She climbed up her side, and he went around to his. Ciara looked from her to him, then settled back with a smile as well.

  “I can hardly wait for the wedding,” she said, and Harry had a feeling she was talking about something other than the ceremony.

  Chapter Three

  Mr. Hitchcock had been very nice to her. Harry had been even nicer. Had the world keeled over, and she hadn’t noticed?

  Katie Jo kept an eye on both of them the next few days as she helped the Wallin ladies prepare for Ciara’s wedding. The lawyer spent a lot of time with Kit and Ciara, going over estate business while Nora cared for little Grace. Harry spent his days working with Drew and Jesse, trying to fill a few more orders for prime timber for furniture and ships before the cold weather set in. He did head in to Seattle the next day to see about the telegram concerning the new schoolmarm.

  “Dressed in his Sunday best,” Katie Jo told Ciara as she watched from the kitchen window of the inn.

  “You needn’t sound so sad about the matter,” Ciara encouraged her, wiping out a cup she’d just washed. “Alice Dennison can’t be in Seattle. The next steamer from San Francisco won’t be in for days, there are no roads she can follow, and she can hardly fly here like a gull.”

  Apparently not, for Harry returned that afternoon with news that Miss Dennison had indeed been delayed and hoped to be on the next steamer.

  Which meant Katie Jo had a reprieve before she had to watch Harry court another lady, not that it was any of her affair.

  As it was, she had plenty to keep her busy and plenty to share the work. Unlike at the claim, where she was the only gal, she was surrounded by ladies at Wallin Landing. Many of them were the wives of one of the Wallin brothers, whose parents had filed the first claims in the area.

  Now the settlement had grown considerably. What had once been a big clearing on a bench above the lake had become the town center, with the school at the back, the inn at the front, a big barn to the south, and the church and hall at one corner, on a headland overlooking the blue-gray waters of Lake Union.

  On its shores lay the mercantile and post office, along with a park and the library. The dispensary that Catherine Wallin ran as the area’s only trained nurse sat on one side of the road leading to Seattle. She was the wife of Drew, the oldest brother and acknowledged leader of the settlement. There might not be a mayor or town council yet, but if there was a problem, everyone knew to go to Catherine and Drew.

  Across from the dispensary, on a claim that belonged to James Wallin, the third brother, the Wallin brothers had recently blazed a new road, with space on either side for houses. The first two, log cabins like the ones they lived in with their families, had just been finished. One would be Ciara and Kit’s home. The other was already occupied by the new blacksmith and his young son. His fire and bellows also lay along the road, the sound of his hammer ringing loud enough to be heard at the inn at times.

  The Wallin ladies had all come to see Ciara the afternoon she and Katie Jo had returned from Seattle, with offers of help.

  “You’re busy enough that you don’t need to help with the wedding and reception too,” Ciara protested as she poured cider in their cups on the big table by the front window of the inn.

  “You are the bride,” Catherine Wallin had said from where she stood by the rounded-rock hearth, chin up and arms akimbo. “We should be serving you for a change.” With pale blond hair, sharp blue eyes, and an air of confidence, she generally received little argument with her opinions.

  “You’ve done so much for all of us,” Nora had added, gray eyes misty, as she sat on one of the benches flanking the table. “We just want everything to be perfect for you.” Nora was married to the second oldest brother, Simon. With gray threading through her soot-black hair, she looked older than her years.

  “And we’re the meddling sort,” Callie Wallin had said with a wink to Katie Jo, where both were sitting at one of the other tables in the room, which Ciara used for her restaurant. It was easy to be friends with Callie, who had married the youngest brother and local minister, Levi. She was the same age as Katie Jo, she’d been raised on the gold fields so she wasn’t nearly as polished as Catherine, and she often wore trousers too.

  “I prefer to call us the matchmaking sort,” Rina Wallin put in. “We are so very pleased for you, Ciara, we simply had to contribute.” The sunny-haired Rina had come from back East like Catherine and Nora as part of the Mercer Expedition ten years ago, and she sounded almost regal, like a princess in a fairy tale. Katie Jo wasn’t sure how she’d ended up married to James Wallin, who was something of a joker.

