The Nanny's Little Matchmakers (Love Inspired Historical)

by Favorite, Danica

  Will made a noise. “So, Booth, tell me again how you and your wife had dinner with Hattie and her husband.”

  “Well.” Booth looked around the room. “I suppose we might have mixed up our days, but I’m certain we’ve entertained Hattie and her husband. Hattie confessed to me that she was terrified of him.”

  Mitch’s stomach clenched, and he felt Polly’s hand on his arm. She hadn’t needed to stop him from saying anything, but it felt good to know that he didn’t need to say anything for her to see how ridiculous Booth’s claims were.

  “Do you recall what Hattie’s husband looked like?” Will’s question was casual and seemed almost crazy, considering Mitch was sitting right there. But then, had Booth actually dined with them, he would have recognized Mitch right away.

  “I can’t quite rightly remember,” Booth said slowly, shifting in his seat, then adjusting his already loosened tie. “It’s been a while, and I do meet a lot of people. Quite an unremarkable man I suppose, except, of course, that he killed his wife.”

  Polly made a funny noise. When Mitch glanced at her, he could see the mirth in her eyes. Booth’s obvious lies would never hold up in court.

  “And could you tell me why your cuff links were in Hattie’s room, covered in her blood?” Will leaned in toward Booth.

  Booth’s eyes widened. “I paid good money for that deputy to—” Then he realized what he was saying. “That is, they were quite expensive, and I had a deputy looking into their theft. Whoever stole them must have killed that poor woman.”

  Mitch took a deep breath. No wonder they’d done such a shoddy job investigating Hattie’s murder. Clearly, Booth had paid someone to hide evidence of Booth’s presence and place the blame on Mitch.

  “And the expensive gifts you gave Hattie? The fur coat? Was that just in friendship, then?” Will’s voice was calm, but as Mitch glanced around the room, he saw tears running down Laura Booth’s face.

  “That little—” Booth’s face turned red. “She wasn’t supposed to— That is, she...”

  Booth stopped speaking. Looked around the room again. “Which one of you’s the law?”

  “I am,” Will said. “At least here in Leadville. But I’m sure once we have a chat with my good friends in Denver, they’ll be mighty interested in your story.”

  Booth grinned. “I doubt it. I have too many friends in Denver. Deputies who have the ear of the sheriff. No one will believe you.”

  “Yes they will,” Baxter said. He looked up at Will. “I’d stand, but I think we’ll keep Booth close. In all the chaos over Eleanor’s disappointment in our wedding plans, and then everything today, we were never properly introduced. Baxter Campbell, US Marshal. They’ll believe us.”

  This time a giggle slipped out of Polly as Eleanor beamed. “He saved one of Papa’s silver shipments after it was robbed. Brought down a whole gang of bandits. He’s a real hero, just like in the dime novels.” Eleanor gave a long sigh as she looked at her fiancé.

  “It was a group effort,” Baxter said, giving his intended a loving smile. “I’ve been on leave, spending time with Eleanor and preparing for our wedding. But I’m afraid that once we’re married and I’m back to work, she’s not going to think my job so romantic.”

  Will grinned. “Pleased to have you on board. I’m sure Mary will be more than happy to help Eleanor adjust to being a lawman’s wife. While we’re making introductions, I might as well make one of my own.”

  He gestured toward Mitch. “This here’s Mitch Taylor. Hattie Winston’s husband.”

  Mitch couldn’t help but smile as he watched Booth turn white. “When did you say we had dinner again?”

  “I...well, I suppose...” For a moment, Booth looked as though he was going to explode. But then calm spread across his face as he smiled.

  “You know, for someone so nosy, you have a lot of secrets, Taylor,” Booth said.

  “What do you mean?” Mitch could feel the gazes turn on him. He had nothing to hide, so why was Booth acting like he did?

  “Hattie shared some personal information with me. About your children. It would be a shame if the press got wind of it. I wonder what would happen if the truth about those children got out. Seems to me that a man who wanted to protect his children from that ought not say anything, you know what I mean?”

