She wrung her hands, alternately looking at the chair and the other diners, as if afraid sitting with him would damage her reputation forever.
“I promise not to bite.” He let his lips quirk into a smile for her sake, and, if he was honest, because he wanted her to stay. Her and Sasha, who’d nestled on his lap and was playing with the fringe on his buckskin jacket.
Apparently convinced, Charlotte sank into the chair. “I don’t know what got into her. Maybe you look like her father. Does he, Sasha?”
The little girl looked up at him but didn’t answer.
Charlotte didn’t know quite what to say. Here she was, in the perfect position to lay out her proposition, and her heart was pounding through her rib cage. Of all things, Sasha had opened the door by calling him papa. How easy it would be to ask if he was willing to really be Sasha’s papa, but the words stuck in her throat.
Instead, she croaked out insignificant chatter. “I understand her parents were Russian.”
His brow furrowed. “Russian? That’s unusual, but it explains the accent.”
“And her limited vocabulary. But she’s learning new words every day. Aren’t you, Sasha?”
Naturally, the girl didn’t fully understand what she was asking, but she would. Holly had told Charlotte to read to Sasha, so that the girl would pick up the language quickly.
“I read to her each night.” Charlotte’s constricted throat began to open. It was so much easier talking about Sasha. “Maybe I should read in the morning, too, but there are so many things to do. Breakfast to fix, water to pump, coal to haul inside—” She halted, realizing she was blathering.
“You haul coal?” Wyatt looked outraged.
“Well, Charles did, but since he—” She couldn’t bring herself to say died in front of Sasha. “Well, I have to do it now.”
His gaze narrowed. “No one helps you out?”
“When they can.” She fussed with her gloves rather than look him in the eye. “But I hate to ask them to take time out of their busy days.”
He barely hesitated. “I can help.”
She stared at him, shocked.
“While I’m here,” he amended. “I’ll make sure your scuttle is full.”
“Thank you.” She ducked her head. Again, the perfect opportunity. Again, her heart pounded through her chest. She licked her lips. “I wonder if...”
“If what?”
The words caught in her throat. “If...if...”
A commotion at the door halted conversations and drew everyone’s attention.
“Charlotte! I’m so glad you’re here.” Holly burst into the room with Mason right behind her. “I have something wonderful to tell you, to tell everyone.”
“That’s right,” boomed Mason with the broadest grin she’d ever seen cross that man’s face.
Holly fairly bounced, her smile so wide it would light up the night sky. “We’re getting married tomorrow morning.” She pressed her hands to her face as if in disbelief.
“You heard the lady.” Mason pulled her closer, if that was possible. “We’re getting hitched at ten o’clock, and you’re all invited.”
The room erupted into congratulations, and everyone except Beatrice converged on the couple. The men shook Mason’s hand roundly. The women hugged Holly and said they’d known all along that Mason would come to his senses. Sasha squealed and slid off Wyatt’s lap to hand Holly the bedraggled forget-me-not that she’d plucked on the way to the hotel. “For you, Miffanders.” Sasha couldn’t quite pronounce Miss Sanders.
Charlotte wiped away a tear and struggled to hide the terrible envy that swelled inside her. Holly was her friend. She should be happy for her. She’d known this day was coming. They were perfect for each other. Then why this horrible feeling? It wasn’t right or good.
“Oh, Holly, I’m so happy for you.” She hugged her friend and managed a wide, tearful smile that she hoped would pass for joy.
Holly squeezed her tightly before stepping back with a grin. “Your turn will come. Have faith.”
Except that sometime during the confusion, Wyatt had slipped out of the room.
Charlotte panicked and grabbed Sasha’s hand. She needed to catch him before he disappeared upstairs, but Holly wasn’t finished.
“And, well...” Holly bit her lip. “I hope you don’t mind that I asked Rebecca to stand up with me. I didn’t want to keep you from Sasha.”
Charlotte’s mind whirled. That was the least of her concerns. She reassured Holly that she was delighted Rebecca would do the honor, all the while looking for Wyatt.
