The Betrothed (Cutter's Creek Book 7)
Page 19
“Yes. I’ve been wantin’ to show you my house for a while, but decided to wait until it had a door and windows. And now it does. Won’t you come and take a look?”
“Now?” She looked out the window to see nothing but blackness thick against its panes. “But it’s pitch dark. We’ve already had supper – which you missed, by the way. You’ll regret that when I tell you what we had. We ate the most succulent …”
“Charlotte!”
She startled, a frown forming on her delicate brow. “Well now, Harry, there’s no need to be rude.”
“Please. Won’t you come?”
“Heavens above, Harry, why on Earth does it mean so much to you that I come and see your house? And at this hour?”
He shoved the Stetson from his head and riffled his fingers through his thick dark hair. It stood on end and he lowered his earnest eyes to the ground. “Please, Charlotte.”
“Oh all right. I will, but wouldn’t you rather wait for Cammie? She’s around here somewhere, I believe.”
“No, she’s already seen it, as you well know. I just want to take you over there. I know it’s not entirely proper for us to go alone, but no one will ever know besides the two of us and I promise to behave. Surely you can trust me after having spent half a year on the trail with me.”
“Of course. I’ll get my coat.” She stood and shrugged her tight shoulders. Sitting for hours at a time to sew by candlelight was taxing and gave her a stiff neck on occasion. She rolled her head from side to side and hurried to the front door to pull her coat from the coat rack. Donning her boots, she twisted a scarf around her neck and pushed a woolen hat down over her head. “I’m ready. Let’s go then.”
She stepped outside, bracing herself against the chill wind, and lifted her scarf to cover her mouth and nose. Honey waited for them along with Sam’s bay gelding. Both horses stamped their feet, anxious to get going after spending days cooped up in the stable behind the Todd’s house.
She climbed onto Honey’s back and straightened her skirts. Why was Harry being so insistent that she come, right this moment, to see the house he was building? He was acting so strangely. He’d barely spoken to her in weeks, and now he was acting as though her opinion of the house was important to him. If her opinion had mattered to him at all, he’d have taken her to see it before now.
It seemed as though everyone they knew had seen the house but her. She was wondering if he was ever going to let her see it. And now he was whisking her away at night to see it without a chaperone. It was all very perplexing, and she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation.
Her mind settled on Heath Moore, the man Harry had worked for, and a friend of Sam’s. Heath had been courting her for about two months now and she liked him. He was reliable and handsome and worked hard to manage his new ranch. He came from a well known, wealthy family in Chicago. He was polite and agreeable and everything she should want in a man.
And yet somehow she couldn’t help wondering if there was someone else out there – someone who might bring adventure, excitement and a little bit of mystery to her life. She’d have to figure out her feelings for him soon, though, since she was certain he was about to ask for her hand. What would she say if he did? She wasn’t sure she was ready to make that kind of commitment to him. But if she wasn’t, why not?
They trotted together down the main street of Cutter’s Creek. Most of the townsfolk were already inside, eating supper and preparing for bed. The hollow clatter of horse’s shod hooves on the road cut through the quiet lull enveloping the town. A dog howled as they passed, and eyes peered through curtained windows to watch them ride by.
“We’re causing a scene,” she whispered, her eyes wide and heart thumping. “You said no one would know about our outing but the two of us, and I can see old Mrs. Waverly right now peering through her window at us and shaking her head. The entire town will be talking about us tomorrow, you wait and see.”
He laughed and urged the bay into a canter. “Never mind what the town has to say. This won’t take long.”
They rode the rest of the way in silence, Charlotte mulling over Harry’s strange behavior. Their path turned upward and she could see a structure sitting on a rise, black against the hillside behind it. “There,” said Harry. “There’s the house.” There was pride in his voice as he pointed it out.
They dismounted beside the building and Charlotte could see it was an impressive structure. Large and spacious even from the outside, it was built with sturdy planks. She could see glass windows fitted into the side closest to her. A large porch wrapped around the front of the house. Harry led her to a thick timber door and opened it to usher her inside.
He lit a lantern and guided her through the building. There was an open living area, a spacious kitchen with room for a stove and chimney. A hallway led to several airy bedrooms. He’d even built a root cellar, pantry and outhouse. It was everything a family could need. All that was required now was a coat of paint and a woman’s touch to decorate it.
“So what do you think?” asked Harry when they’d finished the tour and stood on the porch looking out over the dark valley below.
“It’s beautiful, Harry. I had no idea you were building such a big family home. I’d pictured some kind of mountain cabin. But it’s truly a home. You should be proud of what you’ve achieved. It’s amazing, really. I love it.”
In the silver moonlight, Charlotte could see his face beaming under her praise. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“Why is that? Why did you have to bring me here tonight, alone? I’m curious … why do you care whether or not I approve of your house? You’ve barely spoken to me in months. We hardly see each other, what with you working all day and then spending every evening and weekends here.”
“I … I need to know you like it, that’s all.”
“But why? You don’t need my approval, Harry.”
