The Nanny's Little Matchmakers. Danica Favorite

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СКАЧАТЬ gust of wind scooted between them, and Polly pulled her shawl tighter against her body. “I know that not every man is bad, and I’m sure you want to defend your gender to me. But honestly, I’ve had enough of a taste for when things go wrong to not want to venture there myself. In my experience, things go wrong more than they go right.”

      Mitch couldn’t help the sigh that escaped. Part of him wanted to argue with her logic and tell her that exactly not all men were bad, and not all marriages were terrible. But his own experience...

      “I understand. As much as I tried to protect the children from knowing the truth about my marriage to Hattie...”

      Mitch sighed again. He’d never confessed the truth of his marriage to anyone, not his family, not the few friends who stood by him, not the police who questioned him over Hattie’s death.

      “I’m sorry that it wasn’t good,” Polly said softly. “But you did your best to make your children feel safe and secure. Which is what Ma did for us. I respect that. And you won’t hear a word against her from me.”

      Then Polly glanced back at the house. “I shouldn’t have told you those things about my pa. Ma would be terribly hurt if she knew I held him in such low regard. She’s never spoken ill of him, even on the nights he’s come home smelling of drink and cheap perfume.”

      Her loyalty felt like a warm cloak around his heart. His children were safe with this woman. She wouldn’t make them feel small or out of place, and she’d do her best to keep them from the talk that followed their family. And, as he watched her nibble on her lower lip, he knew that he was safe with her as well.

      “I won’t say anything,” Mitch said softly. “Thank you for trusting me. I imagine this has been weighing on you for some time.”

      “You don’t know the half of it,” Polly said quietly, once again glancing in the direction of the house. “My friends have all married wonderful men. They all think I’ll eventually find someone just as wonderful and live the same wonderful lives they lead. But how can I tell them that marriage isn’t always so wonderful when they are clearly so happy?”

      “You don’t,” Mitch said, taking her by the arm and leading her down the road. “I never wanted anyone to know what a fool I’d been, so I simply pretended everything was fine.”

      Then he stopped. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where we’re going. And I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I suppose that both of us needed someone to talk to, and both of us understand what’s at stake for the other.”

      Polly smiled, then pointed at a nearby barn. “Why don’t I show you Uncle Frank’s mission, and the work he’s doing? As for talking, I understand completely. Your secrets are safe with me.”

      They turned a corner, and Mitch realized that not all of his secrets were going to remain safe. Gerald Barnes, deputy and chief investigator into Hattie’s death, was coming toward them.

      He should have known that Gerald would show up in Leadville sometime. But what he hadn’t expected was the two large men standing with him.

      Gerald and his men closed in. “Mitchell Taylor, you’re under arrest for the murder of Hattie Winston.”

      * * *

      Murder? Polly looked at Mitch. There had to be some mistake.

      But Mitch didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at the deputy. “You know I didn’t do it.”

      “I got a witness who says otherwise.” The deputy put his hand on the gun at his waist. “I suggest you come peacefully.”

      The two men with the deputy came toward them, looking like they expected a fight. Once again, Polly stole a glance at Mitch, who wore the same icy calm expression he had in the Mercantile when his children were misbehaving.

      “Of course.” Mitch held out his hands, almost as though he’d been expecting this. Then he turned and looked at Polly.

      “I’m sorry we weren’t able to settle terms of your employment fully, but I can assure you that once we sort out this misunderstanding, I’ll pay whatever wages you think fair.”

      He nodded in the direction of the deputy and his men. “They’re witnesses to my agreement to pay you, so you needn’t worry that I’ll not give you your due.”

      “I wasn’t worried,” Polly told him. “I’m happy to care for your children, but—”

      “You should be worried, miss,” the deputy said, his brow furrowed. “The way poor Miss Hattie died, it was a gruesome scene, and I’m sure she must’ve suffered in the end. You shouldn’t trust the likes of Mitch Taylor. He has a pretty tale to tell, but it’s all lies.”

      Secrets. Everyone had them. Could Mitch have killed his wife? Polly’s gut told her no. But with as forthcoming as he’d seemed to be in their discussions, why hadn’t he mentioned that he was a suspect in his wife’s death?

      “I believe, in this country, a man is innocent until proven guilty,” Polly said quietly, looking at Mitch. What would he say in his defense?

      “There’s proof enough,” the deputy said. “A fine citizen like Mitch Taylor, you’d have never believed it. But I suppose there’s only so much a man can take, and one night, he just lost it.”

      Then he looked at Mitch. “I suppose you thought she had it coming. But no one, no one, deserves to die the way Hattie did.”

      Still, Mitch remained silent, and Polly’s stomach turned inside out. Why wasn’t he defending himself? Why did he seem so calm?

      “Can we go now?” Mitch stared back at the deputy. “I’d rather not cause a scene. My children have already been through enough.”

      Once again, Mitch brought his icy gaze to Polly. “If you wouldn’t mind bringing the children back to my brother’s, let him know what’s happening. He can notify my lawyer. I trust you’ll care for the children as we discussed?”

      Polly nodded slowly. “Of course. I could ask Uncle Frank or Will—”

      “Please don’t.” Mitch’s shoulders rose and fell. “I know you want to help, but right now, the only help I need is making sure my children are safe and well cared for. That’s all that matters to me.”

      Other than his initial protestation of guilt, not one word about his innocence. Not one word about the heinous crime he’d been accused of. In fact, he stood there calmly as though he’d been expecting this to happen all along.

      What kind of man was Mitch Taylor? Had she been wrong in her instincts about him?

      As she watched the deputy put handcuffs on him and lead him down the street, Polly couldn’t imagine that she’d been wrong. But why was he so meekly accepting this injustice?

      Or was it as the deputy had suggested, and Mitch had just snapped?

      Mitch stopped, then turned to look at her. “Go. I’m counting on you.”

      The deputy and his men led Mitch away, and while Polly wanted to run after them, she did the only thing she could do—she ran back to the parsonage and back to the Taylor children.

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