by Regina Scott
She was all business, yet he couldn’t help feeling as if something had changed. He wasn’t sure what, and he certainly had no idea what to do about it.
But he found himself looking forward to Easter.
Chapter Seventeen
Beth was waiting in front of the Wallin Landing church Easter morning, watching the sunlight filter through the cedar. After so many days in Seattle, her cabin had felt strange, smaller than she’d remembered. Still, all her brothers, their wives and some of their children had checked in on her between last evening and this morning, making her feel more at home. She’d boiled and dyed eggs with her nieces and nephews, giggling over colors and encouraging their creativity. And she’d been able to confirm that everything was ready for the big day and Dottie wasn’t feeling nearly as overwhelmed as John had claimed.
Still, knowing that others had largely done all the work felt odd as well. Since Ma had died, planning the family celebrations had fallen to Beth. Easter, Christmas, Independence Day—she had arranged food, drink and activities and had overseen all preparations. She’d felt purposeful, commanding, very much a necessary part of the community. It was a little lowering to realize her family was perfectly capable of making all the arrangements without her.
But it was nice to just join in for once without having to make sure everything was perfect.
She tugged at her sleeves now, settling the pleated white cuffs over her short white gloves. The pink crepe had made the perfect Easter gown, especially with the rosy ribbon and fitted white bodice Nora had added to the pattern. Her hair up under a white straw hat trimmed in pink ribbon and white net, Beth thought she looked rather fine. By the way Drew’s logging crew—Harry Yeager, Tom Convers and Dickie Morgan—smiled at her as they entered the church, she wasn’t the only one pleased with her looks.
Would Hart be pleased?
Silly! Hart never noticed her clothes. Most of the time she was certain his attentions were elsewhere. Once in a while, she wondered if he even liked her.
Of course, there was that kiss.
She shivered, remembering the feel of his lips, firm but gentle. His hands at her waist had pulled her closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She’d wondered what it would be like to share a kiss with him. The reality was so much grander than anything she had imagined, filling her with hope, with longing. When he’d released her, it had been as if he’d taken a piece of her with him.
She realized she’d closed her eyes again at the memory and snapped them open. As if summoned by her thoughts, Hart rode into Wallin Landing.
She wanted to run to him, throw her arms around him again. But that would only be begging for another kiss. Sweethearts or wives might do that, but she wasn’t either and never would be. So, she waited while he dismounted, let Arno into the pasture with the horse’s old friends Lance and Percy and strode up the hill to the church.
Her brothers had built the whitewashed chapel to inspire. Nestled in the forest, its steeple was the tallest point for miles. But her heart still beat faster when she realized Hart wasn’t admiring the church.
He seemed to be admiring her, gray eyes moving over her frame as if memorizing every inch of her.
“Morning,” he said, removing his hat. His dark hair gleamed in the sun. “Happy Easter. You look nice. New dress?”
Beth swallowed. Normally, she’d twirl around at such a compliment, show off every angle, extol Nora’s inventiveness and detail the source of the pattern. Now she barely managed to thank him. What was wrong with her?
He held out his arm, the gray of his new suit only the slightest bit rumpled from his ride. She took his arm and allowed him to lead her in.
The church was crowded. Besides her brothers, their families and the logging crew, all the farmers, fishermen, loggers, miners and ranchers around Wallin Landing had come in for the service with their families. Nora had saved Beth and Hart places in the middle of the church, on the left side of the two sections that flanked the center aisle. They slipped into the pew to nods of welcome from her sister-in-law and brother Simon and whispered acknowledgements from her nieces and nephews. Little Hannah, Simon’s youngest, went so far as to climb up onto Beth’s lap. Beth bent her head to rub noses with the sweet-natured two-year-old.
Voices quieted as Callie started playing the opening hymn on the black-lacquered piano Beth had purchased last Christmas with her inheritance. Beth drew in a breath. Their church might be smaller than the Brown Church in Seattle, but the voices rose with even more thanksgiving as all eyes turned to the wood cross behind the simple altar.
