by Regina Scott
Chapter Nineteen
Dottie handed Peter to John, afraid she might squeeze her son too tight in her concern. Around her, voices went silent, bodies stilled. They were all looking at her. Those who knew her only a little, like John’s brothers, were frowning for the most part, as if wondering what she would say. Tom and Harry had their arms crossed over their chests, and Dickie was wringing his hands. Those who knew her better, like Beth, leaned forward, eyes bright with trust. Would she see that look dimmed?
She stood taller. Her path had led her to Wallin Landing. Now it was time to see whether she’d be welcome to stay.
“I must ask your forgiveness,” she said, and her voice echoed against the beams overhead. “I allowed you all to believe something that wasn’t true. I’m not a widow. I’ve never been married.”
“But she has a child,” Dickie protested to Tom, who elbowed him.
Shame swept over her. “I thought I was married at the time, but I also believed something that wasn’t true. The man I thought I’d married was already married.”
She heard an intake of breath, and she wasn’t sure if it came from Beth, Catherine or Rina. The trio wore stormy faces now, and she nearly faltered.
John touched her arm, and she met his gaze. In the expanse of green, she saw faith and confidence. He nodded as if encouraging her to continue. Cradled in John’s arm, Peter beamed at her as if proud of her no matter what she did.
Dottie faced his family once more. “I came west to make a new life for me and Peter. I intended to start fresh, bringing with us nothing of the darkness that had been our lives. Only today, I realized Peter’s father has moved to Seattle. I saw him at the picnic.”
Murmurs ran through the group, and Drew and Catherine exchanged glances.
“He’s what chased you off?” James asked. “Why you wanted to leave early?”
Dottie nodded. “I wasn’t sure it was wise for us both to be in the area.”
Harry stepped forward, dusting his hands together. “That’s easily settled. We’ll run him out of town on a rail.”
Dickie and Tom nodded their agreement, pushing forward as well. Even after she’d refused their suit, they were ready to rally to her side. As if he knew the emotions that bubbled up inside her, John gripped her hand and gave it a squeeze.
“Bit of a problem,” James said. “We don’t have any rails. We haven’t finished building the railway yet.”
Rina frowned him into silence.
“My first thought was to leave,” Dottie admitted. “That’s what I did in Cincinnati.” She looked to John and Peter. “John convinced me a future here is worth fighting for.”
“A shame Mr. Wallin isn’t known for fighting,” Harry drawled.
“On the contrary.” Drew rose and leveled a look at his foreman. “John has ever fought for all of us to do what is right.”
Simon stood as well. “It took courage to tell us this. Thank you, Dottie.”
He was thanking her? He could not know how his words honored her. She could feel tears starting even as James, Rina and Catherine joined Simon and Drew on their feet, children bundled in their arms.
“You are a woman of character,” Rina said. “Just as John is a man of character.”
Catherine nodded. “There’s only one question in my mind. How can we help?”
Dottie looked from one determined face to another. She’d feared their disdain, their censure, yet they offered support. She’d forgotten what it was like to have friends in times of trouble. She’d been nearly alone in Cincinnati. Here she had people who cared. She felt as if the sun had come out after weeks of rain.
“I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, wiping at the tears flowing down her cheeks.
John’s family converged on her then, the ladies patting her shoulder and hugging her, children laughing at the movements, gentlemen vowing support. John kept his hand on hers, the gentle pressure making her aware that the only one who mattered other than Peter was the man beside her.
“I agree with Harry,” Beth declared, earning her a surprised look from the logger. “We have to stop him. Who is he, by the way?”
Dottie squared her shoulders. “His name is Frank Reynolds.”
Beth’s brows shot up. “Frank Reynolds? I met a Mrs. Frank Reynolds today at the picnic.”
Rina nodded. “As did I. She seemed quite in love.”
Dottie felt ill at the thought. “I believe her to be his next victim.”
All the women blanched.
Beth smacked her fist into her palm. “That tears it. We have to do something.”
“We will,” John promised her. “I intend to ride to town tomorrow morning and talk to the sheriff about arresting him.”
His brothers and the loggers were nodding, but Dottie felt her stomach tightening. “Arrest him?”
John frowned. “Does that trouble you? Frank Reynolds treated you and at least two other women abominably. Jail is the least he should face.”
“I know,” Dottie told him. “But do you really think he would be sentenced? None of his wives will want to parade their mistakes in public. I certainly don’t.”
Beth rubbed Dottie’s arm as if in comfort.
“I know it will be hard, Dottie,” John said, his voice once more gentle, “but you are a brave woman. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t have left Cincinnati to start a new life with a stranger.”
“I promise you, it wasn’t bravery but fear that drove me.”
“Then let it drive you one more time,” he urged, “to see justice done.”
She felt his convictions, and she knew them to be right. Frank should be stopped from hurting anyone else. And she still had a note to leave at the bakery.
“Very well,” she said. “I’ll come with you and swear out a complaint. That should give your sheriff enough to make further inquiries at the least.”
Beth stepped closer, eyes bright with determination. “Don’t go to the sheriff, John. Talk to Hart—that is, Deputy McCormick. He’ll take this seriously.”
