Frontier Matchmaker Bride

“You do.” The twinkle in her eyes was unmistakable. “And I believe Messieurs Black and Powell are expecting you at three.”

The tailors as well. She had been busy.

“And if I had other plans for the afternoon?”

The twinkle became a gleam. “Cancel them.” She rose suddenly, and Scout stepped to her side as if protecting her, his gaze defiant as he looked toward Hart.

“I must be going,” she said. “Scout, it was lovely to see you. Let’s keep in touch while I’m in town. I haven’t given up on our plans.” In her usual impetuous manner, she gave him a hug.

Hart was more interested in her words. Plans? What plans did she have with the fellow? Was Rankin looking for a bride, too?

Releasing Scout, Beth nodded to Hart. “Deputy. Don’t disappoint me.” She swept from the shop to the chime of the bell.

Scout sighed like a moonstruck schoolboy.

“Someone should marry her,” Hart spat out.

Scout started, then peered more closely at him. “I have it on good authority the only man she ever wanted turned her down.”

Had she confessed? He had been under the impression she’d told no one. After all, none of her brothers had come calling demanding an explanation. If Beth trusted Scout so much that she’d share her secret, perhaps Hart had been mistaken about the man.

On the other hand, the gang along the waterfront had risen to prominence in the month since Scout had come back. Maybe he hadn’t returned wealthy. Maybe his money was coming from somewhere else. Maybe, like his father, he saw other men as victims rather than friends.

Hart straddled Beth’s chair. “Sit down, Rankin. I’d like a word with you.”

The sullen look reminded Hart of Scout as a youth. One of Scout’s jobs had been to come in to Seattle and entice men out to his father’s place to drink and gamble. It struck Hart now that the pattern was a great deal like what the gang was doing.

Still, Scout obeyed his command and sat, gaze hard on Hart’s face.

Hart leaned back. “You arrived in town the middle of February, didn’t you?”

Scout nodded.

“Any particular reason you wanted to return?”

Scout’s smile was more sneer. “It’s home.”

Hart stuck out his lower lip. “Not much of a home to return to. Your pa’s gone. He lost his claim.”

“Because you drove him out.”

Now, there was some venom. The color was rising in his cheeks again.

“Guilty,” Hart said. “But then, so was he, of moonshining, cheating at cards.”

“Oh, he was guilty, all right.” Scout leaned across the table, gaze drilling into Hart. “But I’m not. I intend to be a fine, upstanding citizen, Deputy. You have no call to hound me.”

Hart nodded, and Scout rose. Instead of leaving, however, he came around the table, forcing Hart to his feet. Though Scout was a good six inches shorter, the heat radiating off him made Hart take a step back.

“And you have no need to hound Beth Wallin, either,” Scout said, tenor voice surprisingly hard. “She’s been through enough on account of you. If I hear you’ve hurt her further, you’ll have to deal with me. And I promise you, Deputy, I can be even less forgiving than my father.”

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

Hart shook his head as he left the Pastry Emporium. Who’d have thought Scout Rankin had such courage? He seemed to have developed backbone on the gold fields. Of course, it shouldn’t surprise him that Scout was determined to protect Beth. Scout had grown up with her and her brothers. And she was the kind of woman to inspire acts of valor. Every man in Seattle would likely be willing to do her a service.

Even, it seemed, the barber.

“Deputy McCormick,” he said, welcoming Hart with a warm smile. “What a pleasure.”