“But we’d expected to spend time with you.” Her shy smile vanished.
How could something as small as a missing smile hurt so badly?
“There’ll be time enough,” he said gruffly.
“Sasha wanted to see your horse.”
“Hor-sey,” the little girl echoed, beating her fork on the plate.
Wyatt felt the noose tighten around his neck, but he would not be trapped. He rose. “Maybe later.” Like tomorrow.
* * *
Wyatt’s departure ripped an unexplainable hole in Charlotte, as if the light had been sucked out of her life. Charles had never left such emptiness.
“Mama?”
Sasha’s plaintive cry drew Charlotte’s attention away from her own distress.
“It’s all right,” she murmured, though it wasn’t. Wyatt didn’t believe in God. His words had left her horribly unsettled.
She ran a hand over Sasha’s silky, black hair. At least she could keep her daughter. He’d promised that much.
“Where Papa go?” Sasha’s lips quivered.
Charlotte’s heart wrenched. Poor girl. All the father figures in her life had left her. And now Wyatt had walked out, too. Didn’t he see how much he meant to this little girl?
“He had some work to do, dear.” Though she tried to sound cheerful, her voice cracked. She forced her smile wider. “You won’t mind spending the day with Mama, will you? We have a busy day ahead of us, starting with church.” Though part of her wanted to hide from the questions sure to come, she could not miss Sunday worship. “Would you like to wear your red or blue dress?”
The question diverted Sasha’s worries, but it did nothing to ease the hurt in Charlotte’s heart.
At church, she donned a smile to mask her feelings, but she heard the whispers. “Just married, and already he’s wandering off.” “Should have known better than to get mixed up with the likes of Wyatt Reed.” “The man’s no good. After all, he’s trying to take away our orphans.”
If not for Holly and Pauline, she could never have made it through the service. Holly’s encouraging smiles and the mayor’s bold congratulations stopped the flow of gossip—at least for the moment.
Reverend Turner spoke of tolerance and compassion, neither of which Charlotte felt from some in the congregation. She saw the uplifted eyebrows and heard the cruel comments. She prayed Sasha didn’t.
When the service ended, Charlotte rushed out of the church. She intended to hurry home, but Rebecca Sterling waited for her near the church steps. Charlotte’s heart nearly stopped. Had the orphan society insisted Rebecca take Sasha away from Charlotte now?
The little girl slipped away to join Lynette and some of the orphans. Charlotte let her go. If this was bad news, best Sasha not hear it.
“Lovely morning, Charlotte.” Yet Rebecca didn’t look like she was enjoying it.
Charlotte hesitated. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
The pretty blonde ducked her head a moment before drawing a shaky breath. “I wanted to offer my congratulations and to say I’m sorry that you had to go to such extremes. I didn’t want it to come to that. I pleaded with Mr. Armstrong to grant an exception.”
It took Charlotte a moment to recall that Mr. Armstrong was the head of the Orphan Salvation Society. If Rebecca had contacted him, then she’d done her best to help.
Charlotte’s heart rate slowed. “Thank you. It means a lot to know you tried.”
“Sometimes I get angry at the rules. I know they’re there for a reason, but life doesn’t always fall into place so neatly.”
It certainly didn’t. Charlotte forced herself not to think of Wyatt’s departure.
“People shouldn’t say such things,” Rebecca whispered, nodding toward the gossips. “I’m glad Mayor Evans put them in their place. I’d have spoken up myself, but it didn’t feel right, when I’m not really a resident of Evans Grove.”
Rebecca’s wistful gaze reminded Charlotte that the orphan agent was terribly young to have endured a train robbery at gunpoint, the murder of her fellow agent and handling the group of orphans all by herself. Her delicate shoulders bowed under the weight of responsibility that she must carry alone, and so far from home, too. While she rarely talked about her background, it was evident that Rebecca came from a much more glamorous lifestyle than anything Evans Grove had to offer.
Charlotte squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “You did all you could.”
