Melting the Marshal's Guarded Heart
“You always hide behind that badge when a conversation gets uncomfortable?”
Nate looked down at the silver star pinned to his vest. “Usually works.”
“Well, not with me.”
Raised in an orphanage with nothing to her name but a worn recipe book, baker Rachel Bell crossed the frozen Colorado territory expecting to meet the man who promised her a true home. Instead, she lands at the feet of Mercy Creek’s stern town marshal, Nate Calloway, a man who never placed the ad and doesn’t want a wife, let alone a spirited baker who turns his life around.
The arrangement is all the work of Nate’s meddling sister, who decided the brooding marshal needed saving from his own isolation. Haunted by a childhood that left him convinced he brings only ruin to those he loves, Nate intends to send Rachel packing. But her fierce spirit and gentle heart make it impossible to keep his distance.
When the sinister mastermind behind the town’s darkest crime ring zeroes in on Rachel, Nate realizes he’ll tear the territory apart to keep her safe. But to save her, he’ll have to do the hardest thing of all: surrender his heart.
Prologue
St. Agnes Orphanage — Dry Creek
1881
The flour dust made Rachel’s nose itch, and she turned her head away to sneeze. She wasn’t about to sneeze into the dough she was kneading. It would be typical for her to end up giving the children colds because of her actions.
“How are you getting on there, Rachel?” Malcolm Richards called from the front.
“It’s fine, Mr. Richards,” Rachel called back. “Almost done.”
“Don’t forget to get the rolls out of the oven. They should be done anytime soon. I’m just heading into town to get some more supplies.”
“I’ll manage,” Rachel said. “You can rely on me.”
She heard Mr. Richards chuckle as he left. He could certainly rely on her. She’d been working for him for six years and had shown that she was more than capable and dependable. Rachel enjoyed working in the bakery, even if it was boiling hot in the middle of summer. She loved the smell of cooked bread, and she enjoyed making everything. It gave her a sense of satisfaction to know that she could do this.
And it put smiles on the children’s faces. The orphanage loved having its own bakery, something Miriam had made sure of when she first became the owner twenty-five years ago. She didn’t want to rely on the bakery in town when she had so many children to feed, so she’d managed to make them mostly self-sufficient. Rachel was surprised at how focused Miriam was.
Rachel couldn’t complain. She’d been here all her life, and she’d been happy enough, although there was a part of her that resented being there. She wished she could remember her mother, just a bit of her. Then it would make it easier to hate her. After all, she abandoned her.
Miriam had told Rachel that her mother couldn’t cope and that she’d been entrusted to the orphanage after being born. She made it sound as though her mother was young and unable to raise a child under the circumstances. While that might be true, Rachel still considered it abandonment.
Rachel saw Miriam as her mother figure. She was stern but fair, and there was a warm side of her that Rachel saw quite often. Rachel stayed on long after the age she was supposed to have left. They had become their own little family. Miriam loved her, and she adored Miriam in return.
The kneading had done its job, and the dough looked ready. Slowly withdrawing her hands, the dough was sticking to her fingers. Rachel quickly washed her hands to get rid of the gunky mixture before bringing over a couple of loaf tins. She dunked the dough into the tins, then moved them to one side to rise. It would take a while, and then they would be going into the oven.
Speaking of which…
Washing her hands again and grabbing the oven gloves, Rachel opened the oven and slowly brought out the tray of rolls. She groaned, realizing that a few at the back were burnt.
“I should’ve paid more attention,” she muttered. “Now some of these are ruined.”
She was placing the tray on the counter when Miriam walked in. At the age of fifty-five, Miriam looked well put together. She was still attractive, tall and slim with snow-white hair cut short and brushed away from her face. She always had a ready smile, but that disappeared when her stern side came out. The children knew that she wasn’t someone to make a fool of. She would defend her children to the ends of the earth, but she wasn’t about to defend someone who had done something wrong.
“How are you getting on, Rachel?” Miriam asked as she approached the counter, giving her a warm smile. “It looks like you’re keeping things under control here.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Rachel gestured at the rolls with a grimace. “I’ve burnt some of them. I thought they were going to be fine, but I must’ve pushed them further in than normal.”
