by Merry Farmer
She couldn’t keep her eyes level with his. Worse still, she knew she was confirming everything Chet said by her poor reaction, and by the glow that came to Chet’s eyes.
“He stole every bit of it,” Chet went on. “We both did. Stole it from a man by the name of Josiah Hurst on his death bed.” He was speaking quietly now, barely above a whisper, but each word hit as hard as if he was shouting. “We worked that old man over for a year, gaining his confidence, worming our way into his life. Rich old bugger with no heirs. He took quite a shine to Charlie, just as me and Charlie boy planned. And when Josiah died, before his body was cold in the ground, Charlie swiped every last penny that man had and skipped town.”
“You’re lying,” Olivia said in a strangled voice. He wasn’t lying. The shine of truth was all around him. “Charlie wouldn’t do that. He’s a man of honor.”
Chet barked a laugh. “If you believe that, then he’s pulled quite a con on you too.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“He did. What do you have that he wanted?” Chet stepped closer to her. “Not money, obviously. Maybe something a little…lower?” His eyes dropped below the band of her skirt. “Charlie always did have a thing for the blushing young virgin.”
“He didn’t…he wouldn’t…we haven’t…” She needed to keep her mouth shut, stop stumbling around, getting herself and Charlie into more trouble.
“How did he convince you to marry him anyhow?” Chet asked. “Did he promise you eternal love and devotion? A better life? Wealth and influence?”
No, he’d cheated at cards, tricked her, and kissed her until her head spun and she didn’t know who she was anymore. He’d deceived her on every level.
She never should have married him.
Without another word to Chet, she turned on her heel and marched away. She was a laughing-stock, a fool. She’d married a thief and a trickster. She’d married a liar.
“Olivia, is everything all right?” Estelle joined her as she marched with balled fists into the camp where Charlie was talking to Graham and Pete.
“How dare you?” she shouted. “How dare you drag me into your nefarious schemes?”
“Sweet Pea. What’s the matter?”
“I won’t let you call me Sweat Pea anymore.”
They had it out, right there in the middle of the circle of their friends. As she let her anger and humiliation vent, lashing out in fury and shame, Charlie tried to defend himself, but he didn’t try hard enough.
“So you admit that you are a thief?” she hurled at him when her anger was close to being spent.
“I admit that I was a thief,” Charlie answered. “That life is behind me.”
Pain lashed through her. “So tell me, then. Explain to me how you got…” The jewels, she finished in her mind. She couldn’t say it out loud, though. Even now, part of her wanted to protect him. “Explain where your wealth came from.”
Charlie looked past her to Chet, who had joined the scene. “I’m a gambler. I took a chance, placed my bet, and I won.”
“You’re lying to me, I know it. I won’t be married to a liar and a fraud.”
She turned and began to march away.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m taking my things and going back to the Hamilton’s wagon,” she said, turning to walk backwards for a few steps. “I never should have married you in the first place. If I could go back and undo it, I would.”
“Olivia,” Charlie began, but she wouldn’t let him continue.
She stormed off, leaving him, leaving the life she had come so close to living, behind her. If he tried to call after her again, she didn’t hear. All she knew was that she had to separate herself from him as much as she could in the confines of the wagon train as soon as possible.
“Olivia, are you certain you’re going to be all right?” Estelle called after her as Olivia climbed into the back of Charlie’s wagon.
“I’ll be fine now,” she growled in return.
She scooted to the back of the wagon, snatching her carpet bag and a sack and stuffing as many of her belongings as she could into them. It was astounding how many of her things had spread out and mingled with Charlie’s. It was a good thing their lives hadn’t mingled as thoroughly. She couldn’t believe she’d been such a fool.
“Do you want me to carry anything?” Estelle asked, more subdued than Olivia would have thought possible for anyone under the circumstances.
“No, I’ve got it.”
She snatched a pair of stockings from the top of a crate, a chemise from Charlie’s trunk. Who knew how it had gotten there. Once her carpet bag was full, she started stuffing things into the sack—her Sunday shoes, a damp blouse that had just been washed. She reached up to a pair of her drawers that were folded on top of a stack of crates, right on top of—
—Charlie’s locked box. Olivia froze, staring at it. Inside that box was everything that had pushed the two of them apart. Had Charlie really robbed an old man to get all of those things? Was the beautiful necklace she’d worn so proudly stolen goods?
A fit of rage wafted over her, and before she could think twice, she snatched the locked box with both hands and dropped it into the sack, stuffing a few more scattered articles of clothing over top of it. If her husband could be a thief, then she could too. Marriage meant a sharing of assets, after all.
She grabbed her carpet bag in one hand and the sack in the other, and scooted out the back of the wagon. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she jumped out and started marching toward the Hamilton’s wagon. Estelle followed her, like a sentry guarding her. She didn’t speak to her, not even when Lucy joined her, along with Josephine, and whispered, “Where are we going?”
Olivia had no idea where she was going. She was married to a criminal with no way to fix that on the trail. She carried stolen goods with her, though she would rather die than admit it to anyone. The trail might have continued on toward the coast, but for the first time, Olivia had no idea where she was going.
