His Forgotten Fiancée (Love Inspired Historical)

by Evelyn M. Hill

  “That’s one thing we can agree on.” Dawson nodded. “At this rate, I might come to have some respect for you after all.”

  “I’m not sure you want to go that far,” Matthew warned. Underneath that mustache, he thought he detected the slightest upward quirk of a smile. He leaned down and handed the envelope to Dawson. Here he was, leaving Liza with another note—and he did not even know what it contained. Probably an explanation of why he had been delayed in California. He wished he had time to read it himself. “Give this to Liza from me. Tell her...” He hesitated, then shook his head. “Look after Liza.”

  “You’ll be back. You’re as stubborn as she is.” Everyone else seemed to have faith in him. Given his past history of always being too late, he wasn’t sure they should trust him so much. He gathered up the reins and touched his heels to the horse’s flanks, heading around Dawson toward the open street.

  * * *

  Liza came into the back room, where Mrs. Graham was bandaging up Pa’s head. “What can I do?”

  Mrs. Graham smiled at her, as if she understood how important it was for Liza to have something to do. “The kitchen is at the end of the hall. If you could build up the fire and get the kettle boiling, that would be a great help. Ben usually recommends herbs soaked in steaming-hot water.”

  By the time Liza came back into the room with the kettle, Mrs. Graham was helping Pa make his way over to the table, where a large basin sat. She took the kettle from Liza, poured the hot water into the basin and scattered the herbs into the water. “Here.” She handed Pa a towel. “Place this over your head, then lean forward over the basin. Take deep breaths.” To Liza, she said softly, “It might be better if you were to wait in the other room, dear. He keeps trying to speak. There’s something he wants to tell you, but it would be best if he rested until after the treatment.”

  Liza nodded and slipped out into the other room. It was too empty now without Matthew. She could not stand the thought of sitting there listening to that clock. She would just step outside for a moment to get a breath of air.

  That was the plan, until she saw Frank Dawson coming down the plank sidewalk toward her. She had never seen him look so solemn and forbidding. Matthew was nowhere in sight.

  She waited, not moving, barely breathing, until Frank stopped in front of her. The look of pity in his eyes was as bad as a blow. Worse. She whispered, “Is he gone already?” Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had thought he might change his mind, that something would delay him until she’d had a chance to persuade him, until she could have done something to stop him. He’d left her. Again.

  “He had to leave right away if he was going to catch the boat for Salem.” Frank hesitated and then drew something out from his jacket. He placed an envelope in her hand. “He left you a note. He’d sent it when he was down in California. We don’t always get mail reliably, you know that.”

  She did not want to think about Matthew leaving. That wound was too fresh. There wasn’t time now, anyway. “Did he tell you about Mr. Brown setting the fire?”

  “Yep. I was on my way to see the Baron, find out where Brown’s gotten to.”

  “I’ll go with you.” If Liza didn’t do something, she was going to scream.

  “You can’t,” Frank said with his usual rigid logic. “You have to stay with your pa. Dean said he got hurt.”

  Liza closed her eyes. Pa needed her. She could not go off without seeing how he was. “Where—where was Matthew going to catch the boat?” She didn’t know why she even asked. It wasn’t as if she could go off to catch the boat with him.

  “He went up toward Canemah. But he’s probably gone by now.” Frank paused, watching her. “Are you going to be all right? I have to go see the Baron now. I should have gone already, but I wanted you to get that letter. Dean seemed to think it pretty important.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Frank hesitated, as if expecting her to say more, then he gave a jerky nod and moved on, heading for the trail that led up the hill.

  Liza waited until he had turned the corner, then she moved. She couldn’t go far—she would stay within earshot—but she needed to see for herself.

  She crossed the road to the alley between the livery stables and the blacksmith’s shop. That led her to the edge of town, giving her a view of the river to the south. She thought she caught a glimpse of the white steamboat disappearing around the bend, but that might have been her imagination. It was hard to be sure when tears blurred her vision. She heard the distant toot-toot of a steamboat’s whistle, and there was a faint whiff of black smoke that might have come from a smokestack. He was gone.

