Frontier Matchmaker Bride

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.”

Her heart didn’t slow until she’d rounded the corner.

Silly! Why did she keep reacting that way? He wasn’t interested in her. He’d told her so himself. She was not about to offer him her heart. There was no reason to behave like a giddy schoolgirl on her first infatuation.

Even if he had been her schoolgirl infatuation.

She was a woman now, with opportunities, plans, dreams for a future. If those dreams sometimes seemed nebulous, it was only because she hadn’t firmed them up yet. She needed time, more information. She’d figure it out eventually. And she wasn’t about to allow herself to take a chance on love again, especially not with Hart McCormick.

For now, the important thing was to find the perfect woman for him, and she knew just where to look. She drove the wagon up Mill Street for the houses that lined the ridge.

Mrs. Dunbar was happy to entertain her, until Beth eased into her reason for visiting. The tall blonde widow leaned back in her leather-upholstered chair with upraised brow at the idea of working with a matchmaker. When Beth confessed she’d come about Hart McCormick specifically, the woman held up a hand.

“Oh, not him. I appreciate you thinking of me, Miss Wallin, but I have no interest in having Deputy McCormick court me.”

Beth couldn’t help frowning. “May I ask why? He seems to me to be everything a gentleman should be.”

The pretty widow went so far as to shudder. “You were raised in the wilderness, I hear. Some ladies have more exacting standards. Deputy McCormick is far too gruff, far too uncompromising. And those eyes.” She shuddered again. “I’d not like to see those looking at me across the dining table every day.”

Beth stood, shaking out her skirts. “I understand. You’d prefer a gentleman you can bend to your will, preferably with pale eyes and a wan constitution. If I find one in Seattle, I’ll be sure to send him your way. I’ll just see myself out.”

She was still steaming as she climbed up onto the bench. Uncompromising, Mrs. Dunbar had said. Who wanted a man who compromised his values? What was wrong with having a strong moral compass? And to judge a fellow by the color of his eyes? Mrs. Dunbar was no better than Drew, coming up with reasons to refuse a man without having any idea of his character! Hart could do better.

Unfortunately, the next two ladies she visited were equally uninterested. One thought him too opinionated, the other too quiet. He certainly held strong opinions, but she generally agreed with them, except for a certain decision on whether to wed. And he wasn’t garrulous. When he spoke, he spoke with substance, imparting information, concern. Why did they see those traits as weaknesses rather than strengths?

The final lady agreed to come with her to meet Hart, but so timidly that Beth could only wonder. Perhaps he wasn’t showing himself to best effect. If these women had encountered him in the middle of some investigation, Beth could see why they might find him uncompromising. He would have been focused on doing his job. Perhaps they needed to see another side of him, a man who could show to advantage in society.

Not that she’d ever seen that side of him, come to think of it. But it had to be there. She merely had to bring it out.

As in the tale of the ugly duckling she’d read as a child, she was certain Hart McCormick had a swan inside. He just didn’t know it yet. But, with her at his side, Seattle would soon see what a fine man held the position of deputy sheriff. And then the ladies would come running.

* * *

Hart dragged his feet going to the Pastry Emporium that afternoon. He told himself he had work to do. That was why he’d been out on the docks, after all. Weinclef at Kelloggs’ had confessed to finding another newcomer beaten in the alley beside the store. Hart wasn’t about to let the gang claim another victim. Whoever recruited the poor fellows must have a pleasing disguise, because the immigrants went willingly and didn’t want to implicate their benefactor in their troubles.

So, after seeing Beth off, he returned to the top of the docks, watching as the passengers from the San Francisco run climbed up onto the planks. The first pair were grizzled sourdoughs, looking for better pickings, it seemed. Likely they’d be too savvy to run afoul of Seattle’s newest gang. Next up the ladder from the longboat was a dapper gentleman with a lady and two lads in tow. They were probably safe as well. Single fellows were easier to peel away.

The next fellow was the perfect candidate. Tailored coat and plaid trousers, big grin on his face, as if even the frontier town delighted him. Carpetbag in hand, he strutted up the pier.

A lad materialized from behind a crate, startling the fellow. Hart frowned as the pair exchanged words. Then the youth fell into step beside the newcomer, as if guiding him along the dock.

Hart met them at the top of the wharf, feet planted and stance wide. The youth blanched. He could have been as old as fourteen, though his slender build and short stature made it equally likely he was younger. He quickly tugged down on his tweed cap and lowered his gaze, but not before Hart made out thick black hair.

“Afternoon,” Hart drawled. “I’m Deputy McCormick. Where might you be going?”

The man beamed at him. “My new friend here was about to show me a suitable place for a gentleman to lodge in your fair city.”

“Wasn’t that neighborly of him?” Hart eyed the youth. “Where are you headed, son?”

He bolted.

While the newcomer called out in protest, Hart gave chase. The adolescent darted among the wagons waiting to be loaded. Horses shifted, wagons swayed, drivers shouted a complaint. Nothing stopped the youth. Nothing stopped Hart either.

His quarry wove in and out among the traffic on Commercial Street, then paused before a shop. Was he daring Hart to follow him? Hart didn’t look at the name of the proprietor before diving after him.

Three women cried out, and he managed to stop himself before plowing into them. He recognized the two Denny ladies. He couldn’t mistake the woman with them.