The American Heiress Brides Collection

by Carter, Lisa; Davis, Mary; Dietze, Susanne

  The door to Miss Abbot’s room opened.

  Dillard gasped. “Oh my.”

  Charles raised his eyebrows and stood.

  Brown boots were covered by rolled-up denims that dragged the floor. A long leather coat draped to her knees. Everything was too big. Loose. Swallowing her up. A wide-brimmed Stetson covered her head and her hair. All he could see was a nose and her lips. Even then, she’d marked up her face with what looked like soot from the fireplace.

  Charles applauded. “Miss Abbot, it’s perfect.”

  Dillard went to her and nodded his head. “Amazing disguise. No one will be the wiser.”

  She frowned. “I need to work on my walk though. But with the way the pants and boots fit”—she kicked a leg out to the side—“I’ll be stumbling along anyway.” Removing her hat, she shook her head. A mass of hair tumbled down around her shoulders. “I can hardly see with it on, but it will have to do. Mr. Delaney—”

  “Charles.” He held up his hand. “I must insist you call me Charles or you’ll give us away.”

  “Precisely the direction my thoughts had taken … Charles …” She twisted the hat. “I think you should call me Martin. I’ve been toying around with names, and I think I could remember to answer to that one.”

  Smart, pretty, and good at disguises. His respect grew by the second. “Sounds like a good plan.” He stood. “Are you ready? I think we’d better get moving.”

  With a nod, she leaned toward Mr. Dillard. The older man wrapped her in his arms.

  “You’ll be fine. Charles will take excellent care of you, and prayerfully, I will meet up with you in Prince Rupert.”

  Charles watched as she crumpled a bit in the older man’s arms. A single tear trailed down her cheek. He’d been so focused on the task at hand that he’d forgotten her father hadn’t even been gone a week. Maybe he could find a way to help her on their journey. But how?

  Mary Margaret stepped back and straightened her shoulders. “I need to grab my bag.” As she walked to her room, she twisted her hair up into a knot on top of her head and plunked the hat back into place.

  Within a minute, she was back. “I’m ready.”

  She looked small and fragile, and for the first time in many years, he wanted to put aside all his thoughts of mines, gold, and business and simply take care of someone else.

  Dillard broke through his thoughts and stuck out his hand.

  Charles grasped it and shook.

  “Thank you, son. More than you will ever know.”

  With a nod, he picked up his own bag. “Thank you for your trust, sir.”

  The older man offered him an envelope. “There’s plenty of money in here to get you to Denver. Remember, if I’m not in Prince Rupert by the fifteenth. Continue on. I’ve tucked a list into there that contains all the telegram stops where I will leave you correspondence—the telegrams will be addressed to you so no one is suspicious of Mary Margaret Abbot being there.”

  “Appreciate that, Mr. Dillard.” Charles tucked the envelope into his boot.

  “Go on then. I’ll be in touch.” The man appeared a little teary, but he blinked them away.

  “Good-bye.” Mary Margaret’s soft voice quivered.

  Charles led the way out the door, wanting to give her a moment alone with her uncle. But they needed to get out of town while it was still dark if their plan was to be successful.

  Crisp air greeted them outside the hotel as the sun began its ascent. The streets were quiet except for a few vendors and miners, but that wouldn’t last long. They’d better hurry.

  He picked up the pace, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Mary Margaret trip. Reaching his hand out to her, he wanted to keep her from falling, but she smacked it away.

  “Leave me alone. I’m fine and I’m not a baby.” Her voice was low and scratchy. Then she hiked up her pants and went on without him.

  For a second, Charles wanted to laugh out loud. He’d almost blown their cover, but Miss Abbot had the sense to stay in character.

  He was impressed. With her hat pulled low and a canvas bag slung over her shoulder, she could almost pass for a boy in his book.

  Only problem was, he knew she wasn’t.

  And it had almost gotten him into trouble.

