by Kit Morgan
“You’ve met my wife Felicity and of course know Clint and Ophelia,” he said with a smile. “Tell me, what about this young man of yours?”
She stared at him, her mind darting here and there, but not on what she needed. “He’s uh, a working man.”
“Yes, a miner, I hear. But what do you know about him?”
She looked at each of them in turn. “Reverend Hammond, you know who he is. Why ask me?”
“True, but if you’re interested in this man, I would hope you’d know more than I at this point.”
Did this mean the reverend didn’t know Walker except in passing? Oh dear. Dare she me something up? No, no, no! She couldn’t do that. “Well, he’s …”
“Here,” Reverend Hammond interjected and looked at the saloon doors. He raised a hand and waved at Walker as he stepped inside.
Here we go, Daphne thought. My goodness, were her hands sweating? She wiped them on her skirt and turned toward the entrance. Walker stood, his hat in his hands, and stared at their table with wide eyes. He blinked a few times, composing himself, and then approached.
Daphne turned back to the Hammonds. At least Walker didn’t do an about face and march straight out of the saloon. But now what?
“Hello, Reverend,” he greeted. “Mrs. Hammond.” He looked at Clint and Ophelia. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Clint Jones,” Ophelia’s husband said as he stood and offered him a hand over the table.
Walker reached out and shook it. “W. J. Brooks.”
W.J.? Daphne thought. Why not give him his full name? She knew from listening to Jasper it was Walker John. But maybe the W. J. was simply being formal.
Walker looked down at her. “Miss Dolittle.”
“Mr. Brooks,” she said tightly. She was going to have to get a hold herself and relax, lest she give something away. That is, if Walker didn’t do so first.
“Please, wont’ you join us?” Reverend Hammond asked. “I realize you weren’t expecting an audience to attend your meeting with Miss Dolittle, but in the interest of all, we felt we should be here. Chaperones you know.”
Walker pulled out a chair and eyed Daphne. “Chaperones,” he repeated with a look that asked, was this your idea?
She answered with a tiny shrug meant to say, no. At least she hoped he took it for a no.
He smiled at the rest of the table’s occupants and sat. No one spoke for a second or two, and then Ophelia broke the silence. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Brooks.”
Daphne stiffened. Walker, beside her, did too. “It’s nice to see you again too, Mrs. Jones.” His eyes skipped to her husband who was giving him his usual look of suspicion.
“You remember Mr. Brooks, don’t you Clint?” Ophelia asked. “We watched him perform at the talent show.”
“Yes, I remember now,” he said and studied Walker as if he were looking at a wanted poster.
Walker shifted in his chair. “So, what are we doing?” he asked, getting right to business.
“Well, we rather thought you were planning on courting Miss Dolittle,” the reverend stated. “We’re here to clarify that.”
Daphne wanted to sink under the table and hide. She gave Walker a weak smile and gripped her hands in her lap.
“Ohhh,” he drawled. “I see.” He turned to Daphne and slung an arm over the back of his chair. “Are you afraid I’d be less than a gentleman, Miss Dolittle? You need four chaperones?”
“Of course not,” she blurted.
“It was Mr. Jones’s idea,” the reverend said in her defense. “Now that Miss Dolittle has informed us of her plans, we thought it only fitting to be with her as they’re executed.”
Walker’s eyes went wide. “You know of her plans?”
“Of course,” the reverend said.
Walker’s head swung around, eyes round as saucers. “All of them?”
“Only that I wish to marry,” she said in a rush.
He swallowed hard, as if it was the first he’d heard of it.
“Naturally we’d like to know your intentions in the matter, Mr. Brooks,” Reverend Hammond added. “We have nothing against you wanting to court Miss Dolittle, so long as your intentions are honorable.”
Daphne felt sick to her stomach. Could this get any worse? Lord only knew what Walker was thinking. Maybe she could faint?
“Court Miss Dolittle? Hmm,” he said and rubbed his chin a few times. “Now there’s a thought.”
Daphne’s cheeks grew hot. The rat! He knew she was in a fix now.
