disassembled the Colt and cleaned it. She then dried the holster and rubbed the leather down with saddle soap to keep it soft.
Jeb stared at Hank. “Let me get this right. She’s not only beautiful, she can fix guns too.” He raised both eyebrows as if piecing together a puzzle. “And she married you?”
Hank laughed. “That’s about the size of it, except she wants to practice her craft. Do you think you could hang a sign in the window and take in any work folks might need done? We’ll come by every few days and deliver back and forth if she gets any business.”
“And I’ll give you a percent of all I earn, Mr. Diggs,” she added.
Jeb shook his head. “Don’t want a percentage. It’s your work. I’ll make any money for my time by selling more from the extra customers the sign will bring in. My guess is when word gets out that you’re here, you will have all the business you can handle.”
Aggie rolled up her tools. “Thank you. I have a list of tools I need.” She pulled a slip of paper from the side of the box.
Jeb took the list. “I could probably get most of them from a supplier in Fort Worth. Wouldn’t take more than a few days.” He tapped the paper with his finger. “I’ll send this order with the afternoon train.” He glanced at Hank. “And, of course, I’ll put it on your bill.”
Hank agreed but didn’t miss the surprised look she gave him. He couldn’t help but wonder how long she’d carried the slip of paper with her small box of tools.
She accepted a mug of coffee and went back to her seat beside the cats. “Thanks for the coffee and for letting me watch your kittens.”
Jeb shrugged. “In a few weeks you can have your pick of the litter.”
She grinned at Hank.
He nodded his agreement.
“We’ll take the runt,” she said and went back to watching the animals while the men talked about the weather.
When his cup was empty, Hank pulled on his slicker over his coat and asked if she was ready to leave. He slipped a new slicker over her shoulders and covered her hair with the hood, unable to resist touching the curls.
Her hand gently brushed his forearm and she whispered, “Should I change this bandage? It must be wet.”
Hank shook his head. “It’ll just get wet again. Wait until we’re home. I’ve got a good stash of medicine there.”
She agreed and Hank heard Mrs. Diggs mumble something about lovebirds.
Before they realized there was nothing between Aggie and him but a partnership, Hank waved good-bye and held the door open for his wife. “I didn’t bring the wagon into town. I thought I’d be coming back alone. You mind riding double?”
Surprisingly, she giggled. “I’ve only been on horseback a few times. My father always drove a wagon.”
Hank bumped his head against the door frame, too busy watching her and not where he was going. “I won’t let you fall,” he mumbled, thinking that if he didn’t stop staring at her and start paying attention, he’d have brain damage before the day was over.
Chapter 6
The rain launched an assault to keep them inside, pelting at full force when they cleared the door. Hank motioned for her to wait while he climbed onto his horse and tied her bag and the boxes in place behind the saddle. He rode close to the porch so he could lift Aggie up in front of him.
She might be shy, but her willingness for adventure surprised him. He’d half expected her to refuse to go with him. He’d bluffed her into following when they’d left the train, but he had no idea what he would do this time if she refused. He didn’t know her well, but he didn’t think Aggie would take too kindly to being tossed over the saddle against her will.
Mary Carol rushed out with two bags. “Here’s her wet clothes,” she said, pulling her shawl around her head. “I also packed a few supplies-bread, milk, and coffee just in case you don’t have any out at your place.”
“Thank you.” Aggie accepted both bags.
“No problem. I put them on your account.”
Hank’s arm tightened around his bride as he turned the horse toward home.
“Maybe you should stay and wait out the storm?” Mary Carol yelled as they pulled away.
“Want to wait?” he whispered near Aggie’s ear.
She shook her head. “I want to go home.”
Hank no longer cared about the weather. He’d been so many years without a family, without anyone, heading home with Aggie seemed almost too good to be true. He had a feeling any moment he’d awake from this dream and find some other man had won her hand. The thought brought to mind Potter Stockton’s frown last night. The railroad man had made fun of the proposal almost all the ride back to Fort Worth. Hank hadn’t missed the anger in Potter’s remarks. He’d hinted twice before they split near the depot that Hank would be smart to go on back to Amarillo alone and leave the courtship of Aggie to a man who knew how to treat a woman like her.
Hank couldn’t help but wonder, if he’d missed the train last night, would she have agreed to meet Potter Stockton again, or would she have turned both men down and moved on to the next sister’s house? Hank remembered how Stockton talked about her beauty and how he’d laughed and commented that shy ones always “take the bit” without too much fighting. Hank didn’t even want to think about what Stockton meant.
If Hank hadn’t already asked for her hand, he would have turned around and ridden back to Aggie just to warn her not to see the railroad man again.
If she wasn’t cocooned in her slicker, he might have tried to tell her where his land started, but with the rain she could see little. He wished he’d had time to telegraph ahead and have his hand, Blue Thompson, light the fire in the house and put lamps in the windows to welcome her.
When they reached the ranch, even though it was late morning, all was dark. He leaned down to open the gate. She twisted in front of him, holding tightly to his slicker.
He straightened and pulled her close once more. “It’s all right, Aggie. I won’t let you fall.”
Her hood slid back enough that he could see her nod, but she didn’t turn loose of her grip on him. When they reached the long porch that rounded three sides of his house, he lifted her with him as he stepped from the saddle and carried her up the steps. Old Ulysses, his guard dog, barked from beneath the porch.
“Hush, Ulysses, it’s just me,” Hank mumbled.
The dog growled, but quieted.
When they were well out of the rain, he sat Aggie down beside the only piece of furniture he’d brought north with him when he’d homesteaded-his father’s rocker. “Don’t worry about Ulysses. He’s mean and hates everyone, including me, but he’s a good guard dog. He keeps snakes away and warns me if anyone gets near the place.”
Hank straightened and gripped the doorknob. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have…”
He didn’t finish. It was too late for explanations or apologies. “Welcome home,” he managed as the door creaked open.
Aggie walked in ahead of him and didn’t stop until she was in the center of the polished floor. The storm’s gray light shown the open area in layers of shadows. He stood at the threshold and stared at her back. The big main room looked empty with its two chairs and one long table. The fireplace was cold and dusty. The curtainless windows were stark, letting all the rage of the storm inside and holding no warmth.
“There’s a kitchen and mudroom behind the fireplace. My room is to the left and yours will be to the right once I get my tack out of it. I’ll move my bed in for you until I can build you what you need.”
She hadn’t moved. Her back was so straight he decided she must be in shock. To him the house had been great, but to her it must look cold and bare.
“The kitchen ceiling is only seven feet. I built an attic above it.” He almost said “for kids.” “I haven’t been up there in a while, but it would make a good storage room if you need one. All that is up there now is an old trunk someone sent back to my father after my mom died.”
