The Bachelor Tax - Carolyn Davidson Mills & Boon Historical

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out tomorrow and take a look,” Bates said. “How are the prices?”

      Tanner grinned. “High. I’ve got the best horses in east Texas, and you know that as well as I do.”

      “What are you gonna do with the rest of them?”

      “There’s a dealer in Shreveport ready to take anything I’ve got to sell.”

      Bates nodded. “I’d best beat him to it then, hadn’t I? I’ll be out in the morning.”

      “If I were a man I could have a job doing the accounts for Mr. Stillwell at the Golden Slipper,” Rosemary said, propping her chin on her fist, one foot stretched before her with a cool cloth covering her ankle.

      “Don’t even think it,” Pip said sharply. “Even if you were a man, you wouldn’t want to work for a saloon keeper.”

      “Not much chance anyway,” Rosemary said with a defeated shrug. “He’d never hire any kin of my father. They were on opposite sides of the fence till the day papa died.”

      Pip bent over the injured foot and lifted the towel, swinging it in the air to cool it. “I’ll bet you’re going to be laid up for a couple of days,” she pronounced grimly. “You’ve really done it, Rosemary. I’ll tell you what. As soon as I lock up here, I’ll give you a shoulder to lean on and walk you home.”

      The thought of stepping with her full weight on the swollen ankle made Rosemary wince, but there was no getting around it. The parsonage was over two hundred feet from the back door of the store, and she needed help.

      The sun was heading for the horizon when the two young women turned the corner and the humble home Rosemary had shared with her father came into view. Before it, a large wagon was backed to the gate, and several men were unloading pieces of furniture.

      “I thought it wouldn’t be arriving for three more days,” Rosemary said quietly, too upset by this turn of events to hold back the tears that filled her eyes.

      “Where is your furniture?” Pip asked, as a large sofa was turned on end to fit through the doorway.

      Rosemary was beyond speech and only shook her head.

      “Miss Gibson!” The tall figure of James Worth hastened to where the two women stood. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come and get you when the wagon arrived. We’ve been busy unloading, as you can see. I fear we had to put your things out on the grass, and these gentlemen will load them on the wagon and take them to the livery stable until you can decide what to do with them.”

      “All right,” Rosemary answered stoutly, blinking her eyes, determined not to show the sorrow that filled her to brimming. She’d known for three days that a decision must be made, and now she was out in the cold. No miracle had occurred. No angels had appeared to wave their wings on her behalf.

      If only Lars Jorgenson had not been set aside for another, she might even now be fixing the evening meal for her husband.

      And at that thought, she burst into tears.

      Chapter Three

      The back door to the saloon was tightly shut, only a crack of light appearing below the heavy pine portal. Rosemary stood in the darkness and listened to the sounds from within. A woman’s laughter rippled past her hearing, then the lower tones of a man’s voice, accompanied by a thumping beat as music from the front of the saloon filtered through the crowd.

      Her dark clothing hid her from those who might be passing by the alleyway, a narrow lane running between the town’s business community and a row of houses behind it. Rosemary lifted her hand and formed a fist, rapping hesitantly on the wooden panel.

      From within, there was no cessation of sound, only an additional voice added to the others. “I don’t care if you just rinse them out. Get those glasses back to the bar. Ain’t there any warm water on the stove?”

      The female answered with assurance. “I’m neither cook nor dishwasher, Jason. You’re just lucky I’m good-natured, or I wouldn’t be helpin’ out.”

      “And you’re lucky I’m payin’ you good money for sashayin’ your fanny across that stage, Laura Lee. Most places, you’d be workin’ for tips from your gentlemen friends out front.”

      “Go take care of your customers, sweetie. I’ll bring your glasses out in a minute,” the woman’s voice replied.

      Rosemary lifted her hand to rap again.

      “You’ll have to pound harder, miss. They can’t hear above the noise, lessen you bang good and loud.” The voice from behind her spun Rosemary in place. She staggered as her injured ankle gave way, and her hand grasped for purchase on the shoulder of the young boy facing her.

      “You startled me,” she croaked. “I thought I was alone here.”

      He grinned widely, tugging his cap from his head. “I don’t make no noise, ma’am. I been watchin’ you, and I figured you needed some advice.”

      Before Rosemary could utter a word of protest, his fist made contact with the door three times, each thump hard enough to rattle the hinges. She looked around, anxious lest anyone should see her in such a place, and was about to make her escape when the door creaked open.

      “See, what’d I tell you?” the boy asked, his grin visible in the light streaming from the open doorway.

      “Ma’am?” The golden-haired woman inside the building appeared to take Rosemary’s measure. Her lips curled in a smile of amusement and she swept her hand in welcome. “Come on in, why don’t you? No sense in standin’ around outside. You come to see old Jason? Or maybe to convert the customers?”

      Rosemary stepped within the doorway, casting a glance behind her for the youth who had hastened this moment. He was gone, not even a shadow betraying his presence.

      “You’re the preacher’s girl, aren’t you?” the woman asked.

      Rosemary nodded, assailed by the scent of hard drink and heavy perfume. “I wanted to talk to the owner, Mr. Stillwell, if he’s available.”

      “He’s at the bar,” the blond woman told her. “I’m Laura Lee, his…” She smiled, then waved her hand in Rosemary’s direction. “I work here, honey. What do you need with Jason?”

      The door across the room swung open and a dark-haired man strode in, the noise from behind him assailing Rosemary’s ears with a harsh symphony of sound. “Where in hell’s those glasses, Laura Lee? I need them now.”

      He halted abruptly when he saw Rosemary, and his brows rose in question. “Didn’t know we had company,” he said slowly.

      “I’ll get the glasses,” Laura Lee told him, turning to the sink. “The young lady wants to see you, Jason.”

      Jason moved closer to Rosemary. “Last time I saw you, you was walkin’ behind your daddy’s coffin on the way to the cemetery. You’re a long way from the parsonage, ma’am.”

      “I wanted to see you, Mr. Stillwell, and I thought this might be the best time. I hesitated to come to your business establishment during the day.”

      He nodded, and then, as if he had just remembered his manners, he pulled a chair from the table and offered her a seat. Rosemary settled herself on the edge of the chair, aware of the sidelong looks she was receiving from Laura Lee, who splashed water from the stove into a dishpan.

      Rosemary leaned forward, hoping she would not sound too much like a beggar asking for alms. “I need a job, Mr. Stillwell, and I heard that you were looking for an accountant to do your books. I’m very good with figures, sir, and I desperately need work. I thought I might be able to—”

      Jason held up a hand, halting her effectively. “You want to work for me, ma’am? I don’t think so.” He grinned widely. “I’d have every woman in town after my head

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