Mail-Order Marriage Promise

by Regina Scott

  Father, please protect him. I never thought I’d find love again. I can’t lose him.

  “You will be careful,” she murmured. “Catching Frank means nothing if you’re hurt in the process.”

  Beth must have overheard, for she tossed her head. “Frank Reynolds is no match for my brothers. I just wish I could come with you. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind.”

  Dottie shook her head. “I’m glad you’re staying here. I don’t want to worry about you, too. Who knows what Frank may do?”

  “A predator cornered is at its most dangerous,” John said. “Pa taught us that. But this time, Dottie, Frank Reynolds isn’t the predator. He’s the prey. And I won’t rest until he’s caught and brought to justice.”

  He kissed her, hard and fast, a promise of devotion. Then he was striding for his horse.

  Dottie and Beth stood on the porch, watching John and his army ride down the hill. Pride warred with concern inside her.

  “They’ll be back soon,” Beth told her. “Then we can finish planning your wedding.” She linked her arm with Dottie’s and led her into the house.

  Dottie went to check on Peter in the cradle, where she’d put him to sleep earlier. The soft sound of his breath and the tilt of his little head spoke of peace, of security.

  Please, Lord, soon!

  She returned to the parlor to find that Beth had taken out her brother’s rifle. John’s sister did indeed try to interest Dottie in wedding planning, but the gun resting in easy reach was a constant reminder of the danger outside these walls. Dottie had a feeling she was agreeing to all kinds of things she’d likely regret, but she couldn’t seem to focus her mind. She was glad Brian stayed close, for petting the cat was the only thing keeping her calm.

  Suddenly Brian leaped from the sofa and stalked into the corridor. He stood staring into the bedchamber, tail twitching.

  “He must hear Peter stirring,” Dottie told Beth, rising. “It’s about time to nurse him. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Beth leaned back. “Of course. But when you return, we must talk about music. I think we should convince my brothers to install a piano at the church. Do you know anyone who can play?”

  Dottie shook her head, then headed for the bedchamber. Piano music? She didn’t need anything so grand. She just wanted to be John’s wife.

  She thought surely the cat would skip ahead of her to see Peter, but Brian refused to follow her inside. Frowning, she stepped through the door.

  Frank stood beside the cradle, holding Peter in his arms. It seemed Brian had finally decided to embrace mousing, because he’d found a rat.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “You’re in trouble now,” James teased as he rode with John and the others back along the road toward Seattle. “You left your bride with Beth. They’ll have planned your whole wedding by the time you get back, and you may just find they’ve convinced Nora to sew you a pink suit to match the roses.”

  John shook his head as the men around him chuckled. They had agreed that Frank was too green to have navigated the wilderness on foot alone the last two days. He had to be on horseback, which likely meant he was traveling by road. Drew had taken a group north toward the top of the lake; the road ended there, but Frank might not have known that. Simon was with a group on his way east along the bottom of the lake. John, James and their neighbors were covering the route south.

  It had seemed like a good plan at the time, but, in truth, each mile that separated him from Dottie made it harder to press forward. He knew she was safe with Beth; between the two of them they could likely handle any trouble. But she’d been struggling alone for so long. He didn’t want her to feel alone again.

  A shame they didn’t know the direction Reynolds had taken. Only so many roads led in and out of Seattle. If Reynolds was on horseback or had hitched a ride with someone, most likely he was heading south, toward the more populous cities of Tacoma and Olympia. The only other way out of Seattle was by boat, as Beth had noted, and they wouldn’t have much chance of catching him if he was sailing for Canada or the Orient. And if he’d ridden north, along Lake Union, he’d have had to travel this way. John could see the tracks in the mud; only three horses had headed that way recently, and he knew one of them was Deputy McCormick’s and another was his.

  Could the third be Frank’s?

  He felt as if cold water ran down his spine as he reined in. James slowed his horse, glancing back.

  “I’ve got to go home,” John told him. “Keep the others riding forward. I need to know Dottie is safe.”

