by Lisa Bingham
Charles had to agree with her there. Before Sumner had come to the valley, the mining community had been without a doctor for several months. Creakle had stepped in on occasion to set bones and stitch up gashes, but his work was far from pretty.
“Thank you.”
The words seemed completely inadequate, but Willow beamed at him as if he’d handed her the moon.
“I want you to sleep now. Your body has had quite a shock, so you’ll need your rest.”
She scooped up a tray from the bedside table and Charles could see a basin of water and a red-stained cloth.
His blood.
She was at the door before he remembered what he needed to ask her.
“Willow?”
“Yes?”
She turned, and he loved the way the lamplight slid over her silhouette like a river of gold.
“I found a hairbrush. Did it...did I...”
“We discovered it wedged into the pocket of your coat.” Willow’s features were filled with sadness. “I recognized it immediately. It belonged to Jenny.”
Chapter Twelve
It was late that night when Sumner heard Charles stirring again. She filled a bowl with hot broth, slathered butter onto two thick slices of bread, then filled a mug with hot tea laced liberally with sugar.
As she walked into the keeping room, Mr. Creakle looked up.
Willow couldn’t think of anything more endearing than the sight of Creakle and Smalls—the most unlikely of nursemaids.
Smalls held little Eva in the crook of one arm. He’d been entertaining her for several minutes by pulling the most elaborate faces. Judging by Eva’s fascinated expression, she was thoroughly entranced.
Creakle, on the other hand, had been spinning an elaborate yarn about a pair of intrepid miners. Judging by the improbability of his tale, he was making things up as he went along, but Adam’s eyes tracked his every move.
“I’m going to take some soup up to Charles,” she said.
“You go right ahead. Me an’ Smalls have got the little ones all taken care of, so don’t you fret.”
Although Willow had insisted that the men could go home, they’d both refused. As far as they were concerned, the boss man had been shot, and his missus needed someone on guard.
She felt a little guilty since, other than the cot in the spare room, she had no place for them to sleep. But when Creakle had insisted they’d pull up a piece o’ floor and wrap themselves in a blanket, she’d been secretly relieved. She was still feeling rattled after stitching up Charles’s wound.
She pushed the bedroom door open with her shoulder, only to find that Charles was sitting up in bed. She was glad to see that he was wearing the nightshirt Creakle had found amongst his things. After all he’d been through, she didn’t want him catching a chill. Even though there was a small fireplace in the bedroom, the area around the window was drafty. She would have to see if she could find some newspaper to plug the chinks.
“You’re looking more alert.”
He stroked his chin and frowned at the stubble.
“I don’t need to be in bed.”
She set the tray on his lap.
“Yes, you do. For one thing, it’s nearly midnight. For another, we don’t have a lot of chairs—and at the moment, Creakle and Smalls are using most of what we do have to dry out your clothing.”
Charles frowned again, but thankfully, he didn’t push the point.
Willow grabbed the napkin from the tray and tucked the corner into the neck of his nightshirt.
“Would you like me to feed you?”
“I can feed myself.”
The muttered reply sounded so much like a little boy insisting he could take care of himself that Willow nearly laughed. The cantankerous edge was another good sign of his recovery.
She shuddered when she remembered how he’d looked after Smalls had laid him out on the bed. He’d been so cold and gray and...lifeless.
“You had a close call,” she murmured.
He nodded, seeming to stare into the depths of his soup for long moments. Then he reached to take her hand, and bowed his head.
“For this nourishment and for the safety that Thou hast provided, we are eternally grateful. Amen.”
When she opened her eyes, Willow regarded her husband in wonder. He’d never taken her hand before when he’d said grace. She’d heard of the custom, but never experienced it herself. But the thought of his hand in hers, strong and callused and warm as he’d offered his prayer, had made communing with God that much more special.
She felt the backs of her eyes prickle with inexplicable tears. Hoping that Charles wouldn’t see them, she urged, “Now eat. I want to warm you from the inside out.”
Thankfully, he seemed eager to comply.
Willow waited until he had nearly finished his broth before asking, “So Jenny was staying in the trapper’s canyon?”
He nodded, chewing the bread with more care than was necessary. “It looked like she’d prepared well. She had blankets, firewood, tinned food.”
“I should have known she was gone,” Willow whispered.
Charles reached to hold her hand again. “You can’t blame yourself. Judging by what happened to me, Jenny was in real trouble. Going to the trapper’s cabin may have been her only option.”
“Why didn’t she come to one of us for help? The women of the Dovecote would have rallied around her. Sumner would have appealed to Jonah.”
Charles shook his head. “We’ll never know for sure. But...” He set his bread down on the tray only half-eaten, then sighed. “I’d wager that she was killed in the cabin. I found...an ax handle. I think that’s what was used to hit her.”
