Mail-Order Marriage Promise

by Regina Scott

  “It’s all right, Dottie,” he murmured, running a hand up her arm. “Beth won’t let anything happen to Peter.”

  She drew in a breath and nodded, but her feet skimmed the grass as she hurried with him over to the mill.

  The outer walls and roof of the building had been erected, but the inside remained hollow, awaiting the machinery that would grind the grain. Open doors at either end brought in people, light and sound. Someone had laid long boards across logs and sawhorses, and the makeshift tables dipped under the weight of the foodstuffs.

  At least the ladies were organized. Already the foods had been grouped by type, and James and Rina were ferrying supplies while Beth pointed out locations as she jostled Peter on her hip. Dottie dashed forward and took Peter from John’s sister, cradling the baby close as if she’d thought she might never see him again. Beth hurried off toward the open door, where another wagon had just pulled in.

  As John joined James and Rina, his brother clapped him on the shoulder. “The food has been delivered. Let’s escape before they put us to work.”

  Beside John, Dottie stiffened. “Who’s that dark-haired man talking with Beth?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dottie’s heart was pounding in her throat, and she couldn’t think. It couldn’t be Frank, not here, not now. She started backing away, and John caught her arm.

  “Dottie? That’s Michael Haggerty. He’s married to Maddie, who owns the bakery where we met. She’s the redhead over there. The lads helping him unload his wagon are his son, Stephen, and his brother-in-law, Aiden O’Rourke.”

  As if he knew he was being discussed, the man turned and looked their way. The friendly, open face was sturdier, stronger than Frank’s. She’d never met him before.

  Still, she felt as if she was going to keel over. She must have swayed, for John’s grip on her arm tightened.

  “Dottie?” he asked, peering into her face. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, unable to say the words. What would she tell him, anyway? That she was terrified she’d meet her husband, whom John thought was dead? That she’d let John and his family think she was a widow when she was an abandoned woman?

  That she was letting fear get in the way of good sense?

  In her arms, Peter began fussing as if he knew her thoughts were in a knot. She was thankful Maddie Haggerty strolled up to them then with a grin. She tipped her chin at John’s brother, even as she put her hands on her hips.

  “I heard that, James Wallin,” she declared, the lilt of the Irish in her voice. “And who was telling you the only work was outside, me lad?” The bakery owner pointed to the dozens of loaves of bread, cakes and cookies her family had begun unloading. “Go on now. Make yourself useful for once.”

  James clapped his hand to his chest as if wounded, but Rina pushed him toward the waiting wagon with a smile.

  John was watching Dottie. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She stroked Peter’s hair, felt her son begin to relax. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ll go see what I can do to help.”

  He nodded and took a step back. Suddenly she realized he wasn’t going to be at her side today. It was all she could do not to latch on to his hand and keep him there.

  Which was silly. Beth was here. As were Catherine and Rina. Even Mrs. Haggerty would be willing to help her if needed, she felt certain. She should let John go.

  So she smiled, reached down and took Peter’s little hand, and gave it a wiggle. “Say bye-bye to John, Peter.”

  Peter gabbled something that didn’t remotely sound like goodbye, but John grinned as if her son had sung an aria, then sauntered out of the building whistling.

  Dottie felt a similar pleasure rippling through her. It would be all right. She was with friends. She turned to see what she could do to help.

  The ladies of Seattle had been generous. Tables were stacked with chicken, ham, jellies and biscuits. She spotted a dozen crocks of pickles, all of which appeared to have reached the work site without damaging themselves or anyone around them. Other tables were laden with pies, cakes and cookies. Several younger ladies had been employed with fans. They stood over the tables, waving the lace or feathered accessories over the food to keep flies and other insects away. Other women were organizing plates, cups and cutlery for the repast to come.

  “What a crowd!” Beth materialized beside Dottie. “All of Seattle really did turn out. Isn’t it wonderful?” She bent and tickled Peter under the chin, and the baby grinned at her.

  It was amazing to see so many people so intent on helping each other. Beth and Dottie took up places with those waving the fans. It was something Dottie could do while holding Peter, and Beth seemed more eager just to watch everyone.

  “See that woman with the black hair all piled up behind her?” she asked Dottie, nodding toward a slender older woman whose directions the others seemed to be following. “That’s Mary Ann Denny. She’s one of the ladies John tried to convince to donate money toward the library. Her husband is the president of this railroad everyone’s trying to build.”

  Dottie was more interested in the lady than the railroad. “Would you introduce me?” she asked Beth.

  Beth was delighted. She made the introduction, then hurried back to her place behind the pies with an encouraging smile to Dottie. Mary Ann Denny was equally encouraging. She beamed at Peter, who waved his fists at her as if wanting to touch her amused smile.

  “I remember when mine were that small,” she said to Dottie. “Sometimes I can’t believe we made the overland trek with two of them and one on the way.”

  Dottie raised her brows. “That must have been difficult. I came by train to San Francisco, then took a boat north to Seattle, and I know how hard it was to see to Peter through all that.”

  Mrs. Denny touched one of Peter’s little hands. “We make the struggle because we want what’s best for our children. We want to give them a bright future.”

