With both the sheriff and his new bride sitting on the selection committee, no wonder the town refused to hand over the unclaimed orphans. No doubt the boy knew Wyatt had opposed their staying in Evans Grove. Wright certainly did.
Still, Wyatt ached for the kind of relationship the sheriff had with his new son. In those two minutes of interaction, the bond was evident.
Sheriff Wright settled back in his chair. “What brings you here so early?”
Wyatt took off his hat. “I was just down to the town hall and noticed it’s locked up tight.”
The sheriff nodded. “Judge Broadside was delayed in Newfield.”
Wyatt battled impatience. “Delayed?”
“That’s right.” Wright toyed with a bosun’s whistle sitting on his desk.
Though Wyatt recognized the whistle from his time in Savannah during the war, he wouldn’t expect to see one on the prairie. “Were you in the navy?”
Wright looked perplexed until Wyatt pointed to the whistle. “Naw, my uncle sailed.” He tucked the whistle into his vest pocket.
They didn’t have the war in common, then. Near as Wyatt could see, they shared nothing. Best get down to business. “Do you know when the judge’ll get here?”
Wright shook his head. “No telling. He’s usually delayed a bit. Sometimes as much as a month.”
“A month? I can’t wait a month.”
“You could always go back to Greenville.”
Wyatt gritted his teeth and leaned both hands on the man’s desktop. He could tell the sheriff that he’d changed his stance, but the man had threatened him the last time they talked. “It would be better to finish this business sooner rather than later.”
“That’s your opinion.” Sheriff Wright leaned back in his chair and braced his hands behind his head as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I hear you’ve been busy.”
Wyatt stared. Wright knew he’d been asking questions?
“Concerned about Baxter?” the sheriff asked, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the desk. “I would be, if I were you.”
Wyatt sucked in his breath. “What do you know?”
“That you’re new to the area. That Baxter’s got his fingers pulling more than a few politicians’ strings.”
“Are you saying he’s a crook?”
The sheriff’s easy grin vanished. “I can’t find anything on the man, and that’s what worries me. He has no history, no family, no past. A bit like you.”
Wyatt clenched his teeth. “I’m not from these parts.”
“Maybe Baxter isn’t, either.”
“It would explain his lack of history.”
Wright’s blue eyes pierced through him. “You don’t trust him, either.”
Wyatt hated that the man assumed he knew Wyatt’s mind, especially since he was right. “I can’t put a finger on it. It’s more a gut feeling.”
The sheriff nodded. “What have you found out so far?”
Wyatt had pegged the sheriff as a square shooter from the start. He also preferred to work with law enforcement, not against them. The deputy sheriff in Greenville was a fool, more interested in his wages than dealing with crime. Wright, however, was clearly cut from a different cloth.
“Not much more than you.” He eased into the chair across the desk from Wright. “That rancher a few miles north of town, Hayes, doesn’t trust him. That much is clear, but he wouldn’t say why. I’m guessing that’s because he thinks I’m the enemy.”
“Are you?”
Wyatt could appreciate the man’s directness. “I plan to tell the judge the children should stay in Evans Grove.”
If Wright was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Fair enough. I’ll pay Colton Hayes a visit. Anything else?”
Wyatt paused, considering whether to say anything about the boy at Star Plains farm. That had been nothing more than a feeling, too. No evidence. Nothing to suggest it wasn’t just an ornery man working his kid seven days a week.
“Nothing solid.” He looked the sheriff in the eye. “I don’t have your clout around here.”
Wright’s eyebrows rose. “The badge can slow a man down, too.” He leaned forward, earnest. “I can only investigate crimes. You can look into matters that I can’t touch, and get into places I can’t. If we work as a team, we just might be able to find out what’s really going on.”
Wyatt knew the sheriff had a point, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get that involved. “Maybe the judge will rule in Evans Grove’s favor.”
“Do you want to take a chance that your Sasha ends up in Baxter’s hands?”
Wyatt gagged on the thought. “No, but if this man’s as crooked as I think, he’ll get real nervous once I’m onto him.”