Willow bit her lip, focusing on Charles, on the quiet, somber gray of his eyes rather than on the images that sprang to mind.
“She must have brought the children here, then gone back to the cabin for some reason—maybe to gather the rest of her things.” Charles’s fingers tangled with Willow’s. “Judging by the note left with the twins and what happened to me, Jenny knew that someone meant to harm her.”
“Did you see who shot at you?”
He shook his head. “I didn’t even realize I’d been shot. The gunman cornered me in the cabin, and I knew that I didn’t have many options. I crashed through the window and ran for the trees on the riverbank.” His features tensed. “I tried to look back, but with the wind and the snow, I couldn’t see anything more than a shape. Then he raised his rifle. I tried to dive into the bushes, but I hit the slope instead and slid into the center of the river. Before I knew it, the ice broke beneath me and I was crashing through. The gunman must have decided that the cold water would take care of me, because I don’t remember much after that. I vaguely recall hoisting myself out and crawling toward the shore.”
“You said gunman. You’re sure it was a man?”
He nodded. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say he was six feet or so. Broad in the shoulders.” Charles sighed. “But everything was happening so fast that I saw little more than a silhouette. The man was probably wearing a coat...”
“But he was tall.”
“Yeah. I’d say he was at least Jonah’s height, but not quite as tall as Gideon.”
“Well, that helps a little, doesn’t it?”
He squeezed her hand. “You’re right. It gives us one more piece to the puzzle.”
“Did you hear a horse? A sleigh?”
Charles considered that point carefully. “I don’t think so, but he couldn’t have been on foot. Not with as quickly as he left the scene.”
“So, that means it’s someone who has access to the livery.”
“Smalls was with you today. Anyone could have gone into the stables and borrowed a horse.”
“Oh.” She brightened. “But someone may have seen a horse and rid
er coming out of the livery. That’s where we’ll start tomorrow. I’ll have a word with Lydia. She and the girls could ask a few subtle questions while they’re circulating through the cook shack.”
Charles laughed. “You’re pretty smart, Mrs. Wanlass.”
She loved the way the words sounded as they left his lips. Warm. Intimate. With a hint of a Scottish burr.
“I’m so glad you’re all right.” The declaration burst from her unbidden, but she wouldn’t have called it back even if she could. He needed to know that she cared for him—cared about him. He was her friend.
Her friend and more.
She suddenly began to tremble, the events of the day crashing around her and leaving her inexplicably exhausted and vulnerable and weepy. Knowing that she couldn’t bear to burst into tears in front of him, she jumped to her feet and gathered up his tray.
“I’ll leave you to sleep. It’s so late...and you’ve been through so much...”
But once again, he stopped her at the door. “Good night, Willow.”
The words were innocuous.
But there was something in his eyes—something warm and rare and oh, so sweet—like the heat of the sun slipping down the mountain slope.
“Good night, Charles. Pleasant dreams.”
* * *
Because of his injuries, Charles stayed home, but for only a few days. It didn’t seem to matter what arguments Willow offered for why he should allow himself to recuperate for at least a week, the moment that the whistle blew for the early bird shift, he was dressed and ready to go.
“I’ve packed a lunch for you. There’s biscuits and cheese and cold meats.”
“Willow, the company provides our meals.”
“I know.” She clutched her hands in front of her. “But I don’t want anyone saying that your wife doesn’t care enough to make a meal.”
Charles couldn’t keep his lips from twitching. Unable to help himself, he reached out to cup her cheek in his hand—and she leaned into it.
“There’s no doubt that you care for me, Willow. The fact that you saved my life proves that.”
Her eyes grew wide. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he told her that he was feeling fine, she didn’t believe him. He wished he could think of a way to banish the worry from her gaze, but they both knew that any reassurances he might offer her were hollow. After the incident at the trapper’s cabin, the threat to their little family had become more real.
“Lock the door behind me.”
“I will.”
“I’ve already taken care of the side door and I’ve put braces on all the windows so they can’t be opened from the outside.”
“I know.”
“You’ve got the weapon I gave you?”
She pointed to the revolver on the table.
“I want you to keep it within arm’s reach at all times.”
“I will.”
“When will the other women be here?”
When Jonah and Gideon had dropped by to check on Charles the day before, he had asked if a few of the women could spend the day with Willow so she wouldn’t be alone.
“Lydia and Iona will be here after they finish in the cook shack. Sumner will be a little later.”
“Creakle and Smalls will sit with you when it’s time for the women to go.”
She placed her hand over his. “We’ll be fine.”
“I—” The words lodged in his throat. How could he tell her how much he’d grown to rely on her calming influence? All his life, he’d struggled with his temper and the temptation to lash out. He’d grown used to tamping down his emotions so deeply that he believed, sometimes, as if he didn’t feel anything at all. He’d built a wall around his heart and his head that no one had ever been able to penetrate fully.
