by Regina Scott
“It’s time to quit fooling,” Yesler drawled, “and get to work.” He jumped down from the platform and led the way back outside.
John rose and offered his hand to Dottie to help her rise. Peter opened a sleepy eye and smiled at him.
“How much longer will this go on?” Dottie asked with a frown.
“Probably until sundown,” John told her. “Will you be all right?”
She glanced down at Peter. “I will if he will.”
Mrs. Denny strolled up to them. “Mr. Wallin, I was introduced to your friend Mrs. Tyrrell this morning. Such a sweet lady and a dear child. I hope I will hear something encouraging from you soon.”
John glanced at Dottie in surprise, but Mrs. Denny was already turning her way. “We just learned that the CC Perkins was stuck on the tide flats. The captain couldn’t move her until the water rose. We expect more than one hundred hungry people any moment. Dare I ask you to stay and help, dear?”
“Of course,” Dottie said.
John could see the latecomers now, trickling in at first, then pouring through the door. He recognized Weinclef, face red in obvious embarrassment that he had been so tardy, the owner of the livery stable and the newcomer, Frank Reynolds. He turned to Dottie to find her once more ashen.
What had happened to frighten her so?
Chapter Seventeen
Dottie barely heard John say her name. All she could do was stare past the wide-open door of the mill at the man standing just outside. That rain-slickened hair and the more common coat could not disguise her false husband. Just seeing him made her feel as if the walls of the mill had crashed down upon her.
She clutched John’s arm. “I must leave. Please don’t ask me to explain. I have to go back to Wallin Landing. Now.”
John frowned at her, and she thought he would protest, but he nodded. “Very well. I’ll fetch the wagon. Do you want to wait here or come with me?”
Better in the mill, where she could hide among the women, than out there with Frank.
“I’ll wait here,” she told him. “Only please hurry.”
He squeezed her arm in support and strode out the door.
But Frank intercepted him. She thought John would brush him off, perhaps point him toward whatever Frank was seeking. But they stood a moment talking. Talking! As if they were acquaintances.
She swayed on her feet. What had she done? Had she placed her faith in a man who was Frank’s friend?
Disgust at her own naïveté and fear mingled, clutching at her stomach. She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the two men, as if by looking she could somehow keep them from seeing her and Peter.
Suddenly Frank glanced her way. Dottie whirled, set her back to him and darted in among the women serving those who had come from the ship. Shifting Peter closer, she took up a serving fork and began passing out slices of ham. The women on either side nodded approvingly.
The action made her breath come easier. Peter gazed at the people passing and cooed a greeting, raising smiles. She was safe; she was among friends. Glancing to the left, she spotted Beth serving up the last of the cake. Rina was helping people find places to sit and eat. Catherine offered blankets to those who had been soaked in the rain. What had John said? All she had to do was cry out, and someone would come running.
But would they still come if they knew the truth about Frank and Peter?
Would John even speak to her if he knew the secret she’d been hiding?
Her hand was trembling on the fork again. As if he sensed her concerns, Peter began fussing, twisting in her arms and tugging at his ear.
The woman next to her touched her hand, making Dottie jump. Her coworker’s smile was kind. “Go see to him. I can serve the rest.”
“Thank you,” Dottie said, handing her the fork. She eased herself deeper into the building to the far wall, where she could keep an eye on the door.
Both Frank and John had gone from the opening, but she couldn’t shake the memory of the two of them together. How could they know each other? Frank had traveled for work, but she never thought he’d journeyed as far as Seattle.
She forced herself to draw in a breath even as she rocked Peter. Her son hiccupped back a sob and sucked on his fist. If only she could calm herself so easily.
What if John wasn’t the man she thought he was? What if she’d been mistaken yet again?
What if she’d entrusted her future to a monster?
No!
She nearly stamped her foot. She was tired of living in fear, always looking over her shoulder. Wasn’t that what had driven her from Cincinnati in the first place? She refused to give in this time.
She had known Peter’s father so little that it had taken a stranger in the form of Frank’s wife to show her the truth of his character. She didn’t need someone else to tell her about John’s character. She’d seen it firsthand, in the way he treated her and Peter, the way he helped his family and neighbors. He was her noble knight. He would do nothing to hurt her or her son. She had to have faith in him.
As if just as pressed by the crowd, a pretty brunette with rosy lips moved closer with a smile, a plate of food in one hand.
“Thank you so much for being willing to feed us so late,” she said, taking up a fork to pick at the ham. “I’m sure you were ready to clean up.” She must have caught sight of Peter, for she giggled. “You and your helper, I see.”
Dottie managed a smile. “I’m sorry. I’m not much use, and I can’t stay.”
“That’s all right,” the woman said. “I don’t know how long I’ll stay, either. I’m really not sure why my husband insisted that we come. He isn’t a laborer.”
“Neither is mine, dear,” another woman said, bustling past with dirty plates in her arms. “But every man and woman in Seattle must contribute today.”
The brunette smiled in her wake. “That’s probably true, but I think my husband and I can be excused. We’ve only been in Seattle a week.” She turned to Dottie again. “We just moved here from San Francisco.”
