by Lori Wick
“We start work at 6:00, so you’d better get some rest.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you for supper,” Sean said softly. “Goodnight, Charlotte.”
Charlie frowned again at the use of her name before watching him leave. The frown caused Sean to wonder what he had done this time.
Sean’s body was trembling with fatigue and something else he couldn’t name by the time he crawled beneath the blanket on his bed. Even though the bed was too small, it felt wonderful to relax his tense muscles.
In a state of physical exhaustion, Sean thought he would fall right to sleep, but again the day’s events began to play through his mind. One moment he was about to be hanged, and the next he was married. In quick succession the faces of Father, Rigg, Kaitlin, Marcail, Gretchen, and Molly all floated through his mind. Someday he might see them again. The thought was too much for him.
His hand came to the tender line on his neck where the rope had rubbed. This time he let the fear and helplessness come fully to mind. Tears flooded his eyes. He had cried in the jail cell right before the hanging, but these tears, in the house of a stranger who now happened to be his wife, made the earlier tears seem minor in comparison.
Sean’s entire body shook with sobs, and he was unaware of the hoarse cries that issued from his throat. He thought he would never gain control, and in fact, didn’t even try. He wept and thanked God he was alive, allowing himself for the first time to really believe it.
Unknown to Sean, Charlie stood in the middle of her bedroom and listened to his cries. Her face was a mask of shock and confusion. Before this time she would have said that the sound of a man’s tears would disgust her, but not now, not this man’s.
Charlie’s heart was hard, but something was beginning to tear inside of her. She told herself that if he didn’t stop soon, he was going to make her cry. And that was something she was sure couldn’t happen, since she hadn’t cried in years.
She listened until the tears stopped, and wondered what type of man her husband really was.
“My husband,” Charlie said out loud, as if she had just realized this fact. She whispered, “What have I done?”
Franklin Witt stood in the sheriff’s living room, where he had tracked down Judge Harrison. The banker was fraught with frustration, since the judge would not listen to reason.
“Doesn’t anyone recognize that we’ve let a bank robber loose? He has probably murdered Charlie and is halfway to Hartley’s hideout by now.”
“I think you’ve got him all wrong, Witt. For one thing, Charlie can usually take care of herself, and for another, Sean is not violent. He’s also not really loose, at least, not the way you’re talking about,” Duncan assured him. “I’ll be keeping an eye on him, you can count on that.”
Witt ran a distracted hand through his hair, and the judge took pity on him.
“Go home now, Witt. The document was legal, and there’s nothing you can do. Maybe things will look better in the morning.”
Seeing that he had no choice, Franklin bid the men goodnight. Once outside, he stood for a moment on the porch and drew the night air into his lungs.
“Things might look better in the morning,” he said to himself as determination overtook him, “but I’m not through with Sean Donovan. I’m sure he can tell me more.”
thirteen
Sean found himself wishing for a Bible as he dressed for the day. It had been a long time coming, but now with all his heart he’d love to read a few verses in God’s Word. Some verses from Proverbs 3 came to mind, and Sean repeated these to himself as he dressed.
They were verses about trusting in the Lord for everything, instead of following your own heart. Even as Sean committed his future to doing just that, he couldn’t help but wonder how different things might be if he’d done it five years ago. But no matter how he looked at the past, he was in Visalia now and married, and he’d best determine to follow God no matter what the future might bring.
He moved to the mirror and frowned at his reflection—he had no brush or comb. Before exiting his bedroom for breakfast, he finger-combed his hair and smoothed his beard, knowing it would have to do.
As he had expected, Charlie was already in the kitchen, and Sean approached slowly.
“Good morning.”
“Morning,” Charlie greeted him without turning from the stove. “You can sit down. I’ve got some pancakes near ready.”
Sean did as he was told and thought the breakfast smelled wonderful. His mouth began to water.
Charlie came to the table a moment later bearing two plates. There were two large pancakes with a drop of applesauce on the side of each plate. The moment Charlie’s body hit the chair she began to eat. She didn’t rush, but she didn’t take time for social amenities such as conversation or giving thanks for the food either.
Sean thanked God silently and began to eat. Since there didn’t appear to be any other food, he told himself to go slowly. But Charlie was a good cook, and the first bite was too much for him. Within the space of a few seconds, Sean’s plate was clean.
The pancakes did nothing toward appeasing Sean’s hunger; in fact, they had only whet his appetite. He was reaching for his coffee when his stomach growled so loudly that he thought it might have been heard on the street.
“Didn’t they feed you in jail?” Charlie asked softly.
“Yes.”
Sean was careful not to look at his wife as he answered. He could feel the heat in his cheeks and lifted his cup to his lips hoping she wouldn’t notice. He had been entertaining thoughts of shaving his beard if the opportunity presented itself, but if he was going to blush every time his wife looked at him, he just might reconsider.
Sean didn’t know that neither his beard nor his cup did anything to hide the heating of his face, and Charlie watched in fascination as he flushed. She could hardly believe what she was seeing.
