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

  “‘Course we can’t hire her, Hank,” Papa continued, “but we’ll figure out something. Naturally, you’ll get all your supplies from the shop. I’d rather you take what you’ll need for nothing than sell it for pennies on the dollar anyway.”

  Hank blinked in confusion. He must have misheard his father. “Wait, what? Why would I need supplies?”

  His father frowned up at him like he was a slow child. “You can’t let her go all alone, son. Think what might happen to her along the way! No, I’m afraid you’ll have to escort her to St. Louis.”

  Two voices — one deep and low, one high and breathy — rang out in unison, echoing each other in perfect harmony.

  “Absolutely not!”

  ~ ~ ~

  Maggie nearly dropped the glass she’d fetched when she heard Mr. Blue’s words. How could he possibly suggest that she, an unmarried woman, travel with an unmarried man? The very idea was preposterous.

  Rounding the counter, she thrust the glass of water into the older man’s hands. “I’m sorry, Mr. Blue, but that’s out of the question. I came here looking for work, not an escort.”

  Hank’s brother, Benedict, was looking between her and a gaping Hank with a knowing grin. Growing up at the orphanage, Maggie had occasionally been forced to defend herself, but she’d never really been prone to violence. So her sudden urge to knock out all of Benedict’s teeth took her a bit by surprise. It didn’t stop her from wanting to follow through, though.

  Mr. Blue gave her a sad smile. “Well, then, I’m afraid we can’t help you, child.”

  Again, Hank and Maggie cried out in unison. “No!”

  Hank kneeled in front of his father. “Papa, we need her to get to the deacons.”

  Maggie was only slightly offended that they wouldn’t deign to help her unless she brought something to the table, namely information on the deacons. It didn’t really matter. Anything to find her sister, and possibly save herself. Well, not anything.

  “I’m sorry, Henry,” Mr. Blue said, pushing himself up from his seat. “I will not be responsible for whatever might befall her on such a journey if she were to go alone. If you’re so all-fired determined to find out what kind of no-good those men are up to, you’ll have to be her escort.”

  His gaze softened when he turned to Maggie. “And Miss Bishop, I cannot hire you because I cannot pay you. The only way we can help you find your sister and keep you safe from the deacons is for you to travel with my son. He’s a fine boy…a fine man, and he’ll do right by you, you have my word on that.”

  Maggie was less worried about her safety than Hank’s. If he tried to charm her like he did last year, he might not make it home in one piece. And now that Mr. Blue had laid everything out in front of them, she could see few alternatives. She had a little money, but not enough to keep her fed and housed if her search took more than a week or two, which it undoubtedly would.

  “My father’s right, Maggie,” Hank said, catching her gaze.

  His sober tone almost made her trust him. She almost agreed. Then the same old Hank Blue — and his ridiculously bright teeth — reappeared, raising her hackles.

  “Besides, any other girl in town would give her eye teeth to travel with me.”

  That did it. Who did he think he was?!

  Leveling a hard glare at him, she said, “I’m not like any other girl, Henry Blue, and you’d do well to remember that or you might come back here with a permanent limp.” She raised an eyebrow to drive home her point.

  At this, Benedict belted out a deafening guffaw. “Looks like you’ll have your hands full with this one, Hank,” he said, thoroughly amused. “She’s no pushover, like all those other featherbrained girls.”

  The smile slipped away from Hank’s face, replaced with frustration. At least that was an honest emotion. From what she could tell of him, he didn’t have many of those.

  Maggie set her shoulders in defiance as Hank slowly stood and strode over to her, never taking his eyes from hers. She’d never before noticed how richly brown they were, or how they mysteriously grew darker when he was angry. And she’d never realized exactly how tall he was until he pulled himself to his full height, towering over her. Her heart raced at his nearness but she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of taking a step back.

  After what seemed like an eternity of glaring each other down, he spoke. “Seems to me you don’t have much of a say in what happens next. You need help, and we’re willing to give it, but under our own conditions. The most important being that I’m going with you.”

