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  It proved fortunate to meet Grace, as the young woman knew Mitchell Banks and his sister, Nora, quite well. It turned out that Grace's and Nora's husbands were brothers.

  Bethany had not been able to get much more insight into who Mitch was, as everyone called him, other than he was not friendly in the morning. Hopefully, he'd not mistreat the poor pup that followed him around.

  Her parents were already seated in the dining room when she entered. Her mother gave her a questioning look. “Where did you go off to so early in the morning? I don't believe it's proper for a young woman to wander about unaccompanied. It could be dangerous here, people are different.” She scanned the room with distaste.

  “I only went down the street.” She pointed to her feet. “I purchased sturdier shoes. The uneven terrain here makes my feet wobble in my city boots. I don't want to break an ankle.”

  “Did you happen to see that young man Mitchell Banks while you were out and about?” her father asked. Thankfully, his attention was on his plate. “I am surprised he's not come to see me yet.”

  “I did not see him out and about, no.” Bethany replied, not quite lying as she'd only seen him inside the mercantile. “Are you sure you want to purchase the store father? There are other businesses needed in this town. A perfumery or a drugstore would be most helpful.”

  “I don't know anything about perfume.” Her father lowered his brows in a frown. “Why are you suggesting other things?”

  Bethany sighed and poured tea into a cup. “No reason. Just a suggestion, noticing what's lacking.”

  “A perfumery would be wonderful,” her mother said eyes bright. “We should consider it.”

  Barnabas Jones gave Bethany a “don't say a word” look. And she picked up her napkin to hide her smile.

  “I met someone today.” Bethany told her parents about Grace Cole. Her mother listened attentively, interested in the news about the shoemaker in town. Her father looked either at his plate or past her, toward the door.

  He put his napkin down and stood. “I'm going to the bank. Bethany, keep your mother company.” Her father walked off as if in a hurry to get away from them.

  Amanda frowned at her departing husband. “I think we should see the shoemaker. I need new shoes.”

  Chapter Five

  Later that afternoon, Mitch rode back to town after taking fabric to his sister's house as Nora had made him promise to do so as soon as it arrived.

  He caught a surprising sight. Perched on a boulder on the side of the road, Bethany Jones bent over a pad of paper, a pencil in hand.

  Nearby stood the horse and wagon. He noticed the horse's tie was loose and the animal looked toward the nearby creek. If the animal took off in the direction of the water, the wagon would get stuck in the trees.

  As if reading his thoughts, the horse walked forward and the woman shrieked and jumped to her feet, papers falling to the ground. She ran after the wagon.

  Bethany yelled out a curse, which made the horse take a few more steps forward, promptly lodging the wagon between two trees.

  Mitch pressed his lips tight to keep from laughing out loud when she stomped to the horse and pointed her finger at the beast. “Stop moving or I swear I'm going to beat you over the head, horse!”

  She climbed onto the wagon bench and grabbed the reins. “Back up.” She pulled back on the straps with no result. The horse turned its head and gave her a bored look. Then she climbed down and stood in front of the horse. She eyed the animal that didn't seem to take affront at her anger. Instead, the animal nudged her hand looking for vittles.

  “No, horse. I am not giving you anything. You are a bad boy.” She tugged at the reins but the horse did not budge. The animal heard Mitch's horse and turned to him.

  Bethany jerked in his direction, lifting a hand over her brow to shade her eyes from the sun. “Oh, it's you.”

  “Miss Jones. You seem to be having a bit of trouble with your horse again.” Mitch dismounted and went to peer into the back of the wagon. “Strange equipment, what exactly do you do with it?”

  “It's a very expensive tripod, which may have been ruined by this animal. I take pictures, Mr. Banks.” She tugged the horse's reins for emphasis.

  “Not the horse's fault. It wasn't a good idea to take pictures while standing in a wagon.” He ignored her glare and went to stand next to her. “Need some help?”

  “No, I do not, Mr. Banks. As a matter of fact, I have things under control. This beast will back up and be tied to a tree and I will proceed with my plan.”

