Not a Sparrow Falls (Wyldhaven Book 1)

by Lynnette Bonner

  Not a sparrow falls…

  This time instead of anger and annoyance, the words brought tears of wonder and hope. Was there really a God? Had He sent Joe to keep her from killing herself?

  Exhaustion pressed hard against her eyes. She needed more sleep, but she was so thirsty. She tried to sit up, and gasped.

  Instantly a face appeared above her own. Joe.

  “Don’t try to move. Doc says you need to just lie still and rest as much as you can.”

  She moistened her lips, but her mouth was so dry it didn’t do much good. “Thirsty.”

  He disappeared from sight and returned a moment later with a cup of water and a spoon. With meticulous care he drizzled one spoonful of water at a time into her mouth. The water spread across her tongue and brought such relief that her eyes drifted closed.

  She heard the spoon clink into the cup and felt the air stir as he started to pull away. She clutched for him. “Joe?”

  “I’m right here.” She felt the warmth of his hand settle over hers where it rested on his arm.

  She swept her tongue over dry lips. Her eyelids were still too heavy to lift. “Thank you.”

  There was a beat of silence, and then he said, “Any time.”

  “How did you know to come?”

  Another moment of quiet, then, “I think God brought me.”

  She let her hand fall back to the quilt.

  I think God brought me.

  How did one process that? It was too much for her to take in at the moment. It filled too many crevices that had been craving presence for far too long.

  “Shhh, Liora. It’s all right.” She felt a cool cloth gently stroke her face and temples, and she realized that tears had slipped from the corners of her eyes back into her hair. But these weren’t tears of sorrow or agitation.

  Far from it.

  For the first time since she could remember, she felt a sense of awe and wonder.

  Joe dropped the rag back into the bowl of water on her nightstand and watched Liora sink deep into the oblivion of sleep. He hadn’t gotten the chance to tell her he’d purchased her contract from Ewan and she didn’t have to work for the man another day in her life if she didn’t want to. But there would be time for that later. For now, he was just glad to see her resting easy. Glad to hear her thanking him for saving her life. Maybe she would find hope in her future after all.

  Lenny hadn’t come back.

  Patrick stared at the ceiling of the cave, his good arm propped behind his head.

  Lenny had left this morning with the promise that he’d be back with the schoolteacher in just a few hours, but it was late afternoon now. Something had happened. The man had failed him yet again.

  So then… Patrick surged to his feet. It would be up to him. His arm wasn’t fully healed, but it was good enough that he’d be able to handle that slip of a woman.

  With slow purposeful steps, he started out for town. It took him the rest of the afternoon. And he was out of breath and exhausted by the time he arrived. Too much lying about at ease. His old body wasn’t as spry as it used to be.

  He leaned one shoulder into a pine, took a moment to catch his breath, and studied the town from just inside the cover of the forest. All seemed quiet. Not a soul was stirring.

  Lenny had said the teacher was staying in Dixie’s Boardinghouse, so he took the stairs at the back that led up to the balcony that circled the entire perimeter of the building. He shucked his Bowie and started peering in the windows. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, but when he came to the third window, it was the empty valise sitting against one wall that drew a smile from him.

  “Bingo.”

  She’d been carrying that exact bag on the stage.

  He slipped his knife between the window and the sill until he found the lock. It was only a moment more before he heard the satisfying click of the latch giving way.

  He tossed a quick glance over his shoulder. All still lay in quietness.

  Perfect.

  He slipped inside to wait.

  Charlotte made her way into the boardinghouse and wearily ambled across the carpet toward the stairs. Even though dinner was in full swing, she currently had no appetite. Her foot had just landed on the bottom tread when Dixie poked her head out of the dining room.

  “Charlotte, there you are! Come in to dinner. Mother and I have been waiting to eat till you got back. We both want to hear all about your shooting lesson!” Dixie disappeared again before Charlotte could decline her request.