  Harry, riding past in a wagon, sat up straighter. “Want company?”

  John waited for the gibe, the complaint that he wasn’t strong enough to make it all the way to Seattle. But Harry seemed sincere.

  “I can handle this,” John told him.

  As the wagon moved on, Harry nodded. “It seems you can at that. Keep her safe, John.”

  John turned the horse and put his heels to her flanks.

  Once more, he galloped toward home, praying that nothing had happened to Dottie, Peter and Beth. Fear sat like a second rider in the saddle with him. He couldn’t lose his family. They were his to protect, his to love.

  He reached the foot of the drive and forced the horse to slow, then dismounted. If Reynolds was at the house, John didn’t want him to know that help was coming. Letting the animal out into the field, he crept up the road, staying among the trees. The house sat quietly. Too quiet? He could hear his heart thundering in his ears.

  He let himself in the back, listened. It seemed he heard the murmur of voices, but it could have been Beth and Dottie. He opened the door from the kitchen, peered into the parlor. Beth was sitting on one of the chairs by the hearth, rifle in her lap, her tapping foot making her skirts swing.

  “Beth.”

  Her name, even said so softly, brought his sister’s head up. She rose, beaming.

  “You’re back! Did you catch him so soon?”

  John shook his head, feeling foolish as he moved into the room. “I needed to make sure Dottie and Peter were safe.”

  “Oh, that’s so romantic.” Beth tipped her head. “They’re fine. Dottie is in the bedroom feeding him.”

  John glanced that way. “I thought I heard voices.”

  Beth dimpled. “Me, too. But you know what? Dottie likes to talk to Peter when she thinks no one else is around. It’s so sweet.”

  John nodded. It was rather endearing, but it was also another sign Dottie had been alone for too long. He didn’t like to interrupt Peter’s feeding, but he just wanted to see her before he returned to the other men. Harry and the others were sure to give him a ribbing as it was; what were a few more moments? Resigned to his fate, he started across the hall for the bedchamber.

  Brian darted in front of him with a hiss, but his gaze wasn’t on John for once. He appeared to be staring into the bedchamber, tail lashing. John felt as if the air had chilled. He eased into the doorway.

  The tableau that met his eyes brought him up short. Dottie was pressed against the wall nearest the door, hands outstretched, as if begging Frank Reynolds to return her child. Reynolds had Peter and was gazing into his face.

  “Those are my eyes,” he told Dottie. “You can’t deny that.”

  “I can,” John said. “I don’t think Peter looks anything like you, and if I have any say in the matter, he’ll never act like you, either.”

  Reynolds stiffened, even as Dottie ran to John’s side.

  “Oh, John. We have to stop him. He’ll take Peter.”

  As if in answer, Reynolds hefted the baby closer. “He’s my son. I have every right to him.”

  John put Dottie behind him. Perhaps because he was no longer able to see his mother, Peter started to cry. Reynolds frowned as if he’d had no idea babies could make that ki
nd of noise.

  “Everything all right?” Beth called from the parlor.

  If John didn’t answer her, his sister would come to investigate. With the rifle. John couldn’t see that Reynolds was armed, but he couldn’t take any chances with Peter.

  “Give the baby back to his mother, Reynolds,” he said. “She knows how to take care of him.”

  “And you don’t think I do?” Reynolds shifted Peter closer, and the baby’s sobs ratcheted higher. “If she can learn how to take care of him, so can I. That’s why I came out to Wallin Landing. To see my son.” He jiggled Peter up and down, and the baby’s arms flailed out.

  John edged closer. “He’s a good, strong lad. A son a man can be proud of. That’s why I know you’re not going to hurt him.”

  Reynolds frowned. “Hurt him? Of course I wouldn’t hurt him. He’s my son, for all she tried to hide him from me. Make no mistake, Wallin. I’m the victim here.”