  “Let us fuss,” Dottie Wallin urged. Married to the fourth and most studious brother, John, Dottie had all the golden curls Katie Jo could only wish for.

  And every last one of them were independent minded and fiercely loyal to the family into which they’d married. A shame there wasn’t another Wallin brother to be had, or Katie Jo might have been tempted to try to win him over.

  Ciara had given in to their urging, of course, so, while she worked on the inn and met with Kit and Mr. Hitchcock, the Wallin ladies and Katie Jo did what needed to be done. Dottie and Nora finished the last touches on the various dresses for the wedding, including Ciara’s, which was a soft blue with ruffles along the hem and a big scalloped overskirt in front trimmed in satin. Terribly impractical for the manager of a busy inn, but no one else seemed to notice.

  Katie Jo helped decorate the church and hall, the former with lacy lady ferns, pearly everlasting with its tiny white flowers like little bells, and delicate gentians with their transparent blue petals. For the hall, she and Callie draped bunting left over from Independence Day on the walls and tables. She also helped with the cooking.

  “Though I’m not sure that’s the wisest choice,” she told Callie as she stirred the venison stew the morning of the wedding. “Ciara’s the best cook in these parts.”

  “I can’t argue with you there,” Callie said, pulling a pan of biscuits from the oven. “But I agree with Catherine and Rina that she shouldn’t have to cook for her own reception. She has enough to do running this place, helping Kit with Grace, and feeding the logging crew.”

  Ciara had first come to Wallin Landing that summer. In exchange for turning the bottom floor of the big log cabin that had been the original Wallin home into a restaurant, she had agreed to cook for Drew’s logging crew. She’d recently proposed to Drew that he move his logging crew into the cabin he had offered her so she could make the big cabin into an inn, with rooms above the restaurant for travelers. Right now, there were only two rooms, and they were connected, which didn’t leave much for privacy, but Kit and Jesse were already working on rebuilding the upper floor to accommodate three separate bedchambers. The three loggers were still welcome for breakfast and dinner.

  As if Harry knew Katie Jo had been thinking about him, he poked his head into the kitchen. He’d already changed into his best clothes for the wedding, and his hair was slicked back from his face. He sniffed the air like a hound dog on the scent of a raccoon. “That smells good.”

  “Tastes good too,” Callie told him. She popped up a biscuit and held it out to him. “Try it.”

  Katie Jo caught herself holding her breath and let it out slowly. Did it really matter what Harry thought of her cooking? It wasn’t as if she was going to be cooking for him any time soon, in any capacity.

  He took a bite, then ran a tongue over his lips, setting the bottom of his mustache to glistening. “Very nice. Everyone’s always praising Levi’s biscuits, but they’ll sing another tune when they taste this, Mrs. Wallin.”

  Callie grinned at him. “I didn’t cook that. That was Katie Jo’s batch.”

  His gaze settled on her, and the stove’s warmth was nothing to what pulsed through her. “You’re a good cook, Katie Jo.”

  Callie smacked his arm. “Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised about it.”

  As Katie Jo dropped her gaze, Harry chuckled. “You’re right, ma’am. My apologies, Miss McAllister. Thank you for the taste. I’ll be sure to have more at the wedding.”

  Katie Jo glanced up in time to see him leave.

  “He’ll be doing more than eating at the wedding,” Callie predicted, setting the rest of the biscuits into a cloth-lined bowl. “You wait and see. Now, let’s get that stew into a kettle to take to the hall so we can go change.”

  Ciara and her attendants were all getting ready in Catherine and Drew’s cabin, which was closest to the church, though still a fair walk across the town center. The sturdy log cabin had a main room with a bed set into the wall and two additional rooms off one end, one for Drew and Catherine and one for the older children. Every bed was covered with a colorful quilt that spoke of love and family.

  Beth had brought out the corsets and decreed that Katie Jo should wear the long one for the wedding. She and Beth had one of the rooms to change; Ada Rankin, a friend of the family, was helping Ciara in the other. The slender, shy Ada was newly married, so had experience with these sorts of things.

