Nicholas Drake sat near Sheriff Reed's desk; Nick's feet were resting on the chair beside him in his relaxed position as he enjoyed the warmth from the fireplace and the company of his longtime friend, Denton Reed. Although the atmosphere was cozy, Nick's mind spun as he tried to help his friend solve a case.

Denton sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair in the same fashion in which Nick was doing, but the man's focus was on his black felt cowboy hat. The deep scowl of frustration had been fixed on Denton's expression for a few days now. Nick had felt the same exasperation in some of his cases as a Pinkerton agent.

"I just don't understand how there can be very few witnesses," Nick said after a few moments, breaking the silence in the room.

Denton blew out an exasperated breath and pushed his fingers through his dark hair. "Mrs. Hansen and her daughter don't see anyone going up into the hotel's bedrooms, except, of course, for the people who are staying there."

"And you've interviewed all of the maids?"

Denton rolled his eyes. "Of course, I have. They were the first on my list to question." He stood and walked to the hearth, leaning a hand against the stone wall. "I wouldn't have been too worried if this mayhem only happened once, but yesterday's occurrence marks four times." Denton looked over his shoulder at Nick. "Four rooms at the hotel have been ransacked, and all four occupants have been mail-order brides that Hannah Easton arranged to come to Stumptown. That's not a coincidence. Someone is trying to keep these women out of our town. That is why I asked for your help. I know this isn't something a Pinkerton agent would do, but Nick, I really need your expertise."

"I'll help you any way I can. My cases as an agent aren't very big lately." Nick shrugged. "Either that or the humdrum rhythm of my everyday life is not thrilling me any longer."

"It's like I told you before," Denton motioned his arm to the room, "you can always move to Stumptown and become my deputy."

Nick laughed aloud. "I think, my friend, the Pinkerton cases will keep me more entertained than this small town. The stories I've heard from you about your sheriff duties include breaking up fights at the saloon, finding lost horses, and arresting the really dunk loggers when they cause a ruckus in town."

"Don't forget," Denton arched an eyebrow, "that we had a few murders recently."

"True, but honestly, how often will that happen?"

Denton shrugged. "Hopefully, never again."

Nick sighed heavily. "I need more to keep me busy, I'm afraid. I'm not ready to calm my heels and settle down yet."

Chuckling, Denton walked back to his desk and sat on the chair. "That's what I'd said once... and then I met the love of my life. Courtney made life worth living, and now we're getting ready to become parents. That'll be just another chapter of my life that I'm looking forward to."

"Then I'm very happy for you." Nick tipped the brim of the hat that he hadn't removed from his head yet. "And a part of me is very relieved that it's you and not me going through those trials. In fact, I'm—"

The ringing of the cowbell on the front door made Nick pause, but it was the woman who entered with mud all over her riding habit and bonnet that made him forget what he was telling his friend. Her wet hair hung in strands over her shoulders and down her back. The woman's bonnet tilted sideways on her head.

Immediately, Nick jumped to his feet, remembering his manners when a woman was present. Denton followed suit.

Her wide-eyed gaze moved from Nick to Denton. When her gaze rested on Denton's sheriff badge, she sighed.

"Good heavens," Denton said, hurrying over to the woman. "Are you all right?"

She laughed forcefully as she picked at her dirty clothes. "I suppose I should be worse after falling off my horse a few times and landing in mud puddles. However, I'm fine." She lifted her gaze back to Denton. "I'm from Woodville, and I'm looking for my sister."

Denton's gaze narrowed on the young woman. "Did your sister run away?"

"Not really. I know exactly where she went, but I don't know where it's at."

Denton shook his head. "I don't quite understand, Miss..."

"Oh, forgive me for not introducing myself." She glanced Nick's way briefly before looking back at the sheriff. "I'm Miss Lydia Swanson."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Swanson. I'm Sheriff Reed, and this is my friend Mr. Nicholas Drake, who is a Pinkerton agent."

This time when she looked at Nick, her eyes seemed wider, and she appeared to have gained more interest in him. Then again, most women acted this way when they discovered his profession.

"Nice to meet you," she said sweetly.

Nick tipped his hat. "The pleasure is mine, Miss Swanson."