“You saying what I think you’re saying?”
Wyatt nodded. “I wouldn’t put anything past the man. Even murder.”
“That’s a mighty bold accusation.”
“A cornered man either fights or gives up. Baxter cares too much about his reputation to give up. Anyone going up against him needs the law on his side in case it comes to a fight.” Or gunfire.
The sheriff rubbed his jaw. His gaze drifted down to Wyatt’s hip, where the buckskin coat covered his holster. He must know Wyatt carried a gun. No tracker went without one.
“I wouldn’t want anyone shot unlawfully,” the sheriff drawled, “but self-defense is another matter.”
“I hate killing. Did too much of it in the war.”
“War takes the fight out of most men.” Wright tapped his fingertips on the desktop. “I’ve seen ’em come back shaken, but I’ve also seen ’em come back angry. Which one are you?”
Wyatt steeled his jaw. “Neither.” He had no intention of explaining the nightmares. “I just want justice.”
“We agree on that.” The sheriff’s gaze narrowed as he assessed him. “Well, then, I think I can help you. It just so happens I could use a deputy.”
“It sounds to me like you have one in your boy.”
The sheriff chuckled. “I need one who knows his way around a gun. Bucky Wyler would step in when needed, but with his wife expecting, she’s not keen on him getting in the path of any bullets.”
Wyatt could hardly believe what he was hearing. Was the sheriff offering him a job? “I don’t have that problem.”
“Charlotte wouldn’t mind? You do have a young daughter to consider.”
Wyatt brushed off the sheriff’s concerns. He didn’t intend to pass this by her or anyone. Wyatt Reed made his own decisions, and the best thing he could do for Charlotte was to ensure she kept Sasha. That meant taking down Baxter, and the badge just might give him the authority to do it.
“I don’t see why she would.” After all, she only wanted him around long enough to adopt Sasha.
A smile teased the corners of Sheriff Wright’s mouth. “Maybe you’d better ask.”
Ask? Wyatt didn’t ask a woman what he could and couldn’t do. Still, he could tell Wright expected him to get her approval.
“She’s not a fearful young bride,” he argued, hoping that was true. “Besides, she wants me to find a way to keep the orphans in Evans Grove. This will do just that.”
“Then it’s settled.” Sheriff Wright rose and extended his hand. “Welcome to the job, Deputy Reed.”
Wyatt shook his hand. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Best be calling me Mason,” he said as he pulled a tin star from his desk.
Wyatt took the symbol of his new position and ran a thumb over the engraved word that made him a deputy of the law. “Call me Wyatt, then, but if it’s the same to you, I’m going to keep this badge under wraps for now. At least until we get the truth on Felix Baxter.”
Mason nodded. “Makes sense to me, but keep it handy.”
Wyatt pinned the badge to the inside of his coat. He was now a lawman. It felt good. Real good. For the first time in years he was doing something that helped people. This was his chance to erase the sins of the past.
He wouldn’t tell Charlot
te just yet. She’d only worry and try to talk him out of it, the way Bucky Wyler’s wife had. He wasn’t about to blow this chance for redemption.
Chapter Fourteen
All of Charlotte’s worry had been for nothing. Judge Broadside was delayed indefinitely. So, too, was Wyatt. She’d expected him to return to the house once he learned the judge wasn’t arriving that day, but hour after hour passed with no word.
What could he be doing? No doubt he rode off on his horse, like yesterday. No explanation. Not even the courtesy to tell her he’d be gone. Moreover, he’d promised to give Sasha a horseback ride, which the little girl did not forget. She fussed and whined, unhappy with everything Charlotte attempted to do with her. Even Katya went flying across the room during a tantrum.
Charlotte’s head pounded. Her nerves frayed. How on earth had Rebecca managed eight children in the schoolhouse when the orphans first arrived in town? Charlotte could barely endure one ill-tempered child.
She tried to work on Holly’s dress, but every time she approached her sewing machine, Sasha clung to her and cried that she wanted to play.
