Charlotte couldn’t sit still for tea. She paced back and forth across the teacherage’s tiny parlor, which, despite Mason and Liam moving in, still reflected Holly’s tastes.
“Mason will come back, but not Wyatt. He wrote that he’s leaving.” Charlotte had already explained Wyatt’s letter to Holly, but her friend didn’t seem to grasp what Charlotte was saying. Maybe she was still reeling from the loss of the schoolhouse.
“Yes, he left with Mason.” Holly motioned to the empty chair across from her, inviting Charlotte to sit.
“That’s not what I mean.” Charlotte withdrew the note from her pocket. At first she’d wanted to burn it, but then she realized it might be all she’d ever have from Wyatt. Even though the words hurt, they were his. “He said he’s leaving forever.”
Holly eyed the folded paper. “Are you sure you want me to read it?”
Charlotte’s eyes misted. “There’s nothing intimate in it.” That thought made her throat constrict again.
“Perhaps you misunderstood him.”
“I hope I did. Tell me what you think.” Charlotte handed Holly the note and nervously rubbed her arms as she watched Sasha scribble on one of the slates from the school. A pile of them sat beside the table.
“The slates survived the fire?” Charlotte asked.
Holly looked up from the note. “They weren’t at the school. I decided to bring them home last night for a good scrubbing.”
Charlotte felt a twinge of guilt. Here she’d been so concerned about her own troubles that she’d ignored her friend’s distress. “Oh, Holly, what can I do to help? You’ll need somewhere to hold classes. My house isn’t large enough, but you can use my yard in fair weather.”
Holly shook her head. “Pauline already insisted we use the town hall to finish out the school year. Fortunately, school is almost done. Most of the older children are already busy on their farms. So, in a way, it’s a blessing that if this had to happen, at least it happened when it did.”
In comparison to her friends, Charlotte’s troubles appeared small. Holly had lost her school and Rebecca her home. “Where will Rebecca and Heidi stay? I have a bed in the loft.”
Holly’s lips curved into a smile. “An anonymous benefactor paid for them to stay at the hotel. Isn’t it marvelous how people step up when the need arises?”
Charlotte had to agree. In her hour of need, Wyatt had stepped up to help her keep Sasha. That’s all she’d asked of him, and he’d fulfilled his end of the bargain and more, for he hadn’t kept her money. Instead, like that anonymous donor who paid for Rebecca’s stay at the hotel, Wyatt had given that money back to her by putting it into a trust for Sasha in Mr. Brooks’s bank. He even promised to send her money. Yes, Wyatt had stepped up. He’d done his part. She was the one who wanted to change the terms of their bargain.
Holly finished reading and folded the paper. “Oh, Charlotte.” She didn’t condemn, but Charlotte felt the sting anyhow.
“I did wrong by marrying the way I did. I see that now. It wasn’t fair to anyone.” She bit her lip and glanced at her daughter, who was transfixed by what she was drawing. “How will I tell her?”
“You’ll have to find a way.”
Charlotte knew Holly was right, but she wasn’t willing to accept that she’d done all she could. “I won’t have to if I can convince him to stay. I have to convince him.”
Holly sighed deeply. “Do you love him?”
That most direct of questions reminded Charlotte of Holly’s earlier advice to tell Wyatt how she felt. She perched on the edge of the chair. “I can’t imagine living without him. It’s like a whole part of me has been torn away. It hurts so bad I can’t bear it. Is that love?”
Holly smiled. “I felt the same way about Mason. Every time he backed off or turned away, I thought I would die.”
“But he came around and realized he loved you.”
Holly reached across the table and grasped her hands. “Wyatt will too. Give him time.”
Charlotte shot to her feet. “I don’t have time. He’s gone, and he’s not coming back.” The bleakness of that realization sank in. “You read his letter.”
“I read the words,” Holly acknowledged, “but I also read the man.”
“What do you mean?” If anyone knew Wyatt, it should be her. She’d spent the most time with him. She’d felt his arms around her, the gentle heart beneath the fierce exterior.
“Mason looks at me exactly the way Wyatt looks at you.”
