Chapter One

      Singapore, Michigan

      March 1871

      Sawyer Evans stared at what his friends had written. The piece of stationery gleamed white against the oak store counter, but the words leaped off the page.

      He shoved the paper across the counter. “I’m not ready for this.”

      “Neither was I,” Roland Decker said with a grin, “but it was the best thing that ever happened. I’ve never been happier.”

      His bride of nearly three months curled under Roland’s arm and gave him the sort of look that Sawyer dreamed of getting just once—especially from a particular redhead—but placing an advertisement for a wife was not the answer. This idea of theirs would only bring trouble.

      “If I remember right,” he pointed out, “the advertisement that brought Pearl and the other ladies west was supposed to give your brother a wife, not you.”

      Roland shrugged. “He did get a wife, and he’s just as happy as I am.”

      Pearl, Roland’s wife, nodded emphatically. “Now that you’re manager at the sawmill, you can settle down.”

      “Not yet.” Sawyer dreamed of opening his own business, not running someone else’s. Marriage would only drain his savings. Even a frugal wife brought added expenses, and the only woman who’d interested him was definitely not frugal.

      “Garrett would tell you it’s an advantage,” Roland said.

      Sawyer lifted an eyebrow. “Your brother stayed a widower for two years while he managed the mill. He has children. I don’t. Thus, no need for a wife.”

      Pearl grinned. “Not even a certain redhead?”

      Fiona O’Keefe. From the moment Sawyer met her last August, the beautiful woman with the fiery hair and temper had piqued his curiosity. She, on the other hand, barely noticed his existence except when she needed an accompanist for her concerts. She had graced the stages and cafés in New York City with her clear soprano voice, yet came to the lumber town of Singapore in answer to the advertisement that gave Garrett a wife. It made no sense. She could have married easily in New York. Why travel hundreds of miles to a lumber town in search of a husband? He’d watched and listened, but in seven months he still hadn’t discovered why she’d come here. Or why she was so desperate to marry.

      Sawyer shook his head. “Fiona has set her cap on that ne’er-do-well Blakeney.”

      The timber speculator had come to town in January, purportedly looking for a location for a new sawmill, but Sawyer had seen enough manipulators before to recognize Blakeney as one of that breed. Unfortunately, Fiona only noticed the man’s fancy clothes and lofty intentions. From nearly the moment Blakeney arrived on Singapore’s docks, she’d hung on his arm. Sawyer had tried to warn her and got a tongue-lashing for his trouble.

      “Then you need to show her what she’s missing.” Pearl jotted something on the paper and pushed it back toward him. “Fight fire with fire, I say. These tweaks should capture her attention.”

      Sawyer read the opening line and shook his head. “Up and coming industrial magnate?” Little did Pearl know how close to the truth she’d come. Sawyer wanted nothing to do with that old life, where he was known as Paul Evanston, heir to the Belmont & Evanston Railway. In Singapore he earned an honest wage by the sweat of his brow. It felt good. He slept well at night, knowing he’d done his best to help others, not bleed them dry like Father did. He wanted no part of his father’s manipulation and unethical dealings. “All I do is work the saws in the mill.”

      “You’re now mill manager,” Roland said, “which is one step closer to becoming a captain of industry.”

      “A lot of steps away.”

      “Who knows where this could lead?” Pearl said. “Mr. Stockton might think so highly of your skills that he asks you to oversee operations along this entire side of the state.”

      “Far-fetched at best.” Stockton seldom visited, least of all promoted. “If anyone catches his attention, it’d be you, Roland.”

      His friend grinned. “You never know. Mr. Stockton has an eye for men with potential.”

      Sawyer squirmed. He didn’t want to gain the lumber baron’s attention. Stockton could well know Father and bring the man back into Sawyer’s life. “I intend to earn any promotion through hard work.”

      “No one said you wouldn’t.” Pearl looked to her husband for confirmation. “I believe in you. We both believe in you.”

      “Fiona doesn’t.” He tore up the sheet of paper. “This will only bring trouble. Or don’t you remember that the advertisement for your brother attracted too many women? This would do the same.”

      “Not if it only goes in the local newspaper.” Pearl tapped a finger on the counter with each statement, as if she were instructing him the way she taught the schoolchildren. “The Singapore Sentinel circulates only in the immediate area. Few would see it. There aren’t many women of marriageable age here.”

      “That’s not the point. I don’t want to marry. Not now, anyway. And when I am ready, I don’t need any help finding a wife.” Sawyer had to put a stop to this ridiculous matchmaking effort.

      “You might change your mind if Fiona shows interest.” Pearl was already piecing the paper together. “Or would you be interested in Louise?”

      Sawyer snatched a handful of scraps from Pearl. “You know I have no interest in Mrs. Smythe.” The petite widow was quiet and bookish, not at all his type. He preferred Fiona’s high spirits.

      Pearl brushed aside the remaining scraps of paper and pulled out a clean sheet of paper. “You wouldn’t have to meet anyone since the advertisement instructs interested parties to write in care of the mercantile. Give it a try. What do you have to lose? You just might gain Fiona’s attention.” She began to write.

      “And make her forget Blakeney,” Roland added.

      “Enough!” Sawyer raised his hands. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it’s not the right time.”

      The