The Nanny's Little Matchmakers (Love Inspired Historical)

by Favorite, Danica

  Polly shook her head. “I know everyone thinks it’s because Tom broke my heart. But the truth is, I’ve seen what falling in love and marriage does to a person. Did Ma know what kind of man Pa would turn out to be when she married him? Of course not. She had stars in her eyes, and even now, if you catch her at just the right time, she’ll tell you of the roguish way he stole her heart. But what good did that do her? Backbreaking work, more mouths to feed than she could afford and having to put up with his antics?”

  A gust of wind scooted between them, and Polly pulled her shawl tighter against her body. “I know that not every man is bad, and I’m sure you want to defend your gender to me. But honestly, I’ve had enough of a taste for when things go wrong to not want to venture there myself. In my experience, things go wrong more than they go right.”

  Mitch couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. Part of him wanted to argue with her logic and tell her that exactly not all men were bad, and not all marriages were terrible. But his own experience...

  “I understand. As much as I tried to protect the children from knowing the truth about my marriage to Hattie...”

  Mitch sighed again. He’d never confessed the truth of his marriage to anyone, not his family, not the few friends who stood by him, not the police who questioned him over Hattie’s death.

  “I’m sorry that it wasn’t good,” Polly said softly. “But you did your best to make your children feel safe and secure. Which is what Ma did for us. I respect that. And you won’t hear a word against her from me.”

  Then Polly glanced back at the house. “I shouldn’t have told you those things about my pa. Ma would be terribly hurt if she knew I held him in such low regard. She’s never spoken ill of him, even on the nights he’s come home smelling of drink and cheap perfume.”

  Her loyalty felt like a warm cloak around his heart. His children were safe with this woman. She wouldn’t make them feel small or out of place, and she’d do her best to keep them from the talk that followed their family. And, as he watched her nibble on her lower lip, he knew that he was safe with her as well.

  “I won’t say anything,” Mitch said softly. “Thank you for trusting me. I imagine this has been weighing on you for some time.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Polly said quietly, once again glancing in the direction of the house. “My friends have all married wonderful men. They all think I’ll eventually find someone just as wonderful and live the same wonderful lives they lead. But how can I tell them that marriage isn’t always so wonderful when they are clearly so happy?”

  “You don’t,” Mitch said, taking her by the arm and leading her down the road. “I never wanted anyone to know what a fool I’d been, so I simply pretended everything was fine.”

  Then he stopped. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where we’re going. And I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I suppose that both of us needed someone to talk to, and both of us understand what’s at stake for the other.”

  Polly smiled, then pointed at a nearby barn. “Why don’t I show you Uncle Frank’s mission, and the work he’s doing? As for talking, I understand completely. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  They turned a corner, and Mitch realized that not all of his secrets were going to remain safe. Gerald Barnes, deputy and chief investigator into Hattie’s death, was coming toward them.

  He should have known that Gerald would show up in Leadville sometime. But what he hadn’t expected was the two large men standing with him.

  Gerald and his men closed in. “Mitchell Taylor, you’re under arrest for the murder of Hattie Winston.”

  * * *

  Murder? Polly looked at Mitch. There had to be some mistake.

  But Mitch didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at the deputy. “You know I didn’t do it.”

  “I got a witness who says otherwise.” The deputy put his hand on the gun at his waist. “I suggest you come peacefully.”

  The two men with the deputy came toward them, looking like they expected a fight. Once again, Polly stole a glance at Mitch, who wore the same icy calm expression he had in the Mercantile when his children were misbehaving.

  “Of course.” Mitch held out his hands, almost as though he’d been expecting this. Then he turned and looked at Polly.

  “I’m sorry we weren’t able to settle terms of your employment fully, but I can assure you that once we sort out this misunderstanding, I’ll pay whatever wages you think fair.”

  He nodded in the direction of the deputy and his men. “They’re witnesses to my agreement to pay you, so you needn’t worry that I’ll not give you your due.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Polly told him. “I’m happy to care for your children, but—”

  “You should be worried, miss,” the deputy said, his brow furrowed. “The way poor Miss Hattie died, it was a gruesome scene, and I’m sure she must’ve suffered in the end. You shouldn’t trust the likes of Mitch Taylor. He has a pretty tale to tell, but it’s all lies.”

  Secrets. Everyone had them. Could Mitch have killed his wife? Polly’s gut told her no. But with as forthcoming as he’d seemed to be in their discussions, why hadn’t he mentioned that he was a suspect in his wife’s death?

  “I believe, in this country, a man is innocent until proven guilty,” Polly said quietly, looking at Mitch. What would he say in his defense?

  “There’s proof enough,” the deputy said. “A fine citizen like Mitch Taylor, you’d have never believed it. But I suppose there’s only so much a man can take, and one night, he just lost it.”

  Then he looked at Mitch. “I suppose you thought she had it coming. But no one, no one, deserves to die the way Hattie did.”

  Still, Mitch remained silent, and Polly’s stomach turned inside out. Why wasn’t he defending himself? Why did he seem so calm?

  “Can we go now?” Mitch stared back at the deputy. “I’d rather not cause a scene. My children have already been through enough.”

