The last thing he saw before riding home was Charlotte talking to James, standing next to his buggy that gleamed in the lantern light.
“No, James.” Charlotte shrugged off his attention and shivered. Her breath made puffs in the evening air. Where did Pa go? He said he’d be right along with the wagon.
“I’m trying to warn you.” James took a step closer. “Reuben Wilson has not changed, and I’m going to prove it. One way or another.”
“Whatever Reuben is, he is my friend, and I’ve known him practically my whole life.” Charlotte glared at him as best she could. “Leave him alone.” She saw Pa driving up with the team and moved away from James.
“You’re not thinking clearly. Childhood fancies have—”
“I’ve never thought more clearly than now.” The chilly air stung her hot cheeks. “In fact, it’s clear to me that I don’t want you to come calling—or offer me rides anywhere—ever again.”
Charlotte turned on her heel and joined her parents. This was what Reuben had meant. She felt like a young child bilked out of her small coins by a huckster’s false promise. Relief soon followed, and she smiled at Pa.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes, it is. Or I hope it will be.”
He helped Momma and then her onto the wagon, and they headed for home.
Reuben did not come to the house after the family returned from the box social. Charlotte didn’t suppose he would, but for a while she held the remote hope that he might. She had so many things she wanted to say to him.
The poor man, all he’d wanted was a good supper, and she’d kept at him like a pecking hen.
A knock sounded at the door as if in response to her thoughts. Reuben stood there holding his hat. “Charlotte, I must speak with your pa.” The urgency in his voice made her stomach turn.
“Of course.” She opened the door wider for him. “What’s wrong?
“Nothing, but I need to leave for a spell.”
“Leave?” A dozen questions soared through her mind. She turned to the kitchen. “Pa, it’s Reuben.”
“Well, send him in here. Your ma has the kettle on.”
Charlotte followed Reuben into the warm kitchen. He stood there, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. She tried to sit without drawing attention to herself.
“Sir, I’ve received word of my brother Colt. He’s in Huntsville.”
Pa nodded. “You must go to him.”
“I’m real sorry. I don’t like leaving you like this. But I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Leaving? Charlotte’s heart sank. He said he’d return but…
“We’ll send you with a parcel of food for your trip.” Pa huffed through his mustache. “Charlotte, gather some things for Reuben.”
Charlotte stood, glad for something to do. That way she could listen while the men planned. She began gathering provisions.
“I’ll leave on the next stage out. Can’t say as I know how long I’ll be.”
“You take what time you need, and we’ll be home waiting for you, son.” Pa gripped Reuben’s shoulder.
“Thank you, sir.” Reuben’s voice was a bare whisper.
Home. Pa had called this place Reuben’s home. Charlotte’s vision blurred with tears. This time she wouldn’t let him leave without a word. This time things would be different. They had to.
Reuben slid the piece of paper money from his pocket and showed Sam once Charlotte had left the room. “Sir, this isn’t mine.”
“Well, whose is it then?”
“I don’t know. I found it in my pocket tonight.”
“Do you think you miscounted?”
“No, sir, I don’t. The bank clerk counted the money twice in front of me.” Reuben sighed. “I counted my money twice when I paid for my box supper tonight.”
“That doesn’t explain the extra bill.”
“It doesn’t. I think someone put it in my pocket, intending to frame me for stealing it. I know it’s only a five-dollar note, but I’m not going back to jail again.”
“Now, son, don’t think that.” Sam scratched his chin. “I tell you what. Let me hold onto this until you get back. We’ll get it straightened out. Go see your brother. Right now you going to Huntsville is safer than staying here.”
Chapter 7
Reuben felt as if he moved in someone else’s dream as Sam drove him to meet the stage. He had a sack of food, enough for two men, on this trip. He was not sure what would happen, nor was he worried about that at the moment.
Charlotte had not said good-bye to him that morning. He had hoped for a glimpse of her, but in the predawn hours, Mrs. Jeffers told him Charlotte was ill. A fine time for her to get sick.
