Frontier Matchmaker Bride

by Regina Scott

  Beth raised her chin. “I can be very persuasive.”

  “Of that I have no doubt. So, he agreed to let you match him. Why do you need my help?”

  “Because he fights every step. I thought at first he was just like my brothers. You know how they hesitated, until they met the right woman.”

  “Ah, but they were no proof against your cozening ways,” Maddie said, shaking a finger at her. “Hart McCormick is used to being the one in command.”

  “I’ve noticed. Yet it seems to be more than that. It’s as if something is holding him back. He simply refuses to court.”

  Maddie’s fingers cradled the delicate china of the tea cup. “Are you certain the problem lies with him?”

  “Yes,” Beth insisted. “It’s not the ladies. I assure you, they’re quite interested now that I’ve drawn him to their attention.”

  “As well they should be. He’s a fine figure of a man, established in his career, respected.”

  Beth nodded. “My assessment exactly.”

  “Sure-n but you’ve always had a soft spot for the fellow.”

  She flinched, and Maddie’s sharp eyes narrowed. She should have realized she’d have to share a confidence to get one.

  She glanced out the parlor door, but saw no one. A call from outside assured her the others were involved in their sport. She drew in a breath and met Maddie’s gaze.

  “Very well. I will admit that I thought I loved him. It was merely a silly schoolgirl infatuation. I asked him outright whether he might want to court me. He sent me off with a curt word.”

  “Ah.” Maddie’s look softened, and she set down the cup. “It’s sorry I am to hear that. You might have made a fine pair.”

  She wasn’t sure whether to feel vindicated or depressed. “It doesn’t matter. My proposal to him was more than a year ago. It should have no bearing on his current feelings toward marriage. And if it was only me he objected to, he wouldn’t be fighting my matchmaking now.”

  “I still don’t understand why you’re so set on finding him a bride,” Maddie said. “Tell the Literary Society he’ll have none of it and leave the man be.”

  Beth sagged. “But Maddie, doesn’t he deserve a happily-ever-after?”

  Maddie’s face crumpled. “Ah, me darling girl, of course he does. Only I’m thinking he had all that and lost it.”

  Beth stared at her. “What?”

  Maddie rose to her feet and set about pacing the room, emerald skirts belling around her. “’Tis a tale of woe, to be sure, and I’m not thinking he’d thank me for the sharing of it.”

  “That bad?” Beth bit her lip a moment. Did she really want to know? Did she have a right to know? Yet how could she help Hart if she remained ignorant?

  “Truly, Maddie,” she said, “I won’t tell a soul.”

  Maddie’s gaze was hard on Beth’s. “I’ll have your promise on that. If I hear the story from another, I’ll know where it came from.”

  “Maddie.” Beth tried not to look as hurt as she felt. “People tell me all sorts of things in confidence. I’m no gossip.”

  Maddie’s smile was comforting. “No, but you have been known to shout out your thoughts. This one you’ll likely have to take to your grave, for it could not only cost Hart his position but his friendship with you.”

  Beth felt as if the walls pressed closer, yet she could not back away, not now. “I understand, Maddie. Tell me. Why is Hart so set on remaining a bachelor?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maddie went to close the parlor door before returning to Beth’s side on the sofa. Her brown gaze was troubled.

  “I only learned of Hart’s story by accident,” she murmured. “It was when Michael and I were courting. You remember when there was trouble for the Irish in Seattle.”

  Beth nodded. A sympathizer for a dreaded Irish gang in New York had arrived in Seattle and begun to stir up sentiments. Stores had been robbed, buildings vandalized, and Maddie’s first bakery had been burned to the ground before Hart and Sheriff Wyckoff, working with Michael and the other Irish, had stopped the villain.

  “Hart had always been kind to me,” Maddie went on with a smile. “Sure-n but I think he liked the fact that I wasn’t afraid of his dour looks. But he suspected Michael of being part of a gang because he wanted the Irish to band together and protect our families. Hart was wrong, of course, but I couldn’t seem to get him to see that. He and I had words, and I accused him in front of the sheriff of not understanding what it meant to protect those he loved.”

