Seattle, Washington Territory
March 1875
It simply wasn’t easy to save a man’s life.
Beth Wallin blew out a breath as she stood in front of the Kellogg Brothers’ mercantile, a cold breeze tugging at her feathered hat. Hart McCormick always rode down Second Avenue between ten and noon on Tuesdays. She’d studied his movements every time she came to town, and the pattern hadn’t changed in the ten years she’d known him. Here it was nearly noon, and she hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of the lawman.
Her booted foot was tapping against the boardwalk under her pink-and-white-striped skirts. She forced it to stop. The muddy street was thronged with riders on horseback and farmers with wagons. She loved the bustle, the purposefulness. Men in warm wool coats and ladies with swaying skirts passed her for the shops on either side. She smiled and nodded in turn. After all, it wouldn’t do her reputation or Hart’s any good if the truth about their past was known.
But really, was it too much to ask that the man be punctual?
She shook her head. She shouldn’t be so annoyed with him. Hart had no idea she was waiting. He might be off chasing bandits, lying in wait for vandals, rescuing children from raging rapids. That’s what he did: safeguard the citizens of King County, standing between them and the forces of evil.
“He’s just a man,” she muttered aloud. “Opinionated, stubborn, bullheaded...”
“May I help you, Miss Wallin?”
Beth put on her sunniest smile and turned to the clerk who had come out of the store. Mr. Weinclef couldn’t help that he resembled a rat with his lank brown hair, long nose and close-set brown eyes.
“How very kind of you,” Beth told him. “But I’m simply trying to decide where to go next.”
He waved a hand back to the store, the movement tugging at the green apron looped around his neck and tied at his slender waist. “Why go anywhere else but Kelloggs’? We can meet all your shopping needs.” He leaned closer, his flowery cologne washing over her. “And I just marked down that pink crepe you’ve been eying to half price.”
“Oh!” Beth started toward the store. “Thank you! I might have just enough egg money to...” She drew herself up short of the door. “That is, I really should wait.” She bit her lip, then met his gaze. “I don’t suppose you could set aside two yards?”
He straightened, adjusting his spruce-colored neck cloth. “First come, first served. That is the Kellogg rule.”
Beth sagged. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you to break the rules. Perhaps you could just keep Mary Ann Denny from buying it all.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he murmured, glancing either way as if to make sure no one overheard his concession. “Just don’t delay too long.” He whisked back into the store.
Beth turned her gaze to the street, eyes narrowing. Hart McCormick would be in even more trouble if he cost her that material. A deep pink, it would make the perfect overskirt. She could see the creation now, the material swept back over her hips with pleated trim all along the hem and tiny white bows dotting the pleats, just like the latest fashion plates in Godey’s Lady’s Book. Pink always complemented her fair coloring and blond hair. If she could convince her sisters-in-law, Nora, Catherine, Dottie and Callie, to help her, she could finish the dress in time for Easter.
But not if she had to stand here woolgathering all day!
Another noise caught her attention, and she glanced to the right. A group of men lounged outside the Pastry Emporium on the next