She opened her mouth to tell him so, but she was prevented from speaking when from behind them on the path, Zoe Kastain called out, “Sheriff! Miss Brindle!”
A glance back revealed the little girl barreling toward them, her arm stretched full out before her and Jinx lunging at the end of a lead rope.
Charlotte stepped partway behind the sheriff. She’d planned to wear this dress to this evening’s supper, but she hadn’t counted on an encounter with Jinx.
Reagan met her gaze over his shoulder and laughed. “Don’t worry. I’ll whack him with the bucket if he gets anywhere near you.”
Charlotte’s face warmed, and she wrinkled her nose at him. So he had noticed the dirty paw prints on her skirt the other day.
Thankfully, Zoe was able to hang on to the dog’s leash this time, and when Jinx gave a happy yip and lunged toward the two of them, tongue lolling like he’d be overjoyed to offer a sloppy kiss, Zoe yanked him back before he could make contact. “No, Jinx!”
With a whimper, the dog settled onto his haunches. Charlotte obligingly stepped from behind the sheriff and bent to give the dog’s head a few pats.
Reagan chuckled. “You are supposed to walk the dog, Zoe. Not let the dog walk you.”
Zoe grinned. “Jinx don’t rightly walk anywhere. But Pa says he’ll settle down a bit once he gets another year or two under his hide.” Her gaze sobered a little at the mention of her father.
Charlotte’s heart went out to her. “How is your pa?”
Zoe brushed a lock of red hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear. “Ma says he’s strong and that he’s going to pull through just fine.” A smile lit her pretty blue eyes. “He even halfway sat up in his bed and ate dinner same time as the rest of us last night. I’m heading to Doc Griffin’s right now to pick up some medicines Pa be needin’. I have to get back so’s Belle can be on time for the supper.”
As though reminded of her purpose, Zoe started on past them, but as she did, her focus darted to the pail full of flowers in the sheriff’s hands. “You two been picking posies together?” A gleam of awareness sparkled in the gaze she darted between them.
Charlotte cleared her throat even as the sheriff hurried to say, “We have not. Miss Brindle picked these for the supper tonight, and I happened upon her and offered to walk her home for her protection. Nothing more.” He lowered a stern expression toward the girl. “Understood?”
Charlotte felt a little miffed. He didn’t have to be so all-fired adamant about it!
Zoe scuffed at a stone with the toe of one shoe, hanging her head like a chastised toddler. “Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now would you like to accompany us back into town?”
The sparkle and enthusiasm immediately returned to the girl’s demeanor. “I sure would!”
The rest of the way into Wyldhaven, Zoe chatted about how thrilled she was that school would be starting in just over a week and that she and her siblings couldn’t wait to have their first day of schooling ever. “Well, Belle had some schooling when we lived down in Portland for a while. But we moved from there a few years after I was born, so she don’t rightly remember much.”
With each passing moment Charlotte’s heart grew heavier. How could she return back home to her life of comfort and ease knowing she was leaving these children in such grave need of an education? And yet could she reconcile herself to living in such an uncivilized place? Especially after Mr. Heath’s deception?
She sighed. She had less than twenty-four hours to decide.
When they reached the bridge, Charlotte voiced a question she had wondered about when she came over it earlier. “Sheriff, why is this portion in the middle of the bridge lower than the rest?”
“That’s a spillway. In the spring, winter runoff fills the creek quite high.”
“Why wasn’t the bridge simply built a little higher?”
“I believe, if the drawing in your pamphlet can be trusted, Miss Brindle, that Mr. Heath intends to do just that with a stone archway. This bridge was only meant to be temporary.”
Her ire rose at the reminder of the deceptive little pamphlet. “Well, I can assure you that Mr. Heath in no way mentioned that picture was how he planned for Wyldhaven to look eventually.”
They had arrived at the boardinghouse now, and Sheriff Callahan paused and extended the bucket full of flowers with a little bow. There was an aggravating glint in his gaze that made her wonder if he thought she was making too much of Mr. Heath’s deception. “I’m sure there was some sort of misunderstanding, is all.”