  Dottie nodded, throat tightening. “That’s it exactly. And for that reason I hope you will reconsider John Wallin’s request for funds for a library at Wallin Landing. Books and education are one of the ways we give our children that bright future. Indeed, I don’t know how they persevere without the benefit of knowledge acquired no other way.”

  Mrs. Denny turned to stroll along the tables, Dottie beside her. She nodded to the other women, tugged a pie into line here, shored up a slipping cake there. “If I recall, it wasn’t the idea of a library that we opposed. It was the fact that Mr. Wallin has chosen to invest in education to the exclusion of all else.”

  Dottie frowned, straightening a pickle cask. “I cannot see that to be the case. He has a good farm, he’s helping build a new church and he assists at the school.”

  “Commendable,” Mrs. Denny agreed. She stopped to eye Dottie. “But above all else, Washington Territory grows through its families, with children and without. Mr. Wallin seems singularly determined not to marry. Or has he changed his opinion in that area?”

  “I cannot say for certain, ma’am,” Dottie admitted, shifting Peter in her arms, “but I have hopes in that direction.”

  Mrs. Denny’s smile blossomed once more. “Well, then, have him reapply, if you will. We are always ready to support a man willing to do his duty.”

  She inclined her head and sailed off to the next group of women. Dottie hurried back to Beth.

  “What did she say?” Beth demanded.

  “She says John is welcome to reapply for funding when he reconsiders being a bachelor,” Dottie replied, taking up her fan again.

  Beth raised her chin. “Well, I like that! But how dare she tell John that he must marry.”

  Dottie glanced at her friend. “But, Beth, isn’t that what you and the others have been telling him all along?”

  Beth dropped her gaze. “Well, yes, but t
hat’s different. We’re family.” Another woman came up to help, and Beth handed her the fan. Then she turned to Dottie. “Come on, let’s go see what John and the others are doing.”

  Knowing there were so many women available to work, Dottie didn’t see the harm in slipping out for a moment. She followed Beth to the wide door of the mill.

  A light rain was falling outside, but that didn’t seem to have deterred the men. Coats had been stripped off and arms bared as they set to work. She spotted Drew, Tom, Dickie and Harry hacking away at several massive cedars, their strong bodies twisting with each blow. In the cleared space behind them, other men hooked oxen and horses to stumps, yanking the thrones out of the damp ground in an explosion of dirt and pebbles. Still others, some of them businessmen by the looks of their damp waistcoats and muddy trousers, followed with spades and wheelbarrows to grub out the last bushes and level the land.

  A gentleman rode past, his gaze roaming over the groups as if suspecting trouble among the busy workers. He tipped his black wide-brimmed hat at Beth. “Miss Wallin.”

  Beth’s normally happy voice came out strained. “Deputy.”

  So that was Deputy McCormick. Dottie could see why the Wallin ladies had mentioned him as an eligible bachelor. Under the shade of that hat, his face was sharply planed, strong, and he sat on the horse as if he owned the world. She didn’t think he was the man for her, but she could see some ladies sighing in his direction.

  Beth’s face remained rigid until he passed, then it sagged.

  “Has he done something to lose your favor, Beth?” Dottie asked.

  Beth gathered her composure like a cloak. “Don’t be silly. He’s the town deputy. He has better things to do than talk to me.” She linked arms with Dottie. “And we promised you a chance to look over all the bachelors. At least half of the men working today fit that description. See one that interests you?”

  Only one. Dottie gazed out at the group again. Peter wiggled in her arms, throwing out a hand to the right and muttering. Her gaze was drawn in that direction, and she caught her breath.

  John was working with a team clearing stumps. He’d just straightened from hooking a chain around a thick stub as the sun peered out from the clouds. The light sent flames rippling through his hair. He shouted something, then began backing up, coaxing the horses with him as the chain grew taut. His arms were bared to the elbow, his collar open. She could feel his strength, his determination. With a rumble, the stump pulled free, throwing up debris in its wake.

  John looked up and met Dottie’s gaze as if knowing she was there. His grin was all for her. She grinned back.

  “Well,” Beth said beside her, laughter in her voice, “it seems you’ve found one you like very much, indeed, and he seems to feel the same way. I knew that hat would be just the thing.”

  * * *

  Dottie’s smile of appreciation warmed something deep inside John, and he turned to the next stump with a will. In fact, he must have been working just a little too hard, for one of the other men grinned at him.

  “What’s the hurry, Wallin? You got somewhere you’d rather be?”

  John glanced at the gristmill again, but Dottie and Beth must have gone back inside, for he caught no sight of them. “Just beside my gal,” he told the man.

  “Well, who wouldn’t want to be beside his gal?” the fellow returned. He called to the others. “Come on, lads. Mr. Wallin has a lady waiting. We wouldn’t want to disappoint her.”

  They all laughed as the rain began pattering down again.

  They had finished two more stumps when John heard the horns from the Seattle band blaring. Around him, men stopped what they were doing and raised their heads. Mrs. Denny appeared at the door of the gristmill, with a lid from a metal pot in her hand. She banged on it with a spoon, turning all eyes her way. “Luncheon is served, gentlemen! Gather ’round!”