"Tell me about your older sister, Miss Swanson," Denton said, capturing the young woman's attention again.

"Her name is Victoria. She came to Stumptown to find Mr. Alan Cartwright."

Denton exchanged curious glances with Nick. Immediately, he wondered if the woman's older sister was of ill repute. Why would a woman travel all this way to see an unattached man?

"However," Miss Swanson continued, "I don't know where Mr. Cartwright lives. I hope you can assist me, Sheriff Reed."

"Of course." Denton scratched his shaven chin. "Is your sister good friends with Mr. Cartwirght?"

Miss Swanson's expression hardened in anger. "No. We have never met him before."

"Then why would your sister travel to see him?" Nick asked the question before his friend could.

Miss Swanson looked at Nick. Her anger seemed to intensify. "Because I'm supposed to marry Mr. Cartwright, and my sister wants to stop it from happening."

Mail-order bride? Nick couldn't think of any other explanation.

She turned her attention back to Denton. "Are you going to tell me where he lives or not?"

"When did your sister come to see him?" Denton asked skeptically.

"Yesterday."

"During the storm?" Nick blurted out his thoughts before he could stop them. "Why would any woman want to travel that distance in a storm?"

She glared at Nick, and he knew her irritation was now aimed at him, not her sister.

"As I'd told you," she said in a tight voice, "it's because she wants to stop me from marrying Mr. Cartwright. Aren't you listening to what I said?"

Nick bristled. This slip of a woman wasn't very nice to people she didn't know. He could understand her annoyance but not her rudeness.

"Miss Swanson," Denton quickly said, causing her to look back at him. "Are you certain that your sister came this way in the storm?"

Miss Swanson nodded. "She left an hour before it started raining yesterday afternoon, and she hasn't returned. That was why I came to get her today, but I don't know where Mr. Cartwright lives. If you kindly point me in the right direction, I won't bother you two gentlemen any further."

Just then, the door opened again, and the middle-aged hotel owner, Mrs. Hansen, bustled inside. Her face was white, and her hands shook as she held the fur-lined cape at her neck. Denton gasped and moved to the woman, taking hold of her shoulders.

"Mrs. Hansen. What's wrong?"

"It... happened again. This time, one of the girls is hurt."

Denton swung his gaze to Nick. "Will you please help Miss Swanson? I need to assist Mrs. Hansen at the hotel."

Although Nick would do anything to help his friend, being with an irritated young lady wasn't his idea of enjoyable. "Yes, I'll take her to Cartwright's home."

As Denton left with Mrs. Hansen, Nick studied the poor woman caked in mud. He hesitated to ask if she wanted to wash up first. After all, if she was going to meet the man who she'd be marrying, wouldn't she want to look more refreshed?

Miss Swanson's shoulders hung in disappointment as her gazed fixed on the door the sheriff and hotel owner just left. She looked almost sad that Denton would want to help the other woman and not her. In fact, Nick was a little irritated to think Denton pushed this young woman on Nick's shoulders. Pinkerton agents searched for criminals. They didn't help old ladies across the street, and they definitely didn't take young women coated in mud to her future husband's house in the off case that her sister might be there.

"Well, Miss Swanson, I'm ready when you are."

She spun around. Her glare shot invisible daggers at him. "Do I look ready?"

Did he tell her the truth? He'd heard that women didn't like to be told when they didn't look presentable. "Um, well... Would you like to sit for a few minutes before we go?"

She expelled a deep breath and folded her arms. "What I would like, Agent Drake, is to go someplace and clean off, if you don't mind."

"By all means, Miss Swanson. In that case, we should have followed the sheriff and Mrs. Hansen to the hotel. I'm sure you will probably want a room, too." She arched an eyebrow, so he continued. "After all, it wouldn't be proper to stay with your intended until after you are married."

"Fine. Show me where I need to go."

As Nick walked Miss Lydia Swanson to the door, he realized he'd gladly pay for her stay at the hotel until she was ready to leave just to get her out of his hair. Being with her for too long would make him very cranky. And he wasn't the type of man to make women mad."

