Steel Heart (Historical Western Romance) (Longren Family series #2, Chloe and Matthew's story) by Amelia Rose Page A

He was strong and tall, even taller than Matthew, and currently terrifying in aspect.
                  Matthew started to stammer.  Whatever he'd meant to say, by way of asking for my hand or announcing our engagement or any other thing, went out of his head.  "Sir," he started and floundered to a halt, clearly not having any idea where to go next.
                  "There's been some excitement, Mayor Anders," Hutch said smoothly, and unexpectedly, as he came up behind us. 
                  I'm going to have to tell that whole story again , I thought, and then felt myself turn as white as Matthew had.  For the first time, it occurred to me I'd have to explain to my father that I'd gone haring off after the person I thought had set fire to The Faro Queen, and I was abruptly as terrified of my father as anyone else present.  Matthew wouldn't have to worry about asking for my hand in marriage, as Mayor Anders would no doubt inter me in my room.
                  My mother turned an eagle eye on me.
                  "I'm well," I said quickly.  "There was a fire at Mr. Longren's hotel and it took some time to get it sorted out.  By the time the fire was out, the snow was too thick to travel and, after that, it was dark.  I took a room for the night," and, judging by my parents' matching scowls, thought to add, "Mrs. Longren can vouch for me."
                  Both parents turned their expressions to Maggie, who has borne up under neighborly scrutiny, eviction and foreclosure notices, midwifery and tragic births, but not, apparently, to the combined might of the Anders. 
                  Before she could answer, Matthew said, "You need to tell them everything."
                  I turned to him, wondering if he had gone mad, and he nodded at me but addressed them.  We still stood in the snowy, frosty morning, my feet freezing, my hands not that warm in my shredded gloves.
                  "There was a fire at the hotel," Matthew said.  "Miss Anders and I were across the street, having lunch, when the fire started.  My brother and I both ran to our hotel, and Miss Anders"—he gave me a look worthy of my father—"ran behind the hotel."
                  My father glowered.  "Why?"
                  "Because I thought there might be sparks or flames.  I wanted to be certain there was no fire behind the hotel that could catch and spread before the wagons arrived.  At that point, it was contained.  There was nothing on the side and I could see everything around me and move easily in every direction."  When that logical explanation, which had the benefit of being true, didn't sway him, I added, "I had to do something.  I couldn't just watch."  You raised me to think for myself, I added silently but wisely didn't note aloud.
                  I had apparently said just enough.  My father nodded and turned his attention back to Matthew. 
                  This is where it gets tricky.
                  "She saw someone come out of the hotel and run."
                  He had gone no further before both my mother and my father were staring at me again.  Matthew seemed disinclined to go any further with the tale, as if, having gotten me into it this far, he was content to abandon me.
                  "I went to find the Sheriff or Matthew but"— but Matthew was talking to Violet Hastings — "but couldn't find either.  So I…"  In for a penny, in for a pound.  "I followed his tracks."
                  That didn't end well.  We continued to stand in the snow as Mr. Flannigan's rooster next door kept announcing the dawn now long past, and my feet froze and my parents asked the same questions over and over.  My mother felt it would be inappropriate to examine my skull in the presence of gentlemen and because I was loathe to go inside with