Frontier Matchmaker Bride

Mrs. Jamison drew herself up. “Really, Deputy! What is the meaning of this?”

Hart nodded to her, gaze sweeping the shop. It ought to have been easy to spot a lad among all the fripperies, yet everything looked much as it had yesterday. “Forgive the interruption, Mrs. Jamison. I followed a possible felon into this shop. Did you see where he went?”

The Denny ladies clutched their chests as if fearing for their lives.

Mrs. Jamison narrowed her eyes. “Felon? What nonsense. The only person of the male persuasion to come through those doors in the last hour was my brother.”

Mrs. Arthur Denny, wife of the railroad president, collected herself and stepped forward, blue skirts swinging. “There must be some mistake, Deputy. Mrs. Jamison and her brother are new to our shores.”

“And she is a terribly talented seamstress,” her sister, who had married the wealthy land developer David Denny, brother of Arthur, added. “She and her brother are a credit to our town.”

Hart nodded. “Good to know. I’d like to meet the fellow.”

The Denny ladies looked to their hostess. Mrs. Jamison’s bow of a mouth was pressed tight together. Then it widened to a smile. “Why, certainly, Deputy. I’ll just fetch him for you.” She passed through the curtain at the back of the shop.

The two dark-haired sisters busied themselves with the sketches they must have been perusing before he’d burst in on them. He could imagine Beth poring over the things as avidly.

He cleared his throat even though he hadn’t spoken his thoughts aloud. Both of the ladies were members of the Literary Society. No sense giving them more ideas.

Mrs. Jamison floated back in with a young man at her side. He wore no coat over his cambric shirt and wool trousers, and his black hair was parted to fall neatly on either side of his face. He acted more diffident, but Hart was certain the lad was the same one he’d chased from the wharf.

Mrs. Jamison’s long-fingered hand rested on her brother’s shoulder. “Bobby, this is Deputy McCormick. He wanted to meet you. Deputy, this is my brother, Robert Donovan.”

Hart inclined his head. The adolescent gazed back, mute.

“Donovan,” he acknowledged. “I’m glad to meet you. Tell me what you were doing down by the dock.”

Mrs. Jamison’s fingers must have tightened on his shoulder, for the cambric stretched under her hand. “You must be mistaken, Deputy. My brother knows better than to visit such a dangerous place.”

Still the lad said nothing. Hart cocked his head. “We know otherwise, don’t we?”

Donovan swallowed.

His sister’s hand slipped around his shoulders. “Oh, Bobby, you didn’t. I told you it was no good meeting the ship. None of your friends are coming north. And we don’t have the money to send you back to San Francisco.”

Donovan hung his head.

Mrs. Jamison met Hart’s gaze, tears shimmering in her violet eyes. “I’m sorry, Deputy. Bobby didn’t want to come north, but there was nothing for us in San Francisco after my husband died. Please forgive him if he caused any trouble. He just wanted to find a friend.”

As if fighting tears himself, Donovan gave a brave sniff.

Hart straightened. “No harm done. But do as your sister says, lad, and stay away from the docks. If you want to make friends, you’d do better to attend school.”

Mrs. Jamison beamed at her brother. “Of course. We’ll be enrolling him at the North School at the start of next term.” She turned her look on Hart. “Thank you, Deputy, for your kind concern. May I send something home to your sweetheart to show my appreciation? Perhaps a length of ribbon?”

“Mr. McCormick doesn’t have a sweetheart,” the elder Mrs. Denny put in with a sly look to Hart.

“Though many of his dear friends would like to see that remedied,” her sister added with a giggle.

Mrs. Jamison turned the same shade of pink as her wallpaper. “Then you must send her to see me when you propose. I specialize in wedding dresses.”

Hart tipped his hat. “Very kind of you, ma’am, but I’m afraid that time might be a long while coming.”

The seamstress fluttered her dark lashes. “Perhaps not as long as you fear. A lawman like you would make a devoted husband and father. See how well you did with Bobby?”

The boy glanced up at him, eyes narrowed. “I hope you’ll come by often, Deputy.”

His sister’s smile tightened. “Now, now, Bobby. Deputy McCormick must be very busy. We’ll be fine. Haven’t I always taken care of you?”

Her brother didn’t answer, dropping his gaze and shuffling his feet.

He didn’t fool Hart. There was something going on with Bobby Donovan and his lovely older sister. Hart made up his mind to keep an eye on them both. Right after he made sure Beth hadn’t settled on a bride.

Chapter Four (#ud5b238af-ef50-583c-bcab-d6cdbaee7080)

“Are you certain this is advisable, Miss Wallin?”

Beth smiled encouragement to the woman sitting beside her in the Pastry Emporium. Honoria Jenkins was a gentle lady who had been hired to teach at the newly opened North School, starting after Easter. Her light brown hair, cornflower-blue eyes and rosy cheeks made her resemble one of the glass-eyed dolls on display at Kelloggs’.

“We are in a public place,” Beth assured her, waving at the neat little wrought-iron tables and glass display case the bakery boasted. “And I’m here as a chaperone.”

Miss Jenkins adjusted the brown velvet hat on her sleek hair. “But won’t Deputy McCormick suspect this is more than a casual meeting?”

Beth certainly hoped so. “As I mentioned, Mr. McCormick is seeking a wife. I’m merely facilitating introductions as his good friend.”

The schoolteacher eyed the door as if expecting Father Christmas to arrive with a bag of presents. “He sounds like quite a catch.”

“Oh, he is.” Beth picked up the cup of chamomile she had ordered. “Upstanding, loyal, a hard worker. He’s the law in this area.”

Miss Jenkins sighed. “How heroic.” She turned her blue gaze back to Beth. “Why aren’t you pursuing him yourself?”

Beth’s face heated. She set down her cup and selected one of the lemon drop cookies, her personal favorite, then took a bite and swallowed before answering.

“He’s like a brother to me.”

The lemon drop was like dust in Beth’s mouth. Maddie Haggerty, longtime friend and owner of the Pastry Emporium, must have had an off day. Beth took another sip of the tea to wash things down. It didn’t help.

Suddenly the couple sitting closest to the window gasped, and others began rising. Beth caught a glimpse of a dark-coated rider and a black horse pelting past, heard the shouts accompanying them. Her heart started beating faster.

Miss Jenkins pressed a hand to the ruffles at her throat. “What is it?”

“Deputy McCormick, I believe,” Beth answered, rising. “Come on.”

She hurried to the window, where the other patrons had collected, voices buzzing as they vied for the best position to watch. Beth squeezed in and pulled Miss Jenkins with her. Down the block, Hart and Arno veered against a team of horses thundering along, reins flapping. As she watched, he leaned over in the saddle, caught the reins, and pulled both Arno and the team to a halt. The elderly driver trembled while his wife buried her face in his shoulder.

“Runaway team,” someone said. “Good thing McCormick was on duty.”

“As usual,” Beth said, drawing a breath.