“I figured Pa had already hired someone.” Reuben Wilson, coming here? Her thoughts swirled around; then a gnawing feeling settled in her stomach.
“Thirteen years can change a body.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Charlotte handed the bread pans to Momma. “But how do we know for certain?”
Momma reached out a flour-covered hand and touched Charlotte’s arm, stopping her from moving back to the stove. “Child, I’m not telling you to give him your heart. No one’s asking for that.”
“I know,” Charlotte whispered. She managed a smile and hoped the subject would change.
He’d made her out a fool once, but not again. At thirteen she’d trusted him with her fragile heart, only to have it tossed at her feet in a million pieces two years later when he and his brothers disappeared. Then when he reappeared, she realized she’d only squashed the pieces together, and her whole heart threatened to crumble again. This “put her in a mood,” as Momma would say.
James had left after a short conversation in the front parlor earlier in the afternoon, a fact for which she was grateful. No, maybe she wanted him here by her side at supper, at least to drive home to Reuben the fact that her life did not include him. Stop it. You’ll not use another man to prove a point to someone else.
Charlotte started heating the grease to cook the beef her family reserved for special occasions. If Reuben was like the prodigal son in the Bible, she needn’t act like the jealous older brother and begrudge him some Christian hospitality.
She’d been praying about acting more like a Christian outside of church. Therefore she would do her best to see Reuben as the reformed wanderer, in need of restoration and kindness. But she would make sure the walls around her heart held firm. When she put supper on the table, a knock sounded at the front door.
Momma said, “Charlotte, open the door for our guest.”
“Of course.” Charlotte placed the plate of meat on the table, smoothed her apron, and headed for the front room.
As she expected, Reuben waited, turning his hat over in his hands. His bulk filled the doorway.
“Please come in.” Charlotte reached for his hat. A tangle of fingers made her catch her breath.
“Your ma and pa have a nice home. I think they were building it when…” Reuben’s voice trailed off as he took in his surroundings with a somber expression.
“Yes.” Charlotte glanced at the comforts she’d grown to love. Her momma’s warm knitted throws, perfect to wrap up in on a chilly night, the hand-carved rocking chair from back East, an iron woodstove that kept the front part of the house warm. “Pa finished the house not long after you and…you and your brothers left.” The words came out in spite of her reluctance.
Reuben winced as though she’d slapped him. “What about your brother? Is he still around? He should be about eighteen by now, right?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No. Momma and Pa sent him to school. Which is why Pa needs the help now. We lost a hand recently also.”
She turned her back to lead Reuben to the warm kitchen, but his strong hand on her shoulder stopped her.
“Charlie.”
Charlotte closed her eyes and murmured, “It’s been a long time since anyone called me that.” She allowed Reuben to turn her back around. What had happened to her head? Her feet refused to take her into the kitchen.
She opened her eyes and tilted her head back to meet Reuben’s gaze. Her rebellious pulse now hammered in her ears. The last time they’d been this close was the night before Reuben and his brothers disappeared. She now saw a man’s face instead of a mostly grown boy, torn between loving her and running from the sins of his youth. Well, she thought he’d loved her. The fingers of her free hand tightened into a fist.
“Oh, Reuben—” Her fingers tingled, wanting to touch his jaw, which tensed with emotion. The sorrow in his eyes struck her in the gut, making her feel like the time she’d taken one of the boys’ dares to leap from the hayloft onto a haystack. She’d fallen down, down, down and landed on a shallow part of the stack. The air had left her lungs with a whoosh as she slammed onto the hay-covered ground. Just like now.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. We’d gotten in over our heads. I didn’t want to lead the law straight to Ma. Turns out I broke her heart anyway. We all did.” Reuben raked his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to break yours, either.”
The old feelings of betrayal surged through her. “I loved you once. But that was a long time ago. We’re both adults now, and I’m sure quite different people.” The admission of her old feelings made her face flame hotter.