She felt her chin lift slightly as she accepted the bucket from him, and the man had the audacity to chuckle as he settled one hand against Zoe’s shoulder, lifted a wave of farewell, and walked away down the street.
“Sheriff!” Charlotte called.
He stopped and looked back at her.
“Don’t worry. I’ve just as much desire to return to Boston as you seem to have to see me go!”
The sheriff looked relieved, but beside him, Zoe’s eyes rounded, and Charlotte felt a prick of conscience for her impetuous, brash words, yet before she could amend her statement, the sheriff had prodded the little girl on her way and left Charlotte standing alone.
She stormed into the boardinghouse kitchen and slammed the bucket onto the counter. “Oh, that man positively makes my blood boil!”
Dixie, who was just wringing the last of the water from her dishrag and giving the counter one last swipe, gave her a startled look.
Charlotte took a breath. “Sorry.” She waved a hand. “Sheriff Callahan is just as bad as Mr. Heath! He harbors no outrage toward the man for deceiving me into coming out here!”
Dixie tilted her head. “So which one makes your blood boil?” Gentle humor softened her brown eyes.
Charlotte threw up her hands. “Both of them. For different reasons.”
Dixie laughed softly. “Yes. I’m sure the reasons are very different.” She arched a brow.
Charlotte folded her arms and did her best imitation of a glower. She knew Dixie was implying that her frustration with the sheriff was due to an attraction, but she wasn’t going to dignify the implication with a response.
Dixie chuckled. “All right. I can see you don’t want to discuss that. So back to Mr. Heath… The thing is…none of us have ever known him to be deceptive like this before. What were his exact words to you?”
Charlotte huffed and stomped over to the vases that Dixie had set out on the counter. Roses she had earlier so carefully and gently snipped she now thrust into the vases with venom. “We only spoke for a few minutes in my parents’ parlor, and I remember almost word for word what he said as he handed that brochure to me! First he said, ‘This will tell you a little about the Wyldhaven I have dreamed of building for quite a goodly sum of years.’”
Dixie’s brows lifted. “‘Have dreamed of building’?”
Charlotte stilled, a rose held frozen above the mouth of a vase. She felt a little lightheaded. “Well yes, he did say that, but he made it sound like his dream had come true!” She stabbed the rose in with the other flowers as though it were a dart she was thrusting into Mr. Heath’s shoulder.
Dixie’s expression remained passive. Charlotte couldn’t help but notice that her new friend didn’t look like she was coming around to her way of thinking.
“What else did he say? Anything?”
“He certainly did! As he was leaving, he said, ‘Miss Brindle, I believe that if you compare Wyldhaven, the little piece of New England blooming on the wild frontier, to any other town, you’ll find it will be the far superior place to settle one day. And we hope you’ll grace us with your excellent teaching skills.’”
Dixie straightened. “‘Will be’? He said it just like that? ‘Will be the far superior place to settle one day…’?”
Charlotte felt her jaw go slack. And some of the starch seeped out of her annoyance toward the man. Had she really been misjudging him from the moment she’d arrived in town? She’d thought he me
ant she would settle in the town one day, not that the town would be far superior one day. Still… Her jaw jutted to one side, and she pinned Dixie with a look. “Yes. He did say it just like that. But surely he had to know the impression his words were leaving on me?”
Dixie hung her dishrag on the hook by the sink and then plunked her hands on her hips. “Honey, he’s a man. Literal is the only language they speak. I’m sure Mr. Heath felt he was quite clear that Wyldhaven would one day be as depicted on that brochure.”
Charlotte threw up her hands, but in that moment she was dismayed to note the excitement shooting through her at the thought of getting to be part of a project like that. Imagine! Taking a little scrap of a place like Wyldhaven and turning it into a beautifully warm and welcoming village.
Staying would also allow her to avoid the dread she felt each time she thought of going back to Boston and facing Kent again.