The simple statement brought a hopeful smile to Rebecca’s lips. “I wish I could have done more.” She glanced toward Heidi, who was watching the other orphans. “I wish they’d all find homes here.” She nibbled her lip. “It’s a good town. The people here care, but today’s Sunday. Tomorrow will be too late.”
“No one has come forward?”
“The Monaghans have asked for Patrick.”
Charlotte seized on this hopeful sign for the troublemaking boy. “They’d be perfect for him with their four boys. Mr. Monaghan is firm, yet caring. He’ll have Patrick so busy there’ll be no time for stirring up trouble.”
Rebecca looked relieved. “I hope the selection committee agrees. They’re going to meet this afternoon.”
“Even Beatrice? I can’t believe she’d agree to meet on the Sabbath.”
Rebecca sighed. “I wouldn’t put it past her to raise a fuss.”
“But she’s only one member of the committee,” Charlotte reassured her. “Has there been any interest in Tom or Heidi?”
“Pauline said the Quintons asked who was still available. Maybe they’d take Tom.” Rebecca’s smile faltered. “I’d love to think they’d take Heidi as well, but I know that’s not likely. They already have two girls, and with the farm... Tom is small and not terribly coordinated, but he’s still a boy.” She leaned close to whisper. “I’m so afraid that no one will take Heidi. What then? She would have to go to Greenville alone and could end up in the orphanage there. I just can’t bear the thought of her growing up in an orphanage.”
Charlotte felt a tug on her heart. “I could take her.” But even as she said the words, she knew she couldn’t.
“I know you would, and you’d be a wonderful mother, but—” Rebecca hesitated. “Three children would be a lot for your little house.”
“Three?” Charlotte counted only Sasha and Heidi.
“Her brother Jakob. I made a mistake separating them, and now I fear he’s trying to find her.”
Somehow Charlotte had missed this news. “Heidi has a brother? Where is he?”
“He was placed in Glenwood, Iowa, our last stop before crossing into Nebraska. Until then, he and Heidi had been inseparable. Jakob is the oldest, and I gather that after they lost their parents, he felt his sister was his responsibility. The poor girl thought her brother would never find a home as long as they stuck together. The scars meant that no family showed interest in her, so Heidi tricked him into getting placed by himself.”
Charlotte ached for the decision this girl had made. “But he didn’t stay?”
Rebecca took a deep breath. “We learned he ran away and think he’s heading this way, but he’ll never know the children are in Evans Grove. He knew the stops we were planning to make, and this town was never on the itinerary.” She fidgeted with the clasp on her bag. “So many terrible things could happen to him out there.” She blinked back a tear. “If only we knew where he was.”
Charlotte caught her breath as an idea came to mind. Wyatt was a tracker. He found lost and missing people. Maybe he could find Jakob. Moreover, it would give him a reason to stay in contact with Evans Grove. It was perfect.
“I wonder if—” she began but was cut off by Beatrice Ward.
“Miss Sterling!” The woman bustled toward them, shaking her finger at Rebecca. “If you won’t look after those truants, that Society of yours should find someone who can.”
Apparently, Beatrice had heard none of Reverend Turner’s sermon.
The woman continued her tirade. “That boy of yours pulled all the blossoms of
f the peonies.”
Charlotte’s gaze followed her outstretched hand to see Tommy hand a single pink bloom to Lynette Gavin. “How sweet. Little Lynette loves flowers. Why, it’s rather romantic.”
“Romantic?” Beatrice kept her distance from Charlotte, as if getting too close would contaminate her. “What would you know about romance, Mrs. Reed?” She clucked her tongue. “You might think you’ve pulled one over on this town, but no sin can be hidden from God.”
Sin? Charlotte’s jaw dropped. Hadn’t the woman congratulated her just last night? What had happened between then and now? Glancing over at the group of Beatrice’s friends, Charlotte thought she knew why. Or, more precisely, who. Mrs. Ingersman gave her a scathing look. No doubt she’d seen Sasha pick her pansies yesterday and was exacting her revenge.
“As the Good Book says, the Lord sees all and judges accordingly.”