  “Oh, you must have been angry with him,” Beth said. “You know he fights for justice, for those who have been hurt. But of course you had to stand up for Michael. What did Hart say?”

  Maddie’s smile turned rueful. “He walked out on me. Sheriff Wyckoff told me the truth of it. I’m thinking he didn’t want me to have the wrong impression of his deputy. He admires Hart a great deal.”

  “So does his wife,” Beth assured her.

  “Then you can understand it took a lot for the sheriff to be telling me what he knew of Hart. You see, Hart used to ride with an outlaw gang.”

  Beth surged to her feet. “That’s not true!”

  “Would you be calling me a liar, then?”

  Maddie’s quiet voice was nearly as challenging as Hart’s. Beth forced herself to sit. “No, of course not. I’m sorry, Maddie. It’s just...an outlaw?”

  Maddie nodded. “You can see why some might not take too kindly to the notion. Their deputy, the man they rely on for protection, on the other side of the law?”

  She could certainly see the point. Small wonder Maddie was careful to whom she told the tale. Some of Seattle’s more militant citizens might call for his resignation, or worse.

  “But why would he be an outlaw?” Beth protested, fingers pleating the material of her skirts. “That goes against everything he stands for.”

  “Sure-n, it goes against what he stands for now,” Maddie agreed, watching her. “But he wasn’t always as you know him. You heard he was raised in an orphanage?”

  Beth nodded. “He told me he hated it so much he ran away.”

  “When he was about thirteen,” Maddie confirmed. “He was likely on his own for a bit. Sure-n but he must have been lonely, maybe even hungry at times. I’m thinking a gang of outlaws might seem like a family of sorts to a lad like that. That’s how the gangs recruit in New York, preying on those who feel like outcasts.”

  Beth twisted the handle on her teacup, rocking the china left to right and back again. She could imagine Hart as a defiant, lonely boy, looking for something better, not unlike Mrs. Jamison’s brother Bobby. Thinking he’d finally found approval from men who would only use him. After reading about adventures, he would have wanted some of his own.

  “Sheriff Wyckoff didn’t say why,” Maddie continued, smoothing down her emerald skirts, “but Hart gave up on his thieving ways and left the gang behind. I’m thinking it’s because he fell in love.”

  The words felt like a slap. “He was in love?”

  “So the sheriff said. But the outlaws were none too pleased with his leaving, and they came looking for him. His sweetheart tried to protect him and was killed for her trouble.”

  Beth gasped. The shock was almost as if she had been shot herself. She should jump to her feet again, run from the house, find Hart and beg his pardon for trying to force a wife on him. Yet she couldn’t move. What pain he must have endured to watch the woman he loved die for him. She didn’t know her name, but she mourned her loss, knowing how Hart must have mourned.

  How he was still mourning.

  Was this why he insisted on dark colors for his clothing? It was said Queen Victoria still wore the black, fifteen years after her husband’s death. Was Hart wearing the black for his lost love?

  “You see why he might not be so willing to try again,” Maddie said, voice gentle.

  “Of course,” Beth murmured. Having loved and lost, he had no room in his heart for another. What woman in Seattle could p
ossibly compare to his martyred sweetheart?

  How could she possibly compare?

  “You’ll remember your promise, now,” Maddie said, gaze once more watchful. “You’ll be telling no one, not even the good deputy.”

  Beth stared at her. “Not even Hart? How can I look at him the same way again? He’ll notice.”

  Maddie made a face. “Perhaps he will at that. But I doubt he knows the sheriff confided in me. He’ll not react well when he realizes others have heard of his pain. Have you not seen he’s a private sort?”

  “Yes, but I thought it was because of his work. You really shouldn’t tell other people that you suspect one of their friends of a crime.”

  “True,” Maddie allowed. “He volunteers little about his work. Less about himself. We should be respecting that, Beth.”

  Beth frowned. “If we are his friends, shouldn’t we help him carry his burdens rather than pretend they don’t exist?”

  Now Maddie frowned. “’Tis a fine thought, to be sure. But I’m thinking the deputy would tell us if he needed our help.”

