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“Think about it overnight, and we’ll talk again in the morning. I think I can spare an hour early. We did say eight o’clock?”
Charlotte’s eyes shot open. “Tomorrow morning? Oh, dear, with everything that happened, I forgot about cleaning out Charles’s things.” She bit her lip. “I—I don’t know. Maybe now isn’t such a good time. I should, well, think on other things.”
They both knew what those “other things” were.
Oddly enough, Holly looked relieved. “You will at least need to crate up Charles’s things before you bring another man into the house.”
Another man. Such as Wyatt Reed. Waves of heat rolled through Charlotte as she imagined him sitting at the trestle table or carrying in water for her or sleeping beside—
She shook herself. “We’ll deal with that if it happens.”
“When it happens,” Holly stated with dead certainty, as if finding a husband in less than three full days happened all the time.
“When what happens?” The schoolhouse door banged open, and Sheriff Mason Wright entered. “What’s going on here?”
Holly rose, her face flushed with pleasure. “Nothing important. Is Liam still playing with the boys?”
He nodded and glanced at Charlotte, who suddenly felt out of place. Holly positively glowed as she glided over to greet him. His gaze riveted on Holly’s face, shutting out everything else. He took her hands so tenderly that it made Charlotte’s heart ache.
This was a private moment, one Charlotte couldn’t bear to witness. She slipped silently past them and out the door. Before fetching Sasha, she took a breath to calm herself. Mason and Holly were truly in love, something she would never have.
* * *
The ride wasn’t clearing Wyatt’s head. Moreover, everyone in town glared at him as if he was a murderer. He was used to being disliked by civilians, but for the most part the lawmen tolerated him. Based on the encounter with Sheriff Wright in the stable, this one wanted him out of town now, too.
He kept his gaze fixed forward and put blinders on his peripheral vision. Some peculiar job this was. Usually he had to use all his senses to track down the fugitive and save his own hide. Now here he was trying to block out the voices and the people around him.
He headed to the outlying farms and ranches west of town, those in the direction of Greenville. Between the nagging in his gut and the sheriff’s obvious dislike of Baxter, he wanted to see if anyone else here had dealings with the man. If he found anything against Baxter, he might reconsider taking the case to the judge.
He would not reconsider the sheriff’s not-so-veiled suggestion. Wyatt was not a marrying man. Period.
The first two farms yielded nothing, but the Hayes ranch was a different story.
The tall rancher eyed him solemnly, his strong jaw taut. “We don’t do business with men like Baxter.”
Though Wyatt pressed, Colton Hayes refused to elaborate.
What sort of business? As near as Wyatt could tell, Baxter made his money in trade. He shipped supplies out to the mines in Colorado and the big farms in his area. His storefront was small but well stocked. At first glance, Greenville seemed an odd place to plant such a business, but it was the last large town on the rail line. Baxter must be using that to his advantage. Maybe he overcharged. That would explain the rancher’s disdain.
Baxter’s orphanage also seemed to pass muster. From what Wyatt heard, it handled cases of children in Greenville and the surrounding area who became orphans, and also took in almost all the orphans the Orphan Salvation Society brought through that didn’t find homes. Greenville’s mayor spoke glowingly of it and of Baxter. “A first-rate philanthropist.” “Above reproach.” Over and over he heard the same words. Everything had checked out, or he wouldn’t have taken the job.
When Wyatt had stopped by the orphanage, it was empty. Baxter had taken considerable pride in his ability to place the children. That hadn’t struck Wyatt as odd at the time, but now he wondered how Baxter succeeded when the orphan society couldn’t.
He shook his head. None of this explained Greenville’s determination to get the orphans and Evans Grove’s equal insistence on keeping them.
Frustrated, he rode Dusty hard on the return. The steed appreciated the gallop, but Wyatt hadn’t gotten any answers. He had pieces to a puzzle, but none of them fit together. Mayor Evans standing oh so confident next to that distinguished banker fellow, sure she’d find a way to thwart him. The sheriff out-and-out suggesting he hightail it back to Greenville and give up a lucrative job. Charlotte Miller.
His heart caught in his throat. He had no idea the orphan society would take away Sasha. It wasn’t fair. Making her marry to keep her daughter? Ridiculous. The whole thing made him so angry that he wanted to walk into that town and shake some sense into those orphan society rule makers. And that was the trouble. He couldn’t get involved. He couldn’t let emotion get hold of him, or he would ruin yet more lives.
He unclenched his fist and flexed his hand. He’d been holding the reins too tightly. That was the trouble with emotion. It hurt. And Wyatt couldn’t risk hurting any more women and children.
The faces in the fires still haunted his dreams. Atlanta burning. The march to the sea. The echoes of cannon and crackle of flames. His hand on the torch, anger seething until it overflowed. Houses burning. Screams. Cries for mercy.
He drew in a rattling breath. Wyatt Reed couldn’t be trusted around women and children. Ever.
* * *
Marry Wyatt Reed?