Frowning, Miriam leaned in and had a closer look.
“It’s not burnt, Rachel. They’re just a bit darker brown than the others, but they’re not ruined.”
“I want things to look exactly the same!” Rachel cried, feeling her frustration building. “I don’t want them to look like I’ve never cooked bread rolls before!”
“Rachel, darling, you don’t need to be so upset.” Miriam gave her a smile and straightened up. “They’re going to be absolutely fine. The children aren’t fussy, you know that. I don’t think they’re going to notice, or even care.”
“But I care!”
“I can tell. Just take a few deep breaths.” Miriam looked around. “Are you in here alone? Where’s Mr. Richards?”
“He went to get some more supplies. We’re going through supplies pretty quickly as usual at this time of year.” Rachel looked toward the window. “Although I don’t know how he’s going to get back with this storm.”
“You don’t need to worry about him. He can take care of himself. That man always finds a way.” Miriam beckoned her over. “Will you come and sit with me? I want to talk to you.”
“Of course.” Rachel hurried over, wiping her hands on her apron. “What do you need? I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Well, you can do something for me first.” Miriam dug into the pocket of her jacket and placed a slim parcel neatly wrapped on the table. “I know I said happy birthday to you this morning, but I’d like to say it again. Many happy returns, and this is my gift to you.”
Rachel stared in surprise. She was twenty-three and past the age where she should expect gifts on her birthday. But Miriam insisted on giving her a gift every year, just to make her feel loved. In her words.
“That’s very kind of you. You didn’t need to do that, though.”
“I know, but I wanted you to have this in particular.” Miriam paused. “Why don’t you open it?”
“What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
Rachel peered at the parcel. It was small and slim. It could be a book, or a notebook. She did like to draw a little, and she’d been given a notebook before that, which she filled with small drawings, though not very good ones. Was it another one?
Undoing the string, she opened the parcel and saw what it was. A tatty old book with ‘Recipes’ written on the front. Curious about why she was given this, Rachel opened it and saw the name written inside.
‘Property of Mary Bell’.
“This belonged to your mother,” Miriam said.
Rachel’s head snapped up.
“My mother?”
“Yes. She collected all of her recipes in it. She was only in her teens, barely a grown woman, but she collated a lot of recipes over her time so she didn’t have to rely on anyone.” Miriam smiled, a fond look passing across her face. “She was a good cook. She did a bit of cooking here when I first met her. The children loved her food.”
Rachel didn’t know what to say to that. She’d been given a few of her mother’s things over the years, although it didn’t stop the overwhelming sense of abandonment. Now she had her mother’s name for the first time. Mary Bell.
Why had Miriam never said anything?
Rachel had asked about her mother over the years, but Miriam never shared much, insisting it was for Rachel’s own good. The secrecy had always hurt, but Miriam had never wavered. If only she would. Then Rachel might finally understand why she was left in an orphanage with other children who had no families of their own. She didn’t want anyone to think she didn’t like the ready-made family that had been given to her–she saw most of the other orphans as siblings–but there had always been something missing from her life. She just wanted a true family.
Yes, Miriam and the orphanage were her family, and Rachel would forever be grateful, but she wanted more.
“It’s very kind of you, Miriam.” Rachel turned the pages, looking at the neat handwriting and the recipes that she was both familiar and unfamiliar with. “But why are you giving me this? I’m not about to become the orphanage’s cook, am I?”
Miriam chuckled.
“No, nothing like that. Mrs. Bickley isn’t about to retire anytime soon, and she wouldn’t want someone else under her feet.”
“I didn’t think that was the case.” She kept staring at her mother’s recipe book, confused.
“It’s the last thing of your mother’s that I had.” Miriam paused, her smile fading a little. “And you’re going to need something to remember home by.”
“Well, it’s a sweet…” Then Rachel caught what she just said. She frowned at the orphanage mistress in confusion. “To remember home by? But… this place is my home.”
“I know,” Miriam said softly, reaching for Rachel’s hand. “And that will never change. No matter where life takes you, this place will always be your first home.” She hesitated, her heart aching. “But… I’m afraid it’s almost time for you to begin a new chapter.”
“What?”