  “Which is?” He arched a brow at her. “I hope you don't plan to traipse over this area unescorted.”

  She looked around and shrugged. “Why should I need an escort to sketch?”

  “Because wolves and mountain lions have been spotted here and I don't think a sketch will stop them.”

  Her chin jutted out and she narrowed her eyes. “I don't believe you, Mr. Banks. I think you tell me that because I am from the city and you're trying to frighten me.”

  She tugged at the horse and finally the animal moved backward. The animal followed her without incident back to the path where she tied it to a nearby tree and went to the boulder. Looking over her shoulder, she scowled at Mitch. “You can go now.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “I will be fine.” Bethany returned to her task at hand while Mitch neared.

  “What if I tell you to leave?” He spoke into her ear and she jumped.

  “What?” Her face colored and she blinked at him as if not understanding what he said. “What do you mean, Mr. Banks?”

  He wondered if she would move away if he closed the distance between them and took another step forward. Bethany stood her ground with fists on her hips. “You do not intimidate me, Mr. Banks. I find your attempts at trying to scare me pathetic at best.”

  “I find you pretty mouthy for a trespasser, Miss Jones.”

  “Trespasser?” She looked past him. “Don't tell me you own this land, too. You should put up signs.”

  He had to laugh. “Signs? This is the west, lady. We don't put up signs. It's not my land.”

  “Whose land is it then?” She glared at him and took a step back when she noticed his attention had diverted to her lips.

  Mitch enjoyed sparring with her and moved closer. “Grayson Cole's, my brother-in-law.”

  Her eyes widened before she schooled her expression. With a bored look, she pointed past him. “I don't believe you. You own the mercantile, the white house and now you mean to tell me you own the other land I was on and your family owns this one? Ha!”

  He shrugged. “Why are you not married, Miss Jones?”

  His question took her by surprise, her mouth opened and she frowned at him. “I will not discuss my private life with you, Mr. Banks. Do not try to distract me. My plan is to complete sketches of this beautiful spot. Then I will move there.” She pointed to a small hill. “I will then sketch from there. If a mountain lion happens by, he or she will be in my drawing.” She huffed. “Now, move out of my way.”

  When she attempted to walk around him, he took her by the arms and held her in place. “This is not the city, Miss Jones. You cannot traipse about unarmed or without an escort.” Bethany's eyes widened, she looked everywhere but at him.

  It became clear she either had an immense dislike of him or found him attractive. Mitch took a chance on the second and covered her mouth with his.

  Tentative at first, she allowed him to kiss her, not responding. Then, to his surprise, she grabbed his shoulders and kissed him back.

  A sharp pain made him grunt and jump back. The darn woman kicked him in the shin. “I don't kiss men like you.” Her chest heaved with each breath.

  “Like me?”

  “Yes. Men who think they can win an argument by their good looks.”

  “You find me attractive then, Miss Jones?” He smiled at her in spite of the throbbing in his leg.

  Bethany huffed and rounded him, heading back toward the wagon. “I think I will
return to town. My day is ruined.”

  “I will escort you then.” Mitch went to his horse.

  “I do not want your escort,” she snapped. “I can manage.”

  “Oh, but I insist.” Mitch brought his horse alongside her. “Tell me, Miss Jones. What are your plans for the rest of the day?”

  “I plan to get away from you, Mr. Banks.”

  Mitch laughed when she huffed.

  Chapter Six

  Mitch stood behind the counter, his shoulders immediately tensed upon spotting Barnabas Jones entering the store. A different woman accompanied the rotund man this time, her hand resting on his forearm.

  The older woman dressed in a gown that reminded him more of something a doll would wear than an actual person. The fluffed, bright yellow dress was made of an overabundance of ruffles and bows. Topping her attire was a hat that sat haphazardly on her head. It, too, was made up of countless adornments.