“Well, son. Here you are.” Sam drew the team to a halt. “You be sure and telegraph when you get there, just so we know. We’ll be praying for you and for Colt, as well.”
“I appreciate that, sir.” He shook hands with Sam and climbed from the wagon. Approaching hoofbeats made him look back where they’d traveled from.
Charlotte rode up on Belle. Her hair streamed back in the wind, her cheeks flushed.
“You ought to be home in bed,” Sam chided.
“No one woke me.” She swung off Belle’s back. Her face looked pale. “But I had to see you before you left.”
Sam reached for Belle’s reins. “Go on—you two talk. I’m not going anywhere.” Reuben couldn’t believe he was leaving Charlotte again. But he would be back.
He escorted her a few paces away from the wagon. “Your ma told me you were sick.”
“I don’t care.” Charlotte’s cheeks blazed. “I couldn’t let you leave without telling you…”
“I’ll be home again as soon as I can. I want to see what I can do for my brother and hope to start making up for the past.”
“Do you think you can do that in a matter of days or weeks?”
“I’m not going to stay there too long, but I want to make a start anyway.” He studied her face and saw the fear in her eyes. “What are you afraid of?”
“That you won’t come back this time.”
He took her hand, which was as much as he dared. “Charlotte Jeffers, it about rips a hole inside me to think of not seeing you every day. When I get back again, I aim for a new start with you, too.”
A smile crept across her face. “Well, I aim to hold you to that.”
“Pray for me?”
“You know I will.”
Her hair reminded him of those days long ago when she’d chase after them on her pony. She’d followed again, with the promise of love in her eyes. Now how could a fellow not return to that?
He released her hand and, without a backward glance, headed for the waiting stage.
Reuben stood before the prison in Huntsville, Texas. His heart pounded in his throat. He had vowed never to enter such a place again. After he was admitted and the doors clanged shut behind him, he had the inclination to turn around and run. Right now, though, he was about worn out after days of travel. The bath and shave, a hot meal and a good night’s sleep helped some, but now that he’d turned a couple of corners past thirty, he felt the effects of traveling.
He found the man they told him was Colt. Reuben tried not to grimace at the odor in the cell block, the scent bringing back a flood of memories. No wonder he had inhaled deeply of the outside air once he’d been freed from prison.
“Can I help you with somethin’?” His voice sounded deeper, coarser than Reuben remembered. He sat up on the straw mattress that crackled and popped under his weight.
“It’s…it’s me, Colt.” Reuben felt as if he’d swallowed an apple whole. “Reuben, your big brother.”
“Well, if you don’t say so.” Colt remained seated. “Been a long time. Thought we were gonna meet back in Denmark and get Benjamin.”
“I thought we were, too.” Reuben’s eyes burned, and he clutched the bar with one hand. The excuses and avoidances of the past thirteen years swirled within his head.
“You look good. You come into any money?”
“The hard way. By workin’ for it.”
“So. What’re you here for?” Colt’s dark gaze dropped to the floor. Reuben remembered the way it felt. Not to be free to speak, to move.
“I came to see you. I need to ask your forgiveness….”
Colt’s head snapped up, and his gaze bored into Reuben. “What’re you talking about? I wasn’t a spineless nitwit who followed you like a pup. If anything, you would’ve never done half the things you done if it wasn’t for my gumption.”
Now this was the Colt that Reuben remembered, already wanting to pick a fight after not five minutes. Reuben smiled and let the words blow past him.
“All the same, I’m sorry for my part in what happened to our family, and I want to make it up to you.”
Colt shot across the cell until but inches remained between them. If it weren’t for the bars and the watchful guard, Reuben supposed his brother’s hands would be clamped around his neck.
“Make it up to me? That’s real easy to say when you’re on the outside looking all polished like you’re ready to go to a church meeting.” The air crackled between them as Colt ground out the words.