  “He wouldn’t,” Beth said with certainty. “He values his privacy, as you said. And he would bear up under any pain alone. Anything else opens your heart too much.”

  Maddie’s face puckered. “Oh, but you’re right there, me girl. Yet I’m thinking your own heart’s the one touched. You said you were no longer infatuated with him, Beth, but sure-n I’m finding it hard to believe you. Are you still pining for the fellow?”

  She opened her mouth to deny it, then closed her lips. In truth, she wasn’t sure how she felt about Hart. At the moment, all of her hurt for him. Was that a sign she still loved him?

  She wasn’t about to share her doubts, with Maddie or him. “Perhaps I’m a private person as well.”

  Maddie laughed, a lighthearted sound that made Beth smile despite herself. “Oh, no, me girl, it’s too late for that. You’ve never been private. What you think, what you feel, shines from your face for all to see.”

  She certainly hoped Maddie was wrong. Or at least that she’d matured to the point where she could control her face, hide herself from hurt.

  “Then I suppose it’s impossible for me to keep my promise to you,” she told Maddie. “If my face betrays me, I’ll never be able to keep Hart from guessing I know about his past.”

  Maddie sighed. “That’s only the truth. I should have thought of it before telling you. Still, I can’t regret you knowing. If you need to be discussing the matter with him, for his good, not your own, then I’ll absolve you of your vow to keep silent in front of him.”

  “Thank you,” Beth said. She wasn’t sure why she felt so relieved. She would not enjoy the conversation. How was she to find the courage to even broach the subject? How did you discuss a death so personal? How did you commiserate about such a tragedy?

  On the other hand, how could she keep quiet, knowing that the pain was what likely kept him from finding love again?

  * * *

  Hart had thought when Beth had declared her intentions of mounting an investigation that she would go after Mrs. Jamison. He wasn’t sure what she could learn on a Sunday afternoon, with some businesses and the telegraph office closed and many families spending time together. When she’d stayed in the Howard house longer than he’d expected, he’d hoped Allegra and Clay had pulled her into their family activities. Mounting Arno, he’d ridden down into town. A quick sweep assured him that everyone was behaving, so he’d returned the horse to pasture in time to see Beth heading down Fourth. The finest houses, the finest families, were situated along the hillside. Even in his fancy new suit, he looked like a hawk among doves as he followed.

  She was well known by most of the families, but he wasn’t entirely surprised to see her make a beeline for Maddie’s. Yet if Beth was intent on investigating, what did she think the Haggertys could tell her about the seamstress? As far as he knew, neither Maddie nor Ciara frequented Mrs. Jamison’s establishment. And he hadn’t seen either with the lady socially. What was Beth up to?

  Her countenance when she left an hour later was so subdued he nearly banged on the door to demand what had happened. Her bowed head, her slow walk, told him she carried a heavy burden. She didn’t even notice him. Had something happened to a member of her large family? Why would Maddie know before Beth did?

  He followed her at a discreet distance, but she only returned to the Howard house. Though he remained on duty in the area for another hour, she never stepped out again. The smoke from the chimney assured him Allegra and Clay were home. Were they comforting her?

  Why did he feel that should be his role?

  At length, concern propelled him to the door. Clay invited him in, bid him make himself comfortable by the fire in the parlor, but he caught no sign of Beth. When he went so far as to ask, Clay informed him that Beth had retired to her room, pleading a headache. He didn’t see her again that evening.

  Over the next few days, he expected her to approach him at the house or in town. Very likely, she’d argue further with him about the Easter invitation, perhaps trot out another lady or two for his approval. But she seemed to be busy with other matters.

  “You angry with me?” he asked when he spotted her coming out of the house Tuesday morning.

  Her smile was as bright as usual. “Not at all. But you should know Mary Ann Denny is talking about a women’s march after Easter. You might want to alert the sheriff.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said, but she sailed past before he could question her further.

  Why hadn’t she asked about his investigation? He’d come to enjoy talking about the case with her. She always had something to contribute that got him thinking. Why hadn’t she pressed her case about courting? He couldn’t believe he’d finally convinced her to give up her quest to find him a bride. She’d been determined when she’d left the churchyard. The change in her had come after she’d talked with Maddie.