On the other hand, it also meant she’d have to resign herself to living in this backwoods squalor for some time to come.
Chapter Fourteen
The thrill of taking on a project like Wyldhaven didn’t leave Charlotte for the entire rest of the afternoon. As she and Dixie put the finishing touches on the tables in McGinty’s Alehouse, ideas of new school projects to add to her list kept flitting through her mind. But with each passing moment, her dismay at her new excitement rose a notch higher. Whatever was the matter with her? She felt like someone had stuffed every conflicting emotion imaginable into her and then given her a good shaking, to boot.
Families had started filtering into the room only a few minutes ago.
Charlotte stood to one side at the rear of the space and worked the kinks from her back as subtly as she could. Bending over the tables all afternoon, combined with sleeping on the slightly lumpy mattress in her room at the boardinghouse, had pain shooting through her lower back. Within a fortnight she could be in Boston sleeping on her own comfortable feather tick, and yet here she was, seriously considering not getting onto the stagecoach in the morning.
“I’ve a liniment that will make that feel better.”
Charlotte startled at the male voice that spoke quietly from just behind her. She turned to find Dr. Flynn Griffin standing at the bottom of the steps that led to the upper floor of McGinty’s.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.” Flynn swept his hat to indicate the staircase. “I rent a room from Ewan.” He pinned her with a searching look. “No more headaches this week?”
“No.” Charlotte shook her head and offered a reassuring smile. “And as for my back, I think I’ll be right as rain given a few moments. I’ve just been bent over the tables for quite some time.”
The doctor turned to scan the room. “Everything looks lovely, Miss Brindle.”
But Charlotte noticed that the good doctor’s gaze was not on the table decorations but instead rested on Dixie Pottinger, who was welcoming people near the door.
Charlotte leaned a bit closer to the man and lowered her voice. “Would you care for a little inside information as to the appearance of Miss Pottinger’s basket, Dr. Griffin?”
His gaze darted to hers, and he blinked. “Whyever would you think—” But at Charlotte’s lifted brows and wagging finger, his stance relaxed, and a slow smile turned up the corners of his lips. He dipped his head and scuffed at a mark on the floor with the toe of his boot, like a schoolboy caught spying on his teacher.
That was the moment Charlotte realized what a nice-looking man the doctor was, with his dark wavy hair, hazel-blue eyes, and closely shaven jaw.
His gaze skittered over Dixie once more before he angled it toward Charlotte. “Unfortunately for me, Miss Brindle, Miss Pottinger is quite set on remaining single, but if you care to share the appearance of your basket, I’d be happy to bid on the chance at spending an evening with you.”
Charlotte chuckled. “The purple basket, Dr. Griffin. I think you’ll find the contents rather delicious and the company more than tolerably pleasant.”
The doctor tipped her a nod and stepped past her. “And now if you’ll excuse me, Miss Brindle, I think I will mosey on my way before I get arrested.”
“Arrested?” But the word was spoken to his disappearing back.
“Evening, Miss Brindle.” Sheriff Callahan was suddenly beside her.
She dipped a curtsey, but her thoughts were still on the doctor’s perplexing statement. She turned back to watch him slip out the door and onto the street. “Sheriff? Are you trying to arrest the doctor for some infraction?”
Sheriff Callahan pulled his head back and puckered his brow. “As far as I know, Doc is among the most upstanding of citizens, Miss Brindle. What brings such a question to mind?”
It was Charlotte’s turn to frown as she puzzled over the doctor’s parting words. “Oh nothing. Just something the doctor said as he was leaving just now.”
The sheriff stood quietly by her side for a moment, his hands clasped behind his back, as he scanned the room. He looked rather nice this evening in a black suit. His coat was cut with tails, and his vest of blue silk brought out the striking blue of his eyes. He wore no hat, and his blond hair curled in rebellion to the pomade he’d used in an apparent attempt to control it, but instead of making him look unkempt, it gave him a roguish air that made her mouth dry.