By the time Wyatt returned, she’d lost the last shreds of patience.
“Sit,” she commanded Sasha as Wyatt opened the door.
His eyebrows rose. “That’s a fine welcome home.”
Home. His use of the word would have pleased her if she hadn’t been so overwrought. “I was speaking to Sasha. Though I might ask where you spent the day, considering the judge never came to town.”
“Papa! Papa!” Sasha’s shrieks of joy gave him the chance to avoid answering.
Wyatt scooped up the little girl and whirled her around until she laughed and giggled.
Frustrated and exhausted, Charlotte sank into a chair. “You promised her a horseback ride.”
“So I did.” Wyatt cradled the little girl so easily in his arms. “Do you want to meet Dusty, my horse?”
“Hor-see,” Sasha squealed, the tantrums and whining completely gone.
Charlotte resented that she’d had to struggle all day while Wyatt got to enjoy the perfect little girl. No doubt he thought caring for Sasha was easy. He didn’t teach her proper behavior. He didn’t wash her and feed her and clothe her. He didn’t have to scold her when she misbehaved.
Her irritation grew as she followed them outside. As promised, his horse awaited. The chestnut gelding munched her overgrown flowerbed. At Wyatt’s approach, the horse lifted its head and snarled out a whinny.
Charlotte drew in her breath. The horse was huge, nearly as big as Charles’s team. She would never consider putting such a little girl on one of Charles’s horses, yet Wyatt intended to carry her on top of that enormous animal. Her head spun just thinking about the distance to the ground. Adults broke necks falling off horses. What would happen to a four-year-old?
“Are you sure?” she choked out.
Wyatt must not have heard her. He held Sasha near Dusty’s head, and she reached out to pet the animal.
“Horsee,” she squealed.
Dusty nipped at the air, away from Sasha but still too close for Charlotte’s liking.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Now don’t go getting yourself out of sorts.” Wyatt placed Sasha on the saddle. “I’ve got a good hold of her, and we’re only going a few steps.”
Sasha’s eyes were round as teacup saucers as she grabbed on to the pommel. “Horsee.” She banged her shoes against the horse’s flanks.
“Don’t do that, Sasha!” Charlotte cried.
“Just a few steps, nice and easy,” Wyatt said, one hand on the bridle and the other holding Sasha by the back of her dress.
Without a verbal command from Wyatt, the horse began to walk. Sasha swayed, and Charlotte hugged her arms, terrified. She wanted to beg Wyatt to stop, but he had hold of Sasha, didn’t he?
Then Sasha squealed, the horse’s ears pricked, and he shot out of Wyatt’s grasp.
“Dusty!” Wyatt clucked his tongue.
Why was he encouraging the horse to run? Charlotte screamed as Sasha slid sideways. Not her daughter! Not her only child. Sasha was all she had left.
She raced toward them. “Stop, stop!”
In those moments, she relived the frightful moment in her past when she fell in the barn. Her foot slipped. Her hand grazed the ladder. The barn floor came closer and closer until...
All went black.
She dropped to her knees.
“Charlotte? Charlotte.” The voice called her out of the darkness. “It’s all right. Everything is all right.”
Only she wasn’t a child, and her father wasn’t calling to her. Wyatt was. A strong arm held her close. She caught the scent of him, the scent of the outdoors, rich with wood smoke and prairie grass.
“Mama?” A little hand pressed against her cheek. “No cry.”
Charlotte hadn’t even realized the tears had fallen, but she’d never heard such a wonderful sound before.
“Oh, Sasha.” She pulled her daughter close, reveling in the squirming bundle of energy. “You scared me.”
Wyatt brushed the hair from her forehead. “I had hold of her the whole time.”
Still, Charlotte couldn’t stop trembling.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes softened to mist. “I didn’t realize it would upset you.”
Charlotte struggled to find her voice. “Your horse. He took off, and you urged him to go faster.”
“Faster? I did no such thing.” He looked so puzzled that he must be speaking the truth.
“But you clucked your tongue.”