Charlotte wondered why Beatrice didn’t apply that scriptural teaching to herself.
Miss Ward returned her attention to Rebecca. “Keep those urchins under control, Miss Sterling. You’ll only have to manage for one more day, since the judge arrives tomorrow.” Her nasty business done, she returned to her cronies.
Rebecca sighed. “She won’t approve any placements this afternoon.”
“She’s only one member of the committee.” Yet Charlotte cringed as Sasha pulled a bloom off the peonies that Miss Ward had planted at the church. “I’d better rescue Sasha before Beatrice gets to her.”
Rebecca agreed. “And I’d better get the children back to the schoolhouse.”
“I’ll make dinner for everyone,” Charlotte offered as they strode toward the children. It would distract her from Wyatt’s absence.
“Thank you.” Rebecca’s weary smile touched Charlotte’s heart. “It’ll take the children’s minds off the selection committee meeting.”
“Would two o’clock be a good time, then?”
“Perfect.” Rebecca then admonished Patrick, who was teasing Tom about giving Lynette the flower. After restoring order, she marched the restless group back to the schoolhouse. The children had to know this afternoon might be their last chance to stay in Evans Grove. Tomorrow, Wyatt would do his best to take them to Greenville.
Charlotte’s stomach clenched.
“Pitty.” Sasha held up the peony.
“For me?” Charlotte’s heart warmed. A child’s love could be so pure and unconditional, unlike the complicated way she felt about Wyatt.
“For Papa.”
Charlotte’s heart nearly broke. Wyatt had stormed out of the house this morning with no indication if or when he would return. Would Sasha wait all day in vain? For the little girl’s sake, she prayed he would come back soon.
* * *
The church bells mocked Wyatt as he rode Dusty out of town. Cow-ard. Cow-ard. Each stroke accused him of running away from God. He had. Going to Greenville had been an excuse to not go to church. He did want to take another stab at discovering Baxter’s motive, but that could have waited until after the morning service.
Instead he’d headed west along the stagecoach road toward the large-scale farmers out Greenville way. He couldn’t cover the entire distance and back today, not if he wanted to talk to anyone, but he could get to the nearest farms. The Star Plains farm stretched for hundreds of acres more than halfway between Evans Grove and Greenville, and a handful more miles north. To get there, he’d have to cut across fallow lands and head up toward the curve of the Big Blue River.
Dusty snorted, enjoying the brisk pace after being cooped up in the livery all day yesterday. Wyatt could sympathize. He’d felt the walls close in on him this morning. Nothing beat fresh air and open country.
The morning had shimmered with the promise of a fine day, and, by the time he reached the point where he had to head north, the sun beat down hot. The road baked like a flapjack in a skillet.
After they left the road, the pace slowed to a crawl as Dusty picked his way through the fields. That gave Wyatt time to decide exactly what he’d ask once he reached the farm. The direct approach hadn’t worked so far. Evans Grove farmers had eyed him warily or clammed up. Only Colton Hayes had said anything to raise a red flag, but the man wouldn’t explain why he refused to deal with Baxter, probably because he didn’t know Wyatt. In these parts, relationships were built on trust earned over time. Wyatt had arrived in Greenville after March’s storm, the one that had broken the dam and flooded Evans Grove. He hadn’t had time to earn that trust.
Dusty whinnied and shook his head.
Wyatt automatically tensed and eased his left hand toward his gun. His horse had seen or heard someone.
He scanned the fields to the left. Low trees dotted the edge, but they were spaced too far apart and were too young to hide anything bigger than a squirrel. To the right, a small grove nestled by the road. Dense and heavily shaded. A perfect hiding place.
With a soft cluck of the tongue, he directed Dusty to stop. The well-trained horse responded at once.
Wyatt listened. Birds squawked and twittered. A light breeze rustled the leaves and grass. In the distance, wagon wheels cut a dusty path across the horizon. A horse whinnied, followed by a sharp command.