  They always left. It was safer to be on her own, relying on no one but herself. That way, she couldn’t get hurt.

  She looked down at the letter still clenched in her hand. With fingers suddenly stiff from tension, she broke the seal and scanned the page. She could not seem to stop the tears from flowing. It made reading difficult. Words and phrases leaped out at her. “Missing you... I think of you every day... We’ve found a vein. It looks promising. I might have to stay a little longer to see if it pans out, but I promise you that I will be at your side within the year... I saved the first nugget of gold that I found. I keep it hidden in the toe of my boot so it won’t get lost or stolen... As soon as I find someone who can do the work, I will have him make the nugget into a pair of wedding rings. I will wear my ring on my finger as soon as I have it made. As far as I am concerned, we are already married. My heart is in your keeping.”

  She refolded the letter and looked upriver once more. In the distance, she heard the faint sound of the steamboat’s whistle again, toot-toot. It sounded like a funeral bell tolling a death knell.

  Chapter Fourteen

  If you leave this time, don’t expect me to wait for you.

  Matthew kept hearing those words in his head as he rode south along the bluff. Dark clouds were blowing in from the west, bringing with them a smattering of raindrops but no storm, not just yet. The weather only gave him more reason to hurry.

  Even if he found some loophole that invalidated his marriage to Addy, he had married someone. And if he had made some promises to Addy, he was responsible for her welfare. His thoughts chased each other. He did not know what was true any longer. He was more lost than when he’d woken up in the dry goods store.

  Canemah turned out to be a tiny village upriver from the waterfall, situated where the current had carved a little harbor out of the riverbank. Matthew made sure the gelding had a good drink at the watering trough before tying him to a post by the livery stables. There were few boats in the river, apart from the steamboat. The Multnomah was moored at a dock that extended out into the river. It looked incongruous to see such a new, prosperous-looking side-wheeler on a western river. A steamboat belonged on the Mississippi or some river back east.

  They had evidently finished loading up the wood for the boiler. Wisps of black smoke escaped from the long black smokestack, and passengers were lining up to board. He had gotten there just in time. Off to one side, a little boy, clearly bored with all the standing around that the adults were doing, was playing by himself along the riverbank, poking at the water with a stick. His mother, a tired-looking young woman, called him back and he reluctantly came, flourishing his stick as if it were a sword. Matthew got into line behind them. The boy looked over his shoulder at Matthew and then looked away again, shy. His mother kept hold of him with one hand while she spoke to a woman on her other side about the trip to Salem.

  Don’t expect me to wait for you.

  He could not get Liza’s words out of his mind. He didn’t want to leave her hating him. When she’d said those words to him, she’d been upset. She had been angry with him for leaving her on the Trail, and she had hoarded her resentment like a miser’s gold. She needed to let go of that anger before she could go on with her life.

  Lord, this is beyond my contr
ol, but nothing is beyond You. You have enough love to forgive me for my sins. Help Liza to do the same.

  He could do nothing more to help her. He would have to get used to that fact. He was never going to see her again.

  * * *

  Liza found Pa resting on a narrow bed, lying back with his eyes closed. He looked unnaturally pale, but he evidently heard her come in, for he opened his eyes and smiled at her. She grasped his rough, callused hand in both of hers. “Oh, Pa!” She put his hand up against her cheek and closed her eyes to keep the tears from flowing. He was going to be fine. She would not distress him by crying.

  “Go ahead and cry, Lizzy darlin’.”

  “No.” She got the word out between gritted teeth.

  “Stubborn girl,” he wheezed. “You must get that from me. Sure, and you didn’t get it from your mother.” His Irish accent was more pronounced than usual, a clear sign he was more upset than he was trying to let on.