  Tears of rage at being so powerless prickled at her eyes again, but she would rather die than let them fall. This man was turning out to be no different than everyone else who told her what to do, what to eat, what to think every single day of her life. She’d taken the brave step to seek the Blue family’s assistance, and now they were taking charge. What a fool she’d been!

  “But, heck, if that doesn’t suit you,” he added, stepping aside and sweeping his arm toward the door, “you’re free to ask someone else.”

  He knew as well as she did that there was no one else. The only thing standing between her and her quest to find Mary was money. And now the only thing standing between her and the resources she so desperately needed was the man in front of her. She had no choice; she had to accept their terms or risk losing her sister forever…and who knew what else.

  Chapter 3

  “I dunno, Papa,” Benedict said the moment Maggie left the shop. “That gal’s got ‘trouble’ rippling off her in waves. We should rethink this plan.”

  The plan they settled on was to have Maggie try to dig up as much information as she could from the relative safety of the Children’s Home, while Hank arranged everything they’d need for the trip to St. Louis.

  As for the mercantile, all hope of saving it was dashed at the last meeting with the banker. In less than two years, the deacons destroyed what took twenty-five to build. They didn’t burn it to the ground, as they threatened to do, but the effect was the same. Ben and Papa would liquidate the inventory and get the rest of the family ready to move to Texas to live with Bonnie, Gwen and Libby.

  Hank bristled at his brother’s suggestion. “What are you talking about, Ben? Maggie needs our help. Look at what the deacons have done to our family. We were eight-strong and well-respected, but with just one word, they’ve ruined us. How is she supposed to fight them alone?”

  “But what about Mama? Percy? If we do this, they won’t be safe in Beckham, and you know it. You can’t seriously be suggesting we risk putting them in harm’s way for some…orphan.”

  Hank’s vision flashed red, however briefly, at his brother’s words. Their father had always treated everyone with respect, and expected the same from his sons, yet there was Ben, maligning the most vulnerable of their society.

  “Benedict, don’t act a fool,” their father scolded. “Our fate in Beckham is sealed. As soon as we close the mercantile…” Papa’s voice caught on the words, but he cleared his throat and continued. “As soon as that happens, I will escort Percy and your mother to Texas. You’ll stay on to sell the house. And Henry will do what he can to help Miss Bishop, right, Henry?”

  Hank jerked his head in a nod but didn’t dare speak from the fury building inside him from his brother’s thoughtless words. Didn’t matter; his emotions must have been written all over his face.

  “Why are you so red, Hank?” Ben flashed a knowing smirk at him, one he wanted to smack off with a hundred-pound anvil. “What’s so special about that girl? You hoping for one more chance to win her over?”

  If the world had been a just place, Hank’s glare would have set Benedict on fire right there in the mercantile, but all it did was make the rascal laugh. “Hoo boy, you got it bad, donchya, little brother?”

  The simmering rage that had been stewing inside him since their return from Texas bubbled over. Without so much as a word, Hank launched his six-foot frame at Ben, knocking him into the fabric display he’d so care
fully arranged earlier. Ben was taken off guard, that much was sure, but the three Blue brothers had grown up grappling and wrestling and fighting like little demons, so he recovered quickly.

  The brothers tumbled to the floor, heedless of the calico and gingham unraveling around them. Ben was bigger than Hank — bigger than most everyone in town, truth be told — but the younger Blue was more agile…and really angry. He easily ducked one of Ben’s powerful blows and landed three quick jabs to the ribs, drawing a deep “Oof” from him.

  Ben used his bulk to roll on top of his brother, but Hank was too wiry to be pinned. Sliding out from under Ben, Hank jumped on his back and clamped his arms around the bigger man’s neck. Ben scrabbled at Hank’s tightening arms and tried to buck him but he couldn’t get enough momentum. He even tried rolling onto his back — onto Hank’s back, actually — but Hank wouldn’t loosen his grip.

  Hank was running on feral instinct. Nothing filtered through to his brain. Well, not exactly. He was aware of what he was doing, and deep down he was appalled, but he seemed completely unable to get himself under control. It was like he wasn’t even inside his own body anymore.