“Once I was right where you are. I know what it’s like. And it’s only with God’s help that I’m about half the man I oughta be.”
A crooked grin slid across Colt’s face. “Got religion, did ya? It’s not surprising. Many fellows do when they’re on the inside. Say a prayer, cry like a mama’s boy, and start singing hymns is all you’ve got to do.”
Reuben’s heart sank. But it wasn’t as if he really expected Colt to greet him with any measure of brotherly love.
“I have to go now.” Reuben glanced at the guard. “But I’ll be back.”
Colt ambled over to the bunk attached to the wall and sat. “Suit yourself. I ain’t going anywhere.”
Charlotte stared at the telegraph in her hands. “Arrived safe Huntsville. Pecan Street Hotel. RW.” The seven days he’d been gone so far felt like seven years. She trudged along the boardwalk and saw her family’s wagon. Her parents were still about, Momma at the mercantile and Pa on his errands. They never complained about having an old maid daughter, but today she felt as useless as a holey, worn-out dishrag. She might as well join Momma at the mercantile. She’d said something about purchasing some new fabrics for spring dresses.
The bell clanged over the shop’s door as Charlotte entered. Momma looked up from the dry goods. She clutched a bolt of cloth to her chest and smiled.
“They have some nice-looking fabrics over here.”
Charlotte nodded and joined Momma. “We got a telegraph from Reuben. He made it.” She fingered the flower-sprigged navy blue. Normally the color would appeal to her, but today the prettiest pattern had no interest.
“I’m glad.” Momma moved to the thread and gave Charlotte a glance. “You don’t look too happy.”
“I miss him, Momma.”
“That’s good. But is that all that’s eating at you?”
She shook her head. “I’m afraid that he won’t…he won’t come back.”
“He promised, didn’t he?” Momma’s pat on the hand wasn’t reassuring. “You need to have faith in the man you love and faith that God will watch over him while he’s gone.”
“You…you can tell how I feel about him?” Charlotte touched her burning cheeks. “Is it obvious?”
“Like the sunrise on a clear day. To me and your pa, anyhow.”
Mrs. Booth moved from her place behind the post office window. “Ladies, how are you today? Do you think spring is about here yet?”
No, but I think you’re here to see if you can catch a tidbit about Reuben.
Aloud, Charlotte said, “We’re fine, thank you. And I do believe a thaw is on the way.”
“Oh, I certainly hope so.” The older woman leaned closer. “I think if another ice storm came upon us I’d give up and move back East.” Charlotte almost hoped she’d sensed a freezing bite in the air outside.
Charlotte felt the toe of Momma’s boot press hard enough on her own to cause her to stifle a yelp. Same as always, Momma probably had her figured out.
“Mrs. Booth,” Momma said, “do you remember how much the Ladies’ Aid raised at the box social?”
“Over a hundred dollars, thanks to Reuben Wilson.” Mrs. Booth’s stare at Charlotte made her blink. “I hope that was some supper you fed him. Although, honestly, seein’ him flash that money when he paid for his box got me a bit worried.”
“Whatever for?” Momma placed her hand over Charlotte’s as she spoke.
“Where’d he get that cash from?”
“He’s been working hard,” Charlotte interjected. “He was working his way home and saving money before he returned here.”
Mrs. Booth nodded. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s trying to get his gang back together and rob us all blind. Didn’t I see him leaving on the stage not a week ago?”
Charlotte glanced at Momma. Reuben had asked that they not tell the full nature of his errand so as not to get tongues wagging in his absence.
She let Momma speak. “Reuben is away seeing to a family matter.” Then Momma’s face closed up tight. A customer clanged into the store at that moment, and Charlotte wanted to breathe in relief.
Mrs. Booth humphed and stomped back toward the post window. “I think the sheriff ought to know. Forewarned is forearmed.” Her boots clunked on the wooden planks as she moved to the postal window and put on a fresh smile.