“Speaking of children...” Holly tugged on Mason’s arm. “We should tell them the rest of the news.”
Mason grinned and asked the well-wishers for silence, which they roundly ignored. Holly then clapped her hands three times, and the crowd instantly hushed. She then deferred to her husband-to-be.
“As you know, I’ve taken a shine to Liam. That is, we have. Well, we thought, that is, we talked it over, and, you see—”
Holly rolled her eyes. “What Mason’s trying to say is that we’re going to take in Liam as soon as we’re married. The selection committee approved it. Now we just have to pray that the judge rules in our favor.”
Charlotte hoped Holly’s prayers came true. The spunky lad had been Mason’s sidekick since the day he arrived in town to warn the sheriff about the train robbery. Liam belonged with Holly and Mason.
The congratulations erupted anew, though Beatrice’s frown only deepened. Without a word, she stalked out of the dining room, just like Wyatt.
Wyatt. Charlotte had never asked him if he would marry her, and now he was gone. She had to hurry to catch him.
“Please excuse me,” she said to Holly, but it wasn’t necessary since the couple was overwhelmed with well-wishers.
Charlotte hurried into the lobby, vacant except for Ned Minor, who manned the registration desk. Frantically, she looked at the porch and then the stairs.
“If you’re lookin’ for Mr. Reed,” Ned drawled, “he retired for the night.”
Her chance was gone. In just days, Sasha would be taken from her. Sobs rose in her throat while laughter rang from the dining room.
Holly was getting married.
Charlotte choked down the tears. It needed to be her.
Chapter Six
The ringing of church bells hurried Charlotte’s preparations. She’d dressed Sasha in her Sunday best but was having a hard time getting the girl to sit still so she could braid her hair.
“All right, we’ll leave it loose,” she finally conceded.
At least she’d managed to brush Sasha’s dark locks until they shone. A ribbon would have looked so pretty, but the little girl was having none of it.
“Miss Sanders is getting married today,” she reminded Sasha, “and we want to look our best.”
Too bad Charlotte had to wear that horrid black. She’d much rather don her emerald-green taffeta gown—an enormous indulgence that had brought a smile to Charles’s lips and hope to her heart.
“Miffanders get marry?”
“Yes, to Sheriff Wright.” Charlotte had no idea if Sasha understood, but she did sit still long enough for Charlotte to tie the ribbon in her hair.
“Katya come?”
“Yes, Katya may join us. In fact, I think Miss Sanders would insist.”
Sasha squealed with joy and jumped up and down, making her doll flop this way and that.
Charlotte slid open the front of Charles’s desk and pulled out the tray that concealed the money compartment. The leather wallet contained everything Charles had left her, enough for three or four years. She would give it all to Wyatt to keep her daughter. She prayed he would accept.
Lord, soften his heart so he will agree to my proposal. Help him to see the good he can bring to this little girl and give me the strength to follow through.
After putting the wallet into her purse, she reached for Sasha’s hand. “Let’s go.”
The little girl wil
lingly took her hand. So trusting. So loving. Yes, no matter the cost, Sasha must stay.
They stepped into the morning sun. The early streaks of crimson had vanished, leaving a brilliant blue sky. Thank goodness! Holly and Mason would have a beautiful wedding day.
It seemed the entire town streamed toward the church. By the time she arrived, the pews were jammed. She looked around the small sanctuary but didn’t see Wyatt. Everyone had been invited, but he must not have thought that included him.
Unable to find a place to sit, she sought an empty spot along the side.
“Please, Widow Miller, take my seat.” Mr. Brooks stood and motioned her to a small spot at the end of a pew.
Pauline Evans slid over a bit to make enough room for Charlotte and Sasha. Charlotte smiled her thanks as the pianist played the “Bridal Chorus” and managed to get seated before the wedding party appeared.
Mason walked in with his friend, Bucky Wyler. Both men looked nervous. Then Heidi walked solemnly down the aisle, every step measured. Liam followed a bit behind her, head held high but hands in his trouser pockets. Charlotte stifled a grin. The lad clearly wanted to impress Mason while not acting too fancified.