  How could he convince himself to picture her as a boy? Thoughts tumbled around in his brain, but no answers came to mind.

  As he caught up with her, he nudged her with his elbow and smiled. “I didn’t know you were such an actress.” He kept his voice low.

  She shook her head at him and grinned back. “One of us has to keep our wits about us.”

  After the first hour of trudging along, they finally made it through town and into the woods outside of Juneau. The Sitka spruce, yellow cedar, and mountain ash trees were thick in this area. The going would be much slower. Charles reached out to take the bag from Mary Margaret’s shoulder to lighten her load.

  Once again he received a smack to his hand. “If I’m going to pass as a boy, I have to look like, talk like, and act like one. Only a child would allow their bag to be carried.”

  Shaking his head, he realized he’d underestimated the heiress Miss Abbot. “Of course. Again, you are correct.”

  “And I will always be correct, Mr. Delaney.” Her grin surprised him. For the first time since her father died, there was a bit of a sparkle in her eyes. “So just remember that.”

  Ah. So she was teasing him. “Yes ma’am.”

  “Good. We are in agreement.” She gave him a slight nod and marched on ahead. “So what exactly is the plan, and why are you allowing me to lead when I have no idea where I’m going?”

  Chapter 6

  Because you were doing an excellent job of showing me you were a boy.” Charles laughed, and the sound made Mary Margaret want to join in. Father used to make her laugh. A lot.

  “I might as well take my task seriously, now shouldn’t I?” Placing her hands on her hips, she hoped his laugh would return. “Even if these clothes stink to high heaven. I thought I could take it, but whew!”

  “Mary Margaret, you never cease to surprise me.”

  “Good. And remember, it’s Martin.”

  “All right, Martin.” He crossed his arms on his chest. “If I were to be completely honest? You were good at trampling down the brush for me. Made it easier to walk.” His laugh returned.

  Laughter bubbled up out of her. She picked up a stick and threw it at him. But then she shouldn’t be surprised. How many times had she gone off in a direction all her own just because she was stubborn? And the poor man had just followed along. Probably didn’t want to be smacked again. She held out an arm in front of her. “Lead the way, Charles.”

  He smiled and it did something funny to her midsection. Holding her gaze, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a compass. He glimpsed at it and then squinted back up at her. “Not bad for not knowing where you were going. But I think we should go”—he pointed to the right of where she’d been heading, whichever direction that was—”this way if we want to make it to Hobart Bay.” With a wink, he started down the new path.

  The smile that started in her toes made her happy. How Charles wielded that power, she had no idea. Used to be, only Father had the ability to do that.

  Used to be.

  No. She couldn’t go there. Not now. Not when she was running for her life. Sheer determination and willpower needed to be her mainstays right now. Father hadn’t built this company with integrity and hard work for her to let those greedy men squander it away.

  She would make it to Denver. On time.

  But first, she had to survive this horrid trek in the woods.

  And if she really thought about it, it wasn’t all that horrid. Charles had turned out to be a decent companion. Smart, decent, witty. To think yesterday that she had doubts about him and was embarrassed by the thought of being escorted by him—because her own manners had been lacking. And she was uncomfortable with a man invading her tightly enclosed, heavily guarded �
� space.

  Looking down, she giggled at herself. Here she was dressed like a boy, covered in dirt and brush in the middle of … some forest in Alaska. Who would’ve guessed? Definitely not her.

  Yet, Charles treated her the same as he had before. With respect.

  Charles stopped and turned, apparently waiting for her. “A penny for your thoughts.”

  “They’re not worth that much.” She waved her hand at him.

  “I beg to differ.” He started walking again, a little slower this time. “Do you need to take a rest?”

  “I appreciate your consideration, but I am fine. I just let my thoughts wander … the past few days …” Where could she go with this? To talk about Father would make her cry. Talk about the threat against her and she would get angry. Talk about her new insight into her thoughts about Charles? She shook her head.