Dottie wasn’t sure why the lawman would react differently than his superior, but Beth obviously had faith in him, for all her protests otherwise. The plan agreed on, the Wallins and Harry, Dickie and Tom chorused their approval, and people began moving toward their own beds.
Beth patted Dottie’s shoulder. “John thought you might feel better with company tonight.”
“Oh, I couldn’t...” Dottie began.
“You most certainly can,” Beth said. “And you should. Give me a moment to collect my nightgown, and I’ll move into John’s house tonight.”
“You think of everything,” Dottie told him as his sister bustled out.
He looked down at Peter, who was slumbering in his arms as if he knew he was safe there. “Just trying to be the man you can trust at your side, Dottie.”
Even having accepted her story, he could not know how hard that trust was to extend. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, feeling the scratch of a day’s growth of beard against her lips. “I don’t deserve you.”
* * *
Dottie wasn’t sure why she slept so well that night. Perhaps she was exhausted from the exertions of the day followed by her confession to John and then the Wallins and writing the note to the latest Mrs. Reynolds. Perhaps it was Peter’s rhythmic breathing in his cradle beside the bed. Perhaps it was Brian curled up in a warm bundle near the foot, or Beth resting beside her.
But she rather thought it was knowing that, in John, she might finally have found someone to protect and love her.
She would have preferred to leave Peter in Beth’s care the next day, but she was concerned she might be gone too long for the baby. So she bundled him up and was ready to go when John brought the wagon around that morning. He kept up a pleasant conversation as h
e drove her into Seattle, telling her stories of what had happened outside the mill yesterday while she and the other women had been preparing the luncheon. Peter nodded along, as if drinking in every word.
John had explained that it might take a while to track down the deputy. The sheriff and his men had to cover all of King County, from the Cascade crest to the shores of Puget Sound. But it seemed the May Day picnic had brought enough people to town that the deputy had felt inclined to stay close. They located him in a rough area not far from Yesler’s mill. He turned his horse alongside the wagon and followed them back toward the business district.
On a quiet side street, Dottie told her story once more. Funny how each time seemed less daunting. Of course, Deputy McCormick was an entirely different audience from John or the Wallins. For one thing, she didn’t know him well. For another, he listened intently, leaning forward in the saddle, his gunmetal-gray eyes narrowed. He was so still Dottie wasn’t sure what he was thinking. John had told her the deputy had dedicated himself to protecting the citizens of the area. He’d brought down bandits, horse thieves and vandals. Surely Dottie’s story wouldn’t shock him.
But it concerned him more than she had expected. She saw him stiffen, heard him suck in a breath as she explained how Frank had treated her. Still, he said nothing, though she felt as if she could see thoughts winging behind his eyes. She glanced at John for guidance.
“What do you advise, Deputy?” John asked.
“Telegram,” McCormick spit out, making Peter jerk in her arms, most likely at the sudden unfamiliar voice. “To the police commissioner in Cincinnati. These sorts of cases are usually tried in the area where they were committed.”
Dottie’s heart sank. Frank had so many friends in Cincinnati, and she had so few. He could easily sway a judge to see things his way.
“Usually,” John pressed him. “But not always? What would it take to arrest and convict him here?”
McCormick rubbed the back of his hand against his chin. “It would help if Miss Tyrrell and the first wife swore out a complaint for bigamy and desertion. I can write Miss Tyrrell’s for her to sign.”
“Then let’s send the first Mrs. Reynolds a telegram, too,” John said.
Dottie shivered. Her whole future could well rest in the hands of a woman who could bear her no love. But she went with John and the deputy to the sheriff’s office, gave the information to the deputy so he could send the telegrams and signed the form he offered her.
The deputy put a hand on her shoulder, then hastily withdrew it as if feeling he’d overstepped.
“You’re doing the right thing, Miss Tyrrell,” he told her. “Men like Reynolds must be stopped.”
He was so intent, gaze drilling into hers, that she asked, “Have you had other cases like mine, Deputy?”
He took a step back. “No, ma’am, but I don’t much like men who make women their victims.”
It seemed John wasn’t the only hero in town.
And now it was Dottie’s turn. The note felt heavy in the pocket of her cape, and she knew she’d rest easier once it had been delivered. McCormick looked ready to talk further with John, so Dottie touched John’s arm. “I’m going to the bakery to leave the note. Meet me there?”
He put his hand over hers. “Right behind you, I promise.”
She carried Peter out of the sheriff’s office.
Dottie had hoped to leave the note with Beth’s friend Ciara, but another young lady with blond hair was standing behind the Pastry Emporium counter, looking decidedly bored, when Dottie entered. She brightened as Dottie approached and smiled at Peter, who waved a fist before sticking it in his mouth. The girl giggled.
“Is Ciara O’Rourke working today?” Dottie asked.
The girl nodded. “She works most days. She’s earning her tuition for the Territorial University.”
Dottie could hear the envy in the girl’s voice. She would have liked to ask the girl about her own dreams, but it was nearly one o’clock. Mrs. Reynolds might come through the door any moment, and Dottie didn’t want to be around when she read that note.