Chapter Ten
There was nothing worse than driving a wagon west alone. Charlie could have asked any one of his friends for company. He could have chatted with Pete as they trudged on through endless miles of increasingly difficult terrain. In the evening and at midday, when they stopped, he could have sat with the wagon crew to eat, or teased Olivia by attending her train school again. At least then, the children would smile and be happy to see him. Although, Olivia would have kicked him out faster than a jackrabbit with the scent of carrot.
He sighed and patted the broad, lumbering side of one of his oxen as they came to a stop at the site of their next camp. The truth was, for the first time in his life, he wanted to be alone to contemplate the mess he’d made.
If he was honest with himself, it wasn’t much of a surprise that his life had fallen apart around him. Things had never come easily to him, in spite of what Chet might think. The lifestyle the two of them lived together had never been a comfortable fit on his burdened shoulders. It was nice to have the money, it was even thrilling to pull off a con he thought had no way of working, but at the end of the day, he had always felt lower than a mud-puppy in a swamp. More than a few churches had found their collection box mysteriously stuffed with riches every time his conscience got the better of him.
What would Josiah say if he could see him now? The thought wasn’t a cheerful one as Charlie unhitched his oxen and let them graze on the patch of scruffy grass beside the trail. He hopped into his wagon, searching for the supplies he needed to start a fire and cook his own supper. There was another way he had suffered in the last few days since Olivia gave him the old heave-ho. He hadn’t eaten a decent meal since then.
“It’s just that he seems so woebegone,” Estelle’s voice sounded outside of Charlie’s wagon. “He’s hardly talked to anyone in days.”
“I’m not surprised,” Olivia answered, stiff and weary. “I can’t imagine anyone would want to associate with a thief and a cheat.”
Charlie sighed and sank to sit against the pile of crates and barrels in his wagon bed.
“He doesn’t seem at all like the criminal type to me,” Lucy went on as the swish of the three women’s skirts faded to the distance. “He has always seemed quite personable and funny.”
“Charming is not the same thing as honorable.” He caught Olivia’s words as they wandered out of earshot.
It served him right. All of it served him right. He rested his head back against the pile of his belongings. Somewhere in there was the cause and the solution to his villainy. He hadn’t gone looking for his treasure chest since Olivia left him. He didn’t have the heart for it. All those beautiful jewels would only pale next to the sparkle of her eyes and remind him of everything he’d lost in the process. That certainly wasn’t what Josiah had in mind when he gave them to Charlie.
“A good man values friendships above gold,” Josiah had told him. “A strong man never hoards his riches or his kindness. At the end of the day, you can’t take your money with you to the Great Beyond, but you can take the love you shared with people in this world. You can take the satisfaction that you did your best to leave the world a better place than you found it.”
Charlie took in a breath and sat straighter. Those words had meant more and more as his friendship with Josiah had deepened. They reminded him of the things the Brothers of Saint Benedict had told a foolish, adventure-hungry, adolescent Charlie. Olivia would approve of those words. But if he had any chance of winning Olivia back, he would have to do it by deeds, not by words.
It was as if he had stumbled across a mountain blocking his way to what his heart wanted, and the only way to climb a mountain was one step at a time. He knew just where to start.
Charlie hopped out the back of his wagon, straightened his jacket, and brushed the trail dust off his sleeves. He knew Chet’s game, knew it because he too had played it for years. The only thing that stopped a fool from parting with his money was the truth.
“Rufus, Martin, I’d like to have a word with you.” Charlie fought his instinct to grin and charm the farmers as he marched into their camp.
“Mr. Garrett.” Martin nodded at Charlie, more caution in his expression than Charlie would have liked. His pretty, young wife, Sarah, edged away from him, one hand on her round belly.
Charlie stopped near the edge of the camp. For the sake of Sarah and the new family Martin was about to have, for the sake of Rufus’s wife and his kids—one of whom turned out to be that same boy, Joseph, who he’d helped to read—Charlie had to sacrifice his pride.
“I came to talk to you about the timber deal Chet Devlin’s been walking around getting folks riled up about,” he said.
“It’s a sure thing.” Rufus eyed him suspiciously, as if protecting something precious. “We stand to make a million.”
“Thousands, at least,” his wife, Mildred, seconded.
Martin straightened from the fire he was building and narrowed his eyes. Charlie faced him, obviously the smarter of the two.
“I’ll come right out and say it,” Charlie went on. “Unless a miracle has happened and Chet has turned over about fifty new leaves, there is no timber operation.”
“What?” Martin snapped.
“But he said—”
“Chet Devlin is a thief and a confidence man,” Charlie cut Rufus off. “He preys on hard-working, industrious men and women, like yourselves.” No use in saying he preyed on the stupid and foolish. That wouldn’t help his cause.
“How do I know you’re not just saying that so you can buy up the rest of his shares?” Rufus asked.
“I know that because I’ve known Chet for more than ten years.” He took a breath, lowering his head slightly. He had to go all in if he had even the slightest chance of proving to Olivia that he could be a man of honor. “I know because the two of us used to run the same racket on people.”