  “You shouldn’t talk. Mrs. Graham said—”

  “I have to speak. There are things that need saying between you and me.”

  “Pa...”

  “I need to tell you this. In case anything happens to me.” He grasped her hand, held it. “I got the claim for you. It’s for your future. Women can’t claim land in this territory, but they can inherit it. You decide what should be done with it. You can sell it and get enough money to live where you will, set up in a line of work, perhaps, if you don’t want to marry. It gives you choices in what to do with your life.”

  It is everything I thought I wanted. And nothing I truly need. I see that now. She took his hand, pressed it against her cheek. She felt too full of emotion for any more words. He lay back with his eyes closed. Eventually, his breathing relaxed into a deep sleep.

  She sat there in silence until a knock came at the door. Mrs. Graham came in. To Liza, she said softly, “I think it would be all right to let your father rest for a while. There are some visitors here for you.”

  Liza shut the door behind her as she stepped into the sitting room. Granny Whitlow and Mavis Boone were sitting on the stiff horsehair sofa. Granny had the seat nearer the stove, of course, and was looking her usual calm, cynical self. Mavis sat bolt upright. Mrs. Graham seated herself on the cane chair in the corner. They all looked at Liza.

  She came forward and sat in the chair farthest from the fireplace. The concerted gazes of all three women were a bit unnerving. To counteract this, Liza took her time spreading out her skirt, taking care to fold her hands gracefully in her lap. They had come for the latest gossip, she supposed. Fair enough. There was something she needed from them, as well.

  She took a deep breath. “Last night Mr. Brown set fire to my barn in an attempt to murder the man who was helping us get in the harvest. I think he was also behind that woman who claimed to be married to Matth—to Mr. Dean.”

  Mavis’s eyes grew round. Liza had thought at first that this was merely her normal reaction to a piece of scandalous gossip. But then Mavis said, “I never did believe that woman’s story.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  For once, Mavis didn’t look excited over the prospect of delicious gossip. Her eyes were solemn. “I don’t believe that Mr. Dean would have come all this way only to turn aside at the last minute and marry someone else. He came here for you.”

  Liza lifted her eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t believe in romantic fairy tales.”

  “Well, I’ve changed my mind,” Mavis said defiantly. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. That’s true love.”

  “The girl’s right,” Granny agreed. “Pay no mind to that fancy woman.”

  Mrs. Graham said softly, “She must be in dreadful straits to resort to such lies.”

  “And I think you’re right about someone pushing her to make this claim.” Granny leaned forward, directing her attention to Mavis and Mrs. Graham. “Between the three of us, we know pretty much everything that goes on in this town. It should be easy enough to find out what she is up to.”

  It was heartening to find that these women supported Matthew. Liza had been so focused on their penchant for gossip, she should have realized that it was accompanied by loyalty. The townspeople had accepted Matthew as one of their own. Well, Granny Whitlow, Mrs. Graham and Mavis Boone had, but they were enough of a force that Liza reckoned the rest of the town would follow suit. It probably wouldn’t be enough to sway the Baron, but it might be enough to create a wedge of doubt in the eyes of other citizens.

  “I need to find out why she would claim that she was married to Matthew. The difficulty is finding proof that she was lying. There must be some evidence. I find it hard to believe that she just popped up in Oregon City and no one knows anything about her.”

  Mrs. Graham said, “I think that she must have been in town for a little while. That bonnet she was wearing the other day was trimmed in that black braid the McKays just got into the store recently. She couldn’t have gotten that down in Salem, and the trim looked new, as if she had updated her bonnet quite recently.”

  “Yes!” Liza stared at the other woman. “I’d never seen her before, but I knew that looked familiar. Mr. Brown bought that trim from me the last time I minded the store. Oh, the snake! He must have known her all that time.”

  “It’s not much proof,” Granny said doubtfully.

  “It’s a start,” Liza said. “If only I knew where she was now.”

