RNWMP_Bride for Michael Page 6

  “Yes, he did. He’s a little trooper, that one.”

  “I wonder if he’d wear a little red jacket if I made him one.”

  Michael laughed. “I was having the same thoughts. Not about dressing him up—I think that one is up to you, sweetheart—but about making him an honorary Mountie.”

  She laughed. “I think he’d accept. He seems to like adventure.”

  Michael guided the buggy down along the coast road. “I wish these wheels could handle the sand, but we’d get mired up to the axels. A car wouldn’t do much better, either, although it would likely ride smoother on the street.”

  “Oh, I’m glad we’re not in a car right now. Buggies are much more romantic for moonlight rides.” She squeezed his arm and snuggled in a little closer.

  “I agree.” He patted her hand where it lay on her arm. “Up here’s a perfect spot.”

  He brought the buggy to a standstill, then put his arm around her shoulders. “Would Miss Hazel have a fit if she knew we were out here alone before the wedding?”

  “She might, but she knows you’re a gentleman.”

  He sighed. “Yes, I am. And I don’t think I could be anything else. You see? I told you I was boring.”

  “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m so glad we’re out here tonight. I’ve been sewing my fingers to the bone, altering my dress for the wedding. I can’t believe it—I’m going to be your wife soon.”

  He grinned down at her. “Every second the clock ticks brings us closer.”

  “I can’t wait.” She looked up at the sky. “Do you recognize those constellations?”

  “Not a single one of them, I’m afraid.”

  She laughed. “Well then, I’ll teach you. That one right there is Pegasus.” She pointed, tracing the lines with her finger. “And that one is Cassiopeia.”

  “Before you go too much further, I should confess that I’m really not sure where you’re pointing, so I’m just nodding and pretending.”

  She gave him a look of shock. “You’re pretending? Does that mean you’re not being honest with me?”

  “I honestly enjoy hearing what you have to say. Does that count?”

  She pretended to be thoughtful. “I suppose, but only because I’m so glad that I’m finally well enough for things like moonlit buggy rides to the beach.”

  “I’m glad. You’re very generous.”

  “I know. I am.” She smiled up into his eyes, but she was distracted by the flash of a light out on the water. She turned and looked again. “What’s that?”

  “It looks like a small fishing boat.” Michael sat up straighter and peered into the darkness. “This is an odd time of night to be out.”

  “Maybe they got lost?” Kathryn suggested. “Or maybe there are certain kinds of fish that bite better at night.”

  “There are some varieties, yes, but I’m not sure that’s what we’re seeing.” Michael was on high alert—Kathryn could tell from the way his eyes darted back and forth and the rigidness of his spine.

  “Then what are we seeing?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. But I think I need to get you back home.”

  Before she had time to protest, he had picked up the reins, given them a flick, and they were heading back. She tried not to look too disappointed. She’d been enjoying herself a great deal, and she’d wanted to spend at least thirty more minutes listening to the waves beat on the rocks. She didn’t think she’d ever heard anything more relaxing in her life. But something had raised Michael’s hackles, and she wasn’t about to question his instincts or his training.

  He took her back home, saw her inside, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, and then he was gone. It wasn’t the romantic end to their evening that she’d hoped for, but she was marrying a Mountie, and she’d better get used to quick exits in the name of duty. She imagined she’d be waving at him through the window on more occasions than just this.

  Chapter Seven

  When Michael got back to Bryce’s cabin, he sat down at the kitchen table with a pencil and a piece of paper. So many things were roiling through his head, he wanted the chance to jot them down before he lost the thread of them.

  Fact: Jamie MacDonald admitted that he was committing an additional crime, but he wouldn’t say what it was.

  Fact: Bryce had confronted Old Joe about selling damaged goods, and Joe had confessed to buying what he could at a discount.

  Fact: Michael had seen Angus MacDonald talking to a stranger down on the beach.

  Fact: He’d just seen a boat in the same cove after dark.