But with Willow, those defenses were tumbling, brick by brick. And rather than feeling exposed...he felt free.
Free to be the man she thought he was.
“Willow... I hope you’ve been happy with me the last few weeks.”
The comment seemed to take her by surprise, but the smile she gave him was so open, so honest, that it nearly took his breath away.
“Of course I have.”
The words had the power to burn in his chest in a way that no others ever had.
“Willow, could—” Charles’s throat seemed to close around the question he’d meant to ask.
Could you ever consider making this arrangement official?
Would you stay with me, as my wife, as my family, even after the spring thaw?
But before he could force such sentiments past the desert dryness of his tongue, one of the babies began to cry.
Charles would know that wail anywhere. Eva had a pitiful, heart-wrenching sob, where Adam’s was lusty and full of impatience.
“I—I’d better go. The bairns are upstairs and...”
“I know.”
Even though Eva’s cries seemed to pull at Willow like an invisible string, she hesitated.
Did she sense what he’d been about to ask her? And could he bring himself to say the words aloud? After all, Willow was doing him a favor by pretending to be his wife. She spent each day taking care of him and the twins. Nevertheless, she had her own plans, her own dreams. She’d come thousands of miles, endured months of travel, only to be marooned in a mining community that she’d probably never heard of before the avalanche. It wouldn’t be fair for Charles to presume that she might be willing to change those plans.
But maybe she would.
For the children, of course.
And for him.
Eva’s howls became even more heart-wrenching.
“I have to go,” Willow whispered.
“I know, I—” Charles shook his head.
There wasn’t time for a conversation, let alone one of this magnitude. So he forced himself to take a step back, then another.
“Forget the meal you made for me. I’ll see if I can break away for a few minutes at lunchtime. We can eat together.”
He was sure he saw her eyes flare with something akin to pleasure.
“I’d like that.”
She smiled, and for a moment, her expression held such infinite joy that he was able to convince himself the light shining from her gaze was for him.
All for him.
He grasped his hat from the peg, then opened the door. Even so, he couldn’t prevent himself from turning back. Before she could do anything to dissuade him, he bent and brushed a light kiss on her cheek.
“See you soon,” he murmured.
Then, before he could gauge her reaction to his impromptu farewell, he hurried into the cold, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
Willow stood rooted to the spot, her cheek tingling from the unexpected caress. As her mind reeled, her hand lifted to touch the spot.
As if by placing her palm there she could make the frisson of delight last that much longer.
Unfortunately, Adam chose that point to join in with Eva’s displeasure, and Willow raced up the stairs.
“I’m sorry, little ones,” she gasped as she rushed into the spare room. The twins were swiftly outgrowing their basket, so at night they slept in a nest of blankets on the floor. Thankfully, the twins were still small enough that she could scoop them both into her arms. Cradling them against her chest, she offered them soft shushing noises as she hurried to the window overlooking the street.
She parted the curtains ever so slightly. Below her, she could see Charles striding forcefully past the other row houses on his way to the mine entrance.
He must have felt her gaze. Just before heading out of sight, he turned.
Even at this distance, she could see his smile—and she was struck with the fact that, in all the Devotionals she’d attended, she had never seen him smile.
He paused, throwing her a quick salute.
Then he was gone.
Willow bent to place a kiss on each of the twins’ heads as they calmed and subsided into hiccuping sighs.
“Daddy won’t be long,” she murmured against Eva’s downy head.
It should have felt wrong to refer to Charles in that way. After all, this arrangement they shared was temporary.
Wasn’t it?
It would have to be. The only way Charles could permanently stay with the mine was by annulling their marriage.
But hadn’t he been given his position back? As a consultant?
Her brows creased in thought.
Sumner and Jonah were married. And Jonah had kept his job.
But Jonah had property outside the mining community.
So, could Charles and Willow be a family? A real family, if they moved off company property?
Would Charles even be open to the idea?
Adam rooted against her, making soft baby grunts that she knew signaled his hunger. She rubbed his back. If she already felt this overwhelming...rightness whenever she held Adam or Eva in her arms, how would she ever find the strength to leave them? As much as she might want to make them hers, she couldn’t expect Mr. Ferron to take on the added responsibility of two more children. Especially since he had so many offspring of his own.
Then again...did she even want to finish her journey?
Willow shook her head to rid it of such thoughts. More than anything, she had to remember that her time with Charles was temporary. If she allowed herself to entertain any other ideas...
The inevitable parting would be unbearable.
Stiffening her spine, she pushed such thoughts away. She wouldn’t think about that now. Not today.
“Today, you’re mine,” she whispered to the babies in her arms. “And if that’s all I will ever have, then it will have to be enough, won’t it?”
Neither of the children were capable of answering. But she took comfort in the way they burrowed against her.