Rachel felt like she’d been hit over the head. It took a moment for the words to sink in. Why was Miriam saying that now? She couldn’t believe it. Miriam had told her years ago that she would always have a home at the orphanage. Was she throwing her out now?
“But… I thought you were going to let me live here,” she protested. “Didn’t you say…?”
“I know I did, but you’re a grown woman now. You need to spread your wings and venture out into the world.”
“I have a job!” Rachel cried, gesturing at her surroundings. “I work here! And I help with the children.”
“Yes, but you can do that elsewhere. And you could start the family you’ve always wanted. One that’s of your own choosing.”
Rachel snorted. “I’ve already got that, Miriam! Here!”
Miriam sighed and sat back in her chair.
“Rachel, that isn’t what I meant, and you know it. I admit that I’ve been at fault for not letting you leave when you should’ve done so, but I did…” She stopped herself and started again. “I’ve become too fond of you, and I thought of you as my own daughter. I was reluctant to let you go. Now it’s been detrimental, because you should’ve left, started over on your own, started your own family…”
“But I love being here,” Rachel cried. “Where would I go?”
“You won’t have to worry about that.” Miriam reached into her pocket and withdrew a letter. “There’s a place called Mercy Creek. It’s about fifty miles west of here, further into the mountains. It’s a beautiful place, just right for starting anew.”
“But…”
“There’s a man in Mercy Creek who has requested a bride. He wants to settle down himself, and he’s looking for someone who’d be willing to marry him without seeing him.”
Rachel’s stomach dropped.
“You mean like a mail-order bride? One of those people you send off an advertisement for?”
Miriam nodded. Rachel shook her head.
“No, Miriam! Don’t say you did that for me!”
“I thought it would be better that I made the move for you and secure something that would make things good for your future. And getting yourself married to a good man will be just what you need.”
Miriam’s voice sounded sincere, which only confused Rachel more. Surely Miriam did not truly believe this was for the best.
Rachel felt like her head was swimming. She had no idea what to think anymore. She had been in the orphanage all her life, and it was all she ever knew. Never had she considered leaving. Now Miriam was throwing her out.
“Don’t look at me like that, Rachel.” Miriam gave her a pleading look as she touched Rachel’s hand. “I’m doing this for your own good.”
“But how can I marry a stranger?” Rachel demanded. “How can I go on like this knowing that I’m going to be married to someone I don’t know, let alone love?”
“And you think you can get married when you’re stuck in here all day, every day? I’m surprised you know what the outside looks like, given how busy you are in the bakery.”
“I do go outside!” She tried to argue, but Miriam’s sharp voice cut her short.
“When was the last time you went for a walk?” Miriam challenged. “When did you go for a ramble with the children? I think the last time you did that was before you were eighteen.”
“That’s because it’s very busy in here! Mr. Richards and I are always working. We can’t let everyone starve!” Even as she said it, Rachel knew it was only half true. The kitchen needed her, yes—but she had also made it into a place where no one could ask why she never left.
“It’s not just the two of you working in the bakery. And you need to move forward with your life.” Miriam attempted a smile, but she looked nervous. “Maybe this is God’s way of leading you toward the home you always wanted. The one that would be there when you need it. Deep down, you know the orphanage isn’t that place, much as I’d like you to stay. But you know I’m right.”
Rachel wanted to argue further, especially when Miriam brought up God. She did go to church, and she did pray, but it felt like God wasn’t listening. If he was, then he would’ve brought her mother back.
Chapter One
Mercy Creek
1881
The snow was beginning to seep in through his boots, and his feet were cold. Nate would be surprised if he could wriggle his toes once he got his boots off. His socks were certainly going to be steaming once he hung them up by the fire. One would think Mercy Creek’s town marshal might earn himself warmer boots for trudging through snow after other men’s troubles, but apparently the badge did not come with comfort.
Of all the days for drifters to harass the ranches, it had to be today. Right after a terrible storm that had a few inches more of fresh snow. Drifters were normally innocent, sometimes straying onto land when they didn’t know the way. It was usually people on the run or arrogant louts who thought they could get away with anything because they came from wealthy families or had a fancy job title. Called themselves drifters because they didn’t care to work. They were obvious from the criminals and guns for hire who often loitered around. Nate would rather tackle a gunman than a rich boy who believed he could do whatever he wanted.