Realizing she was staring, Charlotte felt her face heat. Before he could catch her, she followed his example and turned back to studying those gathered. Across the room, Dixie met her gaze, her brows lifted in humor. Charlotte wrinkled her nose at her, but then offered a smile and a small shrug. Dixie laughed, then turned to greet someone who’d spoken to her.
Thankful for another segment of quiet, Charlotte took a moment to pray that the benefit would be a smashing success.
All across the room, families conversed with one another, most of them laughing, a few of them oohing and aahing over babies they hadn’t seen for a few weeks or a child who’d lost a tooth since the families had last visited. To their left, two men talked about the latest saw one had purchased from the Sears Roebuck catalogue. To their right, Belle Kastain stood chatting with a group of girls close to her age, but her gaze kept traveling to the sheriff. Charlotte tried to offer the girl a smile, but received only an icy squint in return.
At her side, the sheriff cleared his throat. “I wonder, Miss Brindle… Since you will be leaving on the morning’s stage, would you consider breaking with propriety and giving a man a clue as to the color of your basket?” She could see a hint of entreaty pinching the corners of his lips, even though he hadn’t faced her but kept his attention focused steadily on the goings-on before them.
First, in the wildflower field, the man had stared at her like he might want to kiss her. Then he’d taken her hand on the trail, and she’d felt certain he was going to kiss her. But he’d once again told her it would be best for her to go back home. And now he was asking to eat dinner with her? Charlotte felt her jaw go slack. But she managed to keep her lips sealed just in the nick of time to avoid the unladylike propensity.
He’d been standing next to her for several minutes now. Had he been working up the courage to ask her about her basket all that time?
Instead of being irritated, it warmed her through rather much more than it ought, to learn that the sheriff wanted to bid on her basket. Still, she wasn’t about to reward the man, especially considering the way he kept pointing out that she wasn’t suited to work in Wyldhaven. She suppressed a smile, feeling a little giddy wave of power. “I’m afraid a lady never reveals her secrets, Sheriff Callahan.”
“Indeed?” Frivolity touched the edges of the word, though he still wasn’t looking at her but fastidiously perusing the gathering. “More’s the pity for the likes of me, then.”
Just then a thought came to Charlotte that almost had her laughing out loud. “Purple is a beautiful color, don’t you think, Sheriff Callahan?”
His gaze snapped to hers. “Purple is indeed a beautiful color, Miss Brindle.”
He offered the sketch of a bow. “And I, you.” His attention had already turned to the table full of picnic baskets before she’d even taken two steps. And she imagined him searching out Dixie’s purple one.
Oh, but this was going to be a fun evening. If only the decision over tomorrow’s departure still wasn’t weighing so heavily on her.
There was something about Miss Brindle’s little chuckle as she left him that raised Reagan’s awareness of her subtle deception. She hadn’t actually said her basket was the purple one. She’d only pointed out that purple was a lovely color.
Reagan grinned and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. He studied the baskets. The purple one was likely one of the single ladies’. Perhaps Dixie’s? Or… He shuddered. Maybe Belle’s? He darted a glance at Miss Brindle’s back. Surely the woman wasn’t so callous as all that, was she?
Speaking of Belle…
Apparently intent on taking advantage of the fact that he was standing alone, Belle sashayed to his side. She tucked her hands behind her back and cast a coquettish look toward the baskets. “Your favorite chocolate cake accompanies one of those dinners, Sheriff.”
Reagan didn’t dare dash Belle’s assumptions about her chocolate cake, but to him, one chocolate cake tasted much like another. They all went down easy, no matter who baked them. And he wasn’t about to sell his soul for a piece of cake—chocolate or not.
Still, if he guessed wrong about Miss Brindle’s basket and accidentally ended up bidding on Belle’s, that could prove disastrous. And he knew one deputy sheriff who’d be more than happy to know which basket was Belle’s. So he ventured, “And I’m guessing yours is the orange one?”
Belle giggled and swayed her hips, causing her skirt to swish around her ankles. “Guess again.”
Not a Sparrow Falls (Wyldhaven Book 1) Page 18
