Joe plunked the wheelbarrow down again and turned to face her, hands propped on his hips. “Are you courting someone?”
“What?! No! Whyever would you ask that?” Simply the thought of it resurrected the tremor in her middle.
He swept the back of one gloved hand across his chin, and then took up the wheelbarrow again and headed down the road at a faster clip than before. “No reason. Just can’t figure out why you want to keep whatever this is from me, is all.”
Liora sighed. It was obvious by the tenor of his tone that she’d hurt him. But, despite that, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him her plans. She knew he wouldn’t approve of her heading out to the logging camps on her own. And certainly not to take on the likes of John Hunt. For John would see what she planned to do as nothing less than a challenge to his power should she get caught. Which was why she would need to be very careful.
John Hunt ran the area’s largest string of brothels. Liora’s mother had been one of his girls, right up until the day death had freed her from his clutches. Liora still regretted that she hadn’t been by her mother’s side during her last hours. But there wasn’t much she could do about past failures. All she could do was live her life in such a way that hopefully ten years from now she’d be able to look back and have no regrets about the years between here and there. And that was what she aimed to do.
John liked to recruit his girls young. She’d been fifteen the first time he’d tried to ensnare her into working for him. Her mother had spared her from it by offering to work more hours in her place. Not that her mother’s sacrifice had prevented Liora from ending up in the life anyhow, but at least she’d been a little older. And at least Joe had rescued her from the life only a couple weeks after she started. Most girls didn’t have anyone to come to their rescue nor any other options, John tended to ensure that. He picked girls with no family and no other way to support themselves. And once they got a little older and realized there were other possibilities in life, if he ever sensed that they might want to get out, he set into motion an endless cycle of owing him for this or that favor and having to put in one more month of work to pay it off. Right up until the grave opened up and accepted the girls into the darkness of its bosom.
But Liora intended to give the girls who would trust her another destiny.
It just wasn’t time to share that intention with anyone yet. Not even Joe.
Could she change the subject? “I hear Charlotte has decided that the town will have boardwalks by the end of this summer. She came into the diner today while school was on lunchbreak with a collection can.”
Joe pegged her with a knowing look. But then he must have decided to let the matter drop. “Yes. I’ve heard the same. Even donated to the cause when she shook that can in my face yesterday.” He smiled ruefully.
“If anyone can make it happen, it’s her. And I must say that I’ll be more than thankful to have them, especially come winter. Those muddy streets are murder on dress hems.”
The conversation stalled again, and Liora felt a rush of relief when her cabin came into view only a few minutes later. She motioned to the kitchen steps. “You can just park that by the back door and I’ll unload it in a few minutes.”
Joe’s lips twisted. “I promise to help you unload without doing any more prying if that’s what you’re worried about.”
It had been what worried her. “Very well. Thank you.” She tied his horse to the front rail, pulled her key from her reticule, and unlocked the door. “I don’t know yet where I’m going to put everything, so you can just stack it all on the sideboard there.” She motioned toward the secondhand sideboard that Mrs. Callahan had given her. It was broad and made of solid maple, and separated her kitchen from the dining area just beyond. Joe and the men had made her a table and benches from hand-sawn pine. The remainder of the great room had been designated as a parlor of sorts. It contained the secondhand settee she’d purchased from the Kings when they’d decided on a new one, a trunk which sat beneath the far window, and a rocking chair. Sparse, but functional. Both the kitchen door and a door in the living area led out onto the porch that wrapped around two sides of the house.
It only took Joe and her a few minutes to get the wheelbarrow unloaded. And then he tipped his hat in her direction. “Have a good evening now. I’ll put this in the lean-to for you, and then be on my way.” He motioned to the chicken wire that still remained in the wheelbarrow, and lifted the handles once more.
She couldn’t just let him leave with this tension hanging between them. “Joe?”
He paused and looked at her.
