Free Poppy: Bride of Alaska (American Mail-Order Bride 49) by Cassie Hayes Page A

embezzled from my father, took our entire family fortune, and I’m here to get it back.”
    Vinchenko stared at him in silence. His face was unreadable, and Matthew’s heart pounded in his chest waiting for his inevitable denial. Of course, every thief ever caught shouted their innocence from the jail, so it would mean nothing. He had the proof in his pocket.  
    “Your father tell you dis?”  
    “He did, and I have the evidence proving it all.”
    Oh, that got him. Vinchenko’s eyes widened.  
    “Let me see.”
    Matthew pulled a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket. He’d carried them on his person since leaving Boston, and rarely let them out of his sight. Reluctantly, he handed them to Vinchenko, ready to snatch them back if he made a move to tear them up. But all he did was scan each document, grunting as he read.
    Thrusting them back at Matthew, Vinchenko said, “What dat prove?”
    “It proves my father’s claim that you impersonated him at the bank and withdrew every penny in the account. See? That’s not my father’s signature.” He pointed to a shaky scrawl that was repeated on five more withdrawal receipts.
    Vinchenko grunted again, then shuffled through a crate of books and journals.  
    “Aha!” Thumbing through a ledger, he found what he was looking for and shoved a sheet of paper at Matthew. “Read.”
    It was a shipping manifest for three crates of sewing notions and fabric, received at the Sitka wharf off the steamship Queen, dated May 12, 1890 and signed by Vladimir Vinchenko. What this had to do with the man’s crimes was beyond him.
    “So?”
    “So…look at date on dat bank receipt.”
    Matthew had never thought to look at the dates of the withdrawals from his father’s bank account, not that it would have meant anything to him anyway. But they told a story he didn’t want to believe. Chills rippled up his spine, taking his breath away.
    “May.”

Chapter 8

    Matthew’s head felt like it might explode. He’d spent the last several months believing one thing, but now…now, he didn’t know what to believe.
    “You see, da ?” Vinchenko leaned forward on his stool, eager to hear Matthew agree, but he still couldn’t make sense of all this.
    “See what? What’s going on?” Poppy asked, looking between the men. Matthew opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words.
    “Da papers show I am not thief. Da papers show—“
    “Shut up!” Matthew growled his warning at the man. “Don’t say it.”
    Poppy looked more confused than ever.
    “Say what?”
    Vinchenko leaned back, a look of sympathy on his weathered face. An urge to reach out and slap that look off almost overpowered Matthew’s good sense. He hated pity almost as much as he hated charity, both of which had been poured on him back in Boston before he left.
    Poppy watched his every move, seeing more of him than he ever intended to show her. Why was she even there with him? Neither one had wanted the other in their lives, yet here she was, concern pouring from her in waves. Not pity, he noticed, but worry. For him.  
    That was new.
    But he had other things on his mind at the moment, such as explaining to her what he’d just discovered.  
    “That Mr. Vinchenko here couldn’t possibly have stolen the money my father claimed he did because he was here in Sitka at the time. And if that ledger is accurate, he’s been here for more than a year.”
    He nearly choked on the words. Every waking minute of the last few months had been spent sure in the knowledge that Vinchenko was the cause of his family’s downfall. Now to find out that the man was innocent? His mind couldn’t keep up with the thoughts spinning through them.
    Poppy sat silent for a long moment, then gasped. Her eyes grew as round as the glasses they were drinking from.  
    “No! Your father…?”
    Pain seared his eyes, his heart. Bolting upright, he strode to the doorway, where he could look out the front window, as if he might find answers