* * * *

Alan was relieved that Victoria finally confessed. But now, he needed to drop the charade, and he was having too much fun with it. Not to mention being ready to kiss her passionately. All of that had to stop. He would be getting married in a few weeks to his Lydia – the woman he'd imagined in his head that she would be. Of course, she'd be the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she'd have a charming disposition. She'd be able to make him laugh, and she'd be heaven to kiss.

He must remember his mail-order bride instead of the tempting and very entertaining redhead.

Sighing heavily, he slowly stepped away from her, only because he was still lightheaded for standing too quickly. "Yes, I know."

Victoria gasped, and her eyes widened. "You know?" During her pause, her expression changed to anger. "Have you regained your memory?"

"Yes." He moved to the table and sat. "Actually, that's not entirely true, either."

She huffed and marched toward him, stopping beside him at the table as she folded her arms. "Then what is the truth?"

"The truth is I never lost my memory. I remembered you hitting me in the head with the piece of wood, but I also realized how sorry you were when I noticed the guilt written on your face. I decided to play it out because I need to know why you hit me in the first place."

"Augh!" She huffed and slapped his shoulder. "I cannot believe you would let me continue to think that I was responsible for taking away your memory."

Irritation shot through him as he quickly stood, facing her and staring into her eyes. "Don't fool yourself in believing you're the victim here. You could have taken away my memory. I was knocked unconscious, not to mention I had a previous head injury."

"I didn't know about that until after I'd knocked you out."

He folded his arms. "Now it's time for you to tell me why." He arched an eyebrow. "Why did you feel it necessary to hit me, especially when all I wanted was for you to take me into town to find some men to help me."

Victoria's guilty expression returned. "I'm truly sorry for doing that, but I honestly couldn't think of any other way to get to know you."

Surprised rushed through him. "Knocking me unconscious was your way of getting to know me? Haven't you heard of something called conversation?"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course, I have. But for a brief moment, I had panicked. I didn't know what to do."

He expelled a deep breath as he tried to figure her out, but her pretty brown eyes were melting his resolve quickly. "Tell me, Victoria. Have you ever talked with men before, besides your father?"

"Yes, but it's not that simple." She twisted her hands against her middle. "Alan Cartwright was the man I set out to find in order to get to know him, and since you are that man, I was a little shocked after meeting you. I didn't expect you to be so... handsome."

Alan sucked in a breath. There was only one reason why a woman from Woodville would seek him out in order to get to know him better. Could this be his soon-to-be bride, Miss Lydia Swanson? The description she'd given him during their brief correspondence through telegrams was that she lived with her sisters and they all had jobs. From what he knew about Miss Lange, she lived with her sisters and they all worked. Miss Swanson mentioned that she had strawberry blonde hair. Well, Miss Lange's hair wasn't exactly strawberry, but it appeared to have a touch of blonde mixed with the red waves.

Could this be Lydia Swanson, trying to make him think she was someone else in order to get to know him? That could be the only reason, especially since he didn't know anyone else who lived in Woodville.

Now the words he'd heard while pretending to be asleep, made sense. She had wanted to know him to see if he'd make a good husband.

His heart fluttered with excitement. Could his luck finally be changing? His Lydia was indeed fit the dream he'd had for his wife, and she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And the fact that she had wanted to get to know him before their wedding, excited him more. Of course, her method of catching him was a little out of the ordinary, but Alan would overlook that. He had a feeling that they were going to get along just fine... as long as he kept heavy objects away from her if she ever became upset with him for some reason. He couldn't have another head injury.

He took hold of her hands and gently caressed them as he stepped closer. Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. He now realized Victoria Lange was a name Lydia had conjured up so that he couldn't figure out her plan.

"And I didn't expect the person who whacked me over the head to be so lovely." He smiled. "Not to mention, when I came alert and saw how kindhearted she was, I knew then I had to get to know her better. After all, most women don't go around hitting men on the head with a piece of wood."

She laughed uncomfortably. "Well, you see..."

"But then," he continued, stepping closer, "herbeauty mesmerized me completely, and after a while, I didn't care that she hitme. I just wanted to get to know her better." He dropped his gaze to hertempting lips. "I still do." He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. "Ithink you're adorable." He was sure that falling in love with his beautifulmail-order bride would be easier than he first expected.