All done.”
He stood. “How much do I owe you?”
She waved him off. “Nothing. Consider it thanks for helping my morning go from horrible to very nice indeed.” Truth be told, that’s exactly what he’d done. From her earlier melancholy, then the shock of dealing with Dorchester, and now nearly an hour of pleasant conversation that made her feel…almost normal.
More normal than she had in a year. He smiled again. She’d heard he was a tough but fair man who didn’t brook nonsense from people.
“I’m sorry we didn’t officially meet under better circumstances, Katie. I’ll make it a point to drop by regularly from now on. To check on you. Especially today. If he shows up again, I want you to send for me immediately and I’ll take care of it. Personally.”