  Each of these facts by themselves didn’t lead to a conclusion, but together, it was sure looking to Michael like the MacDonalds were bringing in goods from elsewhere and selling them to Old Joe. The question was, where were these goods coming from? Were they stolen, or purchased legally and then being resold?

  If they were legal, Jamie wouldn’t have admitted to a crime.

  Michael sat back and rubbed his face. He was making some pretty broad assumptions, and he wanted to be sure that his innate dislike for the MacDonalds didn’t color his objectivity. It was possible, wasn’t it, that Jamie was talking about another sort of crime. Perhaps he was running a moonshine still, for instance, and Old Joe was getting his goods from someone else. Well, that was still plenty bad and should be investigated. No matter how Michael looked at it, a crime was being committed, and a feeling in his gut told him that cove was key to solving the whole thing.

  He got up and rummaged through the bookcase in the corner until he found the map of the island he’d seen Bryce shove in there one day. He laid it out on the table and traced the shoreline where he’d seen Angus and also the flashing light. He’d bet money there were caves along there, or maybe another shack like the one where they’d arrested Jamie. The MacDonalds liked to tuck themselves away and didn’t stick around at their actual house much. He’d talk to Ernie in the morning and see about heading down there to check it out. At least two of them should go, and he’d feel better with more to act as lookouts.

  Having settled that in his mind, he then pulled out the letter from Sarah. Her words had been simmering in the back of his brain ever since he first read them, and he knew he’d have no peace until he gave her some sort of reply and tried to help her understand. He grabbed a pen, not wanting to write such an important letter in pencil, and began.

  Dear Sarah,

  Thank you for your letter. I understand why you feel the way you do. I know it seems that I’m an untrustworthy cad, but I promise you, I’ve done everything I can not to be.

  Yes, Rebecca has had feelings for me for a long time, but I’ve never seen her as anything but a friend. I’ve never made any romantic overtures toward her, and I even sat her down one afternoon and explained to her that while I think she’s a very nice girl, marriage between us isn’t possible.

  It was our mother who misunderstood the situation the most and thought that private talk was an engagement, and she began planning the event. I told her we weren’t engaged, but she thought we just wanted to keep it a secret. I finally convinced her to stop her plans, and she agreed, but reluctantly. The whole thing was a long string of misunderstandings, and I’ve tried my best to be clear with everyone all along the way. If Rebecca still believes we’re getting married, it’s not because I misled her. I’ve been as direct as possible without being cruel.

  Sarah, I’ve always wanted a marriage like our parents had. We grew up in a very happy home, and that’s what I have wanted to perpetuate. When I decided to go into the academy, I knew that my plans for marriage would likely never be, but I hadn’t found that special girl yet anyway. Then one of our men, Ernie, told us about a matchmaker who works solely with Mounties. The more I heard about the process, the more intrigued I became. Have you ever had a moment when something feels right, and you can’t explain why? That’s what happened to me. As Ernie explained how this woman, Mrs. Hazel Hughes, finds these young women and prepar
es them by teaching them homemaking skills and then escorts them to their new homes, I felt deep in my soul that this was the course I should take.

  And I wish you could meet Kathryn. No, we’re not married yet, but we will be very soon. When she arrived, she was horribly sick, and she’s been convalescing ever since. I’ve spent hours visiting with her as she’s recovered, and she’s everything I ever dreamed she would be. She’s intelligent, kind, thoughtful, beautiful, and she makes me laugh. She has a depth of character that I’ve yet to see in the other young women I’ve been introduced to. I’m already in love with her, even though it’s only been a short time since we met.

  I don’t know if this information has set your mind at ease any, or if I’ve just made things worse. At the very least, you should know that I never made Rebecca any promises, and I was straightforward with Mother about the whole thing.

  I hope you’re doing well, and I still think you should come see me. I know you’ve said you’re too busy with school, but surely you could take a little time off, or come on your vacation. You’d love it out here.