“I want it all the same.”
“Well, you have it. I approve. Thank you for showing it to me.” She walked toward Honey, who had dropped her head to graze on the short grass beside the house. They both mounted their horses and headed back to town.
Harry was again strangely quiet. Charlotte shook her head after he told her goodnight and as she walked to her bedroom. What was going on with him? He was almost shy around her. They’d grown so close on the trail – it was unnerving to see him acting as though she was a stranger.
Her heart was heavy as she prepared for bed. She felt as though their relationship had finally and irrevocably changed – he no longer cared about her the way he had. It was silly, really, for her to be upset about that, considering she’d been seeing Heath for two months now. But deep inside, she’d still believed Harry was in some small way hers. And now she knew he was hers no more.
Chapter Forty-Two
Harry strode into the mercantile. He needed supplies for his pantry now that he was moving into the house. The joy he thought he’d feel about finally having a place to call his own was absent. It was Saturday and he’d taken the morning off work to get everything in order for the move. Camilla was at the Todd’s house, working on sewing curtains for their new home. She was more excited than anyone about the move.
Sheriff Brentwood stood at the counter, waiting for Jasper Smith, the store owner, to wrap up his purchases. “Good mornin’, Sheriff.”
“Morning there, Harry. How’s it going on this fine morning? How’s that lovely sister of yours, Camilla?”
Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. The sheriff and his sister? “She’s fine, thank you, as am I. Have you made any progress in getting Mrs. Holloway back?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid. The situation with the Lakota is tense at the moment. We’re not even sure if they still have her. The Army is looking into it, and they’ve sent word that they haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since her abduction. They don’t want to escalate a war with Red Cloud, but it’s likely it’ll happen anyway. I’ll keep you posted if I hear any more.”
“Well now, that is exciting news. I rode by there a couple of weeks ago – it was looking mighty fine.”
“Thank you kindly, Sheriff. I’m pretty pleased with it – it sure does have a nice outlook over the valley and the town.”
“Yes, it does. And what about Miss Beaufort – will she be joining you? As Mrs. Brown of course.” He chuckled into his mustache.
“What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you engaged?”
Harry stared at him in confusion.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. I must have my facts wrong. I thought I heard Mrs. Smith telling Mrs. Waverley just yesterday that Miss Beaufort was engaged, or about to be engaged … something along those lines. I assumed it was to you, Harry. But perhaps I got my facts mixed up. I tend to do that, since I don’t listen to the entire story being told. It’s something my mother used to always complain about when I was a boy. She always said I only ever caught half the story. Of course nowadays I have to make sure to get the whole story when it comes to the law, but engagements, weddings and such are never really … um, anyway, sorry.”
He was rambling, and Harry could see that he was uncomfortable being the bearer of what was undoubtedly the worst possible news for Harry at that moment. Charlotte was getting engaged? He knew who she’d be marrying – Heath Moore. “Well, thanks for the news, Sheriff. We’re not engaged, but I guess Charlotte will be deservin’ of our congratulations soon, if the rumors are true.”
“Yes indeed. Well, good day to you, Harry. I hope it only gets better from here.” Sheriff Brentwood tipped his hat, his cheeks rosy in his embarrassment, and hurried from the store.
Harry felt as though his heart was in his boots. Charlotte was getting married. How was that possible? All this time he’d been building their dream home. He’d been working himself to the bone to put together a life for them – a home, money in the bank, a future. And instead of waiting for him, she was about to become engaged.
Heath was a good man and would make a good husband – Harry had no beef with him. And yet the fact that he was a good man didn’t bring Harry any comfort. He knew Charlotte might be happy with Heath – that is, if she loved him. But did she? He could have sworn she loved him. Not Heath. Him.
All those months together on the road, they’d had a connection, a spark that couldn’t be denied. But she’d turned away from him – he assumed it was because she didn’t think he could provide her with the life she was used to. But perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps she didn’t really care for him the way he thought she did.
Well, he knew now what he had to do. He wasn’t going to sit idly by and let her marry another man without a fight. He had to tell her how he felt and let her make her choice with all the facts at hand. He couldn’t go another day, another minute, without knowing whether she loved him.
Chapter Forty-Three
Heath Moore was a man’s man. He swaggered down the road on thick, muscular legs. His face was covered with a full beard and his eyes betrayed a mischievous streak. Born into a close family with six sisters, he knew how to talk to women and felt comfortable around them. He was used to having people look up to him, admire him and respect him. His family were known throughout the elite of Chicago society, and came from old money. He usually felt as though he had everything under control. There wasn’t much in life that fazed him. But Charlotte Beaufort was something else. He’d never met anyone like her before. She made him sweat.
He loosened his collar and sucked in a deep breath. He was about to propose, which was meant to be a good thing. So why was his head spinning and his body bathed in sweat beneath his collared shirt? He blinked twice and mopped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
Charlotte walked along beside him, seeming completely oblivious to his discomfort. They were headed to church, and it was one of the few times they got to be alone each week. It was his chance to ask her, but all of the words he’d rehearsed so many times had disappeared from his thoughts. His head was full of a buzzing sound and he felt as though he was floating along outside his body, watching himself fumble, sweat and plod below.
