Her hope that he’d stay after the adoption dwindled and died. To compensate, she did what she’d always done—kept busy. It helped pass the time.
Charlotte hated waiting, but it seemed that was all women could do. Rebecca waited for permission from Mr. Armstrong to hire Wyatt to find Jakob. Pauline waited for the rebuilding projects to be completed so Mr. Brooks would return to his bank. Holly joined Charlotte waiting for the judge and the chance to permanently claim their children.
Each day Charlotte asked Rebecca if she’d gotten word. Each day she shook her head.
“Mr. Armstrong’s not in the office. I fear he took his family on holiday.”
Judging by Rebecca’s resignation, she held out little hope for a positive reply. What could one lost boy mean to a man of industry? To Armstrong, the trouble that had befallen this group of orphans must seem insignificant compared to decisions that affected scores of workers in his factories and children in his orphanage.
Rebecca’s shoulders sagged. The seemingly endless obstacles must be taking their toll.
Charlotte wanted to reassure her, but Mayor Evans hadn’t given her better news. Sure, Pauline had been supportive when Charlotte outlined her request to pay Wyatt to find Jakob, but she couldn’t promise any funds.
“We’re using every cent of the bank loan to rebuild the town. Even though having the orphans help on the chore teams has saved on the cost of labor, the materials are so expensive that we haven’t anything to spare. I will ask Mr. Brooks, however, when he returns.” She said the last with obvious irritation. “That man is testing my patience. First, he insists on approving every expenditure, then he disappears with no reason just when I need that approval.”
Charlotte could sympathize. Wyatt was acting exactly the same way. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the two of them were sneaking off together.
To occupy her hands while waiting, Charlotte worked on the dress for Holly. If her friend would let her take measurements, it would have been done days ago, but Holly always had an excuse for not coming by the house.
Charlotte supposed her friend was too busy, so she tracked her down after school let out on Thursday. Once the children finished pouring out of the schoolhouse, Charlotte entered to find Heidi and Rebecca with Holly.
Rebecca averted her gaze, while Holly greeted her a little too cheerfully. “Charlotte. What brings you here?”
Something had happened.
Charlotte let Sasha join Heidi at the back of the room. “I came to get measurements.” She held up the dressmaker’s tape. “You’ve been too busy to stop by my house, so I thought I’d come to you.”
“That can wait.” Holly stacked each primer in perfect alignment.
Rebecca still hadn’t looked at Charlotte.
“Did I interrupt something?” Charlotte tentatively asked.
Holly mustered a tense smile. “No, no. We were just discussing tomorrow’s proceedings.”
Charlotte’s stomach clenched. “The judge arrived?”
“Probably,” Holly stated. “He was due to arrive on the midday train.”
Rebecca finally looked up, and no one could mistake her distress. “He will hold court in the morning.”
Tomorrow? After all the waiting, it suddenly seemed too soon. “But...” She let her voice trail off. With Heidi near, she couldn’t bring up the fact that no one had heard a word about Jakob. Nor dare she mention that Heidi hadn’t been placed. No wonder Rebecca was worried. Even if Evans Grove won the right to keep the placed children, Heidi would probably have to go on to Greenville. Charlotte sank onto one of the low chairs and leaned onto the desk. The black ironwork creaked under the unfamiliar weight.
Tomorrow they would know if the other children could stay. If so, she and Wyatt would adopt Sasha, and then Wyatt would leave. Hope battled dread. Even if she kept her daughter, she’d lose her husband.
“I’d hoped by now we could at least have a reunion.” Rebecca glanced toward Heidi, her meaning unmistakable.
Jakob.
“No word?” Charlotte asked.
Rebecca shook her head.
“Did you hear from your office yet?”
Rebecca’s shoulders slumped. “Mr. Armstrong refused.”
“We can’t give up.” Holly, who’d once hung back in public, now glowed with purpose and determination. “We’ll find a way to reunite the siblings. And tomorrow,” she said, looking at Rebecca and then Charlotte, “we stand our ground. We will state our case and make the judge understand that the best interests of all the children have to come before any document.”