“I know I’m different now. Which is what I hope you and the rest of the town will see one day.” Reuben expelled a hollow sigh. “And I thank you for coming today. Your family has done me a great kindness. I’m glad my ma wasn’t all alone.”
“No, she wasn’t.” Her emotions teetered between compassion for the man before her and anger at the years they’d lost. “She prayed for you, even up until the end.”
“She prayed me home.”
Charlotte fell into the river of anger. “A little too late, don’t you think? Why are you here, anyway?” Two stray tears crept down her cheeks.
“This place is my home. I need to make amends for what I’ve done.” He wiped away one of her tears with his rough yet gentle fingers.
Her stomach quivered at his presumptive gesture and stepped backward in the direction of the kitchen. “Come. Supper’s on the table. Pa should be washing up after seeing to the animals, and then we’ll eat.”
So much for building up walls around her heart. As he had done in childhood, Reuben snuck around the back and caught her unawares. No matter what he said, some things hadn’t changed, but she wouldn’t tell him that. Her heart accused her of being a fool not to realize that James was a lesser man than Reuben.
All through the meal, Charlie avoided looking Reuben in the eye. Although Sam talked about the work he needed help with around the farm, Reuben felt as though he held an unspoken conversation with the woman across the table.
During the few moments in the front room before dinner, the feelings coursing through Reuben nearly overcame him. He wanted to shove through the years piled between them and take Charlie in his arms and kiss her, as he should have years ago, and promise never to leave.
What would have happened if he and his brothers had returned the money from the robbery in Colorado and come clean? Reuben imagined Benjamin, who was safe at home, and Colt, Caleb, and himself running the Wilson ranch after jail.
“So what do you think, Reuben?”
“Sounds fine to me.”
“You ain’t heard a word of what I’ve told you the last five minutes, have ya?” Sam chuckled. His molasses brown eyes glinted in the lamplight. “Ah, but you’ve had a lot on your plate. I can’t pay you much—”
“That’s all right, sir.” Reuben downed the last sip of his coffee. “I’m here to figure out some things, maybe earn some respect back for my family. One thing I have learned is there’s no shame in hard work.”
Sam nodded. “Right you are. I was hoping Sam Junior would have wanted the farm one day, but he’s got work of another kind. He’s going to be a lawyer.”
He appeared to change his direction of thought. “Another thing, around here we work every day except Sunday. We go to the Lord’s house and worship. And you’ll come with us, too.”
“That’s fine by me.” Reuben didn’t dare venture a glance at Charlie. “Another thing I’ve learned is a man isn’t much of a man without living for God. I’m nowhere near the man I want to be, but with His help I’m trying.”
That said, he picked up his coffee cup and raised it to his lips, then stopped. He’d forgotten it was empty.
“Charlotte, get our friend Reuben here another cup of coffee, would ya?” Sam gestured toward Reuben’s cup, still held in midair.
A knock sounded at the front door. Sam glanced at his wife, then at Charlotte, who had moved to the stove.
/> “I’ll answer that,” she offered. Charlotte rounded the table, her skirts swishing.
She returned a few seconds later with a red flush on her cheeks. The young dandy who’d driven her home after the funeral followed close behind. Reuben didn’t miss the challenge in the young man’s eyes.
“I apologize for interrupting your supper, Mr. and Mrs. Jeffers. I happened to leave my hat here earlier and thought I’d retrieve it now.” The man appraised Charlotte with a look that made Reuben want to wipe it from his face. Reuben found himself the focus of the mild-mannered gaze that masked anger held back like a wild bronc.
Reuben stood from his place at the table. “I don’t believe I’ve made your acquaintance, but I want to thank you for coming and paying your respects to my ma. I’m Reuben Wilson.” As if the man didn’t know. Reuben extended a hand.
“James Johansson. I used to share a desk with your brother Caleb in school.” James’s hand clenched Reuben’s in a wiry grip. “Mr. and Mrs. Jeffers, since you have company, I’ll be off. But if Charlotte wishes and with your permission, may I return tomorrow evening to listen to her read?”