“Oh. That.” He cupped her jaw in his worn, yet comforting hand. “I taught Dusty to stop on that signal.”
“But usually...” Charlotte felt a little foolish.
He brushed his thumb against her cheek, sending an entirely different sort of trembling through her limbs. “It’s my fault. I should have realized you didn’t know. Forgive me?” His eyes had darkened, but not like an approaching storm. No, they took her in, like a snug night before the fire.
Charlotte drew a ragged breath. They were on the step of her porch, in full public view. And Sasha was sitting beside them while Dusty leveled her garden. But that look promised a future, the kind of future she desperately wanted, the kind that promised he’d stay.
“Forgiven.” She sank deeper into his arms. How warm and welcoming. How perfect. How... What just poked into her ribs?
She looked down to see a tin star—a lawman’s badge—attached to the inside of his buckskin coat. Too late, he pulled his coat shut. She’d seen it. But trackers didn’t wear badges, did they?
“Who are you?” she breathed.
* * *
What had happened? That morning Wyatt had been determined to complete his part of the bargain before nightfall. He’d gone so far as to pack his saddlebags. But then the sheriff offered him a job, Sasha ran to him as her papa and Charlotte sank into his arms. By the end of the afternoon, he’d fallen into the domestic life he’d craved for years.
“Sheriff Wright offered me the deputy position.”
Charlotte’s hazel eyes widened. “And you took it?” She said it with such wonder that his heart did a double take.
“For now.” He couldn’t tell her what he was investigating. If his gut instinct was right, Baxter moved in rough circles, the kind filled with men who wouldn’t hesitate to threaten a woman or child.
“Oh.” Her disappointment hit him hard. She looked down at her hands, which plucked at her skirt nervously. “It’s just temporary?”
He couldn’t lead her to believe otherwise. Once the past caught up to him, once the nightmares worsened, he’d have to go.
“It is.”
Her shoulders squared as she accepted his decision. Disappointment gnawed at the pit of his stomach, but he had no choice. No one could know the truth, or Charlotte and Sasha would be in danger.
She started to rise, but he caught her arm to keep her on the stoop beside him. “Please don’t
tell anyone. It’s important so...” He paused trying to figure out how to say it without giving away his mission. “Kids could be affected if we don’t keep this secret.”
Her eyes widened in alarm, and for a moment he feared she’d ask too many questions.
Instead, she placed her hand over his. “I promise.”
Relief flooded through him. “Thank you.”
Her eyes dropped. Before they did, he realized she hoped for something more, but he couldn’t give it to her. He couldn’t promise her a future together. Her delicate hands knotted in her lap, knuckles white.
“I understand,” she whispered.
Then Sasha offered her a beetle. Charlotte calmly suggested they let the beetle go home to his family. The frazzled, frantic woman had disappeared. Calm, gentle Charlotte returned. Such a woman deserved a child. He wouldn’t let her down.
“I’ll stay no matter how long the judge takes,” he promised. “Even if we have to wait for him to come back a second time.”
Her head bobbed very slightly before she turned to the little girl. “Come inside, Sasha. We need to make supper.”
She withdrew from his side, and her absence tore a bigger hole out of him than any cannonball could.
* * *
Days, then a week and more passed without news of the judge’s arrival. Charlotte hoped she and Wyatt would grow closer during that time, but he withdrew even more than before he’d hired on as deputy sheriff. He did get a good price for Charles’s team of horses and wagon, but he didn’t even smile when he handed her the money.
She’d offered it back to him. “It’s yours now, too.”
He’d shaken his head. “Keep it.”
The wall still stood between them. He would not share, would not commit, would not become a real husband. He rose at dawn, downed breakfast before Sasha was completely awake, and didn’t return until nightfall. After supper, he retired to the loft.
Just like Charles had.
With a sinking feeling, Charlotte realized she’d committed herself to exactly the same kind of marriage. The only difference was the spark between them. Surely he noticed, for she’d felt him tremble when he held her that day on the porch step, but as quickly as a connection formed, he severed it.
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