  Mitch’s face heated as he felt the blood rising in his head. “You wouldn’t—”

  “Of course he would,” Will said calmly, putting a hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “He killed a woman. Ruining your life, your children’s lives, that’s nothing compared to what he’s already done.”

  Forcing himself to swallow the sourness rising up in his throat, Mitch took a deep breath. Reacting to Booth only made things worse. It only gave power to a man who didn’t deserve it.

  “I suppose by the time they put you on trial for Hattie’s murder, no one will believe you anyway,” Mitch said calmly. “After all, you’ve just proven yourself to be a liar right here in this room. How many more will be willing to come forward once you’re behind bars?”

  Fear darted in and out of Booth’s eyes, and Mitch realized that once they started looking for evidence of his involvement in the murder, they were going to find it.

  “So why’d you kill her? Did Hattie tell you about the baby and how she thought you’d finally divorce your wife and marry her now that you had an heir on the way?” Mitch spoke directly at the shadows in Booth’s eyes.

  “You shut your dirty mouth!” Booth tried to lunge at him, but Baxter held him back.

  “Hattie was so happy,” Mitch continued. “That was our last conversation. Yes, we fought, but the thing I remember most about that night was how convinced she was that the two of you were going to finally live the life you’d always promised her. The life she’d always dreamed of having. But you lied to her, didn’t you?”

  “I said shut up!” Booth’s words were an angry crescendo of hate and guilt all wrapped up into a neat little package that would hopefully convict him.

  “You think you’re so smart,” Booth said. “You can’t prove any of this. I have men who will testify against you, who will say that you did it. No one’s going to speak against me. Laura is going to say exactly what I tell her to say, and she knows it.”

  Then he smiled, a sickening expression of victory that made him seem all the more vile. “So you’d best leave while you still can. Take those children and hop on the next train to Mexico, or as far away as it will take you. Because mark my words, you will rot in prison—if they don’t hang you.”

  Those words would have made Mitch shake in his boots just a few short weeks ago. But now, he saw them for what they were—empty threats.

  “The only one who’s going to see the inside of a jail cell is you, Booth.” Will stared down at the man with more confidence than Mitch had ever had in dealing with men like Booth.

  “I don’t think so.” Booth’s voice shook slightly, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Mitch to know that even Booth was beginning to doubt his own words.

  “I’m sure the sheriff will think otherwise,” Will said with a grin. “I can’t wait to tell him the good news. He’ll be putting the right man in jail, and he’ll probably still be reelected. That’s all he really cares about anyway.”

  Booth grimaced. It probably finally occurred to him that no friend in the department was going to stay on Booth’s side when all the sheriff cared about was having someone pay for the grisly crime.

  “We’ll be long gone before he can get anyone up here to bring me in.” Then Booth gave Will a self-satisfied look. “And you’ve no jurisdiction to hold me.”

  Mitch’s heart sank. Had this all been for nothing? If Booth got away now, what would they do? No, he told himself firmly. They’d found a way this far, there had to be a way to keep going. But he sent a silent prayer heavenward asking God
to please help them find that way. It didn’t hurt to be too sure.

  Nodding his head slowly, Will looked over at Baxter. “Marshall Campbell, is it your professional opinion as an officer of the law that this man’s conduct could be considered drunk and disorderly when you brought him here today?”

  A slow smile spread across his face. “Why yes, Deputy Lawson, I do believe so. There are plenty of people who would be more than willing to testify that Mr. Booth was drunk and disorderly in the saloon I found him in, and then on the street on the way here. And, of course, these good people here have all borne witness to Mr. Booth’s drunken and disorderly conduct. Why, it would be a threat to the public at large if we let him loose on the town.”

  The longer Campbell talked, the more wild-eyed Booth became. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Will shrugged. “Seems to me the safety of this town is at risk, and I have no choice but to bring you in. Marshal Campbell, would you be so kind as to assist me in escorting this fellow to the jail?”