Sam nodded as Reuben took his seat.
“All right, tomorrow at seven. Have a pleasant evening.” James put on his hat then left.
Reuben stared at his empty coffee cup and wondered if Charlotte could see that James was as slippery as a fish. From the corner of his eye, he saw her move to the stove for the coffeepot, her face now glowing crimson.
“Here’s that coffee, Reuben.” Charlotte was at his elbow. Her hand shook as she poured.
“Thank you. It’s good coffee.”
“Ma made it.” She returned to the stove and kept her back to him.
Reuben ignored the barb. “Another thing, Sam. I’m going to start looking for my brothers. Part of my promise to Ma, you know. Has anybody heard from them?”
Sam shook his head. “Not since Caleb came through about five years ago. He looked wore out. Think he was pretty ashamed. Saw yer ma and left.”
Etta added, “I remember talking with her about Caleb over tea. I think it hurt her again that he left, but she believed that somehow the words she shared would bring him back to following the Lord’s ways.”
“I’m grateful to you both for watching out for her. You gave her a fair price for the land, and she lived comfortably in town.” Reuben sipped his coffee, feeling the all-too-familiar shame rising inside again. “You’ve been good neighbors. She said you helped her after Pa died.” His throat tightened.
Etta patted his hand. “We take care of our own here, Reuben Wilson. Welcome home.”
Reuben caught Charlotte’s gaze. Her eyes glittered with unshed tears.
Chapter 3
Reuben this, Reuben that!” The wind tugged at Charlotte’s hat, so she grabbed the brim with a free hand. She’d tucked her other hand around James’s arm. “For two weeks now that’s all I’ve heard.”
He reined in the horse pulling the buggy. “And that’s all I’ve heard from you.” Though they were on the road leading from town to her parents’ farm, James drew her closer and moved in for a kiss.
His face swallowed up her vision, and Charlotte pushed James away. “Don’t! Someone might see us!”
“I don’t mind if you don’t. I’d rather the world know I’m courting you.”
Charlotte sat up straight and as far away from James as she could. “Courting? I know you’ve been escorting me home, but my pa never spoke to me about courting.”
“What do you think I’ve intended, if not to court you?” James took her gloved hand in one of his. “Then you needn’t feel so shy about kissing me.”
Charlotte didn’t know about the shy part, but kissing James had been the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. What had been on her mind was Reuben. Every day of the week at every meal she’d seen him. In the sleepy hours before dawn she silently poured his coffee, and he smiled his thanks. Sometimes at the noon meal he’d return dusty and tired from his labors. In the evenings after supper he would listen to the family Bible readings. And at night, when she was supposed to be sleeping, she would find herself awake and wondering about the man asleep in the bunkhouse.
“Well, you’re not saying anything. That doesn’t bode well for me.” James chirruped to his horse, and they continued down the frosty lane.
“I’m sorry.” Charlotte shook her head. “I’ve been distracted.”
“I can tell.”
“Thank you for driving me home and for rescuing me from Mrs. Booth at the general store.” Charlotte shook her head. “That woman tries to get news from people like a bee gathering pollen.”
“I’m always glad to help a lady in a predicament. If I’d been a few minutes later, I’d have needed to rescue you from Reuben.”
“No need. Reuben would never hurt me….” Charlotte recalled seeing Reuben on the street. She wondered what business he had in town, especially on a workday when he should be helping her pa.
Reuben’s face had lost some of its somber cast when he saw her, and she thought he might offer to escort her home, especially when she saw her pa’s wagon hitched in the street.
“So what news was our Mrs. Booth attempting to wrest from you?” James’s voice held a mild tone.
“Oh, if Reuben Wilson has stolen any of our valuables—things like that.” Charlotte shook her head. “Of course he hasn’t. He’s worked hard. In fact, I don’t think Pa’s paying him enough for what he’s doing.”
“Sounds like you’re going soft on him.”