Charlotte caught her breath. She’d heard Holly say this over and over but never quite believed it. “You mean...?”
Holly nodded. “He loves you. Hopelessly and madly.”
Still the fist squeezed her stomach tight. “Then why would he leave?”
Holly didn’t say anything for a long time. Maybe she couldn’t answer that, either. Charlotte knit her fingers together and watched Sasha. She’d always wanted a child. She’d prayed for a child. She just hadn’t expected to get only a child. The most important part was missing. She and Sasha needed a family. They needed Wyatt.
“I used to think I had everything figured out.” Holly spoke softly, her gaze faraway. “I even had the audacity to believe I could mold Mason’s heart. What false pride. None of us can truly change another person. Only God can do that. We can only accept each other as we are and love the best we can.”
Holly’s words stung Charlotte. She’d failed Charles and then Wyatt in just that way.
“Mason was still struggling with his wife’s death,” Holly continued. “He blamed himself.”
Charlotte flushed in shame. Charles had too. And Wyatt struggled with nightmares. From the little he’d said, something from the war tormented him. He was hurting. He needed to talk about what had happened, but she hadn’t pressed hard enough. She’d let him turn away and keep it bottled up inside, just like she had with Charles. If she’d urged her first husband to confide in her, they might have had a real marriage. And now she’d gone and done the same thing with Wyatt.
“Love Wyatt for who he is now,” Holly said. “Pray for him. If Wyatt is meant for you, God will bring you together.”
Charlotte hoped she was right.
“It might take time and patience,” Holly cautioned.
Time, patience and faith. All were impossible, perhaps the last most of all. Charlotte dropped to her chair again. “He doesn’t believe in God.”
Holly didn’t look shocked. “Maybe God is working with him right now.”
“I doubt it.” Charlotte hung her head. “He won’t even say grace before a meal. He turns away when I mention God.” She choked down the clot in her throat. “How can God reach him if he won’t listen?” And how could they ever have a real marriage without faith at its core? She bounded up again in frustration. “Maybe I’m reaching for something that just isn’t there. Maybe our marriage is nothing more than a business transaction.”
“I don’t believe that, and you don’t, either.”
“Maybe I should.” Charlotte coiled a lock of hair around her finger and yanked. Physical pain was easier than this emotional torment.
“You’ve just hit a rough patch.” Holly smiled softly. “You know, Wyatt’s a lot like Mason. It’s going to take time and prayer on your part.”
Charlotte knew her friend spoke the truth, but she couldn’t just sit and wait. In a split second, she made her decision. “I’m going to Greenville.”
“No, you’re not.” Holly sprang to her feet and halted Charlotte’s pacing. “You can’t.”
“But don’t you see? I have to. It’s the only way to save our marriage.” The pieces all clicked into place. “I’ll take the evening stage.”
“No, you won’t.” Holly spoke firmly, and Charlotte knew she meant business.
Still, she couldn’t let Wyatt leave without knowing how she felt. She’d made up her mind. “I must. Will you watch Sasha until I return? I’ll bring over clean clothes and everything she needs.”
Without waiting f
or an answer, Charlotte headed for the door, but Holly got there first.
“Listen to what you just said. You’re leaving your daughter? You can’t. It’s crazy.”
Deep down, Charlotte knew Holly was right, but she hated to admit she’d lost control. Her entire world was caving in, and she felt certain that if she didn’t do something, she’d lose the man she’d come to love. “I can’t let him go.”
Holly shook her head and pushed her back into the room. For such a tiny thing, she had surprising strength. “Now, sit down and listen to me.” She was using her schoolmarm voice now. “You are not going to shirk your responsibilities here to go to Greenville.”
“But—”
Holly cut her off. “Mason and Wyatt are pursuing a criminal, a dangerous criminal who was willing to kill children by lighting the schoolhouse on fire. Do you think they want you in the middle of their investigation? If they have to worry about your safety, Felix Baxter could get away.”
“Felix Baxter?” Her eyes widened at the name of the man who’d hired Wyatt to bring the orphans to Greenville. “He’s the one who lit the fire?”