Simon rose and squeezed past his family to join Callie for a duet on his violin. Though Beth was used to her brother playing, for church as well as for family gatherings and the local dancers, the music had never sounded sweeter. It swirled through the building, raising heads, brightening countenances. And when her brother Levi went to the pulpit and spoke about how love had triumphed on that day so long ago, Beth reached out and squeezed Hart’s hand.
He didn’t pull away.
A thrill shot through her. Now, now. Just because he’d noticed her outfit for the first time and allowed her to hold his hand didn’t mean he was ready to court her. She wasn’t ready to take that chance, was she? Still, she kept her hand on his until the end of the service.
Lars, Nora and Simon’s oldest child, nudged in next to her as everyone started to take their leave. His brown eyes sparkled as he gazed up at her. “Are you going to roll eggs with us, Aunt Beth?”
“Of course,” Beth assured him with a smile. “I have to defend my championship.”
“Championship?” Hart asked as they followed the others out of the church.
“We roll boiled eggs down the hill,” Beth explained, lifting her skirts to descend the stairs. “The egg that rolls the farthest wins. My egg has won the last three years.”
“Sounds like you have a secret.”
She stopped, cheeks heating. Did he know her conflicted feelings? She’d been so careful not to show him the least indication. She searched his face, then forced a laugh. “Oh, you mean with the eggs.”
He raised his brows. “You have another secret I should know about?”
She wasn’t about to admit it. She took his hand again instead. “Come on. I boiled an egg for you too. Let’s go get them.”
He didn’t protest as she tugged him toward the hall, where she and the others had left the eggs that morning.
A short time later, they stood on the crest of the hill above Wallin Landing, eggs in hand. Catherine and Drew remained at the bottom in the clearing with Nora, Dottie and the children who were too young to take part. Simon and John were standing on either side of the grassy slope to make sure nothing rolled into the trees or over the cliff into the lake. James, Rina and Levi kept the peace at the top of the hill.
Callie sidled in next to Beth. “I understand you’re the one to beat.”
Beth grinned. Raised on the gold rush camps, Levi’s bride was more used to competing than Beth’s other sisters-in-law. She was also the closest to Beth in age. After a rocky start last Christmas, the two had become good friends.
“I welcome the challenge,” she told Callie now.
Callie grinned back. Though she usually favored trousers or cotton skirts, today she wore the blue-on-blue gown Beth and her sisters-in-law had sewn for her for Christmas. Hiking up her hem, she crouched as if to survey the terrain. “Think I’ll try over there. It looks smoother.”
Beth shook her head as Callie rose and moved away. “There goes that strategy.”
“You have a strategy?” She could hear the amusement in Hart’s voice.
“There are three components to a winning run, sir,” she informed him as Levi tried to calm Callie’s excitable nine-year-old twin brothers Frisco and Sutter, and Rina assembled the rest of the children in an uneven line. “First, the terrain. That side of the hill is a little straighter and, as Callie noted, freer from tree roots and the like.”
He edg
ed in that direction, and Beth followed.
“Second?” he asked.
“The strength of the shell. I generally gather the eggs for the main house. I know which hens lay the eggs that are the hardest to crack.”
He glanced down at the egg she had given him. It was a pale yellow, hers a soft pink. “I take it these are from that hen.”
“Absolutely.”
“Take your positions!” James shouted.
Around them, children bent over their eggs, bodies wiggling and voices high. Beth lifted her skirts and squatted on the grass. Hart dropped down next to her.
“What’s the third?” he asked.
“On your mark,” James yelled.
Beth set her egg on the grass. Hart copied her.
“How well you roll it,” she said.
“Go!” James cried.
Beth flipped her egg with her fingertips. Glancing at Hart, she saw his eyes narrow as he mimicked her.
Ten eggs started down the hill. Beth scrambled up, clutching Hart’s arm. “Watch!”