  That he could believe it made John ill. Still, he had to focus on Peter. “You want the best for your boy. I can understand that. But you can’t give him the best, Frank. There’s a warrant out for your arrest. I was leading a posse to find you. If you take Peter, you’ll be on the run for the rest of your life. That’s no way to raise a child.”

  He frowned, then held the baby out to peer into his face. “You hear that, son? Your father’s a wanted man.”

  “Not wanted by anyone around here,” Beth said from the doorway, raising the rifle.

  Frank turned his back on her, shielding Peter. That told John all he needed to know.

  “Put down the gun, Beth,” he ordered, keeping his eyes on Peter’s father. “I promise to protect your son, Frank. But you have to give him back to Dottie.”

  Slowly Reynolds turned, eyes narrowed. “I’ll give him back so long as you let me go free.”

  John shook his head. “I can’t do that. I was sworn in as a deputy today. But I can promise that you’ll get a fair trial.”

  “Fair,” Frank scoffed. “She’ll testify. I won’t have her turning my son against me.”

  John took another step closer. He was nearly in reach of Peter. He could see the baby watching him, lower lip quivering as if he wasn’t sure whether to cry or smile.

  “You want Peter to remember you as a hero,” John said. “That’s what every father wants. But if you don’t give yourself up, he’s sure to remember you as the villain.”

  Frank shifted on his feet, as if some part of him struggled with the decision. Then he thrust Peter at John. “Here, take him. I wouldn’t want to mind him all day anyway.”

  John snatched the baby out of Frank’s hands and whirled to offer him to Dottie. She clasped Peter close and backed away from Reynolds. Then her eyes widened. “John, watch out!”

  John turned in time to see Reynolds rushing toward him. Crouching low, John caught Reynolds under the ribs and turned with the momentum. Reynolds slammed onto the floor, with John on top.

  Beth darted forward, gun trained. “You stay down,” she ordered Reynolds.

  John had never seen his sister look so fierce. As if just as determined, Brian pounced into the room and glared at Reynolds, eyes like fire. Reynolds opened his arms in surrender.

  John climbed to his feet. “Fetch the rope from the barn,” he told Dottie, who hurried to do as he bid. Only when Reynolds was safely trussed did John feel comfortable leading Dottie, Peter and Beth onto the porch. Brian swept out with them and jumped up on one of the chairs, where he daintily licked one paw as if well satisfied by his role in the whole affair.

  Dottie was less calm. With Peter in Beth’s arms, she clung to John’s neck, trembling, before pressing a kiss against his cheek. “You did it, John. You saved Peter.”

  Her gratitude and relief bathed him. Still, he couldn’t quite believe he’d done it. Drew would probably have picked up Reynolds and thrown him through the window. James would have made some quip before darting in to save the day. Simon would have tried to reason things out. John had appealed to the man’s character, a chancy thing. But, as it turned out, Reynolds had some fatherly affection.

  John wrapped an arm around Dottie, rested his head against hers. For so long, he had wondered whether he could be the sort of man to partner a wife, to raise a family. Dottie believed in him, cared for him. With her, he was a hero. For her, he always would be.

  “Who’s that?” Beth asked.

  John frowned, raising his head even as Dottie stiffened in his arms. A lone rider was coming up the hill. His broad-brimmed hat hid his face. His black horse plodded as if he’d traveled far. John didn’t recognize man or beast.

  Beth handed Peter to Dottie, picked up the rifle and held it at the ready. That didn’t stop the stranger from reining in in front of the porch, face shadowed.

  “I heard there was trouble here,” he said. “I thought I could help. I’m a minister.”

  The voice was familiar, but it sounded deeper, more mature than John remembered, as if sorrow had softened the youthful tenor.

  Beth lowered the gun, brows up and eyes wide. “Levi?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The man tipped back his hat. His face was lean, cheekbones evident, as if he hadn’t eaten well in quite some time. In the caped duster, it was hard to tell if his shoulders were as broad as John’s, but his legs were long. What drew Dottie most, however, was the deep blue of his eyes. They were nearly as dark as Beth’s.