Rebecca, in a fashionable yet surprisingly subdued gown, followed next. Seconds later, Charlotte understood her thoughtful choice, for Holly wore her best suit, the one she’d worn to Newfield to apply for the loan. Charlotte regretted not having time to sew the wedding gown for Holly. The ever-sensible schoolteacher had simply worn her best. She carried an equally simple bouquet of wildflowers.
Judging by the dumbstruck grin on Mason’s face, it didn’t matter one bit. He saw Holly’s true beauty. Every ounce of it. The pride and joy on his face brought tears to Charlotte’s eyes. Holly positively glowed. Her feet floated down the aisle. She saw only Mason. The love they felt for each other was palpable.
If only...
Charlotte wiped away a tear. That’s the kind of marriage she’d wanted her entire life, but if her plan succeeded today, she would never have it.
* * *
Wyatt had no interest in seeing the sheriff married off. He didn’t, as a rule, attend weddings. They only reminded him of all he’d lost. Moreover, they took place in a church, and Wyatt hadn’t crossed one of those thresholds since the war.
Still, from the hotel porch he couldn’t help noticing the stream of people going to the ceremony. He saw Charlotte arrive late with Sasha in tow. The little girl looked his way and smiled before Charlotte tugged her into the church.
Since the church was just down the street from the hotel, he ambled closer. Mason waited outside with a nervous fellow who must be standing up with him. The two laughed and joked, but the sheriff kept checking his pocket watch. Anxious fellow, in a hurry to get hitched. Wyatt supposed he would be, too, if he was marrying a woman he loved.
Charlotte’s face drifted to mind, but he tossed away the thought. Wyatt Reed did not get involved. Get in, do the job and get out. Nothing more.
After the last guest arrived, a redheaded lad shuffled toward the sheriff. Wright clapped the boy on the back before entering the church with his friend. Moments later, Miss Sanders and Miss Sterling walked down the street from the direction of the school. The orphan girl with the disfigured face followed, holding a bouquet of wildflowers. The redheaded boy hung back and kicked at the dirt before the schoolteacher rounded him up and pushed him into the church.
Wyatt stifled a grin as he watched from the village green, where tables were being set up for the luncheon. A wedding brought people together. The luncheon afterward would give them opportunity to talk. Maybe someone would mention Baxter. A small segment of the population wanted the orphans to go to Greenville. Miss Ward appeared to be their leader. Was she in cahoots with Baxter? Maybe today he’d find out.
“If you ain’t goin’ to the wedding, make yourself useful.” A domineering woman with a kind face shoved a tray of glasses into his hands. “Set ’em around the tables.”
Set tables? Wyatt hadn’t done that since he was a small child. On the farm, that was women’s work, and once he was big enough to work in the barns and fields, he’d been excused from housework.
Exactly where was he supposed to put them? By the plates, certainly, but there weren’t any plates on the tables. Linen tablecloths fluttered in the light breeze, weighted down by enormous vases of fragrant lilacs. The ladies were busy tying bows around the vases, which, now that he looked closer, were a mix of pitchers, mason jars and the occasional vase.
He decided to set a glass by each chair. It took forever. He counted a hundred chairs, and few glasses looked alike. Apparently, every woman in Evans Grove had emptied her cupboard for the wedding feast. Judging by the number of cakes on the dessert table, they’d also baked all night.
The community’s affection for its sheriff and schoolteacher put a smile on his face. That was the type of town that deserved to thrive. It was the type of town to raise a family in, good for children, good for orphans.
That last realization hit him hard. He’d known it deep down since yesterday but hadn’t put it in so many words. Those children deserved to stay here, but his stubborn persistence had forced the town to a legal impasse that could send the children to Greenville.
After setting down the last glass, he rubbed the back of his neck.
If only he’d abandoned the job right away. Maybe then the kids could have stayed.
He shook his head, knowing that was wishful thinking. Baxter wanted those orphans badly. He wouldn’t have let them go. To save the kids, Wyatt had to find out why.
“Well?” The woman who’d handed him the tray of glasses glared at him. “Go on back to the hotel and fetch another load.”