Rebecca looked skeptical. “Will he listen?”
Charlotte caught Holly’s optimism. “We’ll make sure he does.”
“Above all, we’ll put it in God’s hands,” Holly added.
Rebecca grasped on to that slender thread. “We can use all the help we can get.”
“Don’t worry,” Holly said, her confidence unshakable. “Everything works out for good for those who love the Lord.”
“I hope so.” Rebecca glanced at Heidi, who was admiring Sasha’s new doll. “For the children’s sake.”
Chapter Fifteen
Court was packed the following morning as Charlotte made her way to one of the scattered empty seats in the town hall meeting room. She’d wanted to leave Sasha with the Gavins, but the entire town had turned out for the hearing.
To her left sat the Regans. They nodded at her with the sympathy borne of shared hope and fear. Their Lina sat between them, and Mrs. Regan clutched her new daughter’s hand fearfully.
Wyatt should have sat to Charlotte’s right, but as plaintiff, he took one of the reserved chairs at the front. Instead, Mrs. Gavin nestled beside her.
The woman leaned close to whisper in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “I hope you’ve straightened out that husband of yours.”
Charlotte’s cheeks flamed when she saw Wyatt stiffen ever so slightly. She wanted to blurt out that he’d changed his mind, but that news belonged to Wyatt. Her heart swelled with anticipation.
“All rise.” Sheriff Wright acted as bailiff.
Everyone shuffled to their feet as Judge Nelson Broadside entered the room. Gray-haired with bushy, white eyebrows, the man cut an impressive figure as he gazed out at the assembly. Only the twinkling blue eyes betrayed that he was a kindly man.
After he settled behind the table at the front of the room, everyone returned to their seats.
Mason directed the order of business. “First up is the claim by Greenville for the orphans.”
Considering the short introduction and the way Judge Broadside nodded, Mason must have briefed the judge on the subject last night.
The judge looked from one side of the room to the other. “If there is no objection, an informal hearing should settle the matter. Will the two parties involved come forward?”
Mayor Evans, along with Mr. Brooks and Wyatt, took their places in the front of the room. No one from Greenville joined Wyatt, nor did Charlotte see a strange face in the crowd. That must mean Greenville hadn’t sent anyone else to contest the placements in Evans Grove in person. Hope soared.
First Mayor Evans explained the town’s case, outlining in detail each step they’d taken to get approval and follow the Orphan Salvation Society rules.
“As you can see, your honor,” she wrapped up, “with all but one of the children placed in good homes, there is no need to break up families in order to place these children in jeopardy again. The stated purpose of the Orphan Salvation Society is to find good homes for the orphans. Miss Sterling can testify to that.”
With a clear, resolute voice, Rebecca affirmed Pauline’s testimony.
“Moreover,” Pauline continued, “Mr. Brooks has examined in detail the agreement between the Orphan Salvation Society and Greenville and can find no promise that any children would be available to them by the time the train reached their town.”
“Do you have the paperwork?” Judge Broadside asked Mr. Brook
s.
The banker handed over a sheaf of papers.
The judge frowned as he read through them. Then he turned to Wyatt. “Mr. Reed, I understand you represent the interests of Greenville?”
“I did, your honor.”
Did. The crowd didn’t catch the little three-letter word, but it shot so much pride and joy through Charlotte that she longed to applaud.
The judge didn’t miss the change in verb tense. “Do you no longer represent the town, Mr. Reed? Should I be speaking to someone else?”
“No, your honor. I’m still Greenville’s chosen representative. But after thinking on it and seeing how good the people are here, I agree with them. The children should stay.”
Wild cheering erupted in the room, and no amount of banging of the gavel would quiet them. Finally, the judge shouted that since no one opposed the placements and the paperwork confirmed Mr. Brooks’s assertion, he was dismissing the case and calling a recess.
Mrs. Gavin hugged Charlotte from one side, and Mrs. Regan wept on her shoulder on the other. Men clapped Wyatt on the back, and Charlotte saw the sheriff shake Wyatt’s hand. Not only had Wyatt backed the town, he’d gained their respect.