Momma kept silent for a moment. Then, “I’m proud of you for not saying anything. Nearly every time I see that woman and speak with her, I find myself on my knees apologizing to God for something I said.”
“Some people bring out the best in us, and, well…” Charlotte couldn’t get her mind off Mrs. Booth’s words. Reuben. Getting the gang together. He’d told her he promised his ma he’d find his brothers.
She hoped Reuben hadn’t faltered in his desire to get back the family ranch. What if he finds his brothers and they run off again? Charlotte pushed back the idea. Have a little faith in the man you love and in the Lord, Momma had told her.
Help me, Lord, to do just that.
Chapter 8
You’re back.” Colt still sat on the mattress in his cell. The other inmate snored from his bunk along the opposite wall. Reuben had arrived after supper, hoping to have a better visit than yesterday.
Reuben couldn’t decide if Colt had asked him or told him. Either way, Reuben knew he wouldn’t give up on building a bridge to reach his brother.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Why?”
“I…I promised Ma I’d find you.” Reuben’s throat caught. He doesn’t know about Ma.
“Does she still care? Doesn’t she know I’m here?” Colt almost sounded like a little boy again.
“She does care…well, she did.” Reuben swallowed. “Ma…Ma passed in February. I got back to Raider’s Crossing a few days before she…”
The Adam’s apple bobbed in Colt’s neck. “I’m glad she wasn’t alone.” He looked lost.
“No. She never quit prayin’ for us, either.” Reuben wanted to reach through the bars and hug Colt, but he figured he’d probably get slugged. “The Jeffers family bought Pa’s land.”
Colt nodded. “What about that little girl they had, the one always chasing you on her pony?”
“Charlotte? She’s there.” And Reuben knew he should be with her.
“I see. Guess she’s plenty old enough now for you two to get hitched.” A wry smile teased the corners of Colt’s mouth.
“Yeah, she is. If she’ll have me.” Reuben’s heart panged. “If she’ll take a fellow with a past like mine.”
Colt shrugged. “See—now that’s what I meant yesterday. You pray a few prayers, dress right, sing some church songs—yet you still ain’t fixed. I don’t need that. I don’t have the time.”
“But God’s forgiven me. I’ve turned from my
wicked ways.” Reuben found himself gripping the bars as he had yesterday.
In three steps Colt stood at the bars that separated them. “Then, big brother, tell me why you look like you’re still carrying a sentence on your shoulders. Either this religion works enough for you to tell me about it, or it don’t.”
Reuben drew in a shuddering breath. “Colt, I want this to work. The way I did things didn’t. I’ve got no other choice. I know I can’t do this without God.”
“Always the serious and responsible one. Ruby, there’s some things a man just can’t keep taking responsibility for. You need to learn when to let go.” Colt ambled back to his bunk and sat down.
Colt’s words slammed into Reuben like a well-planted fist. He would have welcomed the fist more than the words.
“Colt, how much longer do you have in here?”
“I get out real soon.”
“You’re welcome to join me in Wyoming. I’m going to get our land back, and I’d like your help building what our pa lost.” Reuben felt like he was begging. “It won’t be easy, but having family around will make the burden lighter.”
Colt appeared thoughtful. “I…I can’t. I’ve got somewhere else I need to be. You ain’t the only one who made a promise.”
Reuben had to leave it at that. “All right. But, Colt, if you need me, you get word to me. You’re my brother, and that don’t change.”
With that, Colt hung his head. “You take care now, Ruby.”
That night Reuben could not sleep, alone in a strange town with his long-lost brother not far away. The late-night rumble of carriages, the sound of a piano somewhere, and laughter and muffled voices from downstairs reminded him of how much he missed Wyoming. He longed for the sound of the wind whistling in the bunkhouse eaves, the pop of burning wood in his stove, and the occasional call from one of the cattle. Even the mournful coyote. Most of all he wanted to hear Charlotte’s voice.
Instead, he heard Colt’s words that pierced into his soul. Since he couldn’t sleep, he figured he might as well pray.
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