  Weighing the desire to simply retreat to her room and mope alone against her aversion to hurting Dixie’s feelings, she finally decided she could handle sitting at a table and picking at her food for a few minutes if it meant pleasing Dixie and Rose. She slowly stepped through the door to the dining room and sank into her seat at the table she’d shared each evening with Dixie and her mother.

  It was only a moment before Dixie and Rose bustled out of the kitchen and joined her. Dixie set one steaming plate filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and a helping of peas in front of Charlotte, and set her own similarly filled plate in front of herself. Rose carried a basket of rolls, which she placed in the middle of the table, and a third identical plate, which she set at her place.

  “I’ll just run fetch our drinks and the cherry pie I set aside for us for this evening and be right back.” Dixie hustled away before Charlotte could even get out a peep about not being hungry.

  And it was probably a good thing, because when the first tantalizing waft of fried chicken filled her nostrils, her stomach rumbled.

  Dixie hadn’t been back and seated for more than a few seconds when a table of loggers rose, dropped their money next to their empty plates, and then tipped Dixie their hats as they exited. Dixie took a quick bite of chicken and then dashed away to clear their dishes and seat the next group of men waiting for a table.

  Rose watched her daughter as she shook her head. “It’s a miracle that girl doesn’t blow away in the wind. I don’t think she’s sat through an entire meal since we opened this boardinghouse. Sure was nice to picnic with her out by the river today. First time we’ve set down together and had peace and quiet in a long time. Your school is going to be good for more than just those children.”

  The forkful of potatoes that had been headed for Charlotte’s mouth paused in midair as guilt swirled through her. She set the fork back down.

  Rose broke off a piece of her roll. “What is it?”

  Charlotte dropped her hands into her lap and loosed a breath. “I’m just not certain I should stay.”

  Rose gave her a sympathetic look. “You’ve had a hard day.”

  “It’s more than just that. Before I came, my mother accused me of simply acting on impulse. And maybe she was right. If I leave, then maybe the Waddell gang will too.”

  Rose snorted most inelegantly. “If you think running back to Boston is going to stop the Waddell gang from churning mischief in these parts, well, you just don’t know much about the Waddell gang. Honey, you are just an excuse for those no-goods to kick up their heels. If it’s not you they use, it will be some other poor soul. Best thing you can do is learn to defend yourself and stand up to bullies like that. If you run, you’ll only give them a stronger hold of fear on this community.” Rose nodded emphatically, as though she may have just solved the world’s problems, and then she leaned forward with a twinkle in her eyes. “Now tell me about your shooting lesson with the sheriff.”

  Charlotte felt her despair rise to the fore. “Well, it wasn’t much of a lesson. The moment the gun touched my hands, I had this terrible sense of foreboding and fear. I cut the lesson short and told the sheriff I thought I would be heading back to Boston on Thursday’s stage.”

  “What?!” Dixie dropped into her chair and gaped disbelievingly at Charlotte. “I thought you’d decided to stay.” There was a little bit of distress in her eyes, and Charlotte felt sorry that she’d been the one to put it there.

  Cha
rlotte rubbed her temples and moaned. “I just don’t know. I want to stay. I thought I should stay. But seeing Zoe Kastain so hurt because of me…I’m just not certain it’s the right thing anymore.”

  Dixie leaned across the table. “Nonsense. You listen to me. Zoe wasn’t hurt because of you! She was hurt because of those no-good outlaws. They are nothing but a bunch of troublemaking thieves. And I’m begging you not to let them steal one of the best things that has happened to Wyldhaven since Zebulon Heath pounded its first nail—and that’s having you in town as our schoolteacher.”

  Charlotte’s heart soaked in the encouraging words. “That’s very kind of you to say. But what if I can’t learn to use a gun, and what if I fail to protect my students?”

  Dixie blew a dismissive raspberry as she thrust her napkin back into her lap. “Any woman who can make her way all alone from Boston to the wilds of Washington can learn to shoot a little old gun.”