  Once again, Mitch brought his icy gaze to Polly. “If you wouldn’t mind bringing the children back to my brother’s, let him know what’s happening. He can notify my lawyer. I trust you’ll care for the children as we discussed?”

  Polly nodded slowly. “Of course. I could ask Uncle Frank or Will—”

  “Please don’t.” Mitch’s shoulders rose and fell. “I know you want to help, but right now, the only help I need is making sure my children are safe and well cared for. That’s all that matters to me.”

  Other than his initial protestation of guilt, not one word about his innocence. Not one word about the heinous crime he’d been accused of. In fact, he stood there calmly as though he’d been expecting this to happen all along.

  What kind of man was Mitch Taylor? Had she been wrong in her instincts about him?

  As she watched the deputy put handcuffs on him and lead him down the street, Polly couldn’t imagine that she’d been wrong. But why was he so meekly accepting this injustice?

  Or was it as the deputy had suggested, and Mitch had just snapped?

  Mitch stopped, then turned to look at her. “Go. I’m counting on you.”

  The deputy and his men led Mitch away, and while Polly wanted to run after them, she did the only thing she could do—she ran back to the parsonage and back to the Taylor children.

  When she arrived at the house, Uncle Frank was waiting for her on the porch.

  “Where’s Mitch?”

  Polly started spilling the details of Mitch’s arrest, hoping that somewhere in her words, something would come out that made sense. Before she got very far in her story, Will Lawson, Mary’s husband and a deputy in Leadville, arrived at the house. Both men were silent until Polly finished, but from the expressions on their faces, she knew the situation wasn’t good.

  Finally, Will spoke. “I’ve heard of the ca
se. Grisly murder. Everyone figured the husband did it. He got tired of being cuckolded and finally did something about it. The biggest surprise in the whole thing is why he didn’t do it when their youngest daughter was born. You don’t get much more proof of infidelity than that.”

  Little Isabella’s face popped into Polly’s head. “He wouldn’t have killed her over that. He loves Isabella. He loves all of his children.”

  Will shrugged. “His children, maybe. But I don’t know a man alive who would put up with that kind of behavior from his wife.”

  “So you’re proclaiming him guilty without having all the facts? What kind of lawman are you?”

  A grin spread across Will’s face. “The kind who knows better than to mess with Polly MacDonald. You’re right, though. I don’t have all the facts. But since he’s now closely tied to the family, I aim to find them.”

  Polly’s shoulders relaxed. Despite her lack of trust in most men, she had to admit that one of the few men she trusted explicitly was Will Lawson. He’d proven his honor time and again, and his thirst for justice was unequaled. If anyone could help Mitch, Will could.

  Her conscience nagged her as she remembered Mitch’s instruction not to have anyone help him. But she’d seen his pride in accepting help with the children and knew that getting Will on the case was the right thing to do.

  Until Will looked at her with such intensity, she thought it would melt her on the spot. No wonder criminals feared him.

  “But if he’s guilty, Polly, I will see him brought to justice.”

  She wouldn’t consider that possibility. Mitch had to be innocent. She couldn’t be wrong about a man and his criminal involvement twice. Mitch seemed too...

  Memories of how Tom had fooled her rattled in her brain. He’d seemed incapable of a crime as well, and look where that had gotten her.

  “What will happen to the children if he is?” Polly couldn’t help the question that escaped her.

  Will shrugged. “Either family will take them, or they’ll go to an orphanage. But don’t worry, we’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them.”

  A blur of dark braids flew at her.

  “We will not go to an orphanage!” Clara’s fists pummeled Polly in the stomach. “I trusted you! You are not sending us away!”

  Polly wrapped her arms around the little girl. “No, I’m not sending you away. I promise. Even if it means staying with you for the rest of my life, you will not be sent away.”

  As Clara sobbed, Polly could only pray that she wouldn’t have to make good on the promise. Yes, these children had already burrowed into her heart. But there was still a part of Polly that desperately yearned to be free. Had she just trapped herself?

  Chapter Four

  “It’s time for bed,” Polly called as she picked up a discarded sock from the floor. Mitch had been gone for over a week, but his brother, Andrew, said he’d heard from him and that everything was fine.

  Fine. How could anything be fine when a man was in jail? Even Will had little to report on the case, a fact which only made the wait even more maddening.

  Four scowling faces looked up from the game of marbles they’d been playing. Isabella, sweet Isabella, toddled over to her.

  Louisa glared at her. “We aren’t finished with our game.”

  “I believe I warned you when you began the game that you would not have enough time to complete it. If you like, you can leave everything out and finish in the morning.”

  “That’s not fair!” Rory swiped his arm across the elaborate setup, ruining any hope that the children could continue in the morning.

  Polly sighed. The longer Mitch was gone, the angrier the children became. Andrew’s explanation for their father’s absence wasn’t sitting well with any of the children because after so many days, “your father will be home soon” sounds an awful lot like a lie.

  “It’s a shame you ruined such a lovely game.” Polly ruffled the boy’s head, and he shied away. “Off to bed now, and in the morning, you can help with the others’ chores, since you spoiled their fun.”