  Several of the women in the shop stopped and openly gawked at the woman who seemed oblivious to the stares. Barnabas headed straight toward Mitch, pulling along the woman who teetered in high heels and looked about to trip at his fast pace. Mitch tried to remain serious, but his lips trembled as he tried not to laugh when the woman stumbled and her hat fell forward onto her forehead.

  “Slow down, Barnabas!” she screeched and raised her free hand in an attempt to straighten her hat. “What is your hurry?”

  Upon closer inspection, Mitch realized the woman favored Bethany. They shared similarly shaped eyes and body structures. Except this woman's expression was hard. She, too, took inventory of the surroundings before her gaze landed on him. Unlike Bethany, her lips remained in a straight line. It wasn't until she focused on him that a gleam appeared in her otherwise expressionless eyes.

  Barnabas Jones turned to the woman and placed a hand on the small of her back. “I apologize, dearest. I didn't mean to upset you.” The man kept his voice soft; his words slow, as if speaking to a child.

  Mitch went around the counter and stood before them. “Mr. Jones, what brings you back so soon?” He knew the man came to dissuade him from his decision, but Mitch decided it was best to not bring up the subject first. “A new shipment of fabric arrived. Perhaps you can tell your daughter about it.”

  Mr. Jones ignored his words and looked to the woman beside him. “I present Lady Amanda Jones, my wife.”

  “Welcome to Alder Gulch, Mrs. Jones.” Mitch took the proffered hand not sure what to do when she held it up as if for him to kiss. He shook it and dropped it and, in turn, Mrs. Jones scowled at him.

  Barnabas Jones lifted to his toes and hooked his thumbs into the pockets of his snug vest. “Now, Mr. Banks, I don't want to waste anymore of your time than necessary to discuss business. I see you have customers to tend to. Therefore, I'd like to invite you to join us for a meal at the hotel.” He pulled out a gold watch and popped it open. “Let's say in two hours’ time?” The man looked to him not with expectation of agreement, but with a look down his nose as if Mitch were to follow his orders and did not have a say in the matter.

  He decided to play along; after all he was interested in finding out exactly what the man was up to. It intrigued him that Bethany was their daughter. She was different from them.

  “That will be fine. I will be there,” Mitch replied and wondered as the man made toward the door if he wasn't about to be taken. Barnabas Jones--something about the man gave him pause. Everything on the surface was not what it seemed. If only he could put his finger on it.

  Mitch went back to helping customers, his thoughts on the people who'd just exited his business.

  *

  “I am told you own the beautiful two-story, white home on the edge of town, Mr. Banks.” Amanda Jones’ shrewd eyes bore into him over the rim of her teacup. The woman had changed into a different gown. Unfortunately, this one was as ghastly, in Mitch's opinion, as the first. The green, wide sleeves flew in every direction when the woman gestured. “I walked past it just this morning. From what was described to me about the interior, it would be the most suitable house in this wretched town.”

  Mitch forced down the anger that bubbled and waited for the woman to continue. She leaned forward and placed a hand over her bosom. “You see, Mr. Banks, I am accustomed to a life not quite as rustic as this.” She motioned to the room with the same hand. “I want your house. Barnabas will pay more than it's worth.”

  He took a breath to keep from telling the arrogant woman she had a better chance of a cold drink in hell. “It's not for sale, Mrs. Jones.”

  “Of course, Mr. Banks. I apologize for my wife's excitement,” Mr. Jones told him, giving his wife a stern look. “It's just that Lady Jones is used to the best. She immediately recognizes something she desires and is tenacious about acquiring it.” The older man took a sip of his coffee, his eyes meeting Mitch's and then shifting away. The longer Mitch went without speaking the more both the Joneses looked to each other, to him and then around the room.

  “So, Mr. Banks. If you'd be inclined to consider selling the house, I'll double the offer I made to you yesterday to include both the mercantile and the house.”

  The man's broad smile did little to dissuade Mitch from his earlier assessment of Bethany's father. Something about the man just didn't sit well. The Joneses gave him the impression of charlatans promising wonders outside a tent filled with tricks and illusions. “I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Jones. The house belongs to my parents. My sister and I wish to keep it in the family.”