  Michael

  He laid down the pen and closed his eyes. He didn’t know what else he could say or do to convince her. The simple truth would have to be enough.

  His eyes popped open when Bryce came in and scraped his boots on the lintel before shutting the door behind him.

  “You ready for your little road trip tomorrow?” Michael asked, glad for a distraction from his heavy thoughts.

  “As ready as I can be. Shouldn’t take too long—it’ll be nice to pass Jamie along the chain of command. Every time I look at him sitting in our cell, I keep thinking about Timothy.”

  “I know how you feel.” Michael pushed his letter to Sarah out of the way and pulled his notes on the case closer to him. “I want to show you something.”

  Bryce walked over to the table. “Yes, that makes sense,” he said, looking down at the page. “Now we’ve just got to gather up some evidence.”

  “I’m going to talk to Ernie in the morning,” Michael said. “When you get back from Charlottetown, I’d like us to check out that cove. My gut keeps telling me they’ve got another hideout down there.”

  “And I trust your gut. Ernie told me about the time when Mrs. O’Grady had a pie get stolen from her kitchen windowsill, and you saw her neighbor boy slinking away with berries all over his face. Your gut told you that he was the culprit, and you were right.”

  Michael shook his head even as he grinned. “Yes, I’m an excellent detective. This unit would be lost without me.”

  Bryce clapped him on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I agree with you, and I’m ready to go check it out. If Ernie doesn’t have any problem with it, we can head down as soon as I get back. Should be here around noon.” He sounded distracted, as though his thoughts were a million miles away.

  “Sounds good.” Michael glanced up at his friend, then paused. “Are you all right? You seem . . . I don’t know. Like something’s bothering you.”

  Bryce cleared his throat. “Let’s just say that Nettie isn’t what we thought she was.”

  “What?” Michael came to his feet. “What happened?”

  Bryce shook his head. “I’d rather not talk about it right now. Like you said, I need to be getting ready for tomorrow.”

  He ambled off to bed, and Michael stared after him for a moment. He’d thought Nettie and Bryce would be getting married any day now—they’d certainly looked like a couple. But not everything was what it seemed on the outside.

  Michael sat back down, shaking his head. Bryce would likely tell him everything the next day. Or he could always ask Kathryn, if he really wanted to know. Girls told each other everything, didn’t they?

  He slid his letter to Sarah into an envelope and addressed it. Then he turned his attention back to his notes on the case. He’d love to head down to the cove that minute, but moving around in the dark was foolhardy when he wasn’t familiar with the terrain, and they had to go through the proper channels. The next afternoon would definitely be the better choice.

  ***

  Kathryn was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping her morning cup of chamomile tea when Nettie came into the room, carrying her bag.

  “Nettie? What’s going on?” Alarm filled Kathryn’s chest. Her friend looked for all the world like she was leaving Bison Bay.

  Nettie set her bag down by the front door, then came back and took the chair across from Kathryn. “I need to tell you something, Kathryn,” she said, her voice heavy and sorrowful. “I’ve been lying to you, to the other brides . . . I lied to Miss Hazel and to Timothy. And Bryce. Everyone.”

  Kathryn blinked a few times. “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

  Nettie pulled in a deep breath and then let it out in a sigh. “The truth is that I came here under false pretenses. I’m actually a reporter—well, I want to be a reporter. My boss at the newspaper said that if I could break this story, I’d have a chance of going from the advice column to real investigative work.”

  “What story?”

  “The story of an old woman who transports young women to different provinces for various scandalous reasons.”

  Kathryn gasped. “You make that sound absolutely horrible!”

  “That’s what my editor wanted. He said our readers are looking for something sensational and shocking, and that’s what I’m supposed to bring him.”

  Kathryn couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “But . . . it’s not true!”