This time, a group of young men decided to walk across some land and bother the cattle by the river. It resulted in a few animals getting loose, and the rancher and his men had to catch and drag them back. To say they were annoyed after finding one of the cattle injured was an understatement. And the young men simply scoffed, saying they shouldn’t have been so skittish in the first place. Nate counted three of the seven sitting in his jail cell, along with two of the ranch’s employees. That was going to be interesting for the next couple of days until they calmed down or someone came to get them out, whichever happened first.
A night in jail would be just what they needed, especially the jumped-up men who thought they were better than everyone else due to money. Nate wasn’t keen on those people; they made his teeth grind.
It was a relief to get home and rest, but then he remembered he’d promised his sister he’d come over for supper. Nate didn’t want to, not when he was soaking wet and cold, but he couldn’t say no to Isabelle. His older sister had been something of a mother figure to him since he was young, and it was hard to turn her down. Jack knew about that all too well; it was how Nate’s closest friend had gotten married to Isabelle in the first place. The spark had been there, but Jack had been too scared to make a move, so Isabelle had done it instead. She was always taking the reins, and Jack was more than happy with that.
At least he would get to see his friend and his two nephews. Sammy and Tommy were always able to lift his spirits. He needed that. If Isabelle insisted that he come for dinner, it meant she wanted something.
Nate wasn’t looking forward to that. What scheme had she thought up this time? Whatever it was, Nate didn’t want to get involved. He had too much going on to get caught up in something Isabelle cooked up.
The snow had gotten worse by the time he arrived at Isabelle’s house, the wind almost knocking him through the door. Jack was off the settee, hurrying over as the door banged against the wall.
“Careful!” He pulled Nate into the house and pushed hard to shut the door. “Another gust and we’ll lose the door.”
“Do you mean again?” Nate quipped, taking off his Stetson and smacking the snow off it. “I swear it fell off several times last year. Aren’t you going to get a new door?”
“Eventually. I suppose.” Jack ran his fingers through his hair. “Just another job I’ve forgotten about. Don’t tell Isabelle about it, will you?”
Nate couldn’t help but laugh.
“Knowing my sister, she probably already knows.”
There was a squeal from the kitchen door, and his nephews rushed in, followed by the tall, plump figure of Isabelle Mercer. Tommy and Sammy jumped at Nate, who managed to catch the two of them and lift them off the floor.
“Uncle Nate!” Tommy scrambled up him first, and Nate almost dropped him again. “Are you having supper with us?”
“Apparently so.” Nate glanced up at Isabelle. “I trust that it’s going to be worth my while?”
His sister smiled at him, a glint in her eye. Then she clapped her hands and lifted Sammy away from Nate.
“Get down, Tommy. Nate’s not a tree. You shouldn’t be climbing on him. Jack, darling, why don’t you take them into the back room and play in there? I want to talk to Nate first.”
“All right.” Jack gave her a dubious look. “Aren’t you going to let me listen in?”
“Absolutely not.”
Jack grimaced and gave Nate an apologetic look. Normally, his friend would find out what Isabelle wanted to discuss and let Nate know beforehand, but this time she’d apparently been quiet about her plan. Nate wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it.
He folded his arms and waited for Jack to take the children out of the room, closing the door behind him.
“All right, Isabelle. What have you done?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be innocent with me. I know you too well. What have you done?”
Isabelle tried to look innocent, but she quickly rolled her eyes and sighed.
“I wish you wouldn’t be like this, Nate. It’s all for your own good.”
“What is?”
She hesitated, and Nate groaned. It was just as he suspected.
“Oh, no, not again! What have I told you about that subject?”
“You don’t know until you actually make an effort.”
“I don’t want to make an effort! That’s the point! Why can’t you leave me to be a miserable old man on my own?”
Isabelle tittered and fished into the pocket of her apron.
“Because being a miserable old man doesn’t suit you. Especially when you’re still young.”
“And it’s just how I want it. You can’t change my mind.”
“Well, you might when you see this.”
“What?”
She held out a letter, and Nate had a sinking feeling in his stomach. She hadn’t, had she?