The eggs tumbled along. Some stopped after only a few feet. Seven-year-old Victoria, James’s oldest, marched up to hers and glared at it as if that might keep it moving. Callie’s hit a rock halfway down and struck fast. She rose with a shrug and a smile to Beth. More reached the bottom and rolled to a halt. Frisco and Sutter, Callie’s brothers, ran with Lars and his cousins to retrieve theirs.
A few kept rolling, right across the lawn. Tugging on Hart’s arm, Beth ran down the hill even as Simon bent and picked up an egg.
“Who had yellow?” he asked.
Yellow? Beth pulled up.
Hart stepped forward. “I believe that’s mine.”
Simon smiled as he handed Hart the egg. “Then I believe we have a new champion.”
James, who had followed them down, tsked. “No, no, no. Like this.” He grabbed Hart’s hand and held it up in the air. “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s have a round of applause for Wallin Landing’s newest egg rolling champion, Deputy Hart McCormick!”
* * *
He was surrounded. Beth’s brothers and sisters-in-law wrung his hand in congratulations, the children hopped up and down and begged to know how he’d done it. He glanced at Beth, wondering how she’d take her dethroning. She was smiling with so much pride he wanted to puff out his chest and crow like a rooster.
All over an egg.
She pushed her way forward. “Mr. McCormick, I demand a rematch.”
“Let’s do it now,” Frisco said, turning as if ready to dash back up to the top of the hill.
Levi caught his arm. “Not so fast. Several of the eggs have cracked. They won’t make another run.”
“And they won’t be any good to eat if we beat them up any further,” Catherine reminded him. “Besides, it’s nearly time for dinner.”
“Food!” Sutter darted for the hall.
“I do feed them,” Callie remarked as the rest fell in behind him.
Hart pulled Beth up short as she made to follow. “It was an oddity, you know. I wasn’t trying to show off.”
She grinned at him, cheeks rosy. “You won, Hart, fair and square. I don’t mind. It gives me something to try for next time.”
Next time. As if she fully expected him to be at her side next Easter. What surprised him was how much he wanted it too.
But perhaps it wasn’t all that surprising, he reflected as he followed them all up the hill toward the hall. He’d always admired the Wallin family. Their father had been dead when Hart had ridden in to Seattle over the Naches Pass trail. Drew, the eldest, had been in charge, even though he was only a little older than Hart. A strapping logger, his blond-haired head towered over most of the others. He’d raised his four brothers and Beth with the help of their mother, who had passed away a few years ago. Now he still sat at the head of the table with his wife, Catherine, and three children at his side in the hall, the main cabin having become too small for the growing number of Wallins.
Simon, nearly as tall as Drew but with a leaner frame, was more to Hart’s temperament, logical, forceful in his opinions. Hart had never been sure what Nora, a gentle seamstress, had seen in him to marry, but the two were clearly devoted to each other, sharing smiles as they helped feed their children.
Then there was James. The pale-haired, slender fellow had an eye for horseflesh, and the people around Wallin Landing relied on his trading post for supplies. He was a wit, teasing his children, his wife, Rina, and anyone else who came to his attention.
Auburn-haired John had always been a studious sort. He’d surprised Hart when he’d agreed to be deputized to help catch the man who had caused his bride Dottie heartache when she and her infant son had first come to Wallin Landing last year. Hart had been glad for the help. He didn’t hold with men who preyed on women.
Curly-haired Levi, however, had been even more surprising. He’d been a lad when Hart had first met him, and one determined to blaze his own way. More than once Hart had thought he might have to lock up the boy for driving his wagon recklessly, starting a fight in the street or hanging about with Scout Rankin at the gambling tables. But Levi and Scout had both gone north to pan for gold. While Scout had come home wealthy, Levi had come home with a calling. The minister of Wallin Landing, he seemed to know his own worth now and was happy with his life and his pretty new bride, Callie, her twin brothers and her little niece Mica.
They all seemed happy, in fact, sharing memories along with food around the big table. Beth had been right about the menu—succulent ham, molasses dripping from its sides, potato salad with pearly onions, crisp new carrots, Levi’s famous biscuits with apple butter and lemon custard for dessert.