  Katie Jo felt funny changing with someone else nearby. Ever since she was a girl, she’d had at least her own corner to change, screened from the rest of the room with curtains on rope. Neither Uncle Cole nor Zeke would have been much help with changing, regardless. She pulled her shirt off over her head and wiped down with a washrag wet in the basin before slipping on the chemise and petticoats Nora had made for her and wrapping the corset around her middle.

  “Let me help,” Beth said behind her.

  Katie Jo held still as the strings tightened, warming her middle, as though someone had set hands at her waist. Suddenly, it was much easier to hold her head high and her shoulders back. Beth let the dress down over her head, and the soft folds cascaded around her. Her fingers shook as she did up the shiny jet buttons on the front.

  Beth was humming to herself as she settled the skirts on her own dress. “There. And now, our hair.”

  Katie Jo pressed a hand to her head. “My hair? Oh, I never thought a thing about it!”

  “No need to fret,” Beth said, returning to her side. “I have a few ideas.” She then produced a pair of metal tongs. They reminded Katie Jo of what the traveling medicine man had used to pull a sore tooth from her uncle’s mouth.

  “What are you going to do with that?” she asked, leaning away from the forked iron.

  Beth slid it down the glass chimney of the oil lamp that was sitting on a table by the bed, so the flame wrapped around it. “Curl our hair, of course.”

  Katie Jo fingered her heavy hair. “Never had mine curl much.”

  “It will,” Beth promised. She pulled out the device and fingered a hand of her own hair. “Watch.” She wound the hair around the iron, humming a little tune, then slipped it free. In its place was a bouncy curl.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Katie Jo said, leaning forward. “Do one for me.”

  Beth did more than one, until Katie Jo’s hair curled around her face and waved down her back.

  “Perfect,” Beth pronounced. “Let’s see how Ciara is fairing.”

  They ventured out and knocked on the door next to theirs. When Ada called a welcome, Beth opened the door. Ciara was standing in front of a tall, wood-framed mirror that had apparently been brought over from Rina and James’ house for the occasion. The blue dress flattered her figure, while the color made her dark hair gleam. Ada, who had hair closer to the color of Katie Jo’s, must have also owned a curling iron, or maybe Ciara did, for the bride’s hair was also curled about her face.

  Beth went to hug their friend. “You look beautiful.”

  Ciara smiled at her, then looked to Katie Jo. “So do you both. Come and see, Katie Jo.”

  Katie Jo started across the plank floor, her skirts making a satisfying swishing, and her friends’ smiles faded.

  Beth and Ciara stared at each other. “Shoes!” they chorused.

  Confused, Katie Jo lifted her skirts to peer down at her thick leather boots. “They’re all I have. Won’t they do?”

  There was a whispered conversation, and then Ada was dispatched to beg a pair of shoes from Nora. Though the seamstress was a head shorter than Katie Jo, apparently she had the largest feet of any of the local ladies.

  While they waited, Ciara positioned Katie Jo in front of the mirror. She peered into its depths, and blinked.

  A tall, statuesque lady stared back at her, hair cascading down behind, pink rising in her cheeks. She looked pretty, confident, almost elegant.

  “A lady of some refinement,” she murmured, remembering what Beth had said in the corset shop.

  Ciara gave her a hug. “And you are, you know.”

  For the first time in her life, she believed it.

  ***

  “Any sign of them?” Levi asked.

  Harry shook his head where he and Jesse waited in front of the church. Kit was already inside, at the altar, and those who had come to celebrate with him and Ciara were seated on the bench pews.

  “They must be running behind,” Harry said. “Some ladies take a bit to get into their finery.”

  “Usually not these ladies,” their minister said with a frown toward Drew’s cabin. The sunlight made a halo on his curly blond hair.

  Jesse frowned too. “You want me to check?”

  Just then, the door of the cabin opened, and four women flew out into the clearing, their gowns as bright as wildflowers in the spring.

  Levi smiled. “No need. Remember, gentlemen, we are doing this the way Beth described from Godey’s Lady’s Book and walking the ladies down the aisle. Harry, you start with Beth. Jesse, you follow. Ciara will come last with her brother-in-law Michael standing in for her deceased father.”