  Nettie held up a hand. “I know it’s not true. Now that I’ve met Miss Hazel and I’ve gotten to know all of you, and I’ve met the Mounties and I know they wouldn’t be involved in any such thing—well, I can’t write the article my boss wants. My heart is completely changed.” She looked down at the table. “I told Bryce last night, and he’s angry with me. He’s so angry, Kathryn. So I’m leaving—I’m going back to Ottawa. Chances are that I no longer have a job at the newspaper, but I have to find out. And if I don’t . . . well, I’m resourceful. I’m sure I’ll find something.”

  Kathryn took a few deep breaths. She was stunned, as would be expected, but she could see the contrition on Nettie’s face, and she couldn’t believe that anything had been done maliciously.

  “You won’t be here for my wedding tomorrow?”

  Nettie’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. “You’d still want me at your wedding?”

  “Of course. Nettie, you’re my best friend. That’s not going to change just because you misrepresented yourself and masqueraded as a bride when you’re really an undercover reporter writing an expose on all of us that’s based on lies and misunderstandings, and have probably been quoting us out of context for several days now and will make us look like horrible people in print.”

  Nettie looked at her in shock, and then they both burst into giggles. “Oh, dear,” Nettie said at last, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  Kathryn shrugged. “That’s what I’m here for. But honestly, I know you didn’t set out to hurt anyone, and the fact that you’re leaving now just proves it even more. I have to ask, though, if you’ve really thought this through as far as Bryce is concerned. If you gave it another few days, maybe he’d come around.”

  “He told me to leave,” Nettie said flatly. “He doesn’t want me in Bison Bay at all.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. That must have hurt.” Even though it hadn’t happened to her, Kathryn’s chest ached on her friend’s behalf.

  “It did. But I’m not going to dwell on it. He’s transporting Jamie to Charlottetown this morning, and I’m going to ask for a ride. I’ll get a train back to Ottawa and see what life has to offer me from there. I’ll be all right, and I’ll be sure to send you lots of letters.”

  “Please do.” Kathryn reached out and caught Nettie’s hand. “You’ve been so good to me, a real friend. Thank you.”

  Nettie seemed a little embarrassed. “You don’t think I did all that just
to get a story out of you?”

  “No, I think you did it because you’re a kind, thoughtful person. And if this had been some sort of illegal undertaking, you’d be a hero right now for exposing it. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “Thank you, Kathryn. I just wish Bryce could see it that way.”

  The two girls hugged, then Nettie headed out the door. Kathryn wiped away her tears as she listened to her friend’s footsteps crunch along the gravel outside. Within seconds, she couldn’t hear them at all, and that added another layer to the ache in her chest. To have feelings was to experience everything from love to sorrow to hate. She very much disliked feeling sorrow, but she knew she only felt it because she’d had a true friend, and she wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything.

  Chapter Eight

  Michael kept glancing up at the clock on the station wall. Bryce was taking a long time to get back from Charlottetown. The cranks to both cars had gone missing that morning. Michael thought it sounded like the work of mischievous little boys, but they didn’t have time to hunt them out, so Bryce had decided to take a small boat instead.

  Then Nettie had shown up, asking for a ride. That certainly made for an awkward journey, escorting both a criminal and a love gone wrong, but Bryce had been up for the challenge.

  Michael didn’t know how much longer the trip would take by boat as opposed to car, but it did seem that Bryce should be back by now. He was eager to head down to the cove, but the longer Bryce was gone, the more he began to worry that something had happened. He was just being paranoid, he was sure. Perhaps Bryce and Nettie had decided to talk things over and they’d found a restaurant and were having a nice meal while they worked through their problems. He hoped they would—Bryce was still being closed-mouthed about what had happened, but Michael didn’t think it could be all that bad. Just about anything could be worked out, couldn’t it?

  The clock ticked on. It was now getting on to late afternoon. Aaron came in to cover the next desk shift, and Michael decided to pick up some food at the restaurant and take it over to Kathryn. They made really good soup, and he thought that would go well on her stomach. He knew that Josie and Elizabeth had planned to visit Kathryn that afternoon and finish up the wedding preparations. If they’d eaten together, the soup could go in the icebox for another time.