by Lisa Bingham
Gideon shook his head. “When she came tearing out of there, he’d know that she would run for help. There wouldn’t be time for another search.” His hand gravitated toward the butt of the revolver holstered at his hip, and his voice grew steely. “More than likely he was making an attempt to corner the one person who could still uncover his secrets.”
Charles felt a cold finger trace down his spine.
“Willow.”
* * *
When they arrived at the Dovecote, Charles was relieved that Gideon Gault took the lead with the other women. In a tone as smooth as silk, the Pinkerton informed them all that, due to the lingering smoke, it wasn’t healthy for Willow and the babies to remain at home for the time being, so would the women mind if the Wanlass family stayed in the dormitory?
The women had immediately bundled Willow and the children inside.
Leaving Charles standing outside in the cold.
As the door shut behind them, Charles sighed. Was this a sign of the future? Would he soon have to watch Willow and the twins move away from him?
“Don’t take it personally.”
He looked up to see Dr. Sumner Ramsey walking toward him. She was without a coat, so her arms were folded around her for warmth, but her expression was welcoming.
“It’s the baby effect,” she murmured.
“The baby effect?”
“As soon as a baby enters a room, it doesn’t matter what other diversions are present, the baby will get all the attention. The women would leave Willow out here in the snow, too, as long as the babies came inside. Eventually, they would realize they’d forgotten her and come looking.”
For a moment, Charles was horrified at the callous description. Then he realized Sumner was teasing.
“Don’t worry about it. They’ll be plying you with more cookies and cocoa than you can tolerate, soon enough. Bring the sleigh around the back. I think the best thing for your little family is for you to take over the dormitory infirmary for the time being. The bed and dresser I used before I married are still there, and we can shift the medical furniture to bring in some more comfortable seating. It will be your own little home away from home until things can be sorted out.” She shot him a warning glance. “Just make sure you do your sleeping in the barn. If you and Willow plan on an annulment, I won’t have any rumors circulating about her after the fact. And there’s nowhere in the Dovecote for you to sleep on your own.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Charles grasped the horse’s bridle, leading him around the large building that had housed the brides for nearly a month.
“I assume that all this talk about smoke is only part of the truth.”
Charles nodded.
“We’re afraid it might have been another murder attempt.”
Sumner regarded him with open horror. “Against Willow? And the children?”
“Yes. At the very least, our suspect did his best to get her alone and unprotected. If she hadn’t run toward the Dovecote and the Pinkertons...”
“This has got to stop.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” Charles thought things over carefully before asking, “Could you and Jonah linger in town tonight? At least until the other women have gone to bed?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I think it’s time to lay a trap for Jenny’s killer. And I think it’s going to take a joint effort. If you could bring Jonah to meet with us, I’ll let Gideon know. Willow and I will fill you in on what we’ve pieced together and then we can all come up with a plan.”
Sumner’s brown eyes glinted with determination and her chin tilted to an angle that Charles remembered from those early days in the valley when she’d been wrangling with Jonah over the treatment of the stranded passengers.
“How about eleven o’clock?”
* * *
After the bustle of the day and the way the ladies had spoiled the children, Charles and herself, Willow had thought the women would never go to bed. But by eleven o’clock, an eerie silence hung over the Dovecote.
Sumner’s office had undergone a transformation. Jonah had taken his wife’s supplies to the infirmary in town, proclaiming that anyone needing care could go there, whether or not Batchwell complained.
Willow’s brows had risen at that remark. In the past, Jonah had been a company man through and through. But since marrying Sumner, he’d softened toward the other women and their plight.
Once the examining table and patient cots were removed, the women had brought a settee, a rocker and a pair of chairs into the room. In anticipation of their guests, Charles and Willow had arranged the trunk in the middle, then spread out the chart and placed the journal on top. Now the two of them sat in silence, the ticking of the clock in the main room marking the minutes.
“How much longer?” Willow whispered.
Charles took out a pocket watch and glanced at the face. “It’s eleven. But I’m sure they’ll wait until there aren’t any lights in the windows upstairs.”
He rested his elbows on his knees and laced his hands together. “I was wrong to speak to you so abruptly, Willow.”
She shook her head, continuing to pat Adam softly on the back. The baby had fallen asleep some time ago, but his weight against her chest and the sweet scent of his skin grounded her. Since Eva would rouse soon for her feeding, Willow planned to hold him as long as he’d allow it. Then she would take Eva into her arms. “It doesn’t matter, Charles.”
He looked up then, his expression pained. “Yes. It does. When I walked into that house and found it empty, I was so scared. I thought that someone had broken in and taken—” he swallowed “—had taken my little family. And I couldn’t bear it. When you showed up I didn’t think.” He shook his head. “I lashed out.”
“I should have left a note. I should have—”
“No!” His gaze became fierce. “You did the right thing. You packed up everything that was important and you went for help. That’s exactly what you should have done.” He gripped his hands together, loosened them, gripped them. “You’ve been very honest with me. You’ve told me all about your upbringing—and it doesn’t matter to me. It really doesn’t. But you should know at least as much about me.”
