Chapter One
Golden Valley, Northwest Territories of Canada, 1883
Amelia Pressly shook off the dust of three days traveling on the stagecoach. No doubt she appeared as weary as she felt. Travel by train had been challenging, but it proved to be sheer luxury compared to bouncing over the mountain trail in the stagecoach she and her charge recently shared with others. Two men who smelled like something dead were the worst of her companions. The odor lingered in her nostrils. She didn’t dare sniff her arms to see if it had embedded into her clothes.
Leaving her trunk and crate at the station, she hitched two-year-old Poppy higher on her hip and confronted the brave false front of the store in Golden Valley. Hopefully, she’d put on an equally brave false front. Smoothing her furrowed brows, she took a deep breath to calm herself and stepped into the Jarvis Mercantile Store. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer, cooler interior. Scents—familiar and strange—surrounded her. Jute, dill pickles, and coal oil were the first sherecognized, followed by the fainter odor of animals, which might have accompanied her indoors from her long journey.
This was the smell of the West. The place where she’d find security for both herself and Poppy.
Her gaze lit on the tall man leaning against the counter, speaking to the storekeeper who stood with his back to shelves full of canned goods and red syrup tins. The storekeeper appeared to be about the age her father would have been by now. His kindly face strengthened her faltering courage.
He turned to her. “Welcome to Golden Valley. I’m Mr. Jarvis.”
She drank in the kindness in his eyes and the welcome in his smile.
But it was the other person whom she sought. Zach Taggerty. His letters had given her enough information to recognize the man she’d come to marry.
If I had to describe myself, I’d say my jaw is often set too tight. I am taller than most. Could add a few pounds to my body, but I have always been too thin, even though Ma tried hard to fatten me up. Since her passing, the food has not always been that tempting, though Gil does his best.
He turned, saw her, and tipped his hat in silent greeting. Hadn’t he recognized her? She’d done her best to describe herself in her letters, but it had proven difficult. Medium height. Light brown hair. Green eyes that too often brought comments. But she was who she was. She gathered up her false courage and crossed the floor.
“Mr. Taggerty, it is I, Amelia Pressly, and this is Poppy.”
“Nice to know.” He smiled at the baby in her arms. “Hello, Poppy.”
Nice to know? They’d never met, but wouldn’t their weeks of sending letters back and forth mean they weren’t totally unfamiliar with each other?
“Hi.” Poppy didn’t usually answer strangers.
What Zach Taggerty hadn’t told Amelia was how dark and bottomless his eyes were. Of course, he might not see that when he studied himself in a mirror.
He turned back to the man with the white apron and wide-eyed interest. “Someone sent for me. Said it was urgent. I was to meet them here. I guess I missed them.”
The storekeeper’s gaze went to Amelia and back to Zach. He opened his mouth, looking about ready to venture an opinion about why she stood there boldly confronting this tall, handsome young man—something else he hadn’t been accurate about.
I look like most cowboys. A little dusty, not always clean-shaven, and often smelling like I’ve spent the day on the back of a horse. Which I have.
“I’m the one you’re supposed to meet.” She spoke with far more boldness than she felt. “Have you forgotten our arrangement?”
Zach straightened. Didn’t she have every right to call him by his Christian name in her mind? His eyes narrowed. He looked her up and down.
Although her insides balked at his frank assessment, she didn’t flinch. Only one thought escaped her head. This was not the welcome she expected, nor the one he’d led her to believe. No. He was supposed to laugh—or at least, smile—and say how glad he was to meet her and Poppy in person.
“Ma’am, not only have I not forgotten any arrangement between us, but I don’t recall ever making one. I have no notion of who you are.”
If the floor had opened up right then and swallowed her, she wouldn’t have been any more surprised.
“Hi,” Poppy said again.
Zach spared a glance and a fleeting smile at the child. “Hi, yourself.” No smile remained when his gaze returned to Amelia. “You’ve mistaken me for someone else.” He tipped his hat and looked past her.
She shifted to block his view and any escape he considered. If he’d changed his mind, he could at least be honest about it. “Are you Zach Taggerty? Do you have a sister Kathy? A father who doesn’t remember things very well? Did you lose your mother six months ago?”
“Who told you that?”
“You did. Let me show you.” She stood Poppy on the floor beside her, hoping the unfamiliar surroundings would keep her from wandering away. Amelia put her hand luggage on the counter and opened it. All the letters were tied together with a red ribbon, which now seemed rather foolish and sentimental, but she ignored the heat in her cheeks and pulled the latest note from the stack.
She held it toward him. “Here, read this.”