  Jesse nodded, and the minister returned to the church.

  Harry bit back a sigh. He hadn’t heard who Ciara had settled on for her attendants, but he wasn’t surprised at Beth. Still, it figured that he’d be walking a married woman down the aisle. Likely Jesse would be walking with Ada Rankin or one of the Wallin ladies.

  Beth hurried up to him and all but dragged him through the church doors before he could get a good look at the other attendants.

  “We’re not that late,” he protested. “And they’ll hardly start the ceremony without Ciara.”

  “Hush, Harry,” she said, laying her hand more firmly on his arm. “Walk.”

  Painting on a smile, he waited for a nod from Levi, who was now at the altar with a nervous-looking Kit, then moved slowly up the aisle with her. It didn’t take long. The Wallin Landing church was small, and only half the bench pews were filled. He spotted the red-headed Maddie Haggerty, Ciara’s sister, near the front, along with Ciara’s younger brother, Aiden. Ada Rankin had slipped in beside her husband, Scout. Ciara must have invited the new blacksmith, for Logan Bradshaw was putting an arm around his son as if to keep him from squirming. One or two of her best customers, like Old Joe, the prospector from across the lake, had also made an appearance. So had the lawyer, Dixon Hitchcock.

  Everyone had stilled, waiting. His and Beth’s footsteps echoed as they marched up the plank floor.

  At the altar, he fell in to one side of Kit then turned to watch the next couple approach.

  And nearly fell off his feet.

  Jesse was coming toward them, head high and walk steady, with one of the most beautiful women Harry had ever seen on his arm. She had hair like honey, thick and rich, with curls that begged to be touched. She filled that simple blue gown with more curves than a mountain road. Her gaze was on her hem, as if she wasn’t sure of her black patent leather shoes, shiny as glass. He couldn’t be sure of the color of her eyes, but the softest of pinks was warming her cheeks.

  Who was she? The new schoolmarm? No, she couldn’t have arrived by now, and even if she had, Ciara would hardly ask someone she had just met to be her attendant. Was there some other lady she knew from her time growing up in Seattle she’d invited to be part of the ceremony? Why hadn’t anyone ever thought to mention her to Harry?

  Or was she married too?

  Jesse stopped at the altar, and the beauty floated past Beth to take her place at the back of the ladies. His friend shuffled past Harry to stand at the back of the gentlemen. Everyone else rose as Ciara started down the aisle, every gaze on her.

  Every gaze but Harry’s.

  He leaned back and whispered to Jesse. “Who is that?”

  Jesse’s voice was confused. “Ciara. Did you hit your head when you were working yesterday?”

  Ciara reached the top, and her brother-in-law, Michael Haggerty, handed her to Kit, who was beaming so broadly he might have thought he’d won the millowner Mr. Yesler’s considerable property in the lottery.

  “Not Ciara, you dolt,” Harry hissed. “The gal you walked down the aisle.”

  Jesse said nothing.

  “You may be seated,” Levi told the congregation.

  In the rustle of cloth and creak of wood, Harry spun to face his friend. Jesse’s brow was puckered.

  “Well?” Harry demanded.

  “That,” Jesse said, “is Katie Jo McAllister. You sure you didn’t hit your head?”

  Chapter Four

  Harry might as well have hit his head, for he was certain the walls were spinning as he faced the couple again. Beyond Beth, hands clasped before her blue gown, his beauty gazed at Kit and Ciara wistfully, as if she wished she were standing beside her groom as well.

  His mind blanked. His stomach churned. He barely heard the words of the ceremony he had hoped to have read over him and his bride. Katie Jo McAllister was beautiful. How had he missed that? What was wrong with him?

  As Levi pronounced Kit and Ciara man and wife, Harry knew what he had to do. He turned and put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder as the couple started down the aisle. “Switch places with me.”

  Jesse shook him off. “No. I promised to walk with Katie Jo, and I will.”

  “Harry,” Beth whispered, holding out her arm pointedly.

 

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