She paused as if waiting for Dottie to introduce herself, but Dottie didn’t dare offer her name, not when Frank could wander into the building at any moment. “I haven’t lived in Seattle long, either,” she said instead.
“Mrs. Reynolds!”
Dottie gasped at the name, heart thundering in her chest. But the brunette turned toward the voice. An older woman with a feathered hat wilting from the rain came up to them.
“I’m very glad to see you here, my dear,” she said to the brunette. “I was just telling your charming husband that he would do well to assist the mayor’s work gang. Mr. Yesler appreciates a man with Mr. Reynolds’s ambitions.”
Dottie felt as if the ground was tilting up toward her. Another Mrs. Reynolds? It couldn’t be!
The brunette simpered. “My Frank is going places. That’s one of the reasons I married him. I can’t believe it was only a month ago. I feel as if I’ve known him forever.”
Or not at all.
Dottie cuddled Peter closer. She had to think. It was possible Frank had finally divorced his first wife, but Dottie was number two and that made this poor woman number three. Like Dottie, she was building her future on mist. Yet how could Dottie warn her without revealing herself and risking Peter?
Frank had threatened her about what would happen if she ever told anyone else. She’d thought he’d been trying to protect his reputation, his business connections in Cincinnati. If he’d been angry she might jeopardize them, how much angrier would he be if she told his latest victim the truth?
Yet how could she live with herself if she didn’t at least try to save the new Mrs. Reynolds from the same fate?
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted John coming through the crowd. It was now or never. Making up her mind, she leaned forw
ard and touched the woman’s arm.
“There is something you must know about your husband, Mrs. Reynolds. Go to the Pastry Emporium tomorrow afternoon for a message. Go alone. It’s very important.”
She frowned at Dottie’s hand. “My husband? What do you mean?” Her gaze, dark and troubled, met Dottie’s. “Do you know my Frank?”
“To my sorrow,” Dottie said, releasing her and backing away. “Please, go to the Emporium, ask for a message. It will explain all.” She turned and ran to meet John.
* * *
John had never seen Dottie like this, eyes wide, face pale and steps jerky. They’d been having a perfectly fine day, despite his original misgivings about the event. She seemed to be making friends, enjoying serving with the other women. And then panic had set in. She was so fearful, he half expected to see a ravenous wolf on her heels. Jiggled in her arms, even Peter frowned. But before John could ask her the trouble, Dottie seized his arm and tugged him out of the mill.
The rain had stopped again, though the clouds hung low over the area. She kept herself on John’s right, though she glanced beyond him. Once again, he tried to see what had so concerned her, but he didn’t notice anything that seemed out of the ordinary, unless one counted the likes of Frank Reynolds grubbing plants out of the mud alongside Henry Yesler.
Dottie started resolutely toward a row of wagons, but John pulled her up short.
“This way,” he said, nodding toward a cart at the side of the clearing, where two horses waited in the traces. “My wagon was needed. This cart belongs to Mr. Blaycock. He’ll get a ride home with James and Rina. I told my brother to let Beth and the others know where we’d gone.”
She bundled Peter close and accepted John’s help to climb into the seat. But his touch only raised a shiver in her. He felt it along his hand. Trying not to feel defeated, he went around to climb up beside her.
Dottie sat with her face averted as he started back toward Seattle. She clung to Peter as if afraid he’d be taken from her. The last stragglers were just reaching the work site, calling out jokingly that John and Dottie were going the wrong way. Then the trees closed around the wagon, and they were alone.
“Thank you,” she said in the quiet. “I realize it would probably have been advantageous for you to be seen working among Seattle’s luminaries.”
He shifted on the bench. “No advantage that I can see. I’m not trying to impress the mayor or his cronies. If Henry Yesler doesn’t know he can count on the Wallins by now, he never will. Drew’s been supplying him with timber for ten years.” He glanced at Dottie. “I’m more concerned about you. What happened back there?”
She dropped her gaze to Peter, who was nestled in her arms and watching her as closely as John was. “With the crowd coming in from the boat, there were too many people for me to feel comfortable with Peter. I might have been jostled and dropped him, and I certainly couldn’t see to his needs easily with so many around. I should have realized that might be the case and stayed back with Nora and Simon, but I never dreamed there’d be so many people.”
That seemed logical. It had been a messy scene. Men unused to working with picks and axes could harm themselves and others as they flung the tools about. But Dottie had largely stayed with the other ladies in the mill, where she’d find nothing more risky than a badly canned jar of peaches, exploding pickles notwithstanding. So why insist on leaving? If someone had accosted her or belittled her, he was certain his sister would have brought them to task if Dottie didn’t feel comfortable sticking up for herself.
“I never dreamed Seattle had so many people,” John assured her. “They must have come from the north and east as well, as far as the coal fields by Lake Washington.”
She perked up. “Do you think there were people from outside Seattle, then?”
John shrugged. “I’ve never met half the people who were working, that’s for sure, and I thought I knew most of the people in the area.”
She took a deep breath, as if he’d somehow alleviated her concerns. “In any event, I’m sorry you had to leave.” She cast him a quick glance. “I noticed you talking with your friend.”