  “About the mercantile,” Mr. Jones interrupted him. “The amount I offered is just a suggestion of course. I am open to negotiation.”

  Mitch lifted a forkful of food to his mouth. He chewed the now tasteless pot roast while considering what he should do. On one hand he did want to sell, but then he wasn't sure he trusted Barnabas Jones. He swallowed and regarded the man who'd yet to look away from him. “I will consider your offer. However at this time I don't believe I'm ready to sell. Perhaps in a few months...”

  “Months!” Amanda Jones lifted her hand and placed it dramatically across her forehead. “Why so long? Barnabas...do something.”

  The man patted his wife's shoulder, his expression softening. “Of course, dear. Don't fret now. What Mr. Banks is doing is a natural part of negotiations. If he doesn't act eager to accept my offer, he expects me to offer more.”

  Anger rushed through Mitch. “Mr. Jones, I assure you this is not a game to me by any stretch. The mercantile is a place the people of this town depend upon for their daily requirements. It's not an easy decision to make and I won't make it lightly.”

  “I can't wait months, Mr. Banks.” Jones swallowed, his eyes darting past him towards the hotel's entrance. “I'm sure we can come to an agreement that will benefit us both.” The man loosened his tie, his face flushing. “Perhaps we can meet for a drink in the saloon in a couple of days after you've thought it through.”

  Mitch stood and placed his napkin next to the still full plate. “If you will excuse me I need to get back to work.” He looked down at the couple and both regarded him with raised eyebrows. “I've made my decision. I won't sell you the mercantile, Mr. Jones.” He directed his gaze to the woman. “And I will not change my mind about the house, Mrs. Jones.” He placed his hat on his head. “Good day.”

  As he was about to exit, Bethany entered the room and she stopped at spotting him. Her eyes went from his face to her parents and back. “I...did you...er.”

  “Precisely.” Mitch went around her and left.

  Chapter Seven

  “Wait.” Bethany caught up with Mitch who'd stopped walking but did not turn to her. “What happened?”

  He swung around, darkened eyes met hers and she almost took a step back from the anger in them. “I suggest you ask your parents.” He began to walk again and she looked to the hotel and then to the angry man. For some reason she chose to follow him.

  Once inside the mercantile, he walked straight to the back. She notice
d a young man behind the counter. The clerk nodded in greeting as she swept by following Mitch.

  The room in the back held crates and neatly organized shelves stacked with merchandise. Mitch went to a table and poured himself a drink of whiskey. “I suggest you leave, Miss Jones. I can't promise to be courteous to you right now.” He swallowed the amber liquid and placed the glass down still not facing her. Her eyes roamed from his wide shoulders to his broad back and she took a step toward him, her hand outstretched.

  “If you would just tell me what happened. Perhaps I can help with whatever you and my parents discussed.” She almost reached him when he spun around catching her by surprise.

  His granite hard expression made her lean away. “I am on to your little game, Miss Jones.” He took her wrist and pulled her forward. She opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger over her lips. “Don't speak. I don't want to hear another word.” He leaned forward and she knew her eyes widened, but she remained silent out of curiosity of what he'd say next. “First, your parents make offers flaunting their wealth, then you come in and, with an act of the innocent party, you soften the ignorant sap who is taken by your beauty and doesn't see past it to realize he's being strung along.” He tilted his head and his eyes went to her lips, which she pressed together. “What happens next, Miss Jones? How far will you go to soften me up? Whatever will you offer that I will be so ensnared by you that I will agree to whatever deal your father spurts?”

  Bethany's heart thundered and air left her lungs. Mitch Banks’ amber eyes bore into hers and it was all she could do to keep from slapping the man. “Let me go.” She attempted to take a step back, but he would not release her wrist.

  He leaned closer and for an instant, she thought he'd kiss her. At the same time, she wanted him to, but couldn't allow it. It was absolutely the worst thing to allow right now. Her emotional tug of war made it hard to concentrate on whatever he said.