Regina Scott - Frontier Matchmaker Bride

Chapter Three

As Beth went about her chores that afternoon and the next morning, she gave considerable thought as to who might be the right match for Hart. She didn’t believe his protests. Her brothers had all reacted that way to courting, only to fall in love when they found the right brides. Hart might bluster all he liked, but the ladies of the Literary Society were right—he’d make some woman a fine husband.

She decided as she cleaned out the main cabin, which served as a rooming house for her brother’s logging crew, that he needed a woman of substance, maturity. As she helped John’s wife, Dottie, bring in the wash hanging on the line before a squall came in, she determined that an impoverished lady might touch on his sense of chivalry and convince him to help. And she kept her promise. She said nothing to any of her family about her plan.

She had a few women in mind when she went to fetch the mail on Wednesday. Wallin Landing had its own post office, sanctioned by the Postmaster General of the United States, no less, but someone had to carry the letters and parcels from Seattle to her brother James’s store and back. When she stopped at the mercantile on Front Street, however, Seattle’s postmaster was apologetic.

“A big storm ran down the Strait,” Mr. Pumphrey told her, rubbing at the counter with his thick fingers. “I heard it even toppled houses in Victoria. All ships have been delayed, alas.”

“We’ll send someone back later in the week,” Beth promised. “Have you seen Deputy McCormick today?”

“He rode past not a quarter hour ago, heading toward the docks.” He leaned across the counter, heavy features lifting. “If you see him, will you tell him his books arrived?”

Beth glanced to the far wall, where leather spines promised adventure and romance. Mr. Pumphrey had stocked the largest collection of books and magazines of any mercantile in Seattle. Her brother John usually had to be dragged from the store before he spent all his money.

“What did he order?” she asked.

His smile brightened his green eyes. “Dime novels—cowboys, train robberies, kidnapped maidens. Perhaps he learns something about being a deputy by reading them.”

She promised to let Hart know. Leaving her brother’s horses tied in front of the store, she started for the docks. Dime novels. Who would have thought? They were thrilling, sensationalist, romantic. A shame he hadn’t learned more from them than the importance of enforcing the law.

The docks were busy as she approached. When she was a girl, Seattle had boasted only one wharf. Now six others stretched across the shores of Elliott Bay. Three ships had made it to port before the big storm. Sailors and teamsters were still working to unload the cargo. The steamer from San Francisco had also docked, longboats heading out to ferry the passengers and luggage ashore.

Even in all the movement, she easily spotted Hart’s black hat, his tall figure. Because it was useless to call over the whine and whir of the nearby sawmill, she stepped out onto the dock. Her rosy skirts were a sharp contrast to the weathered wood, the clumps of lichen and moss, the dark clouds hanging heavy. But it wasn’t the threat of rain that made work screech to a halt as she passed. Men lowered their end of boxes to tip their caps. Others offered smiles and nods. One enterprising fellow with dark hair darted in front of her.

“Can I help you, miss?”

A blond elbowed him aside, one thumb hooked in the suspenders that covered his flannel shirt. “I’m the man for the job, miss. Anything you need.”

His colleague shoved him. “Back off, you lout. I saw her first.”

The other man raised a fist.

“Gents.” Both the men froze at Hart’s raspy drawl as the lawman moved up behind them. “I believe the lady is looking for me.”

“Yes, please,” Beth said with a smile to the would-be brawlers. “But thank you for your eagerness to help.”

The first swept her a bow. “Anything for you, milady.”

His colleague pushed on his shoulders, nearly oversetting him, then ran off with a laugh, the first in hot pursuit.

“They’re so cute at that age,” Beth said.

Hart shook his head. “You’re not much older.”

“But so much wiser.” She linked her arm with his. “So, tell me. When shall we meet to discuss the next steps in finding you a match?”

He glanced around, likely concerned the men might overhear as work resumed. “Not here.” He tugged on her arm, and she allowed him to lead her back up to the shore and pointed him toward Pumphrey and Company, where Lance and Percy waited in their traces.

“Mr. Pumphrey wanted you to know the new dime novels are in,” she told Hart. “I understand you’re fond of them.”

He cast her a glance. “Against the advice of the Literary Society, no doubt. Probably not up to their standards.”

Beth raised her chin. “I would never disparage another person’s taste in literature. Besides, I’ve always enjoyed them. Have you read The Adventures of Black Bess?”

His smile brightened, and something inside her wanted to dance in its light. “Now, there’s a lady. Nothing stopped her—kidnapping, tornado, bandits.”

Beth grinned. “Of course you remember the bandits.”

He shrugged. “Part of the job.”

“I’d have thought you’d want something different from the job to read,” she said as they approached the team.

“I started reading them before I was a lawman.”

“And they made you dream of becoming one,” Beth guessed.

He seemed to be studying the horses. Over the years, many men had responded that way to her brother’s horses. They were steel dusts, the first in the area, their shorter necks and powerful hindquarters making them uniquely suited to run far and fast.

About as far and as fast as Hart likely wanted to run from her idea of matching him up.

“Would you be willing to meet me at the Pastry Emporium at two?” she asked. “I’d like to introduce you to someone.”

His eyes narrowed, but he nodded. “All right. Until then, stay away from the docks. There are some rough sorts down there.”

The two workers hadn’t seemed all that rough to her. “You forget. I have five brothers.”

“Your brothers are gentlemen. Some of those workers aren’t.”

She really shouldn’t take his statements as anything more than his duty as a lawman. “Very well. I’ll be careful.”

His gaze moved to the wharves, as if he saw a gang of marauding pirates rather than busy longshoremen. “Good. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

Beth stared at him.

“I’d hate to have to explain to your brothers,” he added.

Well! She was about to tell him exactly what she thought of the idea when she noticed a light in his eyes. Was that a twinkle in the gray?

Beth tossed her head. “Oh, they’ll take your side. You know they will. They always say I have more enthusiasm than sense.”

He shrugged. “I know a few women who match that description.”

Beth grinned. “But none as pretty as me.”

“That’s the truth.” His gaze warmed, and she caught her breath. Hart McCormick, flirting with her? It couldn’t be!

Fingers fumbling, she untied the horses and hurried for the bench. “I should go. Lots to do before two. See you at the Emporium.”

He followed her around. Before she knew what he was about, he’d placed his hands on her waist. For one moment, she stood in his embrace. Her stomach fluttered. She traced the lines around his mouth with her eyes, tried not to think about how those lips might feel against her own.

He lifted her easily onto the bench and stepped back, face impassive as if he hadn’t been affected in the slightest. “Until two, Miss Wallin.”