Willow couldn’t account for the expressions that flashed across his face—resignation, sadness, defiance.
“I’m from Scotland, originally.”
Willow’s lips twitched. “I think everyone is aware of that.”
“Do you know what a wanlass is in Scotland?”
“No.”
“A wanlass or windlass is a winch for moving heavy objects. I was given that surname because I was found in a basket on the doorstep of the Grottlemeyer Foundling Home. The home is well-known in the area for the wanlass that brings water up from the well.”
“Oh.”
“Ironic, isn’t it? That a pair of twins would be left on my own doorstep.”
Willow’s hand spread wide over Adam’s back as she tried to imagine what Charles must have looked like all those years ago. Chubby cheeks? Blond curls or a shiny pate?
“I have no idea when I was born or where. Much like the twins, my only belongings were a few changes of clothing—fine clothing made of silk and linen. The blanket was also of good quality, edged in very expensive lace. Then, at the bottom of the basket, was a silver box. It looked like something a woman might have on her dressing table.”
He stood and paced to the fireplace. “It would have been better for me if I’d arrived in rags. The rumors started before I could even understand the maliciousness behind them. Somehow, the other children decided that I was the unwanted offspring of a titled family, or the unfortunate result of an affair.”
Again, the similarities to the children were remarkable.
“In any event, I became a target for teasing and pranks. I think that, underneath
it all, the other children feared that someone important would come to claim me—a foreign prince or a titled nobleman—while they would be left behind.” He sighed. “In any event, I was ostracized. I became impatient. Angry. If someone so much as looked at me wrong, I lashed out. I lived with one goal—get them before they could get me.” He stared into the flames, seeming to see into the past. “I developed a temper. A fierce temper.” He met her gaze and said softly. “I hurt someone, Willow. Another boy called me a vulgar name and stole the silver box. Then he threw it into the sea.”
Charles’s fingers curled into fists, but he consciously relaxed them. “My temper exploded. I’d always thought that the box might allow me to track down my kin one day. Then, in an instant, it was gone forever.” His eyes grew dark and stormy. “I hit him, Willow. Then I hit him again. And again. And again. If Phineas Bottoms hadn’t been walking down the street that day...”
His expression filled with regret and remorse—something Willow would never have thought possible. In her eyes, Charles could do no wrong. She never would have supposed that he had his own demons plaguing him.
When he spoke again, his voice was rough with emotion. “I have fought so hard to put that boy behind me, to tamp down my temper, to be the man that I should be.” She saw a sheen of tears in his eyes. “Then when I couldn’t find you...that temper came raging back and I hurt the one person that I should have been protecting.”
Before Willow could respond, they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Gideon poked his head inside.
“Is it safe to come in?” he murmured.
Charles bent to fuss with the fire, and realizing that he needed a moment to compose himself, Willow said, “Yes, do, Gideon.”
She lay Adam in a wooden crate that the women had lined with blankets. Jonah had attached a pair of rockers to the bottom to fashion a makeshift cradle. Eva lay in an identical contraption. Jonah had then confessed that—since the twins were growing so quickly—he’d already begun to make the babies proper cradles which would be his and Sumner’s combined wedding and christening gifts to the Wanlass family.
“Jonah and Sumner are right behind me.” He scraped his feet against the step to remove the snow from his boots, then entered. “We’ll have another blizzard tonight, I wager. I’ll be glad when January is over.”
Willow automatically looked toward Charles, only to discover that he was watching her.
Please don’t let winter end too quickly.
As soon as the pass melted, the two of them would need to decide, once and for all, how to proceed with their lives.
Gideon’s prediction held true. Before the man could cross to the fireplace and hold his hands out to the flames, there was another knock on the door.
This time, Charles let Jonah and Sumner inside.
“Hello, everyone.” Sumner began tugging off her gloves. “And how are the twins?”
She hurried over to peer into the cradles, then shot a look at Charles and said, “See? Even I’m not immune.”
Willow gazed questioningly at her friend, and Sumner grinned. “I’ll fill you in later.”
After reaching to tuck the blankets around Eva, she sat beside Willow on the settee. Her eyes immediately fell on the chart.
“Jonah, come look at this. They’ve really narrowed things down.”
Gideon took the rocker and Jonah the chair opposite his wife. But just when they’d all focused on the chart, the door to the main room swung open.
“Would anyone like coffee?” Lydia whispered.
Immediately behind her was Iona, who added, “We made a fresh pot. And there’s leftover plum buckle from dinner.”
Charles shot a narrowed glance at Gideon.
“Don’t look at me,” his friend grumbled, jumping to his feet and reaching for the tray filled with mugs and saucers.
“Oh, please,” Lydia said dismissively, going around the room with the coffeepot. “We knew something was up between Charles and Willow the minute she claimed to have given birth to twins.”
“What?” Willow gasped.
Iona settled into the seat that Gideon had abandoned and reached out to pat her hand. “Sweetie, you were a little shy in the beginning, but you weren’t pregnant. Especially not with twins.”