The thought niggled at Charlotte’s mind as she walked Sasha home. The man kept his emotions in check, much like Charles. The only hint of feeling came when he held Sasha, but did he care enough for the little girl to tie himself to a woman he didn’t know? It was a preposterous idea. She couldn’t believe Holly had suggested it. Worse, her friend insisted Wyatt had looked at her in a special way, the same way Mason looked at Holly.
Impossible.
She’d never seen it.
Yet what choice did she have? Elmer Droll?
Sasha slipped from Charlotte’s grasp to greet the Hutchinsons’ dog Sparky, like she always did when they passed. The beagle mix had started to wait expectantly each day for his hug and kisses. Sasha squealed with laughter as the dog lapped her face.
The little girl was starting to fit into the community. To Charlotte, she’d become dearer than life. Charlotte would do anything for her—even marry. Thirteen years ago she’d wed Charles Miller out of necessity. She could do it again. Given the slim selection of available men, she preferred Wyatt by far.
But how could she convince him to marry her? The brides of old used a dowry to lure an eligible husband. Her parents had left her nothing, but Charles had. That was it! She’d offer him money.
Wyatt Reed would take any job for money. Hopefully, the sum she had would be enough. She felt a flash of panic at the thought of giving up the money—her security to take care of herself and Sasha—but she pushed it away. Sasha was worth it. At first, Charlotte would offer only part of the total amount of money she had, but even if Wyatt demanded every last dollar, Sasha was worth the price. When all this was over and the little girl was truly hers, Charlotte would do anything—even scrub floors—to put food on the table. Whatever it took, she’d do it to keep her daughter.
Charlotte gathered Sasha and marched toward the hotel. If she was going to do this, she’d do it now, before Wyatt Reed had time to run and she lost her nerve.
The distance had never seemed so short. Before she had time to formulate how to broach the subject, the hotel porch came into view. What on earth would she say to him? Good evening, Mr. Reed, would you be looking for a wife? Or perhaps, Mr. Reed, perhaps you would prefer not to eat alone each night. Or even outright begging.
Every approach made her blush madly.
When Mrs. Regan stopped to console her, she fanned her face and made up excuses. “This mourning dress is so hot and heavy.”
If the woman recognized the true source of Charlotte’s discomfort, she had the grace not to point it out. “I’m so glad we get to keep Lina. Teddy and I were beside ourselves over this whole mess. Why, that Mr. Reed should go back to Greenville where he belongs and leave us alone. I say if the Orphan Salvation Society agreed to keep the children in Evans Grove, then that’s where they should stay.”
As she rattled on with her condemnation of Wyatt, it took all Charlotte’s strength not to walk away. If even those who’d benefited from his concession despised him, how would they feel if she married him? Would they hate her, too? Would they spurn Sasha?
She glanced at her daughter, hoping she didn’t understand all that was swirling around her.
“I’m sorry to hurry away, but we have business.” Charlotte couldn’t listen to another word. “Urgent business that can’t wait.”
Taking Sasha’s hand, she hurried toward the hotel. The little girl appeared not to have understood what Mrs. Regan had said. But Charlotte wondered how to break the news to Sasha if she couldn’t find a husband.
Her stomach churned as she envisioned handing Sasha to Rebecca to take on the train to Greenville. The little girl wouldn’t understand. She’d cry and wail. She’d reach for Charlotte and wonder why her mama was abandoning her. And then to board a train again after the horrible robbery and shooting that had occurred on Sasha’s last train ride. Charlotte couldn’t bear to think of her little girl scared and alone, without her mama to comfort her. She stumbled and had to stifle a sob. No one could take away her daughter. She’d do anything, marry anyone to prevent it. Even Wyatt Reed.
Please, Lord.
They’d reached the hotel with its broad veranda. Charlotte stood before the steps. She’d never realized how many there were. Six in all. Was Wyatt there? She looked toward the front windows, but they reflected the late-day sun, and she couldn’t tell if he was dining. Through the door spilled a jumble of conversation and the clinking of glass and flatware.
The time had arrived. She must do it. For Sasha’s sake.
She took a deep breath. “Come, Sasha, let’s see if Mr. Reed is here.”
They climbed the six steps. Charlotte waited for Sasha on each while the men chewing tobacco on the porch watched her progress. With each step, her heart pounded harder.
Good evening, Mr. Reed. Could I have a moment of your time?
Perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades.
I would like to propose a business transaction.
Her knees threatened to give out.
A marriage in name alone, so I can keep Sasha.
Bile rose up her throat.
You may come and go as you please.
She couldn’t catch her breath.
And will be handsomely paid.
Dear Lord, what am I thinking?
They’d reached the porch. One of the men spat into an old chamber pot and grinned at her. Would he offer himself as a husband? His gapped yellow teeth made her queasy.
“Papa!” Sasha cried and, in an instant, slipped from her grasp.
Papa? Charlotte stumbled after her. She was an orphan, wasn’t she? How could her father be here?
Sasha raced into the hotel and through the dining room door. Charlotte strode as quickly as she could in the heavy skirts but couldn’t catch up. When she reached the hotel dining room, she halted, stunned.