  Booth strained against Baxter’s grip, but the other man easily held him. Within a few minutes, Will and Baxter were walking out the door, a struggling Booth with them.

  Though Mitch should have felt relief at having Baxter in custody, he knew that they could only hold him for so long on the accusation of being drunk and disorderly. Hopefully, it would be enough time for the Denver sheriff to arrive to arrest him for Hattie’s murder.

  As the door closed behind the men, Laura Booth burst into tears. For a few moments, everyone in the room stared at her in stunned silence.

  “You haven’t won,” she said, her voice muffled by her tears. “He’ll make you think you have, but trust me, he’s already got a plan in motion. I’ve tried to leave him more times than I can count, and no matter how smart I was in doing it, he was already two steps ahead of me.”

  A sob shook her body. “Once, he beat me so bad that I crawled to the sheriff’s office. And when I got there, do you know what they did?”

  She looked up at them, puffy faced, tears streaming down her cheeks. “They brought me back home.”

  Every cell in Mitch’s body ached at knowing the torment this poor woman must have suffered.

  He watched as Polly got up from her seat, then knelt in front of the sobbing woman, taking her hands in hers.

  “He may have won in the past, but never again. I’ve worked with Pastor Lassiter in helping dozens of women leave this kind of situation. You will never have to fear him again.”

  The power in the young woman’s voice made Mitch wonder if there was anything Polly couldn’t do. She had so much strength, especially in defending the weak and powerless, just as she’d done when she’d seen his children at the mercy of the nanny’s unkindness in the Mercantile.

  “I am so sorry,” Mrs. Booth—no, Laura—said. Though she hadn’t given Mitch leave to call her by her first name, he couldn’t think of her as being married to that animal.

  Laura looked over at the Steele family. “I should have never allowed James to accept your invitation. I knew he was running from something, but I thought perhaps it was just another gambling debt. It never occurred to me that he’d killed that woman.”

  Another loud sob wracked Laura’s body. “I should have known. James has a terrible temper, and I know he’d kill me, given half a chance.”

  But then Laura looked up and gave a wry grin. “But he won’t, because the money is all mine, and it’s locked up in a trust that he can’t break. If I die, he doesn’t get any of it. Mother and Father feared he only married me for my money, and they were right.”

  Then Laura straightened and dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief Polly had given her. “I want to help you. I have no doubt that James killed poor Hattie Winston. But you have to understand, James knows a lot of people, and they are very dangerous. I’ve seen many who got in James’s way disappear.”

  A heaviness, like lead, settled in the pit of Mitch’s stomach. He’d known Booth had a wife, of course, but he hadn’t imagined that going after him would put Laura in danger. She seemed like a good woman, and she didn’t deserve to be put in this position.

  “You’re still welcome here,” Nick said. “We knew something wasn’t right, but none of us could figure it out. I’m grateful that Will came along and told us what was happening so that we could bring your husband to justice.”

  A new set of tears streamed down Laura’s face. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. But this is the first place James or his men will look. I can’t put you in any danger.”

  “You’ll come home with us,” Polly said firmly. “As I mentioned, I’ve helped the pastor in these situations, and he’s kept many a woman safe. If he perceives any danger to those living in the parsonage, he has other places you can stay. But we’ll not discuss that now. The fewer who know about those things, the better. It’s how we keep people safe.”

  His Polly was a tigress, that was for sure. How could a man not love someone like her? Wait. Mitch closed his eyes. His Polly? He started to deny it in his own mind, then he heard Will’s voice accusing him of being a liar.

  All right. Fine. He’d been lying to himself about not having feelings for Polly. The trouble was, even if he admitted the truth to himself, it wouldn’t change the facts.

  And the facts were, there was no way he could give his heart to her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Polly knew from the way Laura shook that she was desperate for a way out of her marriage. But she was also desperately afraid he would hurt her again. She’d seen it all too many times before.

