by Jody Hedlund
“Name your price,” Zeke teased, “and I’ll pay it.”
“If you marry Miss Millington, then I’ll stay forever.” The crimson in Mr. Peabody’s face spread to his ears.
Kate’s laughter was soft but full of amusement. “You’re so sweet, Mr. Peabody. But I can’t marry Zeke. I just ended a relationship, and I can’t rush into another.”
Mr. Peabody waved dismissively. “You’ll be ready soon enough. And when you are, you’ll marry Zeke.”
Kate laughed again and ducked her head.
Zeke’s pulse quickened. Was it possible she might eventually consider him?
She glanced up at him shyly and then focused on Mr. Peabody. “As wonderful as Zeke is, we’re really more like brother and sister.”
Zeke might have started off thinking of Kate as a sister, but those thoughts had now hightailed it. Before he could correct her, Mr. Peabody beat him to it.
“Zeke’s ardor is much more than brotherly.” Mr. Peabody brushed a hand over Zeke’s shirt as though dusting away crumbs. “That should be quite obvious with all the trouble he’s gone to in warning the other men not to court you—”
“Mr. Peabody!” Zeke didn’t want Kate to know anything about his underhanded dealings. But his housekeeper was about as useful at picking up social cues as a donkey was at picking up commands.
Kate’s brows rose. “Warning other men not to court me?”
“It’s nothing.” Zeke slanted a glare at Mr. Peabody.
The older man straightened Zeke’s collar and then patted his chest, all the while ignoring Zeke’s pointed look. “Zeke had Wendell spread the word that nobody’s to seek out your attention or court you unless they get permission from him first.”
“Get permission?”
“It’s not what you think—”
“You’re requiring that men get permission from you before they can come courting?” Her voice was tinged with accusation.
Zeke’s gut churned with the need to make this whole conversation disappear. “I can explain.”
“I hope so.”
Glancing between them with raised brows, Mr. Peabody tilted his ear toward the kitchen. “What do you know? I hear the water boiling. That means I really should be on my way to wash dishes.” He dipped his head in good-bye and promptly closed the front door.
Once they were alone, Zeke glanced down the street to the busy thoroughfare scattered with lantern light, men, and horses. His house was set far enough away from the businesses that he had some privacy, but the strains of music and laughter still wafted their way.
He moved onto the street, hoping she’d follow suit and forget about everything Mr. Peabody had just revealed.
She didn’t budge but instead crossed her arms and cocked her head. “Well?”
“Well, we really should be going.”
“Well, I think you should explain why you’re scaring the men of this town away from me.”
“Guess it didn’t work since half the population stopped by the laundry today.”
“Hardly a man spoke to me—” Her eyes widened. “You instructed Mr. Chung to make sure the men didn’t stay.”
“Technically, no—”
Her hands fell to her hips, and she pursed her lips.
“Fine.” He released an exasperated sigh—one aimed more at himself than her. “I had Wendell instruct Mr. Chung to send the men away quickly.”
“Zeke, how could you? You know I’m here in the colonies to find a husband.”
“But you just told Mr. Peabody you’re not rushing.”
“That’s right. But I need to begin getting to know the men. How else will I be able to pick a husband if I don’t have the opportunity to mingle?”
“I’ll screen the men for you.” His process of screening would probably involve smashing his fist into their faces, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Kate.
“Thank you for your concern.” She gentled her voice. “But I don’t need for you to be involved. I’ve been handling my own courtship since the day I arrived in the colonies. And I’m doing alright figuring this out by myself.”
“Alright? You chose a real winner with Herbert Frank.”
“And what’s wrong with Mr. Frank?”
Zeke gingerly lifted his shoulder to bring attention to his injury. “For starters, he tried to kill me.”
She sighed, stepped off the porch, and strode rapidly down the street.
He sighed too and then hurried after her. “Kate. Hold on.”
Thankfully, she halted. But her back remained rigid and her chin high.
“Listen.” He came alongside her. “I just want you to be safe.”
She didn’t respond.
He touched her arm. Then, before he could stop himself, he grazed a delicate path down to her hand. Amidst the buzz of crickets, he could hear her soft intake of breath.
Slowly, he circled his fingers around her wrist, lingering over the spot where her pulse thudded to a tempo that matched his. Surely, she was feeling some of this attraction.
“I’m an adult now, Zeke.”
“Believe me. I’m well aware of that.” He caressed her pulse with his thumb.
“And as an adult, I can take care of myself.” Her voice was definitely breathless.
“Sometimes even the strongest of us can use a little help.”
She was quiet for several heartbeats before she shook her head and started forward, breaking contact with him. “This is something I need to do for myself. Please try to understand.”
He walked next to her. The scent of smoke in the air had grown thick as the miners who camped outside of town and along the river added fuel to their campfires.
“Please, Zeke?” She was too sweet and her voice too filled with hope for him to resist.
“Fine. I’ll try, but I’m not making any promises.”
She surprised him by laughing lightly. “You’re so much like Jeremiah, it’s scary.”
“So, we’re back to being brother and sister?”
