Hank's Rescued Bride (The Dalton Brides #5) Read online

  Maggie Bishop.

  “Maggie Bishop.”

  His voice didn’t sound like his own. It was all whispery and rough, and his mouth was as dry as the North Texas prairie.

  Maggie had been two years behind him in school, and though they never ran in the same circles, he knew exactly who she was. He’d always had an eye for pretty girls, no matter their station in life, and he never failed to charm them.

  Well, almost never.

  “Henry,” she mumbled, glancing behind her before shutting the door and shuffling sideways, her back against the wall. Hank worried she might chew clean through her lower lip if she kept at it.

  “How can I help you today?” Best to keep this interaction on a strictly professional level. He’d come away with a bruised ego and a red hand print on his cheek after their last encounter.

  Maggie focused her attention on the drawstring of her reticule, picking at the tassel and not meeting Hank’s gaze. The red flush that crept up her cheeks testified to her anxiety. He couldn’t help feeling pleased.

  Mustering every ounce of charm he possessed, which was considerable, if he did say so himself, he leaned one elbow casually on the counter, letting his gaze slide over Maggie. He grinned just wide enough for his exceptionally white teeth to hypnotize her, as it did to every lady he graced with it.

  “You’re looking as fine as ever, Maggie.” He knew the compliment would unnerve her even more, but it was also the truth. Her mahogany-colored hair and matching eyes might catch your attention, but it was the rest of her that held it. She was trim, maybe a trifle too thin, which was the norm for the orphans at the Children’s Home of Beckham, but it didn’t detract from her beauty. Her heart-shaped face could make a man lose his mind, as it had for Hank over the years, and her lips were always the most delectable shade of pink. There was no prettier girl in Beckham, and it ate at Hank that she’d rejected him so coldly last year. His compliment was her punishment.

  But rather than becoming more uncomfortable, his words seemed to steel her nerves. Pursing those pretty pink lips, she leveled her cool gaze on him, unimpressed by his dazzling smile. “I see you’re still the same pompous oaf as the last time we spoke. Tell me, Henry, how long did it take for your cheek to return to its normal shade?”

  “Blast it, Maggie!” Turning his back on her, he returned to fussing with displays in case a real customer came in. He was done trying to win over this humorless shrew. “What do you want?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Maggie could hardly bring herself to say the words, especially now that she’d just insulted her best chance for escape. And the worst part was that he didn’t really deserve it.

  Hank had never been cruel to her or her older sister, Mary — not like his friends. They’d taken great delight in teasing the Bishop sisters for being orphans. It was bad enough that their parents had died when they were young, but to be ridiculed so mercilessly for it was torture. So she and Mary built up their defenses, refusing to let anyone else in, even other children at the Children’s Home of Beckham. They could only depend on each other, and that was fine by them.

  But now that Mary was gone, Maggie was on her own. She was in desperate need of assistance and she could only think of one person in all of Beckham who might be willing to help her: Hank Blue.

  Taking a deep, calming breath, she swallowed her overdeveloped sense of pride and spit it out. “A job, actually.”

  Hank turned to gape at her. “You’re joking, right? You walk in here like you own the place, insult me and then ask for a job? Woman, have you lost your mind?”

  Gritting her teeth, she forced out more. “No, just my sister.”

  “What in Sam Hill are you talking about?” At least she had his attention now.

  “Mary, my sister. She was a year behind you, remember?”

  Hank rolled his eyes. “‘Course, I do.”

  Biting back a sarcastic remark about his eyeballs getting stuck in his head, she continued. “She’s gone missing, Henry, and I aim to find her.”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “Wait, I thought she got married a few weeks back. ‘Course, my invitation must have got lost in the mail so maybe I’m remembering wrong.”

  Goodness, he could hold a grudge! “Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your feelings last year but could you please stop behaving like a woman scorned and listen to what I’m saying?”

  The man — this grown man — actually crossed his arms in a huff and pouted, but at least he shut up.