  How many terrified women had she helped give a safe place to stay after they left abusive husbands, or after they fled a house of ill repute that didn’t want them to leave?

  “You don’t know how evil he is,” Laura said, her voice shaking. “Hattie wasn’t the first person to fall for James’s lies. You have no idea how many cast-off mistresses have shown up on my doorstep, begging me to set him free so they could be married.”

  Laura looked up at her. “Is it true that she was expecting?”

  “That’s what she told her husband,” Polly said quietly, looking over at Mitch, who nodded.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time she came home with another man’s child,” Mitch answered. “I’m sorry for what they did to you.”

  Tears streamed down Laura’s face, and Polly handed her a handkerchief.

  “I’ve never had a child,” Laura said. “James used to hit me and say it was my fault. I always hoped...” Then she sighed. “I guess it was my fault after all.”

  Not all abused women were receptive to being hugged, but Polly couldn’t help but take her in her arms and hold her close.

  “It isn’t your fault. It’s no one’s fault.” She wished she could give Laura more comfort.

  “Indeed,” Patricia Steele said. “You mustn’t trouble yourself with such things. What’s important is that you’re safe from that man. Though I echo my invitation for you to stay, I agree that Pastor Lassiter is much better suited at finding you a safe place. But know you always have our friendship and support.”

  Laura gave her a watery smile. “I’m sorry I subjected you to this situation. I hope you’ll forgive me for putting your family in danger.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, my dear.” Patricia’s expression was warm and loving.

  “No, nothing,” Nick agreed. “And if money is an issue, I insist that you allow us to help you.”

  Laura shook her head. “I’ll be fine. That’s why James had so many gambling debts. The trustees wouldn’t release additional funds when he asked for them. He tried so many schemes for making money, but in the end, they all failed and he needed my fortune just to survive.”

  “Why didn’t you tell them what happened?” Patricia’s gaze was sympathetic. “Why didn’t you tel
l us? Especially when I asked about the bruise on your arm?”

  Polly could have given her a list of reasons. But it wasn’t her story, and what mattered was helping Laura feel safe so she could heal.

  “When I went to the authorities, they sent me back to him. As far as the trustees...” Laura sighed. “I’m just a woman. No one listens. Why would you be any different?”

  Her gaze returned to the ground. “When Mother was alive, she used to tell me that I simply wasn’t trying hard enough. But I did everything he wanted. The only thing I couldn’t do right was give him a son.”

  The anguish on her face when she looked back up nearly rent Polly’s heart in two. “But I don’t think he would have been satisfied even if I had.”

  Once again, Polly held her tight as she sobbed. “You’re probably right,” she said softly. “But that isn’t your fault. There’s nothing wrong with you, but with him. James Booth is an evil, evil, man, and it has no bearing on you.”

  Two watery brown eyes looked up, meeting hers. “But I married him. I fell for his charm. Do you think I would have married a man like him? No. He was kind, and generous, and...”

  Her voice shook slightly. “I couldn’t see it. How could I have been such a fool to not see what kind of man he was?”

  “We all have lapses in judgment,” Polly said. Her own poor judgments were many, too many to even count. Which was why, as she faced so much turmoil in her life about Mitch, she wasn’t sure what to think or believe in terms of her own feelings.

  She glanced in his direction and noted that he was speaking quietly with Nick, probably making arrangements. Patricia had joined them, and Mary was sitting with Eleanor, which she’d done as soon as James had been brought in. Polly had to admit, she and Mary made a good team when it came to helping with the ministry. Each seemed to instinctively know what the other needed without anything having to be said.

  Polly had worried how having this confrontation in Eleanor’s presence would work out. A sensitive young woman who’d had no exposure to the rougher side of life, Eleanor was the sort who might go into hysterics. But she’d held up well, remaining silent but wide-eyed throughout the situation. A good thing if she were to marry a marshal. Mary would likely bond with her and help her with the transition to being a lawman’s wife.