  Peter reached out a hand and babbled a greeting. The stranger smiled, the gentleness of it reminding Dottie of John.

  “It is you!” Beth put down the rifle and leaped off the porch. Their youngest brother threw his leg over the horse and slid down to catch her.

  John shook his head, smile growing. “Dottie, may I present my brother Levi.”

  “The prodigal son,” Beth said, leaning back after giving him a squeeze. “Why didn’t you write? We were so worried about you. And what do you mean you’re a minister? You can’t be a minister, not you.”

  Levi shrugged. “I found my calling thanks to a missionary on the gold fields, trained at a seminary in San Francisco and was ordained there a month ago. I haven’t been assigned a church or circuit yet. I wanted to come home first.” His smile faded. “I stopped at the house. Catherine told me John and the others were out with a posse. How can I help?”

  “No help needed,” Beth promised him. “John vanquished the villain. It was just like in Ivanhoe. You should have seen him!”

  Levi glanced between his sister and John, and Dottie felt John stand straighter. In her arms, Peter reached out and patted John’s chest as if as proud of him as Beth. Brian, watching from the chair, appeared just as sure.

  “It seems I’m not the only one who’s changed in the last few years, brother,” Levi murmured.

  The faintest of pinks tinged John’s cheeks. “That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate help. We need to send word to the posse and Deputy McCormick in town so they know the search is over. And I suspect there’s a horse tied in the woods nearby. But your horse looks spent, Levi. Can you stay with the ladies while I escort Frank Reynolds to the sheriff?”

  He was leaving? Disappointment shot through her. But before Levi could answer, Beth turned and stamped her foot. “John, no! You should stay here with Dottie and Peter. They need you.”

  John gazed at Dottie, and she felt warm all the way through. Peter wiggled happily against her.

  “I won’t be long,” John murmured. “I promise.” He turned to his brother. “Levi, this is Dottie Tyrrell. Peter is her son. Dottie and I are engaged to be married.”

  Why was it her heart beat faster every time he said that?

  Levi’s midnight blue eyes widened. “Congratulations. Welcome to the family, Dottie, and, of course, Peter.”

  Peter crowed an answer.

  Lev
i turned his look on his brother. “And you’re right about my horse. I don’t think she’ll make it much farther. If I could borrow a mount, I’d be happy to deliver Reynolds to Seattle and let the posse know it can disband. I take it there’s a warrant for his arrest.”

  John nodded. “Dottie may have to testify.”

  She waited for the fear to come but felt nothing but determination. “I’ll do it,” she told John. “Frank will never silence me again.”

  Levi gathered up the reins of his horse. “I’ll take Belle around to the barn. John, I’m glad to see you finally have what you deserve, a wife and child who love you.”

  John gazed at Dottie, the green of his eyes as bright and pure as the forest around them. Peter reached for him, and he took the little hand in his.

  “What about it, Dottie?” he asked. “The danger’s past. You don’t need a hero anymore. Do you still want to marry me?”

  He said it in a teasing tone, but she wanted to make sure he had no doubts. Perhaps he wondered whether she’d accepted his offer from desperation, as she had in Cincinnati, and, gentleman that he was, he was giving her the opportunity to bow out gracefully.

  This time, she refused to give up. She was done running, done worrying. With John, she was home.

  “Are you going back on our arrangement, John Wallin?” she challenged. “You said you didn’t think you measured up to a hero, but you are the only man I’ve ever known who makes everyday life heroic by his attitude and his actions. I came to Seattle to marry you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Far be it from me to argue,” John said, and he took her in his arms and kissed her. She sighed against the sweet pressure of his lips. Why would she ever want to be anywhere else but at his side?

  She heard a cry of joy, and it was a minute before she realized she hadn’t made it. John raised his head, and Dottie saw that Beth was fairly bouncing with excitement.

  “Oh, I love weddings!” his sister cried. “Dottie and I have it all arranged. Nora will make the dress. She has it half-finished already.”