  “Thank you. And, yes, you’re partially correct. Mary left town six weeks ago to marry a stranger, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

  “So?”

  He didn’t get it. No one did. “So…Mary promised to write as soon as she got to Missouri. The trip should have only taken her five days, six at the outside. It’s been six weeks!”

  Hank’s features softened. Finally! Someone understood. “She’s probably busy with married life. I know my sisters—“

  He broke off and got busy tidying the store again, pretending he hadn’t let slip the mention of his wayward sisters. Of course, she’d heard about their scandal and how they’d run off to goodness knows where to become mail-order brides, which was precisely why she thought she could trust Hank.

  She moved toward him, reaching a hesitant hand out to touch his arm. A spark tickled her fingertips, and the warmth beneath them was soothing. He stilled and stared at her fingers, as did she, lost in the sensation.

  “Henry…Hank. How did you feel when you hadn’t heard from Bonnie for so long? Were you worried?”

  He was silent for a moment, then slowly shook his head. She was shocked at his callous admission and nearly snatched her hand away. Maybe he was the wrong man after all. But the emotion in his eyes stopped her.

  “I knew,” he whispered, his gaze capturing hers. “I helped them escape. Maggie, no one else knows.”

  Hope swelled in her chest. If Hank helped them run away…

  “Hank, Mary wouldn’t go so long without sending me a letter. You know how close we are. She’s all I’ve got, and she would never leave me alone like this if she had a choice. I know she’s in trouble, no matter what Deacon Smith says.”

  A fire flared in Hank’s deep brown eyes like she’d never seen before, dazzling her far more than any of his flashy smiles. When he gripped her hand, the air seemed to be sucked out of her chest and her skin set ablaze.

  “Tell me everything,” he demanded.

  It took a moment to catch her breath. She wasn’t sure what stirred him so, but she didn’t hesitate to fill him in.

  “You know Mrs. Whipple, the matron, allows a select few of us girls to stay on until we were twnety-one or so — in exchange for work, of course. She calls us her Little Ladies. Mary was well past her twenty-second birthday, and Mrs. Whipple was making a fuss about her still being there. We had no idea what to do, Hank. I couldn’t bear the thought of separating, but there are precious few live-in positions for even one young single lady in Beckham, much less two.”

  Maggie realized Hank still had a firm grip on her fingers. Taking a step back, she pulled free and smoothed her skirts with both hands, trying to collect herself. She’d never been so open with anyone except Mary, and she never imagined sharing so much of herself with someone as shallow as Hank Blue.

  “Then, a few months ago, Deacon Smith called on Mary at the orphanage.”

  “What did the demon want?” The vitriol in his voice startled her. Maggie had heard enough whispers to guess that the deacons were responsible for the impending failure of the Blue Family Mercantile, but she wasn’t sure how much the family knew. Relief washed over her. This might work out, after all.

  “He convinced Mary that she should be wed, and he even had a man in mind: his nephew in St. Louis.”

  “Who was the nephew?”

  “I never saw him, but Mrs. Whipple also encouraged her to accept the offer. What choice did she have? She’d unsuccessfully applied for several positions and no decent man
in Beckham wants to take an outcast orphan girl as his bride, that much is certain.”

  Hank blinked at her, almost as if he were confused. She thought he might argue the point, which she almost welcomed, if only for the chance to prove him wrong, but he only nodded for her to continue.

  “After many late night talks, and many more tears, I’m not ashamed to say, Mary decided to accept. She told me she would write the moment the train pulled into St. Louis. The last I saw of her was as the train pulled out of the station.”

  A tightness tugged behind her eyes, her nose prickling with unshed tears. She couldn’t think about that day, that moment, without wanting to collapse in sobs. But she was on a mission now, and she was determined to see it through.

  Hank paced the worn wooden floor of the shop, expertly dodging stacks of dry goods. Of course, all the girls in town thought he was the most dashing Blue brother, but Maggie hated his superficiality and flirtatious ways. But at that moment, when he was deep in thought about her situation, Maggie understood the attraction.