  He stayed in town Wednesday, telling himself he should keep an eye out for the gang. The only suspicious person he saw was Bobby Donovan. He spotted the youth lounging outside Kelloggs’, gaze on the passing horses.

  “Shouldn’t you be in school?” Hart called, urging Arno closer.

  Bobby straightened. “Evie hasn’t enrolled me yet. Are you looking for someone?”

  He wasn’t about to go into details. “Always.”

  Bobby’s smile hitched up. “It must be fun being a lawman.”

  “I wouldn’t call chasing dangerous men fun,” Hart countered. “But there’s a certain satisfaction to it. Come down to the office sometime. The sheriff would be happy to talk to you about the profession and your future.”

  His eager look evaporated. “Evie wouldn’t like it.”

  Hart nodded. “She’d worry about you, no doubt. But you have to do what you’re meant to do. It’s up to you to decide where your path leads. Just pray about it, and see that it points toward something worthwhile.”

  Bobby nodded. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  “Any time.” He turned Arno and eyed Bobby over his shoulder. “And Donovan? I mean that. You need anything, you let me know.”

  “Scout and Aiden said the same thing,” Bobby assured him. “It’s nice to know I have friends.”

  With a tip of his hat, Hart rode on. A shame he and Beth couldn’t talk so easily at the moment, but there were too many concerns, on both sides.

  By Thursday, he had had enough. Something had happened, and he needed to know what if he was to protect Beth. So, he stopped by the bakery. Ciara was at the university, but the young lady who was acting as counter clerk let him through the curtained doorway to speak to the baker herself.

  Maddie’s bakery had expanded over the years. Three worktables stretched out in front of the brick ovens, heat radiating around the room as Maddie’s four assistants, all of them women, prepared for the next round of baking. Cloth-draped trays waited with rising dough. Sugar and spice scented the air.

  Maddie was bent over a rack of c
ookies, piping on icing. She straightened at the sight of him and raised her hands. “Sure-n you caught me, Deputy. I’m guilty of putting icing on this morning’s cookies for me own family.”

  “It’s rare you don’t sell out,” he answered with a smile. “I imagine your family will be glad for the excess.” Moving closer, he lowered his voice. “I need to talk to you. I’m worried about Beth Wallin. Do you know what’s troubling her?”

  Maddie picked up a cloth and busied herself wiping her hands. “She’s probably just deep in plans for Easter. The lady’s never been one to let grass grow under her feet.”

  Hart watched the color climb in her cheeks. She was hiding something. “You’re sure? She seems to have changed since she came to see you Sunday.”

  Maddie gazed up at him, head cocked. “And how would you be knowing that, unless you followed her?”

  Hart stepped back. “Just keeping an eye on the town. That’s my job.”

  “To be sure. But she’s not the girl you met eight years ago. Beth Wallin can take care of herself, from my way of thinking.”

  “Most people can take care of themselves until disaster strikes.”

  Maddie chuckled. “Disaster, it is now? Flood, famine or fire, Deputy?”

  Hart shook his head. “Make light of it if you will, but you know Seattle can be a dangerous place.”

  Her smile faded. “Indeed I do. It can also be a carefree, warm and loving place. I’m thinking you need reminding of that.”

  “All I need right now is to know that Beth Wallin is fine.”

  Maddie shrugged. “Then it’s Beth Wallin you should be asking, not me.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. Excusing himself, and accepting her offer of a cookie for his trouble, he headed back onto the street.

  Beth had been staying close to the Howards, so he tried the main house first. He was rewarded with news from the housekeeper that Beth and Allegra were out back with Arno. He found the ladies standing beside an empty patch of ground stretching from the house toward the stables. They made a fine picture, Allegra’s dark, sleek head close to Beth’s bright curls.

  Allegra spotted him first. “Deputy,” she greeted him. “Come join us. We were just discussing what vegetables I might plant once the risk of frost is past. What do you think—Windsor beans or carrots?”