by Regina Scott
She lifted a hand to his cheek, the touch soft, sweet. Sweeter still was the look in her eyes. “You weren’t meant to be a fighter, John. And I’m very thankful for that.”
Was she? One moment with Frank seemed to have driven any thought of protection from her mind. It seemed she still didn’t trust John with her future. Perhaps it was time she realized the depths of his devotion.
To curious stares and whispered words from those passing, he took Dottie’s hand and went down on one knee on the boardwalk.
“John?” she asked, obviously confused.
“Dottie Tyrrell,” he said, gaze turned up to hers, “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to wake in the morning at your side, spend the day helping you make your dreams come true and fall asleep with you in my arms. I want to be your friend, your husband and Peter’s father. I will honor and cherish you all the days of my life. Will you marry me?”
He thought she might hesitate again, perhaps even protest. Instead, the response seemed to fly from the deepest recesses of her heart.
“Yes.” She started as if surprised by the vehemence of the word, then plunged on while Peter gazed up at her raptly. “Yes, John, I will marry you. I love you, too. You make me believe a happy future is possible. You are everything I could have asked for in a husband.”
He heard applause and realized the people nearest to them were congratulating them. Men were grinning, ladies were teary-eyed. One fellow clasped both hands over his head in a sign of victory.
Now they just had to claim victory over Dottie’s past for Peter’s future.
Chapter Twenty
The next few days would have been the best of John’s life, if it hadn’t been for the lingering threat of Frank Reynolds. Beth remained at John’s house, sleeping with Dottie to satisfy propriety so John could bed down in the loft and be on hand if Dottie needed him. He and Dottie spent every moment together, except when he had to tend the animals or she had to feed Peter. They talked about their wedding, the library they both wanted to build and the normal schedule for sowing and harvest. If there were moments she gazed out the window with a troubled frown, he understood. There were moments he still feared he would never be worthy of her love.
Still, he could picture other, more tender moments together—reading by the fire, walking by the lake, taking the pins from her hair and letting the gold spill through his fingers.
He could hardly wait.
It was Thursday before he spotted the deputy coming up the road. Dottie and Beth had been playing with Peter on the porch. Now his sister scooped up the baby and headed inside, as if determined to avoid speaking with McCormick. John and Dottie went to meet the lawman.
McCormick handed John a telegram, then swung down from the saddle.
Dottie craned her neck to see over John’s arm as he opened the note. He didn’t know whether to sag with relief or shout for joy at the words.
“The first Mrs. Reynolds has agreed to swear out a complaint for abandonment and bigamy against Frank Reynolds,” he told the deputy. “Does that give you what you need to arrest him?”
McCormick’s smile was grim. “It sure does. But the town’s still swollen with newcomers and rail workers. We could use another deputy.” He eyed John.
A deputy? Now, that was a hero, someone Dottie could look up to. John took a step forward. “I’m your man. Nothing would make me happier than to know Reynolds was behind bars.”
Beside him, Dottie stiffened. She put a hand on his arm as if to keep him at her side. “No, John, you’ve done enough. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”
John covered her hand with his, smiled down into those lavender eyes. “I need to see this through, Dottie. For you and for Peter.” And for himself.
She searched his face, as if struggling with her own concerns, then nodded. “Very well. I trust you to do the job and come home safe.”
She trusted him? It was such an easy thing to say for his family, but how he’d longed to hear the words from her. Dottie trusted him. The thought kept going through his mind as he saddled his horse and headed for Seattle with McCormick. Dottie trusted him at last. He had won her heart.
Still, the ride back to Seattle seemed longer than John remembered. Perhaps it was his eagerness to have things over and done so he and Dottie could get on with their lives. Perhaps it was the silence from his riding partner. McCormick’s gaze kept moving, as if suspecting threats from every quarter, but his mouth remained mostly shut. John tried several gambits to start conversation only to be answered with monosyllables.