“Um … Charlotte?”
“Hmmm?” She picked at a flower in her hands, counting off the petals one by one.
“Can I speak with you a moment, please?”
She turned to face him with a smile. “Yes, of course.”
His cheeks were on fire and he dabbed at his forehead again, hoping he didn’t look like a complete fool. “Well, we’ve been courting for a while now. And, I think you’re wonderful. You know, you’d make any man proud. And, so I was wondering; hoping, actually – would you marry me?”
Surprise flitted across her pretty face and she raised her hands to her mouth. “Marry you?”
“Yes.”
“Well, Heath, I’m not sure … we haven’t known each other long, and I …”
“Long enough, Charlotte.”
“I don’t know.”
“If you don’t know by now …”
“Well, maybe I could think about it. If that’s all right by you.”
“I suppose so. How long do you think you’ll need, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“A week? Yes, a week – I will give you my answer within the week.”
“I look forward to it.”
He dipped his hat and watched as she joined the Todds, ascending the steps into the little red chapel. He decided to wait outside for a while to cool down. The proposal had taken everything out of him.
Chapter Forty-Four
Charlotte’s mind raced. Heath had proposed and she still hadn’t made up her mind what to do. Thankfully, she’d bought herself a week to think about it. But after that she’d have to make a decision. Her heart thudded in her chest and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves.
“Good mornin’, Charlotte.” Harry was beside her. He whispered the words into her ear, his breath against her neck, and sat beside her in the pew. Sam and Estelle greeted him and the service began.
How was she supposed to concentrate on the sermon, or on the important decision about whether or not to agree to marry Heath, with Harry sitting so close? She could hear his bass voice ringing out as they sang the first hymn together. He seemed to sense her eyes were on him. The corner of his mouth turned up at the edges and he flashed her a grin, his eyes sparkling.
She frowned, her cheeks hot. He was always so cocky, so sure of himself. He didn’t stop to think that maybe she was looking beyond him – no, he knew where her gaze landed. And that was the other thing that bothered her so much about him: he always seemed to know what she was thinking. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
“What’s wrong?” he asked between songs, his eyes full of concern.
“Nothing … oh, it’s just that …”
“What? What is it?”
“Heath proposed.”
His face grew dark and a muscle in his jaw clenched. His eyes flashed and he turned away from her to face Reverend Latsch, who was making a point about envy from the book of Proverbs. “And what did you say?” He growled the words through clenched teeth.
“I haven’t answered him yet.” What right had he to be angry with her? Yet it was obvious that he was and she was even more confused than ever. Her head was light and she felt tears forming at the corners of her eyes. She feigned illness and pushed her way from the pew. She needed fresh air. Her lungs felt as though they’d burst open the seams of her dress and her heart pounded in her chest.
As she erupted from the chapel and ran down the stairs, she gasped for air. Clutching at her sides, she heaved and sobbed, pulling at her bodice where it was tightly buttoned around her neck. Finding the buttons, she loosened the highest ones, her breath ragged and heavy with anguish.
“Charlotte?” Harry was behind her, hurrying to catch up with her. “Are you al
l right?”
She turned to face him, her voice filled with fury. “No, I’m not all right! Why did you take me to see the house? You’ve confused me, confused everything. I was happy. Heath is a good man. He’ll make a fine husband. I thought … oh, I thought I’d marry him. But now I’m not sure what to do.”
Harry’s face lit up and a smile flitted across his handsome features. “Do you mean to say … are you sayin’ that you might not marry him, because of me?”
“I don’t know, okay? I just don’t know. I don’t know what to think or feel. I don’t know what I should do. Don’t smirk like that! You can be so exasperating, Harry Brown.”
“I’m not smirkin’, honestly I’m not. It’s just that I’ve waited so long to hear you say it … are you sayin’ it? I’m not entirely sure, but I think you’re sayin’ that you care about me.”
“Of course I care for you! How can you doubt that? I just don’t know if I want to spend my life with you. You’ve changed, I can see that. I know you have. But I’m still not convinced we’re a good match. We make each other crazy and we’re both far too wild for society. Neither one of us will do what’s expected of us – together we’d be ridiculous.”
He grabbed both her arms and pulled her close to him. His eyes flashed at her and his smile filled her with desire. “Oh Charlotte, what do we care what anyone else thinks? And society? What society – we’re in Cutter’s Creek, Montana Territory. You can forget all about balls and audiences at court and soirees and Heaven knows what else you’re used to. All that is behind you – you’re a pioneer woman now. And as such, you don’t have to worry a thing about what anyone else thinks of you. Anyone but God and your future husband.”
“I suppose you’re right.” Charlotte couldn’t think clearly. Harry was so close to her – his lips hovered just above her own and his eyes roamed over her face, reflecting a deep hunger that made her stomach flip.