Wyatt blinked. He hadn’t been ordered around since the war, but that conflict had also taught him when to surrender. “Yes, ma’am.”
He trudged back.
The stable boy strolled out of the livery, spotted him and grinned. “Got ya waitin’ tables, don’t they?”
Wyatt cringed. Sweet stars, he wasn’t a table waiter. He was Wyatt Reed, expert tracker. Outlaws feared him. Lawmen respected him. Yet in no time at all he’d been reduced to a servant. That’s what women did to a man. Even the stable boy snickered.
After looking each way, the lad sauntered closer. “Better you’n me. Ma’d have my hide if she knew I was hidin’ in the stable instead a helpin’ get those tables all prettied up. Don’t let on you saw me, all right?”
Wyatt recalled his boyish days, when he’d run off with his friends rather than do his chores. “Sooner or later she’ll catch up to you.”
The boy’s grin split his face. “Hasn’t yet.”
“Allen Edward!” The woman who’d ordered Wyatt around strode across the street. “Get into that kitchen and help Mr. Reed.”
The stable boy’s confident grin collapsed. “Yes’m.”
Wyatt grinned as the boy trudged into the hotel.
The woman turned to him. “What you waitin’ for?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Wyatt scurried after the lad, strangely warmed and comforted that he’d been treated the same as everyone.
That’s what community felt like. That’s what he’d been missing since the war.
* * *
Where was Wyatt? Charlotte tried to put the urgency out of her mind, but as the minister spoke of commitment and how God had set aside marriage for the betterment of mankind, her mind drifted. Had Wyatt left town? Had he ridden to Greenville?
She nibbled her lip.
Pauline squeezed her hand. “I’m praying you find someone.”
Charlotte was too.
The vows brought tears again. From the way Holly and Mason looked at each other, it was clear that God had meant them to be together.
At last the ceremony ended, and everyone streamed out of the church to congratulate the couple. Charlotte let Sasha run off to play with Lynette with strict instructions to stay on the village green. Mrs. Gavin chuckled and said she’d keep an eye on them.<
br />
Charlotte waited for everyone else to congratulate the newlyweds. In truth, she was trying her best to still the butterflies in her stomach and figure out how to ask Wyatt. Lord, give me the words. She sure didn’t have them.
When Holly was finally free of well-wishers, Charlotte embraced her friend. Words wouldn’t come at first, though the emotion did.
“I’m so happy for you and Mason,” she finally managed, blinking back yet more tears. “I’m still making you that dress. I wish I could have had it done for today.”
“Nonsense.” Holly pulled away. “I don’t need a fancy dress.”
Charlotte knew Holly would react that way. “You deserve it,” she insisted. Holly was a dear, always sacrificing for the children. It was time she had something pretty of her own. “Mason will love it.”
Holly blushed a color that would match the new dress and glanced toward her new husband, who was standing off to the side with Bucky Wyler and his wife.
“Go to him,” Charlotte urged.
“Are you sure?” But her eyes sparked with desire.
Charlotte nodded.
Holly leaned close before darting off to join her husband. “There’s someone waiting for you.” She nodded toward the table closest to the road.
Wyatt Reed.
Charlotte felt all the blood drain from her face. The time had arrived. She must make her proposition.
* * *
Wyatt stood by the table closest to the road watching the newlyweds. Sheriff Wright looked at his new wife with such adoration that it tore Wyatt to pieces. When she returned the same look, he had to turn away. He wanted to feel that way, wanted that unspoken connection with another person. A connection that said she would stay by his side no matter what, and he would walk through fire to be there for her.
But it couldn’t be. What woman would ever place trust in a man who’d burned and killed? None.
Keep control, Reed. He was here to learn something about Baxter. That meant positioning himself as close to Miss Ward as possible. He scanned the crowds around the tables looking for the diminutive gray-haired spinster. There she was, commanding the cake table. She gestured for first this cake and then that one to be moved to different locations. The women around her hovered like bees, ready to do her bidding.
Christine Johnson Page 7