Finally, John asked a question that had been bothering him for some time. “By the way, Deputy, did you and my sister have a falling-out?”
McCormick’s face went still. “She tell you that?”
“No,” John admitted. “But I got the impression she was upset about something.”
The deputy shook his head. “Nothing of any lasting import. The best thing your sister could do is choose one of the fellows chasing after her and settle down.”
John chuckled. “That won’t happen for a while. Sometimes I think Beth’s goal is to see all her brothers married before she is.” He grinned at the lawman. “And she’s succeeded with me.”
“I wish you and Miss Tyrrell every happiness,” McCormick said, raspy voice deepening.
Was he getting emotional? No, that couldn’t be. Not hard-as-nails Hart McCormick. Still, as if deep in thought, he didn’t speak again until they reached the outskirts of the city.
“I checked around town,” he told John as they rode onto Second Avenue. “The Reynoldses are staying at the Occidental Hotel. We’ll see the sheriff first and get you deputized.”
The sheriff was more than glad to deputize John. As John raised his hand and made his pledge to uphold the law, a thrill shot through him. He was doing this for Dottie and for all Frank Reynolds’s victims, women who had had little voice or recourse. There was something right and good about that. He thought Pa would be pleased.
A short while later, he and Deputy McCormick reined in in front of the hotel. The whitewashed exterior was neat, and the number of wagons and horses waiting testified to the popularity of the establishment. Inside, the crowded lobby boasted polished wood floors and tufted red velvet upholstery on the furnishings.
The clerk sent a porter up to ask Frank down to the lobby.
“We need to do this quietly,” John told the deputy, glancing around at the number of people coming and going. “There’s no need to bring up Dottie’s name.”
McCormick nodded, then frowned, and John turned to see a lady returning with the porter. She had brown hair piled up behind her and wide-spaced gray eyes that now were rimmed with red. Her hands twisted a handkerchief in front of her fine gray silk gown.
“I’m Mrs. Reynolds,” she told the deputy with a glance to John. “If you know something about my husband, I need to hear it.”
The shadow John had felt all week hovered closer.
“We were hoping to speak to Mr. Reynolds,” McCormick told her, widening his stance and hooking a thumb in his gun belt, as if ready to fight off anyone who told him otherwise. “I’m Deputy McCormick, and this is Deputy Wallin.”
She glanced between them again. “Deputies? Is Frank in some kind of trouble?”
John wasn’t about to explain everything where anyone might overhear. Already, several of the other guests were looking in their direction.
“We just need to ask your husband some questions, ma’am,” he told her.
Her lower lip trembled. “I wish I could help you, but Frank left the hotel yesterday morning, and I haven’t seen him since. I’ve been so worried. My friend Mrs. Maynard came to stay with me today.” She blew her nose in the handkerchief.
McCormick met John’s gaze, and John saw the same concern written there.
<
br /> “I’ll stay in Seattle, start the search,” the lawman said. “You make sure Miss Tyrrell and her son are safe.”
“Miss Tyrrell?” Frank’s latest victim said, head coming up. “Who’s Miss Tyrrell? What does she have to do with my husband?”
Her voice was rising. John could see the panic on her face. McCormick stepped back as if unsure of his response. He was a good man, but he was used to dealing with facts, logic. John had long ago learned to deal with emotions and feelings. Much as he longed to return to Dottie, he knew he couldn’t leave the other Mrs. Reynolds in such fear.
He put his hand on her arm. “Would you allow me to come up to your room to explain things to you? Mrs. Maynard will vouch for me.”
She drew in a breath as if gathering her strength. “Yes, that should be appropriate.” As McCormick strode for the door, John followed the woman up the stairs.
The hotel room Reynolds had arranged was far nicer than the one Beth had been able to afford for Dottie. The iron bedstead had a crimson bedspread edged with gold fringe, and two chairs and a small table sat next to a window looking out over Puget Sound.