The man she’d called papa was none other than Wyatt Reed.
* * *
Wyatt hated needless waiting. Stalking a fugitive was one thing. In those cases he was on the move, using his senses and his wit to outfox the criminal. Waiting for a judge was another thing altogether. He had to do something, find some way to fill his time. He couldn’t just sit around the hotel.
He’d figure out why these orphans mattered so much to the folks here. He could understand the ones that had been taken into homes already, but the unclaimed? It made no sense.
He picked at his heaping plate of roast beef and potatoes slathered in gravy and then reached for the cup of coffee. Ordinarily Wyatt wouldn’t drink coffee so late in the day, but he wanted to see what went on in Evans Grove after dark. Who visited whom, who took care of the orphans and where. Few houses had curtains, and much as it galled him to look in on unsuspecting people, many a parlor became visible after dark.
While eating, Wyatt pondered the banker. Brooks was an interesting part of the puzzle. Wyatt had never known a banker to get personally involved in a project like this, particularly in a town where he didn’t reside, yet Brooks had sat right there beside the mayor making policy decisions. Odder yet, everyone approved his interference.
Maybe that could be used against the town. If he could get the man tossed off that council, then maybe he could win over enough remaining members to finish up this job. Miss Ward was certainly on his side. He might be able to sway that petite schoolteacher gal, too. That left the preacher, the sheriff and the mayor. He’d have to work hard to make inroads with any of them.
“Papa!” a young girl squealed.
Moments later, that girl launched herself at him. Wyatt dropped his fork and put his hands up. What on earth? The girl’s raven hair and pigtails betrayed her identity. Sasha. Her thin arms wrapped around his waist. Why would she call him papa?
Everyone in the dining room was staring at him. Apparently, they had the exact same question.
“She’s not mine.” He awkwardly patted Sasha’s back and gave the staring diners a half smile. “She must be confused. Maybe I look like her pa.”
“Not at all,” chuckled an overweight woman with a splotchy yet kind face. “Charles Miller was a big man.”
“I meant her—” How could he say it? Real father sounded cruel and might remind the girl of the parents she’d lost.
Miss Ward, who was eating across the room, saved him from finishing. “Nettie, you know as well as I do that the creature has no parents. She’s one of those orphans. She can’t even speak proper English. Charles Miller was bamboozled by that wife of his into taking her in.”
Her strident denunciation chilled Wyatt. Didn’t she care what Sasha heard? He covered the girl’s ears as the debate heated up.
“She’s a darling little girl,” Nettie protested, “and Charlotte loves her dearly. I for one hope she gets to keep her.”
Miss Ward’s already taut expression got even tighter. “No one will keep any of the lot. They’re dirty little urchins.” She lifted a handkerchief to her nose as if the stench overwhelmed her.
“They’re just children who need to be loved. Why, if our house wasn’t in such disrepair, we’d take one of them.”
Miss Ward looked aghast. “None of them are staying. If not for that nonsense this morning, good Mr. Reed would have the lot of them out of here already.”
All eyes turned back to him.
Wyatt cringed. If that’s how good was measured, he wanted no part of it. He pressed his hands more tightly over Sasha’s ears. “Now is not the time to discuss this.”
“Sasha, what are you doing?” Charlotte Miller ran into the dining room, and he could tell by the look on her face that she’d heard every appalling word that Miss Ward had uttered. He also saw gratitude there. For him.
The thought strangely warmed him.
She moved close to the table, her cheeks flushed and her light hazel eyes shining. “Thank you.” It came out in a whisper.
My, she was beautiful. He couldn’t take his gaze off her perfectly proportioned features. The brows that arched in exact crescents. Her dainty nose and rosy, full lips. He couldn’t help noticing how soft they looked, just like her skin. The curls peeking from her bonnet promised a stunning cascade of reddish-blond hair. Even in the stiff, black mourning dress, she shone. Her delicate hands and graceful arms fluttered to her neck in a gesture of self-consciousness and humility.
He forgot to breathe.
Then her brow puckered, and he looked down to see he still covered Sasha’s ears. He quickly removed his hands. “I don’t know why she ran to me.”
Charlotte touched her daughter’s back. “Sasha, Mr. Reed doesn’t need you on his lap when he’s trying to eat his supper.”
“It’s all right.” And truthfully it was. The little girl’s embrace did something to him. He felt alive, like he’d slept for the fourteen years since joining the army, and finally woke up. He didn’t want her to move away. And considering the way the girl burrowed deeper into his lap, there wasn’t much he could do to dislodge her, anyway.
“I’m sorry.” The color rose again in Charlotte’s cheeks. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
She glanced around the room, and he realized everyone was still watching the scene. He nodded toward the chair across the table. “Please sit.”
She wrung her hands, alternately looking at the chair and the other diners, as if afraid sitting with him would damage her reputation forever.
“I promise not to bite.” He let his lips quirk into a smile for her sake, and, if he was honest, because he wanted her to stay. Her and Sasha, who’d nestled on his lap and was playing with the fringe on his buckskin jacket.