  Clara smirked and flounced out of her seat. “I don’t mind going to bed. Because in the morning, we’ll wake up, and Papa will be home.”

  “He will?” Thomas looked up with such innocent brown eyes that Polly wanted nothing more than to agree with Clara. “Papa’s never left us before. What if Papa never comes back, like Mummy?”

  “Papa is nothing like her,” Louisa said, picking up the marbles. “He’ll be back, you’ll see.”

  “Hey! Those are mine!” Rory snatched at Louisa’s hand.

  “I won them, fair and square.”

  “I was going to win them back if she hadn’t told us to go to bed.”

  “Well, you didn’t, and now that you’ve ruined the game, they’re mine,” Louisa said triumphantly, holding up a marble with deep blue flecks. “And this one sure is a beauty. I’ve been admiring it ever since Uncle Andrew gave it to you.”

  “Not all of those marbles are yours, Louisa.” Clara pointed at some of the marbles in her pile. “You’re just taking advantage of Rory’s foul temper to gain more for yourself.”

  “You’re just a sore loser.”

  As the four children’s squabbling grew louder, Isabella began to wail. As she often did when the others fought. Polly pressed her fingers to her temple and rubbed gently before speaking.

  “Give me the marbles.”

  Immediately, the voices went from accusing each other to what a horrid nanny Polly was. She smiled and held out her hand.

  “All of them. We’ll sort out what belongs to who in the morning. Now go get ready for bed, and I’ll be in to hear your prayers in a moment.”

  Thomas was the first to comply. He hadn’t yet found the will toward the level of defiance the older children had. After depositing his marbles in Polly’s outstretched hand, he made his way to the bedroom he shared with the other children.

  The Taylor family lived in a small apartment above the Mercantile. Andrew and Iris had recently vacated the rooms to live in a home they’d built nearby, and were hoping to rent them out as soon as Mitch’s troubles were resolved. For now, though, the Taylor children crammed into the tiny space, complaining often about how their home in Denver had much more room. The cozy place featured two bedrooms, a large sitting room that had space enough for a dining area and a small kitchen. Off the kitchen was a tiny room the previous nanny had occupied, but with Mitch gone, she’d taken over his room as her own to be closer to the children. To Polly, room enough. At least when the children weren’t all squabbling.

  “Don’t let Louisa keep my special marble,” Rory said as he deposited the few marbles he’d been able to collect into her hand.

  “We’ll discuss it in the morning.”

  Clara sighed as she handed over her marbles as well.

  Louisa, however, remained where she stood, holding the marbles, chin raised high, her eyes daring Polly to act.

  “You, too, Louisa.”

  “I’m the eldest. I shouldn’t have to go to bed so early.”

  “Your attitude says otherwise. I’m sure if I had more cooperation from you, then you would be rewarded by being allowed to stay up later and read in the sitting room. But clearly, from how you’re fighting with your siblings, you’re just as tired and cranky as they are.”

  Louisa’s face reddened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Polly had learned that a single look, the same she’d successfully employed dealing with the children in the Lassiter household, was enough to silence her. Even Louisa knew that the look meant her punishment would be worse if she spoke.

  “Fine. But as soon as Papa returns, I will speak to him about this, and he’ll tell you how unreasonable you’re being.”

  With that, Louisa set the marbles on the table and flounced off.r />
  Polly couldn’t help the smile that curled at the edges of her lips. Every day was a battle with the Taylor children, but it seemed like each one became easier. Mostly because the children were starting to learn that while she was firm, ultimately, she was fair, and in the morning, when the marbles were divvied out again, each child would be satisfied with the results. Not completely happy, of course, but satisfied enough that they’d received their due.

  In the meantime, though...she looked over at the sofa, where Isabella had curled up and fallen asleep. The girl had a knack for being able to do so whenever she felt tired and could be found sleeping in the oddest of places, as evidenced by their first meeting.

  “Come along with you, then.” Polly scooped the sleeping girl up and carried her to Mitch’s bed. Their first night together, Polly learned that Isabella was prone to nightmares, and the easiest solution was to keep the small girl in bed with her. Otherwise, her cries woke the entire household, and it made everyone miserable. Polly had spent enough years with a child in her bed that she was able to quickly comfort Isabella and lull her back to sleep without much fuss.

  After Polly tucked Isabella in, she went into the children’s room, where they were all in their beds, the girls in one bed, the boys in another, quilts tucked up to their chins. Thomas had already fallen asleep, and Rory seemed to be quickly on his way.

  “Good night, boys,” Polly said softly, brushing their heads gently and pressing quick kisses to their hair.

  Then she went to the girls’ bed. As she reached for Louisa, she was met with the usual icy glare. “Don’t you dare.”

  “All right, then. Good night, Louisa.”

  Polly smiled and looked down at Clara. “Good night, my sweet.” She smoothed the little girl’s hair and bent to kiss her, but Clara stopped her.

  “Why do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Tuck us in, and kiss us and then say a prayer for us?”

  Polly hadn’t gotten to the prayers yet. Since the children refused to pray with her, she prayed aloud anyway and hoped that somehow her words, combined with God’s love, would reach their hearts.