“I think that’s a good place to stay, don’t you?”
He sensed she wasn’t giving him much of a choice. But she’d learn soon enough that when Zeke Hart wanted something, he chased after it, and he usually got it. This time with Kate would be no different.
SEVEN
ZEKE’S CARESS DOWN her arm and around her wrist had seared her skin, so Kate could think of little else as they finished the last steps toward the general store.
The whole evening with him had been like something out of a fairy tale. Several times throughout dinner, she’d wanted to pinch herself to see if she really was sitting across the table from the handsome Zeke Hart.
Now, she was walking next to him on a warm summer night, a sizzling but delicious tension radiating between them. A thousand stars dotted the dark sky, all of them seeming to smile down on her.
Yet a small warning bell clanged inside, telling her she needed to be careful, that she couldn’t lead him on in any way, especially now that she knew with certainty he was still rejecting anything having to do with God.
Perhaps she was unwise to agree to accompany him to his store, where they would be alone while she dressed his wound. After all, he’d need to take off his shirt, and just the thought of seeing his bare chest made her stomach flutter.
Her pace began to drag.
He slowed his steps to match hers.
“Zeke,” she started hesitantly. She didn’t want to hurt him.
He stiffened, cursed under his breath, then began to run.
“What’s wrong?” she called after him. Had he sensed she was pulling away and decided to do so first?
His attention was riveted ahead. To his store. Light from the surrounding businesses revealed that the glass in the front window was shattered. Jagged pieces surrounded a large, gaping hole. The door was busted and hanging from its hinges. And the hooks on the beam above the door were empty, the simple white sign gone.
Her heartbeat picked up its pace, and she
dashed after Zeke.
Outside the shop, he halted abruptly.
“What happened?” She stopped alongside him.
He toed a piece of glass, before he stepped over it and took hold of the broken door.
She peered past him into the store and released a gasp at the destruction. Though the interior was dark, faint light spilled inside and revealed shelves tipped over, bags slashed open, jars smashed, and barrels overturned.
Hefting—and likely putting too much strain on his injury—Zeke lifted the door away. Then he ducked inside. He righted a chair only to have it tip back over, revealing that one of the legs was broken.
She stood in the doorway, her nerves tightening in anticipation of the culprit jumping out and attacking Zeke. “Why would anyone do this? Were they searching for something? Or maybe someone robbed you?”
Zeke came to a standstill in the middle of the destruction, feet spread, hands fisted at his sides. The shadows obscured his expression, but she could imagine his features hardening with both anger and frustration.
“I’m sorry, Zeke.” Her words were woefully inadequate, but she didn’t know what else to say or do.
“This isn’t a robbery.” His voice was tense.
“How can you tell?”
“Thieves are too worried about getting caught to cause this kind of destruction.”
“Then who would have done this and why?”
He picked up a tin canister and placed it back on a shelf. “Someone trying to send me a message.”
“What kind of message?”
He shrugged but then winced, the movement of his shoulder paining him. “Maybe someone decided he didn’t like me paying you attention.”
The insinuation in Zeke’s tone told her who he was holding responsible. “I don’t think Mr. Frank would have done this. He may have gotten upset yesterday, but overall, he’s a very nice man.”
“Let me remind you that your so-called nice man stabbed me. I’m guessing you weren’t expecting him to do that either.”
Kate recoiled at the prospect that Herbert wrecked Zeke’s shop and quite possibly destroyed his livelihood. All because of her.
She shook her head. No, she couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe Herbert was capable of such destruction. Unless he wasn’t the man she’d once believed him to be.
A groan came from behind the counter.
“Wendell?” Zeke stumbled through the darkness, kicking and bumping into items. “Wendell, is that you?” As he rounded the simply constructed planks that served as both shelves and counter, he dropped to his knees.
At another moan, this one louder, Kate maneuvered through the store until she was standing over Zeke, who was in the process of helping Wendell to sit up. Her hand brushed against the unlit lantern, and the glass globe was still warm.
Whoever ransacked the place had done so recently.
At a shifting shadow near the back entryway, her skin prickled. Was the intruder still here?
With fumbling fingers, she searched for matches and set about lighting the lantern. As the flame flickered to life, it revealed the magnitude of the mess—and no trace of the person who’d created it.
She didn’t want to accuse Herbert of the crime. But Zeke was right; she never would have expected her ex-fiancé to attack and nearly kill Zeke, not after how kind he’d been in Victoria.
“Where are you hurt?” Zeke asked his assistant.
“Just a bump on my head.” Wendell patted the ground around him. “And perhaps a bruise on my tailbone where I fell.”
“Did you see who did this to you?”
Wendell shook his head and continued to skim his fingers over the floor until he connected with his glasses, thankfully unbroken. He lifted them, but his hands shook so badly, the spectacles clattered back to the floor.
Zeke retrieved them and situated the wire rims on Wendell’s nose and around his ears. Wendell started to rise, but Zeke placed a hand on his shoulder. “Give yourself a minute, Wendell.”
The young man nodded. “Maybe I should give myself two minutes. Maybe even three.”