“Well, about that, Reverend. I see nothing wrong with courting the woman, I mean, just look at her. What man wouldn’t? But is she a good match for me, that’s the question.”
Daphne’s lips formed a firm line as she did her best not to throttle him.
“I’m a simple miner. I’m not sure I could support a wife. A viable concern, it is.”
“Oh, to be sure,” Reverend Hammond said. “I’m glad you’re taking that into consideration.”
“Yes, one must be considerate,” Walker said with a narrowed eye aimed at Daphne.
She cringed and tried not to fidget in her chair. “Mr. Walker and I have no understanding,” she said, as if that was going to help. It didn’t.
“On the contrary,” he drawled. “I thought we understood each perfectly yesterday.” He turned slightly in his chair and suddenly one of his hands was covering hers under the table. He squeezed, a clear warning. Did that mean he still wanted to marry her? Even after this?
“And what understanding did you reach?” Clint asked. “Are you to court or not?”
Walker smiled at him, then turned his grin on her. “Of course we are, aren’t we, Miss Dolittle?” He squeezed her hands again for good measure, all the while giving her a look of adoration. Faker!
She smiled back as she kicked him in the shin. He jerked ever so slightly but said nothing.
“Well, that’s good news,” Reverend Hammond said. “Now that that’s settled, how about some pie and coffee?” He waved at Seamus behind the bar. “Norah baked this morning, I hear.”
Everyone nodded except Daphne, whose hands were still prisoners of one of Walker’s. He was smiling at her in a devilish way, giving her every indication he meant to have a word with her in private just as soon as he was able.
Daphne hoped Norah made a lot of pie. Maybe that would help stall him. But she didn’t think so.
* * *
Walker was finishing up his second helping of pie when he noticed Miss Dolittle’s eyes darting to and fro. She reminded him of a trapped animal looking for an escape route. Ha! Good luck with that, he thought. Somehow she’d managed to get the town preacher and the Wells Fargo agent involved. The reverend, he could see. The man was in the marrying business and a member of the board of directors for the silver mine. If she told him of her plans to marry so she could invest, then of course he’d be here. But Clint Jones was another matter. Did he know who Walker’s father was? And if so, was he there to deter Miss Dolittle from any future nuptials having to do with W. J. Brooks?
He’d introduced himself with his initials on instinct. He always did when he wanted to lay low, keep his presence quiet. Otherwise every man and his brother wanted to pick a fight or challenge him. Once a deputy tried to arrest him simply on account of his father’s name!
But what bothered Walker wasn’t the fact these men and their wives were now involved, but that she could have told them her plan in the first place. Then again, that would make him a poor candidate in their eyes. He didn’t want to marry just to … well … be married. Her offer involved money, something he could use to get out of Noelle and go to California. Which meant …
Walker gave her a sidelong glance as he chewed his last bite. She hadn’t told the preacher about their deal. She couldn’t have! True, she wouldn’t be the first to marry in order to invest in the mine. But the ones that had were men. A woman was another matter. The fact Reverend Hammond would never agree to her deal with Walker only made t
hings worse for her. Therefore, the preacher must think he really was interested in courting her. She no doubt hoped and prayed he’d play along and pretend to do just that. How delicious!
He gave her a wide smile. “More pie?”
She straightened. “No, thank you.”
“Coffee?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said, not looking at him.
He glanced at the others who were chatting about the women’s mission. He leaned toward her. “Are you going to get involved?” he asked in a low voice. “With the mission … sweetheart?”
She stiffened, and, her jaw tight, turned to him. “I don’t believe so … darling.”
Walker bit his lower lip to keep from laughing. “Well, I think it’s a worthwhile cause. You should at least meet with this Mrs. Kinnison they’re talking about, see what she has to say. After all, if we settle in Noelle, spend the rest of our lives here, you’ll need something.”
Her eyes were set to kill, then changed to match the smile she plastered on her face. “That remains to be seen. We’ll have to talk about that later.” Her jaw was still tight. If he wanted, he could get twenty percent out of her. Besides, wasn’t the use of his name worth the extra five percent?