“Too tart?” Beth asked, twinkle in her eyes, as he accepted a second helping from her sister-in-law Nora.
“Oh, don’t you like lemon, Deputy?” Nora asked, round face puckering in concern.
“It’s more than tolerable, ma’am,” Hart assured her, lifting his bowl higher.
Smiling, she spooned him another generous serving.
All in all, it was a lively bunch, the brothers trading quips, their wives interjecting topics of conversation. Comments and questions from the children were met with fond smiles, thoughtful responses. It was a far cry from any Easter he’d spent growing up.
Longing tightened his grip on the fork. This was what he’d been looking for all his life, people who cared, no matter the circumstances. What would it be like to be part of a family?
To have a home, a wife, children of his own?
To give in to his growing feelings and offer for Beth?
A clap on his shoulder broke him from his reverie. The children had left the table to play a game in the yard, and the adults were taking a few moments of much-earned rest.
James grinned at him. “So, champion, what other talents should we know about?”
The others all looked to Hart with smiles of encouragement.
He shrugged. “I can shoot the spade out of an ace at fifty paces, but you probably knew that.”
James withdrew his hand. “Actually, I didn’t, but I certainly commend the effort. I must ask, though, what crime the ace committed that you felt you had to shoot it.”
Beth swatted him away. “Be glad he didn’t arrest you for your poor wit.”
James put a hand on his chest, reminding Hart of the way Beth used the gesture. “Poor wit? Sister, you wound me.”
“Better her than Hart,” John put in, with a nod of respect toward Hart.
Beth grinned at Hart. “He’s only being modest when it comes to talents. He has quite the taste in literature.”
Hart tensed, waiting for her to admit his fondness for dime novels. Surely the fine folk at Wallin Landing read far better.
Beth leaned across the table as if imparting a secret. “He recently read Vaughn Everard’s poetry.”
The combined sigh of delight from the ladies caused the lamps to flicker.
Hart glanced around at her brothers.
; “Everard makes some excellent points,” John said.
“You can’t refute his logic,” Simon agreed.
“Logic?” James staggered. “You see logic in his impassioned poetry?” He righted himself. “I might have known.”
“Which was your favorite, Mr. McCormick?” Rina, the local schoolteacher, asked politely.
If he admitted it was the poem about a kiss, the women would all sigh again. Beth might gush, and her brothers might start howling for his head.
“Hard to pick a favorite, ma’am,” he told her.
“True,” Drew said in his deep voice. “Now, before the children rush back in, when do you need us to haul seats for the concert tonight, Rina?”
Hart relaxed on the bench as the conversation turned to other things.
Beth linked arms with him, lowering her voice to speak to him alone. “I’m glad you enjoyed Mr. Everard’s poetry. Ask John to recommend other books while you’re here. He loves sharing stories from the library.”
The library was the latest addition to Wallin Landing, courtesy of her brother and donations from the Literary Society. A shame the ladies’ other worthwhile efforts didn’t keep them busy enough that they had to try and find him a bride.
Especially when the only woman he could seriously consider for a bride was sitting right next to him and still beyond his strength to reach.
Chapter Eighteen
It was the finest Easter Beth could remember. The finest day too. Hart fit in so well with her brothers. They shared the same experience of coming to the wilderness and making a way. And they shared a similar love of justice and sacrifice to protect those they loved. Having him beside her made everything more satisfying. She’d even emboldened herself to rest her head on his shoulder as Simon played a stirring song on the violin to open the school recital. When Hart’s arm slipped around her waist, she thought she could be content to stay like that forever.
She had promised the Literary Society she’d find him a bride. She now knew his reason for resisting, yet that resistance seemed to be dwindling when he was with her. Was she mad to see interest in those gray eyes, to feel tenderness in the hand that held hers? Hope had a way of rising every time she looked at him. She thought she floated as he walked her back to her cabin that night.