“Take all the time you need.”
“Very well. I should probably take four, if not five minutes.”
“True,” Zeke replied with a calmness Kate didn’t feel. “In the meantime, while you’re counting the minutes, can you tell me everything you remember?”
“You know I can’t possibly count and talk at the same time.”
“Then tell me what you know first.”
“One second I was calculating the boardinghouse ledgers, and the next second I felt something knock the back of my head. That’s the last thing I remember.”
“So you didn’t see anyone?”
“No. I was completely unconscious. How could I see anyone?”
“Before you were hit?” Zeke’s tone was still as patient as a parent speaking to a child.
“Whoever it was must have come in the rear door and snuck up behind me.” Wendell rubbed at the back of his head and then hissed.
Kate’s stomach pinched with guilt, the same guilt she’d experienced yesterday when Zeke had been hurt. “I’m sorry.”
“This isn’t your fault.” Zeke sat on his heels and took off his hat. The lantern light turned his hair blue-black.
“But if Mr. Frank did this—?”
“You aren’t responsible for his actions.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have called off our engagement so soon.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d waited a few more hours or a few more days. He would have been upset either way.”
She pressed a hand against her forehead, trying to think, trying to figure out how to proceed without causing any more trouble. “I’ll apologize to him tomorrow—”
“I was only speculating about Herb,” Zeke blurted. “We don’t know for sure if he was the one who did this. And even if he did, he’s not worth an apology.”
Kate nodded, but deep inside, she was ashamed of herself for the way she’d hurt Herbert—and the other men who’d courted her. Not only had she canceled engagements with Herbert Frank and James McCrea, but she’d also been engaged to Ronny Earnest before leaving Manchester. Before Ronny, she’d ended things with Thomas Kettle.
She hadn’t meant to get attached only to end the relationships. The breakups had always been difficult, and she’d put them off as long as she could, because she loathed causing the men pain. But the truth was, everywhere she went she left a string of broken hearts.
Her pattern had to stop. With the next man she made a commitment to, she would need to follow through. That meant, she had to be absolutely certain he was right before she made any promises.
But was it possible for a woman ever to be absolutely certain about a man?
The next morning, Kate couldn’t focus on the ironing. Finally, after scorching three shirts with a too-hot iron, Mr. Chung yelled at her in Mandarin and snapped a damp towel in her direction until she had no choice but to veer toward the exit or feel the sting of the towel. The second she was outside, he slammed the door in her face.
For a minute, she didn’t move, could only stare at the hewn planks. Behind her, the clopping of horses and crunching of wagon wheels told her the town was awake even at the early hour. How long before someone noticed her standing outside the front of the laundry?
“Miss Millington?” came a timid call a short distance away.
She closed her eyes and slowly counted to five. After last night’s destruction at Zeke’s general store, she wasn’t ready to face any of the men, not when she was too distraught over the possibility that she was somehow partly to blame for the damage.
If only she could put things right. She’d wanted to stay and help Zeke clean and organize, but he insisted on walking her back to the laundry on his way to speak to several other town leaders.
After retiring to the shack, she’d spent hours sketching the people and places she’d seen in Williamsville—including Zeke—all the while trying to escape
the guilt that had followed her up into the mountain town and wouldn’t leave her alone.
“Miss Millington?” the man said again, this time closer. “Katherine?”
At her recognition of the Cornish accent, Kate’s eyes flew open. Herbert Frank. Maybe she’d finally get rid of her guilt if she made amends. Zeke had told her that Herbert didn’t deserve an apology. But she’d feel more peace if she explained how sorry she was for hurting him. And maybe she’d also keep him from inflicting more destruction.
She pivoted to find Herbert standing on the boardwalk only a few feet away. His eyes were bloodshot, his short hair sticking on end, and his shirt and trousers stained and wrinkled—as if he’d slept in them, or worse.
He was in shambles. Because of her.
“Mr. Frank, you’re just the fellow I was hoping to see this morning.”
“I am?”
“Aye.” She took a deep breath and forced herself to do what she needed to. “I wanted to see you so I could apologize for the hurt I caused you. I’m so sorry, and I do hope you can forgive me.”
His downcast expression took on a hopeful glimmer. “I’ve been thinking about you every waking and sleeping minute. I’m convinced you’re the woman for me. Won’t you give me a second chance to prove it to you?”
This wasn’t going the way she’d hoped. Maybe she ought to go back inside the laundry without saying anything further. After all, she’d apologized. What more could she do?
“Please, Miss Millington—” His voice broke off, and his eyes filled with tears.
“Mr. Frank,” she said gently, her chest twisting. “I know this isn’t easy—”
“Let me call on you. Give me the chance to show you again the man I was in Victoria.”
How could she possibly say no? If she refused, what would he do next? She didn’t want anyone else hurt or anything else damaged on account of her.
Maybe she could allow him, like the other men, to call on her occasionally. That would placate him until he had the chance to see for himself she wasn’t the woman he needed.
“I’ll prove I’m worthy.” His chin wobbled.