Mrs. Maynard rose from one of the chairs as John and the other woman entered. Her easy welcome, kind smile and indefatigable energy had warmed many a heart in Seattle over the years. Like Drew’s wife, she was a nurse. She had partnered her flamboyant husband, Doc Maynard, until his death last year. Her dark hair was slicked back into a bun, and her black gown had all the lace and furbelows one might expect of a wealthy widow.
“Mr. Wallin,” she said with a nod. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
John inclined his head. “Mrs. Maynard. I understand you’re a friend of this lady’s. She will need one now.”
Mrs. Reynolds sank onto the opposite chair. “Why, Mr. Wallin? What do you know about Frank?”
John went to sit on the edge of the bed so he didn’t tower over the pair. “I believe Mr. Reynolds said you were from San Francisco. Have you family there?”
She shook her head, fingers pleating the handkerchief. “I was a foundling. I grew up at Mt. St. Joseph Orphan Asylum and was placed into service when I grew older. When I met Frank, I was the companion of his employer’s mother. He quite swept me off my feet.”
The anger was burning inside him again, a coal lodged in his heart. Like Dottie, this Mrs. Reynolds had nowhere to turn, no one to protect her. Frank Reynolds chose his victims well.
“There’s no easy way to say this,” John told her, keeping his voice gentle. “You aren’t the first woman your husband has married. You aren’t even the second. And the first Mrs. Reynolds is very much alive and well, and prepared to swear out a complaint of bigamy.”
She refused to believe it at first, then sobbed and railed at Frank for his betrayal. John nodded, listened, offered encouragement, but all the while he saw another woman with golden blond hair and lavender eyes in pain. Had Dottie reacted this way? She must have cried. Her heart had been torn out, spat upon. And she’d had no friends around to support her. Small wonder trust was so hard for her.
But no longer. Now she had his family for support. Now he stood beside her. She didn’t have to fear any longer.
Leaving Mrs. Reynolds to Mrs. Maynard’s tender care, he went for his horse and urged it out of town.
Please, Lord, protect her. Let her know that You never left her side, and I won’t leave it now.
If the way out had seemed long, this ride seemed unending. It didn’t matter how fast he urged the horse. The miles crawled past. Finally, he made the last climb up to the house and burst out of the trees.
Dottie, Beth and Nora were huddled on the porch. At the sight of him, Dottie broke away and ran to meet him. He reined in, leaped from the saddle and gathered her close. Thanksgiving rose in his heart.
She pulled back to search his face. “What is it, John? You rode in so fast. Did Frank say something to concern you?”
John shook his head. “I never saw Frank. I failed you, Dottie. He left Seattle, and we don’t know where he’s gone.”
* * *
Dottie listened to John’s words, saw the anxiety on his face. Once, she would have crumpled with the fear of knowing Frank could be coming for her. No more. Now, thanks to this dear man, she knew she wasn’t alone. His embrace was gentle, but she appreciated the strength in those arms—strength to lift a loaded trunk, strength to cradle a crying baby, strength to carry her burdens when her strength faltered. For the first time in a long time, she could open her heart.
“You could never fail me, John,” she told him. “If Frank left Seattle, it was because he wanted to, not because of anything we did.”
He released her from his embrace and took her hand to walk her back to the porch, where Nora and Beth were waiting, Peter in Beth’s arms. The baby babbled a greeting.
“Reynolds left yesterday morning, according to his current wife,” he explained to them all, fingers cradling Dottie’s. “Deputy McCormick is searching the town.”
“The poor woman,” Nora said, broad face sagging in sympathy.
Dottie felt for this Mrs. Reynolds, but her concern had to be for Peter. “Then we don’t know if Frank’s left the area.”
John shook his head, grip tightening. “He may have caught wind of what we were planning, though I don’t know how.”
“If I were him,” Beth said, hand protectively on Peter’s head, “I’d jump aboard the first ship sailing north. Tell Deputy McCormick to check at the port, John. The shipping companies will have noted any passengers taken aboard. I imagine the same could be said for the livery stable, if Frank Reynolds bought a horse.”