Trying not to snatch the letter out of her hand, he opened it and scanned through it. It looked like any other letter, the writer talking about themselves and how they would be delighted to come to Mercy Creek to join him, and that the place sounded absolutely delightful. Confused, he reached the bottom and read the name, written in a neat signature.
Rachel Bell.
It was as he suspected. Isabelle had sent off looking for a potential wife for him.
“Oh, Isabelle, you haven’t…”
“Well, what was I supposed to do? Leave you as you are when you clearly need someone in your life?” Isabelle huffed and put her hands on her hips, blowing strands of auburn hair out of her face. “You think you know better, but I know you better than that. You need a wife.”
“And you went looking for one?”
“Not in so many words. I just placed an advert in the newspaper. There are so many ads looking for wives, and even husbands. You had quite a few replies, but this was the best of the lot.”
Nate listened to this with growing horror. Of all the things his sister had done, this was the worst. Going behind his back like this. He’d said he wasn’t looking for a wife at all, and Isabelle was to keep her nose out of it. Unfortunately, his sister tended not to listen. It was like she didn’t care what he thought.
The anger started brewing, and Nate had to fight it back, the feeling bubbling in his chest.
“Why do you keep doing this?” he demanded.
“What?”
“Meddling in my life. How many times have I told you that I’m not interested? I don’t want to be a part of whatever you’re planning for me. It’s not fair!”
Isabelle scoffed.
“You think it’s fair to me that I have a brother who has no intention of settling down? How do you think that makes me feel, seeing you miserable?”
Nate almost burst out laughing. That was a new one for him.
“My marital status is not going to affect you in any way whatsoever. You’re just annoyed that you’re not getting your way.”
“It’s not about not getting my own way, Nate! I just want you to be happy!”
“I’d be happy if you just leave me alone!”
He was getting a headache. How did Isabelle not understand that he wasn’t willing to work with her? It would be so much better if she left him alone. He stormed away from her.
“Isabelle, I told you after you attempted to get me to talk to Miss Samways after church at Easter. And I also told you when you tried to get me to escort the Medford twins to the summer festival, not to mention when you suggested I take Joanne Lloyd to the harvest festival and help with her stall as her husband wasn’t around anymore. I am perfectly fine as I am. Stop palming me off onto desperate women who want to get married.”
“I’m not palming you off!” Isabelle cried. “And they’re not desperate women. They’re eligible.”
“And I am unwilling. What sort of marriage is that when one side is reluctant?” Nate ran his fingers through his hair. “Just… stop it, will you? I’m not looking for a wife, and I don’t want to get married.”
Isabelle’s expression faltered, guilt flickering across her face before she lifted her chin with stubborn resolve. “Well, you won’t have a choice with this one.”
Nate stilled.
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s coming here. We’ve arranged for her to come to Mercy Creek and you’ll have a quiet ceremony at the town hall…”
“You must be out of your mind!” Nate couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His sister had gone crazy. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. I never wanted any of this!”
“Nate…”
“Look, you write to this Rachel Bell immediately and tell her that it’s all changed. I don’t want to marry her, and she would be wasting her time if she came here.”
Isabelle groaned. “You can’t tell me to do that!”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s likely on her way right now. And I was writing pretending to be you.”
“Which makes it even worse!” Nate couldn’t stay any longer. He jammed his Stetson on his head. “I’m going home. Don’t bother saving a place for me at the table. I’m going to eat elsewhere.”
“But the children were excited to see you!” Isabelle protested as she hurried after him. “What am I going to tell them?”
“Tell them the truth. That you messed around with your brother’s life and he’s refusing to bow down to your wishes.” Nate glanced over his shoulder as he opened the door, bracing against the wind. “I love you, Isabelle, and I will forever be grateful for you being there when I needed someone, but this is too far. And I won’t let you get your way this time.”
He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. His feet were ice cold, but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was to go home, where he should’ve stayed in the first place.
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Two women plotting with the best of intentions for their loved ones, believing that a union between Nate and Rachel will bring them happiness. Neither of them is aware that the other is writing on behalf of someone else. However they are unwilling to cooperate. I look forward to how this plays out