Charlie simply did not know what to think of this man. He was certainly unlike any bank robber she’d ever envisioned. He removed his hat when he spoke to her or entered a room. And he had actually attempted to help her from the wagon. He also blushed like a schoolboy in a roomful of little girls.
“There’s more applesauce over there if you want it.”
Charlie didn’t know why she offered it to him, except that it felt funny to still be eating when the plate across the table was empty and the man behind the plate still hungry.
“Thank you,” Sean spoke softly and carried his plate to the stove. The jar was almost empty, but Sean scraped out what he could and returned to the table. He was almost seated when he noticed that Charlie’s coffee cup was empty, as was his own.
He didn’t see the way Charlie was staring at him as he filled both cups until he’d again taken his seat at the table.
“I’m sorry,” he said, gently contrite. “I saw your cup was empty and assumed you would want more.”
“How’d you get to be a bank robber? You sure don’t act like one.”
The question surprised Sean speechless, and then he realized that everything about him, except possibly his looks, belied the situation in which they had first met.
“It’s a long story,” Sean finally answered after a few awkward moments.
Charlie shrugged. “I don’t suppose it’s any of my business anyway. And speaking of business,” she stood abruptly, “we’ve got to get to work. Are you ready?”
“Sure,” Sean answered, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in his stomach.
Charlie picked up her gun and led the way to the livery. Once inside she threw both sets of double doors wide open. Sean stood and watched her, wondering again when he should mention his experience.
“You ever feed stock?” Charlie asked abruptly.
“Yes, I have,” Sean answered with relief, honestly wanting to help. “I’ve worked in a livery before.”
Charlie’s stance changed. “With a smithy?”
Sean nodded, and Charlie wanted to laugh at her good luck. She had been certain
she was going to have to show this man everything.
“Good,” she said simply, looking pleased without smiling. “There are three horses that need shoes. Head on into the forge and get started. I’ll do the feeding.”
Sean stood for a moment inside the forge and let his eyes caress the familiar tools of the trade. A smithy’s job was long, backbreaking labor, but he had genuinely enjoyed the work and remembered it fondly as his gaze took in the anvil, forge, large bellows, drill bits, stocks and dies, and various hammers.
In the two years he had worked for the livery in Santa Rosa, he’d worked almost every aspect of the job from horse shoeing to wagon and halter repair. But never had the full weight of the job fallen on him before. Strangely enough, or perhaps not so strangely, he saw it as a challenge.
Hours later, Sean’s shirt was soaked beneath his leather apron and the sound of pounding metal could be heard through the building. Charlie had been in to check on him from time to time, but satisfied with what she saw, she said nothing.
It was nearing 1:00 when Sean felt he needed food to finish the day. He went in search of his wife. He found her talking to a customer, and stood back as she finished.
The breeze was heavenly on his heated skin, and Sean had leaned back against the building and let his eyes slide shut. Charlie stabled a beautiful mare, and then joined Sean by the rear doors. It took him a moment to realize that she had drawn near and stood watching him.
In a move as automatic as breathing, Sean straightened and removed his cap. “I know there is a lot of work to be done, Charlotte, but if I’m going to finish the day I need something more to eat.” Sean watched her brow lower, not understanding it was self-directed.
“You don’t have to fix it,” he quickly assured her, thinking she was angry. “I can get my own.”
Charlie’s last two smithies had never done anything but complain. When they weren’t whining about something, they were talking with the customers and not getting any work done. Sean had achieved more in one morning than her last man could do in a week. He was obviously a hard worker and Charlie felt badly about not stopping him at lunchtime.
“The hotel delivers lunch and supper. I’ve told them to make it two plates from now on. Go on to the house and eat.” None of this was spoken gently because Charlie was attempting to hide her dismay, but Sean didn’t try to understand. He only nodded gratefully and walked away. Maybe he’d been wrong to ask about food, but his limbs were trembling so violently that all he cared about was making the front door and staying on his feet.
fourteen
That’ll be the regular price, Murphy.”
“Put it on my bill.”
“You don’t have a bill, and last time you left without paying. Now I’ll have my money this time, or I’ll keep your horse.”
“Is that right?” came the belligerent reply. “Well, I’m leaving darlin’ and you’re welcome to try and stop me.”
Not about to let this man walk out for the second time without paying, Charlie jumped forward and tried to grab the horse’s bridle. Murphy shoved her away with ease. Sean, having finished his lunch, came through the back door just as she righted herself.
He watched in surprise as his wife moved forward to kick the tall man in the leg. Unfortunately, Sean was too far away to stop what happened next. Murphy turned back, and with one backward sweep of his hand, sent Charlie to the floor.
Murphy never heard Sean move, but he suddenly found himself spun around in time to see a fist flying with full force into his face. Sean didn’t watch to see if Murphy got up before he went to his wife.
Charlie awoke to the feeling of straw at her back and the sight of a blurry man bending over her. Even before her eyes focused, the beard and hat told her it was Sean. She had no idea why he was bending over her and blinked to try to clear her vision.
“Charlotte?” Sean’s voice was soft.
“Yeah,” she answered as she lifted a hand toward her face, but Sean beat her to it. With tender care his fingers probed her jaw before gently sliding over her cheek. The left side of her face felt as though it was on fire.