“They think so.”
“He’s the one who hired Wyatt.” Charlotte’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach. “And Wyatt refused to finish the job. Oh, no. Mr. Baxter must be furious with him.” Fear sucked all the strength from her legs and she collapsed onto the chair again. “If Mr. Baxter set the fire and was willing to harm children...” She couldn’t bring herself to say the rest, but they both knew.
Baxter wouldn’t hesitate to kill lawmen.
* * *
Baxter’s orphanage was located in a three-story brick building off the main street in Greenville. Baxter had money. Wyatt would give him that. It cost a pretty penny to build a building like this. Even in this last of the larger towns before the frontier, it looked too big. The forbidding facade with its curtained windows betrayed nothing suspicious. A passerby would assume the prosperous owner kept a neat and tidy orphan house.
“Think he’s here?” Mason asked.
“Best find out now.” Wyatt ran up the five steps, his boots barely touching the concrete.
The solid oak front door was shut. Wyatt pressed the latch and was surprised when it opened. He started to step inside, but Mason halted him.
“You know where his office is located?”
Wyatt nodded. “Straight ahead. Last door on the left. We’ll go there first.”
Mason took his gun out of his holster, and Wyatt followed suit. Wyatt had pegged Baxter as a coward, but yellow-bellies were even more dangerous with a gun because they fired at anyone and anything.
Since they couldn’t move silently, they moved fast. Wyatt’s pulse pounded, and his senses heightened as the two men rushed down the hallway like a stampede of wild horses. He felt every loose board, heard every wagon rolling down the street, smelled the sharp mix of varnish, coal dust and bleach.
Farther inside he heard drawers open and shut, muttered oaths and the frantic bangs of a panicked man. Baxter. Hopefully, he was alone.
Wyatt outdistanced Mason. If anyone had to kill or be killed, it was going to be him, not a man with a wife and son back home.
* * *
Fear sucked Charlotte into its ugly grasp. Wyatt could die never knowing she loved him. Why hadn’t she realized it sooner, so she could have told him over and over until he believed her? Why had she held back, in her head and in her heart? All the things that she’d thought obstacles became trivial.
He might die.
Holly drew her back to the table. “They’re smart, strong men.”
Which didn’t matter in a gunfight. Charlotte felt helpless. “What can we do? I can’t just sit here knowing Wyatt’s in trouble and do nothing. I don’t know how you can be so calm.”
“Oh, I’m not calm inside. Not entirely. I know Mason is in the Lord’s hands, but I do pray he returns safely.”
Charlotte struggled to accept Holly’s words. “How can you let him walk into danger?”
Holly laughed. “I don’t let him do anything. Mason is his own man. He has a job to do, and yes, it could be dangerous. I have to rely a lot on the Lord.”
“And that works?”
“You’d be surprised.” She extended her hands. “Shall we pray for their safety?”
Charlotte could do nothing else. Every other option had been removed. So she grasped Holly’s hands and bowed her head.
“Father in heaven,” Holly prayed, “You hold each of us in Your hand. We, Your children, lift our voices in prayer, trusting that, as Your Word states, where two or more are gathered in Your name, You will be also. So we ask in faith that You be with Mason and Wyatt. Guide and protect them from evil, and bring them home to their families.” She squeezed Charlotte’s hands. “And help my friend to know that You are at her side, helping to bear the burden.”
God at her side? Impossible. Why would the all-powerful Creator be with her, a terribly flawed person? Charlotte prayed, attended worship and listened carefully to the sermons. She tried to live as the Bible instructed. She’d been baptized and accepted Christ into her heart, but never had she considered that God would be right next to her. Yet after Holly said the final amen, Charlotte felt a surprising sense of security, like when she’d curled into her papa’s arms as a child and all her worries vanished. In his arms, she’d felt secure and safe. She’d known everything would turn out all right. Could her Heavenly Father be like that?
For the first time in her life, Charlotte suspected He could.
* * *
Baxter threw his hands in the air when Wyatt leveled his pistol at him.