  “I understand. I don’t mean to intrude, truly. But maybe we could talk about something else—to keep us occupied as we walk.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked at her with compassion. “Tell me about your childhood. Your likes, dislikes, friends … whatever you’d like.”

  Mr. Talkative was back. And it wasn’t so bad. In fact, Mary Margaret kind of liked him. “It’s a good idea. But why don’t we go ahead and pick up the pace again, or we may never get to Hobart Bay in time.”

  “Will do. You just let me know if I am pushing too hard. I know my long legs give me an advantage, and your legs are much shorter … um … not that I’ve noticed … what I meant to say …” Red crept up his neck and into his face. “I apologize, I shouldn’t have mentioned—”

  “Charles. Not another word. Don’t apologize, I know my legs are short. Pretty much everything about me is short.” She tried to cover their embarrassment with a laugh. It’s not like anything improper was going on. They were just talking about legs. Right? Gracious, how did she maneuver out of this one? “And I actually think that was rather considerate because you know that you can go faster and cover more territory than I can. So thank you.”

  Charles laughed. “As you can tell, I’ve been around miners a long time. My manners need some polishing.”

  “So why don’t you tell me about your background? Family, friends, all of it. I know my father and Uncle Dillard knew everything about you, but I just relied on their knowledge and trust.” She smiled. “Now that I know you, I’d like to know more.” Switching the conversation to him was safer. And much easier.

  “Let’s see. My family is all gone. Two brothers died of measles when they were children. My mother and father died ten years ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. What happened?”

  “Shipwreck. Bad storm hit just a hundred miles off the coast of San Francisco. No survivors.”

  “Is that where you are from?”

  “San Francisco? Yes.” He looked down and checked the compass again. “My parents were wonderful people. I loved them very much and miss them more than I can say, but I know they are with the Lord now, and that makes all the difference in the world. I know I’ll see them again. Anyway, they ran a dry goods store there—in San Francisco.”

  She gasped. “Delaney’s? Really? That was your parents’?”

  He chuckled. “You know it?”

  “Gracious, yes. My favorite in San Francisco. We traveled there often.”

  “That is wonderful to hear. I loved that store. Dreamed of running it one day. But once Mom and Dad were gone and they left everything to me … well … it was harder than I imagined.” Looking back over his shoulder at her, he gave her a sad smile. “Not the work or the running of the business—but seeing them around every corner. In every item on the shelves. In all the catalogs. It’s almost as if I couldn’t heal there. Couldn’t let them go. Couldn’t go on for myself. The hardest thing I’ve ever done is leave the store.”

  “Ah. So did you sell it?”

  “No. I still own it. But I pay the new managers really well and they receive high commission checks on top of their wages if they increase profits. So far the incentive has worked well.”

  Here she thought he was just another gold miner, looking for his fortune. Sounded like she had misjudged Mr. Delaney on more than one account. “Why did you decide to come to Alaska? Or did you go somewhere else first?”

  “I hired the managers—a husband and wife, good people—and then stuck around for two months to make sure they would run things properly. Dad had built a reputation for the store that I didn’t want destroyed. I think that would have hurt more than leaving the store.” He took at least a dozen steps before he spoke again. “Anyway, I kept hearing about Alaska and I like to research, so I spent my time poring over books, newspapers, journals, magazines, anything I could get my hands on. It kept my mind engaged and my thoughts off the loss of my parents.”

  So he understood her grief even better than she did. The Lord certainly did work in mysterious ways—giving her the bodyguard she needed. “What made you pursue mining?”

  “I’d always been fascinated with the history of the gold rush in San Francisco. So when I read a newspaper article about gold mining in Juneau. I switched from research on Alaska to research on mining. I went and talked to successful miners and studied the mines there.”

  “So when did you come up here?”

  “About eight years ago.”

  “And you’ve been successful?”

  He looked back and smiled. “I think so. I’ve certainly learned a lot.”

  “You don’t miss your family’s store?”

