Frontier Matchmaker Bride. Regina Scott
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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.”
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