  Charlotte tilted her a look. “So do you know how to use a gun?”

  Dixie’s chin dipped. “I’ve shot a varmint or two in my day.” Her gaze darted toward Rose, whose lips pressed into a thin line and whose face lost nearly all of its color.

  A zing of curiosity zipped through Charlotte as she became aware of something hidden beneath the surface of the words, which she wasn’t quite catching. She voiced the question lingering in her mind. “So what brought you two to the burgeoning city of Wyldhaven?”

  If Charlotte wasn’t mistaken, both of the women’s eyes widened slightly. But Dixie was the first to respond. “We were looking for a new beginning. And we found one. I hope you’ll find one too, Charlotte. Now”—she stood and lifted her skirts—“if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a whole sink full of dishes waiting to be washed before I can take my rest.”

  Charlotte’s gaze dropped to Dixie’s barely touched food, and her curiosity flamed higher.

  Rose tossed her napkin onto her own half-empty plate, stood, and started clearing the table. “I’ll come help you, dear.”

  And with that, the two women bustled off, leaving Charlotte with the distinct impression that it was her questions they were running from and not work they were running to.

  Curiosity still plagued Charlotte as she made her way up the stairs with the wooden box Sheriff Callahan had stored her gun in clutched to her chest.

  She pondered Rose and Dixie’s words. Maybe they were right.

  She groaned. If only God would speak to her and tell her what to do. If she felt certain one answer or the other was right, she’d be able to rest in that. Maybe find some peace.

  Her hand was on her door handle when she remembered that Reagan had asked her to read those verses. Her Bible was downstairs since she’d used it in a reading lesson earlier today.

  She hesitated. Should she just read them in the morning? She pictured the look in Reagan’s eyes when he’d made the request. Sighed. It would only take her a moment to run down.

  She retraced her steps.

  A few patrons were still eating in the dining room when she arrived back down, and Dixie and Rose hadn’t yet returned the room to its classroom status. But no one was seated at the table Charlotte used as a desk. She sank into one chair, settled the box onto the corner, and tugged her Bible from the crate below the hem of the tablecloth.

  “James…” She flipped through the pages until she came to the first chapter. He’d been right that she would only have to read a few verses. The words leapt off the page as though the writer of the book had penned them with only her in mind all those centuries ago. “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind. For let not that man suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.”

  She slumped against the back of her chair. Unstable in all his ways. Tears pricked her eyes.

  This was so true of her. She’d asked God to guide her. And when He’d answered, she’d followed, but then because of a few hardships, she’d started doubting. Questioning. Thinking maybe she knew better.

  Lord, forgive me. She dropped her forehead onto her hands as a wave of sheer joy and peace washed through her. God had spoken to her. She’d just been doubting. No more doubting, Lord. If this is where You brought me, then I’ll do my best to happily serve You here.

  Feeling like a burden had been lifted, she sat up. Returning her Bible to the crate below her desk, she gathered the wooden box into her arms and headed for the stairs. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so lighthearted. Wyldhaven with all its ruggedness and mud and outlaws and lack of schoolhouse or church was where the Lord had called her to serve. She would learn to live here and choose to be happy—she glanced down at the box in her arms—even if it meant learning to shoot a gun.

  She snorted. Who was she kidding about learning to shoot? The moment the sheriff had put that gun into her hands, she’d had this terrible fear of the power of the thing. One mistake on her part and someone could lose their life! Would she even be able to point it at someone? Even an outlaw? She just didn’t think so. Maybe that was one part of learning to live in the West that she could put off for a while.

  After all, how much more could go wrong?

  With a happy sigh, she slipped her key into her lock. She pushed into her room and latched the door behind her.

  A hand clamped over her mouth! “Don’t make a sound.”

  Terror clawed through her. One of the outlaws had been waiting in her room! How had he gotten in?!