I’m afraid Felicity and I must leave you now,” the reverend announced. “It was nice getting to spend a little time with the two of you.” He stood and nodded at them. “We’ll do this again real soon.”
Clint also stood. “We have to go too. And I imagine Mr. Brooks needs to get back to the mining camp.” He stared Walker in the eyes. A clear dismissal.
“I think they can spare me a while longer,” Walker said. “You gentlemen don’t mind if I sit with Miss Dolittle a few moments more?”
“Seamus can handle keeping an eye out for a minute or two,” the reverend said before Mr. Jones could protest. “We’ll be seeing you soon.” He took his wife by the hand, led her around the table and straight on to the bar. He spoke with Seamus, who smiled and looked their way. The couple then went upstairs.
Clint watched everything and, with a satisfied sigh, took Ophelia by the hand, gave them a parting nod, and headed for the staircase.
As soon as they were out of sight, Miss Dolittle breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, my goodness gracious!”
“Yes, oh my,” Walker drawled. “Now would you mind telling me what is going on? Did you or did you not tell them about our deal?”
“Lower your voice for crying out loud. And no, I most certainly did not! They think you want to court me!”
“So I gathered. Any particular reason why?”
“No! I just … they … I don’t know how it happened, but they …”
Walker sat back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. “Oh the tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive …”
“That’s not fair!” she shot back. “I’m not out to deceive anyone.”
“No? Then why didn’t you tell them?”
Her face went crimson as her eyes misted. Oh, no. She wasn’t going to cry, was she? “I … I never got the chance for one,” she stammered. “And I couldn’t bring myself to anyway. This has gotten so out of hand. I know you won’t have anything to do with me now and I can’t say I blame you.”
“Whoa, now. Don’t assume what I will or won’t do, Miss Dolittle.”
She stared at him in shock. “What do you mean? I’ve clearly made a mess of this. I never should have made you that offer in the first place. I’ll earn the money somehow, then move forward with my plan.”
“And if you can’t make the money?” he asked in all seriousness.
“Then I’ll do what I have to,” she said sternly.
“Marry?”
“If it comes to that.”
He shook his head in resignation. “You are a stubborn one.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I have to be.”
He sighed. On the one hand, he admired her tenacity. On the other, he wanted to protect her from it. But he could only do so much. Why he felt he needed to do anything at all at this point was beyond him. He leaned toward her again. “Our deal still stands, Miss Dolittle.”
Chapter 12
Daphne stared at him in shock. “It does?”
“Of course. Though I must say, you’re becoming more trouble than fifteen percent.”
She looked away. “You don’t have to do this.”
“You’re right, I don’t. But if I walk away … well, I’d hate to think what would happen.”
Her head snapped around. “I don’t need your protection, Mr. Brooks.”
He gave her a heartfelt smile. “So stubborn, so foolish, and so wrong.” His eyes went to her lips and back. “On the contrary, you definitely need someone to look out for you.”
“I resent the fact you think so.”
“You’re a woman, Daphne. Of course I’m going to think so.”
She stared at him, her mouth half-open.
“What? I can’t call you by your Christian name? Don’t you think that if we’re courting, we should use them?”
She looked away again. “Yes … I suppose you’re right.”
He noticed she wasn’t offering to back out again. She had her heart set on going to China. Problem was, he didn’t think she’d last two days there or any other place by herself. But what to do about it, other than talk her into staying put?
Walker froze. Great Scott, what was he thinking? Once married to her, did he really want her to stick around? “Look,” he said. “There’s something you want, and there’s something I want. No, make that need. Our original deal provides us with both. Why don’t we just stick to the plan and go on from there?”
She gazed into his eyes, searching, but for what he didn’t know. “You’d marry me, even though it means pretending to court me first?”
He sighed, glanced at Seamus, who took a sudden interest in the glass he was polishing, and then met her stare. “Yes. I would. Besides, it’s only for a short while, right?”