If only he had sailed away. If only she knew he was gone.
“Good idea,” John said to his sister. “Unfortunately, there are too many places a man like Frank could hide out here.”
Dottie glanced at the trees, which seemed to be closer to the house. She’d once feared Frank could be hiding nearby. It seemed he could be now. She turned to John. “Searching Seattle won’t be enough.”
He nodded. “Agreed, but Sheriff Atkins is low on men. The best thing we could do is find him some more.”
Nora gathered her skirts and stepped forward. “I’ll fetch Simon and the others. I’m sure they’ll want to help.”
“We’ll need even more than that to search the entire area,” John advised. “Tell Drew and Simon to go north, and James and I will head south. We’ll meet back here in an hour with however many men we can gather.”
Nora nodded and hurried off.
John turned to Dottie. “I don’t like leaving you, but we both need to know Frank is somewhere he can’t hurt you and Peter. Besides—” he grinned at his sister “—Beth’s nearly as good a shot as I am.”
“Nearly!” Beth sputtered. “You watch me, John Wallin.”
He chuckled, then returned his gaze to Dottie. “Will you be all right?”
His presence drove out fear. Wasn’t that what love did? Now she had to be brave even if he wasn’t standing at her side.
“We’ll be fine,” she assured him. “But isn’t there anything we can do to help?”
“Round up the ammunition,” he told her, releasing her at last. “Make sure the lanterns have plenty of oil. I hope this doesn’t last until sundown, but you can never tell.” With a quick kiss, he made for his horse.
“Will they come, do you think?” Dottie asked, watching him head down the road.
Beth moved in beside her. “They’ll have plenty of reasons to refuse. It is planting time. The weather’s finally nice enough to start building. But don’t worry, Dottie. They’ll come when they hear John Wallin is asking.”
Dottie smiled.
Beth was right. Over the next hour, men arrived on horseback, by wagon and on foot, most carrying guns. Dottie and Beth welcomed them, offered them cof
fee or tea while they waited. More than one congratulated Dottie on her upcoming marriage, and she couldn’t help wondering if they, too, were threaded onto Beth’s spool of information.
“Fine man, that John Wallin,” an older farmer said, cradling his cup of coffee in his worn hands. “Fixed our roof when I was down with the influenza last year. Wouldn’t have made it through the spring rains without that.”
Another man with a grizzled beard nodded. “Remember the year old man Rankin tried to raise cattle? Foolish beasts got into my corn. Would have wiped me out if John hadn’t come by to help me move them into pasture.”
A younger man wiped his hand over his mouth. “I won’t forget when he rode to Seattle for the medicine Annie needed. I might have lost her but for him.”
Dottie’s heart swelled with pride just listening.
John returned shortly after with the last of his friends, head high like a knight riding into battle. Even his brothers behind him paled before the determination that rode his broad shoulders like a cape. Dottie was sure Ivanhoe had never stood as tall as John did when he stepped up onto the porch, fingers laced with hers, to address his army.
“Thank you all for coming. As you’ve heard, we have a criminal on the loose, a threat to this dear lady and her son, Peter. Mrs. Tyrrell and I are engaged to be married. That makes me the closest thing Peter Tyrrell has to a father. And I’m not willing to stand by while my son’s in jeopardy.”
Dottie felt tears gathering even as murmurs of approval ran through the crowd. Drew and Simon were nodding, and James was grinning.
“The sheriff and his men are searching town,” John continued. “We’re taking the outlying areas. I don’t know how long the search will last.”
“With us at your side, it won’t be long,” one of the men predicted, and the others shouted their agreement.
John smiled his thanks. “Make any last preparations you need. We leave at the quarter hour.”
As the men began checking gear and mounts, John turned to Dottie. She’d been afraid for herself, afraid for Peter, concerned for the Wallin family when they’d taken her in. Now all her worries seemed to be centered on John.