  John didn’t need any urging. He settled the horses and hurried for the mill.

  The ladies had attempted to make the place more festive. They’d spread blankets along the walls so the men wouldn’t have to eat in the rain, and a few had brought colorful cloths to drape the tables. Red, white and blue bunting swung along the platform that would one day hold the grinding machinery. For now, it was the perfect place for the dignitaries to sit.

  Husbands and wives were seeking each other, sweethearts had their necks craned. It took him only a moment to locate Dottie and Beth near the pie table. Beth immediately grabbed his arm and pulled him around behind the table.

  “Here, John, you help Dottie. I’ll go claim a blanket for us.”

  Before he could argue, she was gone.

  Dottie offered him a smile. “It looks like work was going well.”

  “Better than I expected,” John agreed. The other workers had begun lining up near the closest table and were shuffling along, filling their plates. It was only a matter of time before they reached him and Dottie.

  Peter was beaming at him. John smiled. “And how did my little man do today? Was he a big help?”

  “Extremely helpful,” Dottie assured him, giving her son a fond jiggle. “He laughs through the dreariest moments and smiles at everyone.”

  Apparently not everyone. Peter’s face was clouding, and John realized their first customer had approached the table.

  Harry.

  The logger thrust out his plate. “A shame you stayed with the women, Wallin. The men were out working in the rain.”

  “John among them,” Dottie said before John could answer. “I saw him pulling up stumps.”

  Harry nodded to the apple pie in front of John. John pretended to misunderstand.

  “He pulled up stumps after I chopped down the trees,” Harry said as Dottie cut him a slice of the pie. Even one-handed, she managed to lift it and drop it onto his plate.

  “And everyone works together,” Dottie said cheerfully. “Just look at the cake Beth baked. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

  Visage brightening, Harry moved along to the next table.

  It was like that for the next little bit. People seemed to notice John for the first time, commending him on his work and glancing at Dottie as if surprised to see her beside him. It seemed they approved of him because someone like Dottie did. Or perhaps being with Dottie brought out the best in him. He found himself standing taller, serving up pie with a grin on his face. All too soon, Beth came to take their places, directing them to a blanket near the far wall, where James was standing guard.

  Drew and Catherine let them slip through the line first. John filled a plate for himself and one for Dottie, then led her to the blanket. James nodded a greeting before sitting nearby with Rina, their own food before them. John said the blessing and began eating. He knew he was wolfing the meal. He’d worked too hard and felt too good to do otherwise. Dottie was watching him with an amused smile, picking daintily at her food, and Peter regarded him wide-eyed as if quite impressed by John’s ability to shovel in the meal.

  He’d consumed nearly half of the food on his plate when someone paused at the edge of the blanket. John glanced up to find Caroline Crawford regarding him steadily, head cocked so that her dark curls fell along her perfect cheek.

  “Why, John Wallin,” she said, balancing her plate of food in front of her lilac-colored gown. “I never expected to see you here.”

  He waited for the sting of embarrassment, the pain of loss. Instead, he felt only a mild annoyance that she’d interrupted his time with Dottie.

  Beside her, the ever-dapper Rupert Hollingsworth managed a smile. “Sure is crowded. Mind if Miss Crawford and I sit with you?”

  Against his better judgment, John started to shift, but Dottie put out a hand.

  “I’m sorry,” she said with a pleasant smile, “but with the baby it’s best not to introduce strangers. He’s already been fussy. As you sai
d, it’s very crowded.”

  As if to back up her story, Peter began whimpering, his little face clouding.

  Caroline took a step back. “I’m sure there’s room elsewhere. It’s good you found someone to sit with, Mr. Wallin, but then, I suppose a widow with child can’t afford to be picky.”

  Dottie didn’t so much as stiffen as she smiled at John. “Yes, those of us of a certain maturity understand the temperament and character needed for a good husband.”

  With a huff, Caroline stalked off to find more congenial seating.

  “That’s twice you’ve stood up for me,” John pointed out to Dottie. “Much more of that, and people will start to talk.”

  Dottie tossed her head. “Let them talk. You’ve done nothing but help me. It’s about time I returned the favor.”

  A loud bang echoed through the building, and Peter started. Arthur Denny set down the lid his wife had given him. “Everybody working hard?” the railway president asked, glancing around the room as everyone settled down.

  Cries of “Yes, sir” and “You bet” echoed around them.

  “I want you to know how much I appreciate it,” he continued. “This railroad will prove to the territory, to the country and, dare I say it, to the world that the people of Seattle are to be reckoned with.”

  Cheers broke out all around. James waved his hat in the air. Peter started laughing, setting Dottie to smiling.

  The gentleman wasn’t finished. He went on for another quarter hour, extolling the virtues of Seattle, her people and her future. He was followed by an even longer speech from Orange Jacobs, Chief Justice of the territory’s Supreme Court. Peter began dozing in Dottie’s arms. John wouldn’t have minded laying his head down, either.

  Finally, Mayor Yesler came to the edge of the platform. He’d put his coat back on and stood for a moment, gazing out at the crowd, hands gripping his lapels. John resigned himself to yet another speech.