  Only when Mr. Blue shouted “Enough!” and dumped the remains of the water pitcher over the brothers did Hank’s anger cool enough for him to release Ben, who rolled away, coughing and choking, completely drenched.

  Hank took a moment to collect himself. What had come over him? Ben hadn’t said anything to warrant that kind of punishment. It wasn’t fair to hurt his brother for his own failings as a man. Crawling over to Ben, Hank patted him on the back.

  “I’m sorry, Ben. The last six months or so…I just…” He couldn’t find the words.

  Pulling himself into a sitting position, Ben smiled and draped an arm over Hank’s dripping shoulders. “Yeah, we’re all feeling it, little brother. Don’t pay me no mind. We’ll make sure that little filly of yours stays out of trouble. Wouldn’t want anything to happen to my future sister-in-law, now would I?”

  ~ ~ ~

  Maggie trudged back to the orphanage, unsure how she was going to pull off what Hank and Mr. Blue had asked her to do. Mrs. Whipple wasn’t the youngest mare in the stable, but she was whip smart and could smell deception a mile away. Those traits are what made her such an effective matron.

  “Try to find out more about Deacon Smith,” Hank urged, not knowing that Mrs. Whipple wasn’t at all a chatty woman. She didn’t tolerate gossip among her orphans, and she certainly didn’t engage in it with them. Maggie only hoped that her status as one of Mrs. Whipple’s Little Ladies, and the fact that the deacon wanted to marry her off to one of his ‘relatives’, would loosen the old woman’s tongue a bit.

  She’d left the orphanage under the guise of buying a bottle of ink. Mrs. Whipple had given her strict instructions to only buy supplies from Crowther’s, but Maggie couldn’t waste her chance to approach the Blue family. If the matron found out, Maggie could very quickly find herself out in the street, and she’d seen firsthand what happened to the girls who aged out of the orphanage before finding a suitable position. Most could be found in the saloons and brothels in the shady part of town. All she could do was hope no one had seen her sneak into the shop.

  “What took you so long?” Mrs. Whipple snapped when Maggie set the bottle of iron gall ink on her desk, not even bothering to look up. Her office was the only room on the third floor of the run-down building, with the second floor housing the dormitory and several small bedrooms, while the ground floor was the general living space and kitchen. The office’s sloped ceilings made the cramped space seem even smaller, and the disorganized piles of crates and papers didn’t help. There was one chair in the room, and the matron’s ample bottom filled it to brimming.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. It was busy today,” Maggie murmured deferentially. She wouldn’t lie outright, so the best she could do was hedge the truth a bit.

  “Hmph,” the woman grunted, apparently satisfied that Maggie hadn’t been having any fun.

  Normally, Maggie would have fled the office and found something to keep her busy, but this time she stood stock still in front of the desk. She had to find out more about Deacon Smith and Mary, and being cooped up in this office — as much as she detested the idea — was her best bet. Her heart hammered in her chest at what she was about to suggest.

  Finally, Mrs. Whipple glanced at her over the rim of her glasses. “Don’t you have some work to do?”

  Of course, there were a thousand things Maggie could be doing, but only one mattered. She caught herself gnawing on her lower lip and took a deep breath, praying for the answer she wanted.

  “No, ma’am…I mean, yes, ma’am…I mean…”

  Mrs. Whipple tore off her glasses in irritation. “Spit it out, girl,” she barked.

  “I’m caught up on my housecleaning chores, and Sarah and Milly are working on lunch.” The words came out so fast even she barely understood them.

  “So? There’s plenty of work to do around here.”

  “That’s just it,” Maggie said, looking around the small office at the piles scattered everywhere. “You’re so busy working to keep all the children fed and clothed, that you can’t be expected to tidy up in here. I could help organize all your papers, if you wanted…”

  She left the unasked question hanging, crossing her fingers behind her back. The safest way to approach this would have been to drop hints over the course of several days so that Mrs. Whipple believed it was her idea all along, but time was short. Deacon Smith would be back in a week’s time to further discuss his proposal, so not a moment could be wasted.