  “She’s staying at the hotel,” Mavis put in. “Up on the second floor, in a room that has a lovely view of the falls.” The other women all looked at her, and she blushed slightly. “I...er, got to talking with one of the maids at the hotel. She told me.”

  “What is she like?” Liza asked. “When she’s not trying to bamboozle defenseless men into marrying her, that is.”

  Mavis tilted her hand from side to side. “She keeps to herself, doesn’t go out much or speak to anyone. I don’t think she’s a bad person, from how the maid described her. But she’s definitely afraid of something.”

  “If there’s something she is afraid of, then maybe I have a chance. There has to be some way to persuade her to help me. I need to make her an ally, but I do not know how.”

  “Why does she want your man?” Granny made a little tch’ing noise with her tongue.

  “Mr. Dean is a fine-looking man,” Mavis said. She blushed when Granny gave her a look but stood her ground. “Well, it’s true.”

  “Yes, but why him?” Granny persisted. “If Mr. Brown isn’t bribing her to help him, then there must be something about this man that suits her. Looks or no, there’s plenty of other men around if all she wanted was a husband. No need to go pinching one that was already claimed.”

  “What I think,” Mrs. Graham said, in her soft voice, “is that the best way to answer that question is just to ask her.”

  “That sounds almost too simple,” Liza said.

  “That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work. You should go now. Your father is sleeping peacefully. There’s nothing more you can do for him at the moment. You’ll be better off doing something.”

  Liza stood up. “It’s worth a try. Mavis, come show me which room this woman is staying in.”

  * * *

  When Liza knocked on the hotel room door, Addy answered it immediately. She looked different—faded, somehow. Her face was pale, and her hair was slipping out of its net. There were dark circles under her eyes. She avoided meeting Liza’s gaze and gestured her to enter the room.

  “I was thinking of coming to see you,” she said in a low voice. “The maid told me that your father was at the doctor’s. I should have expected that you would come by. Come in.” Liza stepped into a small room, very plain, with only a small bed and a table with two chairs. On the bed, a satchel lay open. A half-folded dress was draped across the bed. A wedding portrait had been tossed carelessly on top of it—Addy and some dark-haired man w
ith a mustache.

  Now that she was here, Liza found it hard to start the conversation. She looked at the picture. “I forgot. You said that you were a widow.”

  “I’m not.” Addy avoided looking directly at Liza. “My husband went off to search for gold. He didn’t want me to come. Last I heard, he’d taken up with some other woman. That was some months ago, and I haven’t heard from him since. He doesn’t want me.” Liza merely stared at her, and Addy added, “That’s why I did it, you see. I was desperate.”

  Liza blinked. She had come prepared to argue or plead with Addy, and here the other woman was openly confessing what she had done. She wanted more details, but there were other things she needed to know first. “Where is Mr. Brown?”

  “He went off to see the Baron late last night. He hasn’t come back.” Addy crossed to the table and sat down. She gestured for Liza to take the other seat. “I told him that I won’t put up with this anymore. I never planned for anyone to get hurt.”

  Gingerly, Liza sank down into the chair. It was a plain rush-woven seat. She gripped its edge. It was rough and hard, and she found it a comfort to have something solid to hold on to. It was as if she were taking part in a play where all the roles had changed at the last minute. “You—you were in on this with Mr. Brown, in his plan? Was this scheme his idea, or the Baron’s?”

  “I don’t know the Baron. I’ve only heard about him. I know Alfred. Or at least,” she added bitterly, “I thought I knew him.”

  Liza looked at her sharply. “Alfred? You—and Mr. Brown—were—”

  She could not even complete the sentence, but Addy nodded. “I was a fool. I know. I thought that I could trust Alfred because I knew so much about his dealings. But you can’t trust any man, really.”

  I trusted Matthew with all my heart. I still do, even now he’s left me. Liza shook her head as though to clear it. She had to focus. She said simply, “Why did you do it?”