“Could I trouble you to fetch her?” Dottie asked. “I have something for her.”
The girl nodded, openly curious, and disappeared through a curtained doorway behind the counter.
Alone in the bakery, Dottie pulled the note from her pocket and gazed down at her son. Peter was eyeing the scrumptious goods on display, as if unsure of their purpose.
“You wait and see,” she murmured to him, free hand stroking his curls as the bell signaled the arrival of another customer and footsteps clumped closer. “One day you’re going to like these all too well.”
“So, that’s what you’re hiding,” Frank said.
Dottie’s head jerked up. He was standing beside her, gaze fixed on the baby in her arms.
“By the looks of it, I’d say it’s old enough to be mine.” He said it quietly, but there was no mistaking the anger underlying the words. “When did you plan on telling me about my child, Mrs. Tyrrell?”
Dottie scrambled back, bumping the counter, but he seized her arm and pulled her close, his gaze hard. “We’re going out the door together, somewhere we can talk in private.”
Peter began crying. Dottie rubbed his back, praying Frank didn’t notice her trembling. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His mouth tightened into a sneer. “Oh, I think you will. You’ll come with me, or I’ll tell the fine John Wallin just what kind of woman you are. He’s the fellow you’ve taken up with here, I understand.”
Her stomach roiled, but she couldn’t give in. Who knew what he’d do to her or Peter when they were alone?
“You won’t tell anyone about us,” she said, “because the story reflects worse on you than it does on me. And you wouldn’t want your new wife to hear about it.”
He blanched, and she knew she’d scored. She took no joy in it.
“Stay away from me, Frank,” she said. She yanked out of his grip, and the note she’d intended to leave his so-called wife fluttered to the floor.
Frank pounced on it.
The curtain was whisked open, and Ciara came out into the bakery. Dottie nearly ran to her side. One look at her face, and the girl’s smile disappeared. She glanced back at Frank. “Is something wrong?”
Behind Dottie, Frank’s voice was chipper. “Not at all. Just making acquaintances. Young lady, would you happen to know the whereabouts of the owner of this fine establishment? I’d like to make him a business proposal.”
“My sister owns the bakery,” Ciara told him. “She’s out this morning. Perhaps I could take your card.”
“No need,” he said. “I’ll come back another time. Seattle will be my home now. I intend to establish deep roots. Good day, Mrs. Tyrrell.”
Dottie refused to look at him as he exited. Even the sound of the bell made her twitch.
“You wanted to speak to me, Mrs. Tyrrell?” Ciara asked.
Dottie drew in a breath. “Yes. The man who just left is a liar. Tell your sister never to do business with him.”
Ciara’s eyes widened. “I certainly will. Thank you for warning me.”
The bell tinkled again, and Dottie hunched in on herself, sheltering Peter. If Frank had come back, he would find her ready to fight to protect her son and the man she loved.
* * *
Something was wrong. John could see it in the way Dottie stood, shoulders bunched and arms tight. Even Ciara was frowning in concern. He came to their sides and placed a hand on Dottie’s arm. She flinched back.
“Dottie?” he asked, concern rising. “Are you all right?”
At the sound of his voice, she raised her head and took a shaky breath. “Oh, John. I’m so glad it’s you. Take me home, please.”
He would have liked to know what had happened
, but the most important thing was to put Dottie at ease. He asked Ciara to give his regards to Maddie and Michael, and led Dottie and Peter from the shop.
Out on the boardwalk, her steps were so quick that her skirts swirled around her like a river at flood stage. Peter was bouncing in her arms as if ready to run beside her. John couldn’t feel so pleased.
“It’s all right, Dottie,” he murmured. “No one’s chasing us.”
She was going so fast she nearly plunged off the boards where the walk ended. John caught her arm, felt the tremor go through her.
“What happened?” he murmured.
She hesitated a moment before answering, as if struggling with her thoughts. “Frank came in the shop. His new wife must have told him about my conversation with her. He took the note. I don’t know how to help her now. She still thinks she’s married. She doesn’t know about his first wife, or me.” Suddenly she swiveled, eyes wide with panic.
“John! What if he divorced his first wife? Would that mean Frank and I are legally wed?” She looked as if she might cast up her accounts on the boardwalk.
Conscious of a dozen people moving about the street, John pulled Dottie back against the mercantile they had been passing. “I’m no lawyer, but since you said your vows while he was still married, those vows should be null and void, regardless of what he did later.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re free of him, Dottie. He can’t claim you for his wife.”
The thought did not seem to calm her. “I’m just as worried for you. He knows you’re courting me, John.” She looked up at him, face troubled. “You must be careful. He may think you’re a threat now.”
“I hope he does,” John said. His voice came out hard enough that even Peter frowned. “I’d like to show him how big a threat I can be.”
Dottie’s eyes widened. “Why, John, I’ve never heard you speak so forcefully.”
“Perhaps I’ve never felt so strongly before,” he told her. “You make me want to be a hero, Dottie, something I’d never thought I’d be. I’d fight off the combined Seattle militia single-handedly if it meant keeping you and Peter safe.”