Mason followed, his gun also at the ready.
“You’re under arrest,” Mason growled, and Wyatt sensed the sheriff had kept his anger under control until that moment.
“For what?” Baxter whined.
Mason didn’t hesitate. “Arson, destruction of property and attempted murder.”
Baxter’s eyes rounded. “I didn’t try to kill anyone. That’s a false charge. I want my lawyer.”
Wyatt held his gun on Baxter while Mason circled the massive oak desk. Papers spilled off the top, and an open satchel held more documents. Probably money too. Baxter wasn’t the type to leave without grabbing his cash.
“We’ll send for your lawyer from the jailhouse,” Mason informed him as he placed the handcuffs on Baxter.
Baxter managed to work up his indignation. “My friends will hear of this, and you’ll pay. The mayor won’t stand for it. Neither will the city council. They’re not going to let you arrest a law-abiding, taxpaying citizen.”
“I don’t care who you know,” Mason growled. “You’re coming to the jail for questioning and will be held there until your hearing before the judge.”
As Wyatt looked at the papers scattered on the desk and the files spilling out of the cabinet drawers, he got an idea.
“You could answer a few questions right now, Mr. Baxter.” To emphasize the point, Wyatt pointed his pistol between Baxter’s eyes.
The man began to sweat and tremble. “Lower that thing. It’s not like I can go anywhere since your sheriff has me trussed up like a common criminal.”
“Oh, you’re not common, are you, Mr. Baxter?” Wyatt lowered the gun, but kept it at the ready. “I’m sure these papers will tell us a lot about your operation here.”
Baxter paled.
Mason picked up on Wyatt’s train of thought. “Suppose we go through these papers right now, before heading to the jailhouse?”
Baxter licked his lips. “Now, that’s not necessary.”
“It wouldn’t be,” said Wyatt, “if you’d tell us a few things. For instance, how many orphans do you have here right now?”
Baxter looked relieved at the question. “Just one, an older boy. He showed up today and is more trouble than he’s worth. Please, take him off my hands.”
“We will,” Wyatt assured him.
Mason cocked his head toward Wyatt. “While M
r. Reed fetches the boy, you can answer a few questions about where you were this morning around eight-thirty.”
Wyatt hated to miss this, but Mason seemed in full control of Baxter. He scoured the ground floor, opening every door to find only empty offices, the kitchen and a dining area. No sign of a boy. The bedrooms must be on the two upper floors.
He headed for the stairway at the end of the hallway. The door at the base was locked, but the key hung on a nail pounded into the frame. Wyatt fit the key in the lock and turned it, but before he could touch the doorknob, a tall and lanky boy of around fourteen burst out of the stairwell. While Wyatt recovered his balance, the boy dashed down the hall and out the back door.
Stunned, Wyatt stared at the departing boy. His hair was the same color as Heidi’s, but it was curly. Could this be Jakob?
“Hey, come back,” Wyatt yelled. He raced after the lad and pushed out the same door. It opened onto an alley bordered by privies and outbuildings.
Wyatt looked left and then right, but the lad had vanished. A toppled pile of garbage indicated the boy had headed to the right. Wyatt bounded down the stairs two at a time and raced down the alley. His longer strides should close the distance between them quickly, but when he reached the busy street, he realized he’d lost the boy. Between the pedestrians, wagons, carriages, buggies and countless buildings and alleys, he stood no chance of finding the boy without a full-scale search.
Wyatt growled with frustration. Why had the kid run? He’d wanted to help, not hurt him. Then he looked down. He was still holding his gun.
An oath bubbled up, but he stifled it. He was a new man now, one who didn’t let foul language cross his lips no matter how angry he got.
He’d let the boy get away, but at least they had Baxter. He hurried back to the interrogation room to find the man looking cowed.
“Did you find the boy?” Mason asked.
“Slipped out the back and vanished into the crowds. By now, he could be anywhere. If we want to find him, we’ll have to search the whole city.”
Mason frowned. “Don’t suppose you got a look at him.”
“Not much of one, but it could be Jakob.”
Christine Johnson Page 22