“But...you didn’t say anything when Charles and I...when we...”
Lydia touched her shoulder as she crossed behind the settee. “Because we’d already heard about Jenny’s murder. It didn’t take too long for Iona and me to surmise the twins belonged to Jenny.” As she filled Willow’s cup, she met her gaze with kind eyes. “Any of us would have done what you did to protect those babes. And since Charles had stepped up to help you—” Lydia winked in his direction “—we knew you’d be in good hands. Our only concern was whether you were willing to take such a drastic step.”
As the conversation rose and fell around her, Willow found herself watching Charles.
He seemed just as distracted. Their gazes connected for long moments, and in the depths of those quiet, gray eyes, she saw the man she’d always seen. A good man. An honorable man. A man who’d been willing to throw away his job to take care of the twins.
And her.
So much had changed between them—within them—that the word drastic didn’t apply anymore. Their marriage had never been a hardship. If anything, it had become an unwitting blessing.
She couldn’t help shooting him a soft smile—and she watched as he seemed to sag in relief. He rubbed his eyes as if they were tired.
But had she seen a glint of moisture there?
He’d asked for her forgiveness, and she would give it to him—how could she not? He’d made a mistake, spoken hastily. If anything, that burst of temper had made her feel more like his equal. For so long, she’d heard the praises of Charles Wanlass, the man that the other miners called The Bishop. The lay pastor. And she’d feared, deep down, that he was too perfect for the likes of her, a poorly educated girl from humble beginnings.
But he wasn’t the saint she’d supposed him to be.
He was a man.
He was her husband.
In that instant, she knew that whatever the spring thaws might bring, she would not be joining Mr. Ferron in California. She would write him a letter of apology, explain that she had changed her mind and that she would find a way to repay him for the passage he’d sent to her.
But she wouldn’t marry him.
She’d already married the man she loved—although she’d done things out of order. And if winter could hold on just a little longer...
She’d find a way to convince him that their borrowed family should remain together.
Chapter Eighteen
Willow linked her arm through Sumner’s and tried to alter her gait to her friend’s longer strides.
“Are you sure that we won’t get in trouble for this?” she murmured under her breath.
Sumner shrugged. “We have our guards and we have a legitimate reason for being in town.”
Willow had grave doubts about the latter part of that statement. Sumner, as a physician and Jonah’s wife, might have been given more liberties in moving around Bachelor Bottoms, but Willow was sure that such allowances did not extend to her.
Sumner squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Just follow my lead. I may have to adjust my remarks extemporaneously.”
In an effort to flush out the culprit who had killed Jenny, Willow and Sumner had been enlisted to set the first phase of their plan in motion. As subtly as possible, they would cast hints that Jenny’s diary had been found.
“What if the men don’t spread the word?”
“Don’t worry about that. If you get more than one miner together, they’ll gossip like a pair of fishwives. I’ve seen it happen often enough.”
They waited for a sledge to pass, then crossed the road. But rather than going to
the cook shack, they moved one door down, to the company store.
A bell jingled overhead as they stepped inside.
Willow’s eyes grew wide as she absorbed the wonders of the establishment. The walls were lined from ceiling to floor with shelves, and those shelves held every possible commodity that could be imagined—shirts, pants, suspenders, socks, shoes, food stuffs, tools, bridles and tack, books, sweets, brooms, dustpans, hip baths and horse troughs. A rolling ladder—the kind that Willow had seen only once, in a public library in Liverpool—maneuvered around the room on a brass track. Glass-fronted counters flanked the space in a U, holding even more treasures: musical instruments, toiletries, pen sets, ties, pocket watches, chains and fobs.
In the center was a potbellied stove surrounded by chairs and small tables. Several miners hunched over checkerboards. At the sound of the bell, they’d grown still, as if participating in a bizarre form of freeze tag.
“Good day, gentlemen!” Sumner called out blithely, either unaware or refusing to acknowledge the effect she and Willow were having on the all-male establishment. “Mr. Grooper.”
Mr. Grooper hung halfway up the ladder, one foot on an upper rung, one hand reaching toward a box of soap powder. He remained there for a good minute, blinking furiously, as if he were in the grips of a mirage. Then his Adam’s apple shifted as he swallowed.
“Miss... Miss... Miss... Mrs. Ramsey. Miss... Miss... Miss... Mrs. Wanlass.”
The weight of so many stares was enough to root Willow to the floor, but Sumner held her arm and pulled her resolutely in her wake.
“Mr. Grooper, we wondered if we could confer with you on a somewhat...personal matter.”
Although none of the other men moved, Willow could feel their attention shift to the shopkeeper. Just as Sumner had predicted, the store became so quiet that the pop of a log in the stove caused the wizened man to start, then cling to the ladder when he nearly lost his balance.
“Of—of course, ladies.”
He abandoned the soap powder altogether and scrambled down the ladder. Then he leaned across the counter. His eyes, magnified by his spectacles to twice their size, pinned them with an inquisitive stare.