Charlotte burst with pride. The children could stay. Sasha was hers. Wyatt had stood by her and the town.
Then she saw Beatrice Ward weave through the crowd until she reached the judge. The din was too loud for Charlotte to hear what she said to him, but his response couldn’t have pleased her, because Beatrice stormed out of the hall, fire in her eyes.
Charlotte didn’t have time to think on it, though, because Wyatt directed a rare smile her way. She picked up Sasha and pushed through the crowd until she reached his side.
“Thank you.” She couldn’t find words enough to tell him how she felt, so she settled for kissing him on the cheek.
His expression softened as he took their daughter into his arms.
“It’s over,” she gushed. “Praise God.”
He shook his head. “Baxter could still appeal.”
Charlotte recalled Beatrice’s displeasure. “Could anyone else?”
“Anyone with cause.”
“Do you mean...?” She clutched her daughter’s arm. “We couldn’t lose her, could we?”
“Not after the adoption.”
At that instant Charlotte wished the judge hadn’t taken a break. “How soon can we do it?”
“Mason said the judge will handle the adoptions this afternoon. Miss Sterling had the paperwork for both Sasha and Liam sent from New York. It shouldn’t take long.”
Her stomach unclenched. Beatrice couldn’t do anything to stop them that quickly, could she?
* * *
Judge Broadside handled the adoption petitions quickly, and by the end of the day, Sasha and Liam had been officially adopted by their new parents.
While Holly and Charlotte exchanged hugs, Wyatt settled for shaking Mason’s hand. Liam paraded around testing out his new name and title after Mason assured him he was still Interim Assistant Junior Sheriff. Sasha probably didn’t understand what had happened, but she squealed with joy when Wyatt swung her around and gave her a big hug.
After Sasha joined her friends and the women bunched together to relive every moment of the proceedings, Wyatt stood outside the town hall marveling at the changes that had happened in a couple of weeks. He was now a married man, a father and a deputy sheriff. Two weeks ago, he wouldn’t have thought any of it possible. The best he’d thought he could hope for was a fresh start in San Francisco.
Since the women showed no sign of wrapping up their conversation, Wyatt strolled down the street toward the hotel, where everything had first started. On that very street he’d heard Sasha crying. Little had he known that finding one lost girl would change his life.
He could see staying here. He could imagine raising a family. He sure wouldn’t mind loving a woman like Charlotte. She was kind, sweet and so very beautiful, even when she pestered him about where he was going and when he’d be back. That had been an ongoing bone of contention between them because he couldn’t tell her. But now that the children could stay in Evans Grove, the secrecy could end.
“Reed!”
The familiar male voice stopped Wyatt cold. He whirled around, hand instinctively reaching for his gun. “Baxter.”
The man scampered down the steps of the hotel. He looked furious. “We need to talk. Now.” He pointed in the direction of the creek, where the forge lay silent and the grain mill had yet to be completely repaired.
“We have nothing to discuss.”
Baxter glared. “You’re still in my employ.” He headed toward the mill.
Wyatt considered walking away, but he had to end things with Baxter before he could get a clean start. He wasn’t about to go in the mill, though. The battered building stood alongside the fast-flowing creek, its wheel turning nothing until the new gearing could be put in place.
“The building’s not safe. We can talk down here.” Wyatt loped past Baxter and headed for the creek.
Baxter scowled but followed, though he veered toward the back of the mill.
Not perfect, but better than inside. While Wyatt sauntered to Baxter’s chosen meeting place, he tried to piece together what had brought the man to Evans Grove at this hour. Judging by the angle of the sun, the eastbound stage had just deposited Baxter at the hotel. If he’d been concerned about the outcome of the hearing, he should have arrived earlier. The fact he was standing here now meant someone in Evans Grove had wired him after the judge ruled against Greenville. Someone was keeping Baxter informed. Wyatt intended to find out who. This little chat promised to give him the answers he hadn’t unearthed in ten days of investigation.