He frowned, trying to think who she meant. “Friend?”
Now she was watching him, as if judging what he would say. “The dark-haired fellow with the solid chin. He came with the crowd from the boat.”
John relaxed. “Oh, Frank Reynolds. I met him in town the other day. He’s new to the area.”
She licked her lips. “Is he planning to live here?”
The comment sounded casual, but the stiff way she held herself told him it wasn’t. “I think so. He just moved up from San Francisco. He was looking for work.”
“And did he find any?”
Again, he felt the undercurrent in the question. “Not yet, or I don’t think he’d be out working in the rain. Mr. Weinclef at Kelloggs’ suggested the coal fields. Reynolds didn’t seem too keen on that.”
If possible, she sat even stiffer. “Then he’s determined to stay in town.”
Why did she care? “I suppose. Did he say something to you after I left, Dottie?”
“No, no.” She took Peter’s hand, held it in her own while her son studied their joined fingers. “I was just curious what the two of you found to discuss. Did he ask you any questions about people in the area, perhaps an old acquaintance?”
An ache was starting inside him. He was fairly sure Beth would have said that a woman only asked such questions when she was interested in a fellow. He’d thought he’d won Dottie’s heart, but perhaps he’d been mistaken again. Likely Frank Reynolds would be considered handsome with his dark wavy hair and confident manner. And he certainly had the ambition to get ahead in this world.
“He never asked after friends in my hearing,” John said, slapping the reins so that the horses picked up their pace. “I’m not sure he has any friends in Seattle.”
He nearly winced at the tone that had crept into his voice. There he went again, feeling jealous, and why? Didn’t Dottie deserve the best? Didn’t he want the best for her and Peter?
Didn’t he love her that much?
He drew in a breath. Are You smiling, Lord? Here I thought I’d hidden my heart. You knew better. Beth may think she brought Dottie out to marry me, but I see Your hand in this. It seems I’m meant to protect her, provide for her, encourage her, regardless of whether she loves me in return. I’m here to be her hero, and that’s what heroes do, put the needs of others before their own.
Peace and surety flowed from the prayer. He slowed the horses, glanced Dottie’s way again. Her head remained bowed, her shoulders slumped, as if she carried a burden too great for her. He could help.
“Frank Reynolds is going places, no doubt about that,” he told her, careful to keep his tone light. “But, Dottie, if you’re considering him for a suitor, I’d advise against it. He doesn’t seem to hold a very high opinion of women. I don’t think he’d make you a good husband.”
Dottie’s head came up, and she started laughing. The release shook her chest, brought tears to her eyes. The force of it startled Peter, who blinked and altered between a frown and a smile, as if he wasn’t sure of her mood. Truth be told, neither was John.
“Oh, John,” she said, eyes shining, “you needn’t worry. I have absolutely no interest in marrying Frank Reynolds.”
Relief washed over him, cleaner than a spring rain. “Well, good.”
She chuckled. “In fact, I don’t think much of Mr. Reynolds’s future in Seattle if even the kind Mr. Wallin has taken him in dislike.”
“He’ll survive without my endorsement,” John said, guiding the horses around a bend in the road, feeling as if the air tasted sweeter than it had a few minutes ago. “In fact, he appears to be busy ingratiating himself with all the right people. Very likely he’ll be running for government office a year from no
w.”
She sobered. “That’s what concerns me.”
She obviously didn’t like the fellow. Why the questions, then? Simon would have blurted out his concerns. Drew would have demanded answers. James would have teased and cajoled until she told him the truth. But this time, John thought his way was better.
“I’m sorry he frightened you,” he said.
She stiffened again. “Fr-fr-frightened?”
If she hadn’t been before, she was now. Why? She’d said she hadn’t even talked with the man.
“At the picnic,” he clarified as gently as he could. “Something frightened you, made you want to flee. I’m guessing it was Frank Reynolds.”
She pressed her lips together as if to keep from saying a word.
“I hope you know you can trust me, Dottie,” he said as he sighted the town through the trees. “I won’t let anything happen to you. If Frank Reynolds or anyone else has given you cause for concern, tell me, and I’ll see the matter settled.”
She shook her head, tipping the blue velvet hat on her curls. Once more, he could feel her distress, see it in the tears pooling in her lavender eyes. In her arms, Peter wiggled, face clouding, as if he felt his mother’s pain, too.
“Forgive me, Dottie,” John said. “Whatever happened at the mill, I didn’t mean to compound the problem by pressing you over it. But I can’t help you if I don’t know what I’m fighting.”
“It’s not in you to fight,” she said with a watery smile. “So let’s just drop the matter. Would you like to stop at the Pastry Emporium for a cookie? My treat.”
Was he a child she had to coddle? Frustration pushed up inside him. He refused to take it out on her.
“I believe Maddie closed up shop for the picnic. You’ll probably find most of the town empty.”
Once more, she slumped. He couldn’t conceive she was that disappointed about missing out on a sweet. He almost relented, but it turned out he was right. Seattle looked abandoned as they drove through, the streets empty and silent, the businesses closed. Some of Sheriff Atkins’s men were patrolling, and John nodded his thanks for their efforts to safeguard the community.