They were both aware of voices and shouting on the street, but Sean didn’t move away until Charlie was sitting up in the stall where he had laid her, and only then when he heard the sound of Duncan’s voice.
“What’s the problem?”
“I’ll tell you what the problem is,” a man Sean had never seen before said as he entered the livery. “I was walking by when our bank robber here decided to punch ol’ Murphy in the face. I say he should’ve hung.”
Murphy came to his feet, and started in with a string of curses and accusations that surprised no one. Duncan looked with regret at Sean, whose large frame blocked his view of Charlie. The sheriff was certain he had been right about this man, and even though Murphy was a trial to everyone in town, Duncan wasn’t about to put one of Visalia’s residents in danger. Having grown to like Sean made his job all the harder.
“It looks like I’ll have to take you back to the jail, Sean, but I would like to hear your story.”
Sean was livid with the loudmouthed man named Murphy, but for the moment his anger was directed at Duncan. “If the conditions on that paper state that I have to stand back while some man hits my wife, then you can go ahead and hang me!”
Duncan spun so fast on the foul-mouthed livery patron that Murphy took a hasty step backward into a pile of horse manure. “What is this, Murphy?” Duncan ground out the question, but he didn’t wait for an answer.
“Charlie,” he called, having just realized she was behind Sean. The young man stood his ground as the sheriff approached, his manner telling Duncan he had been right all along.
Duncan’s hand briefly touched Sean’s shoulder as he stepped around him and bent over the small livery owner. They spoke softly for some minutes while Charlie explained. Duncan saw red over the bruise on her face; her cheek was already beginning to swell.
Sheriff Duncan turned from Charlie to see that his deputy had come on the scene. In a quiet voice he ordered the deputy to take Murphy to the jailhouse and to keep him there until he arrived.
“He owes me money,” Charlie called as Murphy started away.
“He can pay it too,” a voice shouted out of the crowd. “He just cleaned me out in a game of poker.”
There was laughter all around, and even though Charlie’s head felt like it was going to fall off, she looked on with satisfaction as Murphy fished the coins from his pocket.
“Break it up now,” Duncan shouted to the crowd that had gathered. Sean and Charlie stood quietly until the townspeople dispersed.
“You should put a cold cloth on that.” Sean spoke quietly, watching his wife with very real concern and wishing he had a handkerchief or something to offer her.
“I’ll be all right,” she said, wanting to say more but afraid he would see the fierce emotions pouring through her. Besides, her face hurt too much to talk.
“I’ll get back to work,” Sean said.
“And I’ll walk you to your house,” Duncan told Charlie as he took her arm and headed for the rear door.
“Get your feathers down, Charlie. I’m not offering you charity.”
“I’ve got money.”
“I know you do, probably more than most of us realize, but that man who has come to be your husband arrived with only the clothes on his back. If you don’t need my money, then take some of your own and buy him an extra set of clothes and a haircut if he’s so inclined. Honestly, Charlie, he can’t even take those clothes off to wash them without having to go naked!”
Charlie nodded, realizing Duncan was right. The job of smith was very hard on clothing, and Charlie again felt badly at not noticing Sean’s lack.
“How’s the face?”
“What?” Charlie had completely forgotten that Duncan was sitting there, so intent was she on Sean’s clothing.
“Are you sure you’re all right?”
The tiny redhead shook her head. “I
’m fine, Duncan,” Charlie told him with a sigh.
“I think you should press charges.”
“Oh, Duncan!” Charlie was now exasperated. “The way you carry on you’d think I’d never been hit before.”
Now it was Duncan’s turn to frown. He knew she spoke the truth, but it was her resignation to the fact that bothered him. A few minutes later Duncan excused himself, but his mind was still centered on Charlie Donovan, and he prayed with all his heart that Sean would make a difference in her life.
Sean had to force back the groan he felt rising in his throat as he made his body sit down to supper. Every muscle in his arms and back was screaming. He couldn’t remember the last time he had put in such a long, hard day.
Sean ate his chicken and corn, unaware of the way his wife watched him. She thought he looked ready to fall asleep in his plate. He was also filthy.
“If the conditions on that paper state that I have to stand back while some man hits my wife, then you can go ahead and hang me.” Charlie believed that if she lived to be a hundred, she would never forget those words, uttered so protectively. They made her want to do something for him in return.
“My aunt runs the boardinghouse at the end of the block.”
Sean looked up from his plate, wondering how he should reply to this, but Charlie went on.
“I don’t have a tub, and she fixes me a bath anytime I want one.” Sean continued to stare at her, and Charlie frowned a bit. “If you want, we can head over so you can have a bath tonight.”
Sean wanted to weep with relief. He could barely tolerate his own stench. Instead he replied simply, “I would appreciate that.”
Nothing more was said on the matter. When they were both finished with supper, Charlie led the way to a boxy, three-story house and without knocking, let them in the rear door.
fifteen
Is that you, Charlie?” The voice came from somewhere in the bowels of the large house. Sean stood still while Charlie moved through the kitchen and beyond.