  Across the way, her curtain fluttered at the window. Her eyes dropped closed, and she concentrated on breathing steadily. He’d come up the back stairs to the outdoor balcony and slipped in through her window. He must have jimmied the lock!

  Just when she’d decided she would trust the Lord, there came another test. But she wasn’t going to waver this time. Lord, I’m going to keep trusting. I know You brought me here for a reason. And I don’t think I’ve done all You want me to do yet. So please help me.

  “You are apparently a hard woman to kidnap, Miss Brindle. I guess when I want a job done, I’d best do it myself.” The man’s fetid breath wafted over her when he pressed his mouth close to her ear.

  Something tickled at the back of her mind. That voice! She’d heard it before. Where?

  “Mmmm, don’t you smell good.” The outlaw made a grand gesture of sniffing her hair. “I guess I didn’t get close enough to you last time to notice how lovely you smelled.” He chuckled low. “Something I intend to amend this time around.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened. It was Patrick Waddell himself!

  Waddell stepped around in front of her but pressed a pistol to her forehead to ensure her continued silence. “That’s right…it’s me. Surprised? I have to say…I’ve been thinking about you a lot over the past few weeks.” His gaze trailed leisurely down the length of her. “And my memories didn’t quite do you justice.” He made a sound like someone enjoying a tasty pastry. “We are going to get reacquainted, you and I, Miss Brindle. Very closely reacquainted.”

  Revulsion sent a shiver down Charlotte’s spine, and she refused to look him in the eye, not wanting to see the lecherous grin upon his face. She stared instead at the place where the wall of her room met the ceiling at one corner.

  She must think! How was she to make her escape? She must fight this battle on her own. And she must do so immediately. For if she let the man steal her away, no one would even know she was missing until she didn’t show up for classes in the morning. And by then she would be much too far away for Sheriff Callahan to easily track her down as he had done this morning!

  She stalled for time. “If you are here, then you obviously know I had nothing to do with your death!”

  “Oh, my dear, of course I don’t hold you responsible for my death!” He tsked as though she might be an unlearned child.


  “What are you going to do with me?”

  Again his lecherous gaze slithered over her, and Charlotte was ever so thankful for the box she still clutched to her chest. Even so… Cold terror clogged her throat.

  “I’m here for an entirely different reason. You see, I’ve found over the past few weeks that I couldn’t get the feel of you in my arms out of my mind.” He ran the back of one hand down the length of her upper arm.

  Despite the revulsion that threatened to silence her, Charlotte snorted. “I wasn’t in your arms! I was slung in a heap over your saddle!”

  “Well”—Waddell’s lips lifted at one corner—“that’s something I intend to rectify this time, my dear.”

  Charlotte’s chin tipped up. “A gentleman never forces his attentions on a lady!” She knew the words were silly the moment she uttered them.

  Waddell threw back his head on a laugh. “Well, my dear, no one has ever accused me of being a gentleman!”

  “No. I wouldn’t think so.” She rolled her lips in and pressed them together hard.

  She’d pushed too far, because all levity left Waddell’s eyes. “You have two minutes to pack a bag, Miss Brindle. Please bring what you need, because you won’t be coming back.”

  The first bloom of hope poked its head above the soil of Charlotte’s heart. He was going to let her pack? He obviously didn’t know that the box she clutched so closely held a loaded pistol.

  As if her very thoughts had directed the man’s attention to the box, his gaze honed in on it. “What’s in the box?”

  Charlotte strode to her bed and tossed the box down as if it were of no consequence. “Just some things for my classroom.”

  “Well, you won’t be needing those.” He used the gun to gesture to her valise against the far wall. “Your two minutes is waning.”

  Charlotte’s heart hammered as she retrieved the valise and set it on her bed next to the box. Her fear of the gun’s power paled in comparison to her fear of this man, and she suddenly knew that if she could get her hands on her gun, she would shoot this lecher without hesitation. She just had to be wise in the way she went about it.