  “Not too much. But I stay in contact with the Bannisters back home.”

  The terrain was uphill now and Mary Margaret struggled to keep up. But she was determined. “Those are the managers?”

  “Yes.” He stopped and gazed up the hill and in all directions. “Sorry, Mary Marg—I mean Martin.”

  She laughed. “See? It’s good practice for when we are around people.”

  “I know. But I think the only way forward is to continue over this hill.” Charles turned back to her. “And I do believe it will be quite a climb.”

  “I’m ready if you are.” Was she? If she were honest, probably not. But she’d give it a go. What else did she have to lose? At least up here, no one was trying to kill her. Yet.

  Two hours passed with little conversation and the most intense work her body had ever done. Good thing she was wearing pants, because otherwise it would have been a disaster. And not just the first time when she fell backward and rolled with her legs going over her head. But every time she had to get into an unladylike posture to hoist one or the other leg up to a decent foothold. Charles was gracious enough to go first and tell her where to step and where to hold on—and since he was ahead, he couldn’t see her increasingly shabby efforts. But she wanted to hear a choir of angels singing when she reached the top because this was almost as bad as the forms of medieval torture she’d read about. At least it had to be in her mind.

  “Good job. Just one more … yes, right there. Pull and step …”

  Apparently, he was at the top. And watching her. She huffed and threw her words up at him. “Couldn’t you just haul me up the rest of the way?”

  “I thought you didn’t want any help, Martin.”

  “Fiddlesticks. I’m impressed I didn’t keel over halfway up. I’m not ashamed to ask for help … besides, no one is watching.” She held on and waited.

  Charles chuckled. “I would love to be of assistance.” He knelt and reached down with both hands.

  Mary Margaret grabbed on to his arms and pushed up with her feet. Before she knew it, she was colliding with Charles’s head. They fell in a heap on the ground.

  “Ow.” Charles put a hand on his head. “I didn’t realize you were so light. I might’ve pulled too hard.”

  She held a hand to her own brow. “Might’ve? I think our heads can attest that that’s an understatement.” Rubbing the knot, she sat up. “Well, that was my first mountain climbing experience, and quite possibly my last.” She picked up her hat
that must’ve flown off in the collision. “How much farther?”

  Charles stood and offered a hand.

  She grasped it and got to her feet.

  “We have quite a ways to go, I’m afraid.” Dusting himself off with his hat, he dragged in a deep breath. “Maybe we should eat a light meal and keep going.”

  “I have to admit I’m starved.” Finally, she’d get a moment to rest. “Now what would you like? I put several things in my bag and in yours.” She started digging around in the canvas sack.

  “Um …”

  “Speak up, silly, or I might just eat yours.” Where did she put that jerky?

  “Mary Margaret.” His voice was hushed.

  “Martin.” She huffed and continued digging. “Call me Martin.” Aha! She found her canteen. Now if she could just find the jerky. It had to be in there, she remembered—

  “Martin!”

  The half whisper, half yell brought her attention up. “What?”

  He slung his own bag over his shoulder and grabbed her arm. “Put your canteen back in the bag. We’re going to back up very quietly and very, very slowly.” Tugging at her, he took a step.

  “Why? What’s going on?” But she did as she was told.

  “Because we have company.” He pointed.

  Looking in the direction he gestured, she gasped. Two brown bear cubs were headed straight for them. Behind the babies walked the impressive and enormous mama bear—and she’d just spotted Charles and Mary Margaret.

  Chapter 7

  Something shook him.

  “Johnny … Johnny, wake up.”

  Clive’s voice broke through the nice dream he was having. He yanked his hat off his face. Why did he saddle himself with this green fool? An experienced killer like himself didn’t need the headache. “What do you want?”

  “I overheard Mr. Dillard talking outside that office he has. He made it sound like Miss Abbot is already gone.”

  That news brought him fully awake. He sat up. “But how? There hasn’t been another boat.”

  “I dunno. But that’s definitely what he said.”