  He was tall, but not too tall. Lean but not scrawny. Handsome but not pretty. And the worry lines on his brow as he digested her story gave him an air of gravitas she’d never expected from him. But she crushed the flutter in her tummy. There was no time for such nonsense.

  “So, you have no idea who she was supposed to marry and you’re not even sure she made it to Missouri at all, is that right?” His grim expression was not at all reassuring.

  “Deacon Smith and Mrs. Whipple swore Mary to secrecy. They claimed all the girls would fight to take her place, and they didn’t want any of them to displease God with the sin of envy. But the night before she left, she told me the name of her betrothed. Thaddeus from St. Louis. That’s all I know about him.”

  Hank looked up at her, as if just remembering why she came to him in the first place. “And how is working for the mercantile going to help you find your sister?”

  It went against Maggie’s nature to ask for help, but she was in no position to be prideful. “I need money and supplies, fast. The moment I have enough, I’ll go to St. Louis in search of Mary.”

  “You really have lost your mind! You want to traipse off to a strange city by yourself to look for a man you don’t even know exists?”

  Hank raked a hand through his dark brown hair, shaking his head in exasperation.

  “There’s something else, Hank.”

  He looked up, curious. She wasn’t sure how to continue, but it was part of the story and had to be said.

  “My birthday’s coming up,” she said quietly.

  He shrugged. “Happy birthday.”

  Maggie looked at him pointedly. “My twenty-first birthday.”

  Hank’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “And wouldn’t you know, Mrs. Whipple had a visitor yesterday.”

  Hank grimaced. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Maggie nodded. “I eavesdropped on their conversation. It was Deacon Smith, inquiring to see if I’d be interested in marrying a distant relation in New Orleans.”

  “I didn’t know the good deacon had so many relatives. Who was this one?”

  “A nephew named Thaddeus.”

  Chapter 2

  Hank was still trying to make sense of what Maggie said when the door’s bell jingled again. His father looked stricken; Benedict looked furious. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how the meeting with the banker went.

  “I’ve known Joe Powell since we were children,” Papa moaned, “how can he do this to me? To my family?”

  “They got to him, too, those evil bast—“ Ben cut off his curse when he spotted Maggie. “My apologies, miss. We just got a spell o’ bad news, is all. Didn’t mean no offense.”

  “None taken,” Maggie said, dipping her head demurely.

  “Papa, Benedict, this is Maggie Bishop.”

  Ben broke into a grin, casting an amused glance at Hank. “Aren’t you the little spitfire who gave Hank what-for a few months back?”

  Maggie blushed — almost as much as Hank did. “She came by looking for work,” he interjected in an effort to change the subject.

  Papa barked out a laugh that held no humor. “I’m sorry, Miss Bishop, but we’re moments away from closing our doors for good. You’re the first person, outside my family, to step foot in this shop for days.”

  “Two weeks, actually,” Ben corrected.

  Maggie stepped forward and stood in front of Hank’s father, blocking him from going around the counter. “So I understand, Mr. Blue, which is why I came. We have…something in common. Three somethings, in fact.”

  “Mayhap, miss, but I can’t for the life of me think what they might be.”

  “Deacons Bellafonte, Smith and Jackson.”

  Papa paled noticeably and clutched at Ben’s sturdy frame for support.

  Hank hurried to her side. “Papa won’t allow their names to be spoken in his presence, Maggie,” he whispered in her ear, catching a whiff of roses that nearly made him swoon as hard as his father. He had to shake his head to clear it. “See what it does to him?”

  She nodded, and laid a calming hand on Papa’s forearm. “I’m sorry to have upset you, Mr. Blue, but I’m in desperate need of help, and there’s no one else I can trust.”

  Maggie went on to relate her tale, every word fanning the flame of hatred Hank had for the deacons. Something else writhed around inside him, too. Something that felt suspiciously like protectiveness. Why he would feel compelled to protect the sassy prude was a mystery, but he knew enough to understand she was his best chance at discovering what the deacons really wanted with his sisters. That was obviously why he felt protective. He didn’t want his one clue to disappear on the breeze.