“I paid you good money,” Baxter sputtered the moment they stepped behind the mill.
Wyatt pulled out his wallet. “You can have it back.” He hated giving Baxter one cent of Charlotte’s money, but once Mason paid him his wages as deputy, he’d pay her back.
“I don’t want your money. I want your loyalty. You have a reputation for finishing the job. So what happened today?”
Wyatt didn’t have to explain his actions to anyone. “The judge ruled against you.”
“You were supposed to make sure he didn’t. You were supposed to get those children to Greenville at once. Instead, it’s been nothing but delay after delay. I even heard you got married.”
Now, who had told him that? It had to be the same good citizen of Evans Grove that had relayed the outcome of this morning’s hearing. Baxter had a contact, a spy, nestled deep in this town. Brooks? The man vanished regularly. He’d ride off one day and return the next. Wyatt had tracked him a couple times, but each time he’d headed toward Newfield, and Wyatt had figured the man was going to his bank to handle business. Besides, Brooks had supported the town’s position and had been the one to suggest they could fight Greenville in court. No, definitely not Brooks. It had to be someone else, someone determined to send the orphans to Greenville—someone like Beatrice Ward. The thought that a woman could be involved in something so underhanded sickened him, but he’d seen it before. Women could go bad as easily as men, especially under duress. He wondered if Baxter had some leverage on the spinster.
“A widow,” Baxter sneered. “One who took in an orphan. Your failure makes sense now. You’re protecting her and the runt.”
Wyatt fisted his hands. “Leave Charlotte and Sasha out of this.”
“Hit home, did I?” Baxter stabbed his finger into Wyatt’s chest. “Well, how do you suppose she’s going to feel about her new husband when she learns the truth about you?”
Hot anger pounded in Wyatt’s head, but he kept outwardly calm. Baxter knew nothing. “What truth?”
Baxter grinned. “Does Atlanta mean anything to you? Part of Sherman’s forces, weren’t you?”
How did Baxter find out? Wyatt hoped he’d gotten far enough west this time. Clearly he hadn’t.
Baxter’s sneer set Wyatt on edge. “I’m sure the li
ttle woman would love to hear about your exploits there.”
How dare Baxter tell Charlotte about his past? Wyatt gripped his gun, feeling its smooth, cold handle against his palm. In one second, he could end it all. A single shot. Fury pulsed white-hot. To protect Charlotte, he would kill. He’d done that in the war. When his boyhood friend was shot in the back, he’d run after those yellow-bellied Rebels and shot every one he could. Then, during the march through Georgia, he’d polished off his revenge.
But that was war—and even then, the memory of what he’d done sickened him. There’d be no excuse this time. If he killed Baxter, it would be murder. Wyatt took a deep breath and eased his finger off the trigger. “What do you want?”
Baxter’s smug look almost made him replace that trigger finger. “Finish the job.”
“It’s too late. The judge has already made his ruling.”
“A resourceful man like you can find a way, especially when there’s so much at stake.” Baxter drew a purse from his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold coins.
That was enough to take care of Charlotte and Sasha for years, but it was blood money. Wyatt would never betray Charlotte or Sasha or a single one of those children.
“Some of the children have been adopted. Pretty near all the rest are in homes. They’re beyond your reach now.”
“Nothing is beyond reach,” Baxter snarled. “Find a way.”
“I won’t give up Sasha. She’s legally mine.”
“I don’t want your toddler,” Baxter spat. “I need the older ones.”
The man’s words chilled Wyatt. “Why just the older children?”
Baxter started as if he realized he’d just blundered. “The families in Greenville are mostly farmers. They want children who can help on the farm.”
Baxter was lying. He couldn’t hold Wyatt’s gaze. His normally florid face flushed even darker. He swiped at his mouth repeatedly. Something else was afoot. Something evil. Baxter wasn’t representing Greenville at all. Wyatt suspected Greenville’s mayor was in Baxter’s pocket. The deputy sheriff might be, too. That made this doubly dangerous.
Christine Johnson Page 16