  Mrs. Whipple’s eyes narrowed at Maggie. She nearly swooned under the scrutiny but somehow she managed to remain poised. How on earth would she get close enough to Mrs. Whipple to ask questions if this didn’t work?

  “You think I’m messy, Miss Bishop? You think I’m a slob? Is that it?”

  This wasn’t going how she planned at all. Panic rose in her throat as she stammered a response. “No! Not at all, Mrs. Whipple! I only thought…you work so hard…I thought I could be of help, is all. If not, I apologize.”

  Fiddlesticks! Now what? It was the one thing Hank asked her to do. Double-fiddlesticks! Simply thinking about him brought a pink flush to her cheeks. Dipping her head toward the matron in hopes she wouldn’t see her blush, Maggie turned to leave.

  “Did I dismiss you, Miss Bishop?”

  A confusing mix of hope and despair flared in Maggie’s heart. Either Mrs. Whipple was about to let her work in the office, or she was going to find some kind of punishment for her temerity. And since she was technically an employee of the orphanage, not a resident, that would most likely end with her discharge. Slowly, she turned back to meet the woman’s gaze.

  Mrs. Whipple cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter, slipping her glasses back on. “You will see to your usual chores each morning, then report to me here after lunch. As you are well aware, I do not tolerate tardiness, gossip or personal questions, and that applies in this room as well. Are we understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Shall I start this afternoon?”

  Mrs. Whipple had gone back to the document on her desk and merely grunted. Maggie tried hard not to smile as she scurried from the office, but hope was building inside her. Hope that she might finally discover what happened to her sister.

  Chapter 4

  It had been three days since Maggie left the Blue Family Mercantile on a mission. Three days of working in Mrs. Whipple’s cramped, sour office. Three days of listening to the woman make all sorts of sounds that shouldn’t come out of a lady. Three days of finding nothing that could lead her to Mary. Maggie had lived at the Children’s Home for eleven of her nearly twenty-one years, but the last three days were far and away the most difficult.

  It was probably the anticipation of discovering some clue as to Mary’s whereabouts, and then the eventual disappointment. It also didn’t help that she was working in close quarters with a disagreeable woman who took
a casual attitude toward personal hygiene. But it was most certainly, definitely, absolutely, positively not because it had been three days since she last saw Hank Blue.

  It was only natural that her brain tended to wander while she rifled through stack after stack of papers, and sometimes it wandered to Hank’s flashing eyes and loping strut. And as much as she pretended otherwise, she wasn’t completely immune to his broad smile. Every now and again, she’d be sorting through a box of some child’s abandoned personal effects, and that smile would pop into her head unbidden.

  “Girl, would you stop sighing over there!” Mrs. Whipple scolded. Maggie wasn’t even aware she’d done it.

  Pushing all thoughts of the grinning, strutting peacock out of her head, she grabbed another stack of papers. Another batch of discharge forms, mostly children who’d aged out of the orphanage. Sadness seeped into her over the noticeable lack of adoption forms. The Children’s Home was the only home most of its children would ever know.

  At least she’d had Mary. Most of the others had no one, and the Bishop sisters were quick to learn that everyone else was only looking out for themselves. And oh, how they hated the sisters for their closeness. Especially Catherine James.

  Catherine and Maggie were the same age, but while Maggie came at age ten, Catherine had been abandoned on the doorstep as a newborn. She spent her entire life under the care of Mrs. Whipple and it showed.

  More times than she could count, the mean-spirited little girl would play tricks on Maggie but never get caught. Maggie had found more vile critters in her bed at night than any child ever should.

  But she would never forget their first day at the orphanage. The sisters were still mourning the loss of their parents when they were shuttled off to the Children’s Home by a gaggle of church women. At the time, Maggie had no idea it was the lower-tier orphanage in town, but it wasn’t long before she learned that every child there wished they’d been taken to the much-nicer Beckham Orphanage instead. Funny the things children wish for.