Sarah and Mildred gasped in unison—the reaction Charlie expected. If folks hadn’t already been looking at him differently these last few days, they would surely do it now.
“You used to sell people the same timber shares?” Martin rested his weight on one leg, his hands at his waist, far more shrewd than anyone else in the camp.
“Not exactly the timber shares, but any other shares we could think up.” Charlie looked directly at him as he spoke. “It’s a common scheme. Convince your mark that they stand to make a fortune, that the other investors are already in place, then take whatever you can from the mark before you cut and run.”
Rufus glared at him, face red, while Martin narrowed his eyes. “I knew it,” Martin muttered. “I knew it sounded too good to be true. I bet Mr. Devlin was planning to vamoose the second we got to Oregon City.”
“Before that, if my suspicions are right.” Charlie nodded.
“Why are you telling us this?” Sarah spoke up from the far end of the camp where she’d retreated. “What do you stand to gain?”
“Nothing, ma’am,” Charlie admitted, spreading his arms wide to prove his point. “I only want to win my wife back, and I’m never going to do that if I stick to my old ways.”
His burst of honesty had the effect of loosening Sarah’s shoulders and causing Mildred to stand straighter and look at him as if he were some sort of poor sap in a fairy story. At least it did something.
“Truth is,” he addressed the women, “this whole time, I’ve been assuming going straight and changing my life meant not engaging in any of that anymore. I’m starting to realize that it means a lot more. It means setting the things that I did wrong right. My future starts today, but it looks like my past isn’t done with me.” The impish rogue in him couldn’t help but add, “You think showing Olivia how intent I am on changing will win her back?”
To his surprise, the two women smiled, even if those smiles were filled with pity for him. “You can only do your best and wait to see,” Sarah answered.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He repaid her kindness with a warm smile and a tip of her hat, then turned to go.
There were plenty of other farmers, miners, and pioneers in the wagon train who Chet had shared his scheme with. It took a bit of time for Charlie to make it around the camps, warning everyone of what Chet was up to. The more people he spoke to, the more Charlie had a sense that he was doing the right thing. It was a strange, aching sort of sensation that grew harder and harder, like a rock in his chest, the more people he spoke to. That ache might also have had something to do with the certainty that as soon as Chet figured out what he’d done, he’d want revenge.
Charlie wasn’t so far off the mark.
“Mr. Devlin, there you are. I want to talk to you.”
Charlie stopped short in his journey around the camps and pressed his back to one of the wagons to hide as Martin caught Chet coming back from the latrine.
“Mr. Hulse, what can I do for you?” Charlie couldn’t see him, but Chet’s voice sounded full of smiles and cheer.
“You can stop filling people’s heads with nonsense and come clean about your timber scheme, for one.” Martin sounded good and upset. Charlie couldn’t help but grin, holding a hand to his mouth to hide his reaction.
“What seems to be the trouble?” If Charlie knew Chet the way he thought he did, he was fairly certain the grin had gone out of Chet’s eyes, even if it was still on his lips.
“Seems to me that you’re the problem,” Martin went on. “You and your plot to take money from the good folks of this wagon train.”
“Take your money? I’m here to help you double it, triple it.”
“That’s not what I hear. The way Mr. Garrett tells it, there is no timber company, and you’re just selling us a line so you can rob us all blind.”
Charlie winced, pressing further against the wagon. It would have been so much easier if Martin hadn’t mentioned his name. Then again, Chet would have figured it all out sooner rather than later.
“What did he tell you?” There was no smile left in Chet’s voice. In fact, there was cold-b
looded murder instead.
“He explained how it all works,” Martin said. “How you convinced us to give you money based on false information.”
“The information is not—”
“Let me tell you something, Mr. Devlin,” Martin rode right over him. Good for Martin, but Charlie had the feeling his own goose was cooked. “I don’t take too kindly to folks who would cheat a man out of his hard-earned money. The lot of us might not be fancy city people, like you and Mr. Garrett, but we’re just as good as you are.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t—”
“You keep your schemes to yourself until we get to Oregon City, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“I promise you, sir, I wouldn’t—”
“If I hear so much as a peep about you trying to get folks to give you their money, I’ll go straight to Pete Evans and have him drop you behind at the next waystation, you hear me?”
“Yes.” Chet didn’t try to say anything more. Charlie could hear the fury in his voice.
“Good.” There was a pause, followed by the sound of Martin’s footsteps walking away.
“That bastard,” Chet grumbled. “I’ll kill him. I’ll wring his filthy neck.”
Charlie didn’t have to guess who Chet was talking about. He didn’t need to question whether Chet was serious about his threats either. He knew the man better than that, which meant he knew that he needed to make himself scarce until his temper settled.
Charlie pushed away from the wagon, hurrying down the line of camps as fast as he could to find some way to avoid Chet in his first flush of murder. Chet would be looking for him right now. In fact, he thought he caught a glimpse or two of his old friend on the other side of the wagons. He needed to find a place to hide and fast.
It was just his luck that he was near Gideon’s wagon.
“Evening, Gideon. Lovely weather we’re having.”
Gideon spun around to stare at him, as if Charlie had interrupted some serious thoughts. He didn’t have time to worry about that.