That wasn’t a man’s voice. Too high. It had to be a boy or a woman. By his calculation, the horse and rider were just beyond the grove. He eased off on the gun and with his knees, urged Dusty forward. A woman or boy wouldn’t pose any danger. With luck, he’d find a boy. After a little friendly conversation, most lads would tell him anything.
He rode at an easy pace, hoping he looked like a man taking a Sunday ride. As soon as he rounded the grove, the plow horse and boy came into view. The lad’s arms and legs looked thin as straw. The sun beat down on dark brown hair as he wrestled the horse and plow through the field. No hat. Ragged trousers.
That boy shouldn’t have to work so hard on a Sunday. He should be in church.
Startled by the thought, Wyatt drew Dusty to a halt. Guilt washed over him again, but he brushed it aside. If he learned something bad about Baxter, those orphan kids could stay in Evans Grove, and that was more important than going to some stuffy church service.
He waited until the lad neared him. “Hello, there.”
The lad’s head jerked up. “’Lo,” he muttered with a quick glance toward the grove.
The boy couldn’t be more than thirteen or fourteen. Scrawny arms and bowed legs barely kept control of the plow. Moreover, the lad was barefoot. Most farmers worked their children from a young age, both from necessity and so they’d learn farming and could take over one day. But this boy looked half-starved despite the large size and apparent prosperity of the farm.
Wyatt set both hands on the saddle horn. “Mind telling me where I am?”
The boy halted the plow horse and wiped his brow. “Star Plains.”
Wyatt looked around as if he hadn’t a clue what that meant. “I’m looking for the road to Greenville.”
The boy hesitated before pointing south.
“How far?”
The boy shrugged. “You’ll run across it.”
Wyatt pushed a little further. “Ever been to Greenville?”
Again the flinch. “Once.”
“Big town?”
“Wouldn’t know.” The boy looked furtively over his shoulder again, as if afraid someone was watching him from that grove of trees.
Wyatt fought the urge to look. He’d check on his way back through, but he still hoped to get more from the boy while keeping up the ruse that he was out for a Sunday-morning ride.
“Much obliged.” He clucked his tongue as if to instruct Dusty to head out, but he’d trained his horse to hold still on that command. “Worthless horse. It won’t obey any orders.” He clucked his tongue again. “If I’d gotten a better one at the livery, I wouldn’t be in such a fix.” He lifted his hat and mopped his brow. “Don’t suppose I could go up to your pa’s house and beg a drink of water for me and this worthless critter.”
The b
oy wavered, his sympathies entirely with Dusty. After another glance at the grove, he lowered his voice and said, “I wouldn’t go up there if I was you.”
“Your ma and pa gone to church?”
The boy shook his head. “They ain’t my ma and pa. I jess work here.”
“That so? They hiring?”
“Didn’t ya hear me?” His eyes darted toward the grove. “Head south, and you’ll find the road.” He called to the plow horse, slapped the reins and drove the plow toward the center of the field.
Wyatt would have to follow into the field to continue the conversation. Judging by the boy’s constant glances toward the grove, any trespassing would not be welcomed by whoever was overseeing this operation.
A boy of thirteen hired out? It wasn’t unheard of, but this lad hadn’t an ounce of meat on his bones. His parents must be impoverished to resort to hiring him out to a farmer who worked his hands so hard, even on Sunday. It wasn’t fair or just, but Wyatt had learned that fairness and justice often vanished before necessity and greed.
Turning Dusty around, Wyatt ambled toward the grove. As he neared, the shadows grew deeper. He’d have to plunge into the thick undergrowth to track whoever was hiding there. Though curiosity urged him forward, common sense told him he’d learn nothing. Moreover, the feared overseer would take out any trespassing on the boy’s back.
No, he’d best head onward and leave Star Plains farm behind. He directed Dusty back to the road. With every step he grew more and more troubled.
Chapter Twelve
Despite occupying her hands with cooking Sunday dinner and occupying her mind by inventing games and stories to distract Sasha from Wyatt’s absence, Charlotte had been unable to halt the mounting fear that he would not return. With every passing hour, her tension rose until she felt like she would burst.
Christine Johnson Page 12