“But, after we’re married, I’ll have to stay in Noelle for a time, otherwise it will look bad.”
He let his eyes roam her face. She had the loveliest skin; creamy smooth with just a hint of pink left over from her earlier embarrassment. “True. We’ll have to …” he smiled, “… be husband and wife for a time.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
His smile turned to a huge grin. “Not at all.”
She rolled her eyes and fanned herself, her cheeks growing redder by the second. “But that means …”
As much as he enjoyed seeing her flustered, he understood their dilemma. “Yes, it means we’ll be living together.”
“But we can’t do that!”
“And why not, we’ll be married, won’t we?”
“Yes, but,” she lowered her voice to a whisper. “In name only.”
“Yes, and trust me darlin’. You’re going to need that name.”
“Yours is as good as the next man’s,” she shot back.
“Hardly,” he said. “But enough about that. When I see you next, I’m going to make my intentions clear. Then everyone in town will know.”
“I thought you already did,” she said and leaned back.
His grin turned positively devilish. He was going to enjoy this. “No, I haven’t. Trust me, you’ll know when I do.”
She audibly gulped. It was all he could do to keep from laughing. “What did you have in mind?” she asked, voice wavering.
He continued to smile. “If I’m going to court you, then it’s going to be done proper-like. Reverend Hammond wouldn’t have it any other way.” Neither would Clint Jones judging from the looks he’d aimed at him over their pie and coffee. He’d better make a good show of things, or they might try to talk Daphne into marrying someone else. Not that she could without exposing her real plans.
But how long could he play along? She was a pretty little thing and feisty as they come, too. He liked that. But her feistiness was no match for a man wanting to take advantage o
f her in the worst possible way. It was the main reason he agreed to her harebrained scheme in the first place. His name went a long way in this country, (those that knew it) but what about others? How well could it protect her abroad? If she managed to go abroad, that is.
“I think I’ve overstayed my visit,” he said. “Seamus is giving me the eye.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the bartender, who at this point, was giving Walker a steely glare. The Irishman’s eyes flicked to the door and back, a clear message. She sighed and faced Walker again. “Very well. When should we meet again?”
“The sooner the better. Tomorrow. I’ll meet you here then we can take a stroll if it’s not too cold for you.”
“For me? What about you?”
“Don’t concern yourself with me, I’m used to it. I work in a mine, remember?”
“Oh, yes,” she said and then looked him up and down. “What’s it like, working in a mine?”
“That, my dear, is a conversation best left for tomorrow.”
She continued to study him. “You don’t talk like a miner, Mr. Brooks.”
“Walker,” he corrected. “And no, I don’t. But I’ll explain tomorrow. Until then … Daphne.” He stood and went behind her chair.
She turned her head ever so slightly in his direction. “Very well, Walker.”
Walker grinned and pulled the chair out for her.
* * *
The next afternoon Daphne put on her best day dress, a pretty yellow trimmed in ivory lace with matching buttons. That done she fixed her hair, pinched her cheeks, and went downstairs. As a woman being courted by a handsome man, she’d best look the part. She just hoped Walker didn’t do or say anything that made her want to clobber him. He’d had far too much fun at her expense yesterday. Perhaps today she’d turn the tables and get in a jab or two. Would serve him right if she did, the rat.
Downstairs Seamus and Norah chatted behind the bar and nodded a greeting when they saw her. That made six chaperones. Norah made a comment at breakfast that she and Seamus would be keeping an eye on Mr. Brooks, and that she needn’t worry about him pulling any shenanigans. What man would with the likes of Chase Hammond, Clint Jones and Seamus Malone watching him like proverbial hawks? Any normal suitor would turn tail and run. But Walker wasn’t a suitor he was a business partner. She’d have to remember that. More importantly, she’d have to remind him. She saw the way he looked at her the day before, how his eyes gravitated to her mouth and lingered a second or two before gazing into her eyes. He liked what he saw, she could tell. Which meant she’d have to make sure he remembered his place, what their deal was, and that there was nothing between them.