“It’s not like that,” Charlotte stammered. “I think he needs a fair chance, just like everyone. People can change. Especially since he’s a Christian.”
“Uh-huh. And a leopard can change his spots.”
“Really, James, you sound like Mrs. Booth.”
“Charlotte, Reuben and his brothers went bad. They tore all over the place, thieving and such. You remember that robbery at the mercantile, the one they pulled right before they disappeared with Benjamin?” James slowed the buggy. “Some people are bad news through and through. There’s no changing that. I’m a newspaper man. I deal in facts.”
“Facts change. People can, too.” Charlotte was wishing more and more she’d stayed in town and let Reuben drive her home instead.
Reuben signed his name at the bottom of the telegraph form. “That should do it. You’ll be sure to let me know if you hear back, right?”
“Check in with me next time you’re in town, Mr. Wilson.” The telegraph operator proofread Reuben’s form and accepted his fee. “It may take awhile—depending on the records and how busy the lawman is—before you hear anything.”
“I suppose I’ll keep waiting then.” Reuben put his hat back on. “Have a good day.”
He left the telegraph office and entered the brisk outdoors. Raider’s Crossing’s hubbub of busy citizens crisscrossed the street. Reuben headed down the boardwalk to the rooming house where his mother once lived.
Reuben touched the bankroll nestled in an inner pocket of his coat. It would have taken him too long to write a letter that made sense, so he figured he’d telegraph sheriffs for information about his brothers’ whereabouts. One of the first things he’d done was write to Sadie, but his letters had returned unopened.
Please, Lord, help me find my family. I need to stay here to get the land back, and I don’t know where to look for the others.
Charlie and her persistent suitor had probably already left in his snug little buggy. He had seen her earlier across the street. She almost appeared as if she wanted to speak to him.
In fact, he’d borrowed Sam’s farm wagon with an ulterior motive in mind. Not just to take his mother’s and family’s effects with him, but maybe even take Charlie home. She’d stubbornly walked the two miles to town, claiming she wanted to get the mail and some fresh air. Probably ruined her pretty boots in the frozen, muddy wagon tracks.
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips as he entered the boardinghouse. The smell of f
resh apple pie made his stomach growl.
Mrs. Beasley, the boardinghouse owner, met him by the staircase. “Mr. Wilson, good day. You’ve come for your mother’s things?”
“Yes, I have.” His throat tightened. “I won’t be long.”
“No worries. Take as long as you like. Here’s the key.” She handed him the cold piece of metal.
Reuben went to what had been his mother’s room, where she’d lived the past five years or so. As soon as he opened the door, he smelled the rosewater she used to wear.
The patchwork quilt on the bed was neatly tucked under a pillow. A brush and hand mirror lay near the bowl and pitcher on the washstand, as if waiting for his mother to return. He moved to the small wardrobe and opened a door to find several dresses, worn yet well cared for.
Maybe Charlie or her mother would like them. He removed the dresses from the wardrobe and placed them on the bed. The bureau contained a few ladies’ undergarments. It was odd removing those; perhaps he would throw them away.
Reuben’s throat swelled, and he dashed away the tears. He needed to finish this job fast before he set to bawling. The trunk at the foot of the bed came open easily, its lock broken. Reuben stuffed the dresses, the brush, and the mirror inside. He glanced around the plain yet tidy room. Nothing else was left for him to do except gather the contents of his family legacy into the trunk and head for the Jeffers farm. Having a family around him might help him squirrel through this box to see what to keep and what to give away. Reuben corrected himself. Having Charlie next to him would help.
He could force himself to wait for the right time.
Charlotte’s eyes burned. Even by the window in the front room the afternoon light didn’t help illuminate her mending very much. But the chore was a welcome diversion that had sent James on his way. He’d unsettled her with his advance in the buggy. Before they parted, he promised he’d never make such an assumption again. Still, she didn’t like the way he spoke of Reuben.
Texas Brides Collection Page 33