  “And exactly what do you think we can do to help you, Miss Bishop?” his father finally asked, the despair in his question nearly breaking Hank’s heart. The patriarch of the Blue family may have made mistakes in the past, and he could certainly be stubborn, but he didn’t deserve this. He was a broken man.

  Maggie glanced at Hank and fiddled with her reticule strings again. “Well, I, uh…I need money, sir. I need it to go search for my sister, as well as to escape whatever plans those men have for me. I’ve applied for positions all over town, but no one will hire me.”

  What better way to get a young lady to accept a proposal than by making it her only option? If that’s really what the deacons were doing, Hank thought it was downright brilliant. Dastardly but brilliant.

  “I’d heard the whispers about the dea—” she continued, catching herself mid-word. “I mean, I’d heard you were being blackballed, so I thought maybe…”

  Before she even finished speaking, Papa was shaking his head and trying to edge past her. “I’m sorry, Miss Bishop. We simply don’t have the funds.”

  But Maggie wouldn’t budge, God love her. Hank had to give it to her. She was nothing if not persistent.

  “Mr. Blue…please.” A deaf man would have sensed her desperation, even if she hadn’t been clutching at his arm. “You’re my only hope.”

  Papa stopped in his tracks and looked at her, truly looked at her, for the first time since walking into the mercantile. The despair on his face turned wistful. “Benedict, doesn’t she look a bit like sweet, little Libby? I haven’t seen my baby girl for far too long.”

  For a moment, Papa looked as if he would push past Maggie but he lurched like a drunken sailor, nearly tumbling into a display of flour sacks. Maggie cried out as Hank and Ben lunged to support him until they could lower him gently onto a nearby barrel.

  “Maggie, could you fetch Papa a glass of water?” Hank said over his shoulder. “You’ll find a full pitcher in the back store room. And put a few drops of Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup in it, please. It’s next to the pitcher.”

  As soon as she disappeared, Hank spoke low and fast. “Papa, Ben, listen to me. We need to help this girl, if not for her sake then to try to take down the deacons.”

  “Don’t be a fool, Hank,” Bene
dict replied. “We can’t even help ourselves. How are we supposed to help her? I mean, I don’t wish her ill, but what is she to you?

  Hank didn’t like this line of questioning in the slightest, nor did he like the amused gleam in Ben’s eye.

  “Nothing!” he snapped, perhaps a little too forcefully. “She’s nothing to me, but she could help us solve the puzzle of what’s going on in this town. Remember our promise to Bonnie? You swore you would do everything in your power to discover the deacons’ secret.”

  Their father moaned at the mention of the men who ruined his life, but Hank paid him no mind. A bitter, childish part of him couldn’t help but think that it was all his doing anyway. If he hadn’t promised the deacons his daughters’ hands in marriage, the Blue family wouldn’t be on the brink of ruin.

  “I remember,” Ben groused. His brother could grumble as much as he liked, but Hank knew that Ben carried a lot of guilt over what had happened in Texas and was just as committed to his promise. “So what’s your plan? We can’t take her on and you know it. We’re gonna have to sell off our inventory, if not the house, to pay off the bank loan, and that’s if we get a fair price from that swindler Crowther down the road. Then we gotta pack everything up and have it shipped to Texas. We’ll be lucky to have enough left over to buy food on the trip.”

  Hank fell silent. He didn’t have a solution. The deacons had done such an effective job of ruining the Blues financially that they unwittingly protected themselves.

  “I think…” his father started, his voice cracking under the stress. Taking a deep breath, he started over, stronger this time. “Of course, we’ll help. I’ll never forgive myself for what I put my own daughters through, and I won’t stand by and see those demons ruin that poor, lonely slip of a thing.”

  Hank’s heart beat fast in his chest. With Papa onboard, there was no question that they would save Maggie from some unknown fate. More importantly, he reminded himself, they might actually get enough evidence about the deacons to exact revenge.