“Thank you for not pressing. It will all be clear soon, I assure you.”
He worked his lower lip as he studied her. “Just promise me you aren’t planning to do something dangerous.”
Liora hesitated. With John Hunt in the picture, she could promise him no such thing.
Joe dropped the wheelbarrow and hooked his thumbs into his beltloops, narrowing his eyes. “You see, that hesitation right there tells me a whole lot more than you think it does. What are you up to?”
She scrambled for an explanation that would satisfy him. “Have you ever felt the Lord calling you to do something, Joe?”
His gaze softened and lifted to the scar she knew remained visible on her forehead for the briefest of seconds, before he glanced at the ground and scuffed his toe into the dirt. “You know I have.”
Yes, she did indeed. It was only his intervention at the urging of the Holy Spirit that had saved her from certain suicide. “Then you understand that we don’t always have a choice—I mean, if we follow what we feel called to do. God doesn’t often ask us to do easy safe things.”
Joe stepped closer to her and his voice emerged soft and low when he asked, “And what are the hard, unsafe things you feel God calling you to do?”
A wave of something indefinable curled through her. She studied his face. His gaze drilled into hers, focused and intense. There was no give in the subtle jut of his jaw. And yet a softness lingered about his eyes and tugged at her. She longed to step closer. To confide in him. But to do so might give him the wrong impression which would only hurt him in the long run. There could be no possible future for them—her past with all its baggage ensured that. And she cared too much for him to impress him otherwise.
And yet, not confiding in him, though it may be for his own good, would hurt him also. So what ought she to say? There was naught for it but to think of his future.
“Joe.” She kept her voice soft and steady, suddenly feeling the burden of her past mistakes with such clarity her legs threatened to crumple beneath her. She looked away, unwilling to witness the impact of the blow she was about to impart. “You have no more business here. I’ll ask you to leave now.”
From her peripheral vision, she saw him scrub one knuckle over the dark stubble on his chin. And she could almost feel the hurt radiating off him. But after a moment, he lifted his hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture, then stalked toward the lean-to, pushing the wheelbarrow ahead of him.
Battling the tears that threatened to blind her, she turned for the house. Her foot missed the first step, and she fumbled to find it, then rushed into the kitchen and pushed the door shut behind her. She leaned there, head tilted toward the ceiling, and simply let the tears fall. Father, am I ever to live life on my own? When will this plaguing fear dissipate?
She was so weak. So selfish. She would love to have the strength to yank open the door, dash across the yard, and beg him to support and protect her in this mission she felt the Lord calling her to. Yet she knew that might lead to more, which terrified her.
Besides, to entangle her life with his… That would be unthinkably self-seeking. Even should God miraculously take away her fears, she would be asking Joe to give up his good standing and reputation in Wyldhaven. And she prayed that her fondness for him would remain strong enough that she’d never be willing to cause him such harm.
CHAPTER THREE
Joe b
attled with himself as he mounted his horse. Did he linger and follow her to ensure her safety? Or did he leave her to herself as she’d requested? He sat, staring off toward the horizon. It was his duty to protect all citizens of Wyldhaven, and yet she’d very specifically told him she didn’t want his help. You have no more business here.
He refused to analyze the pain that burgeoned in his chest at the reminder.
Realizing he still loitered in her yard by the lean-to, he angled a glance toward the cabin. Despite his responsibility, he knew his desire to protect her probably went beyond his obligation to mere duty. He’d never even been tempted to follow any other citizen of Wyldhaven just to make sure they didn’t come to injury. He might be able to fool others, but he’d never gone in for trying to fool himself. So what was it about her that made him feel so protective? Why did he feel obligated to go out of his way to help her, when he didn’t do that for most others? Was it merely the fact that he’d at one point saved her life? Did he have an underlying fear that if he wasn’t around the next time, he might not be able to do the same? Ridiculous. He had no concerns that Liora still wanted to take her own life. She was an entirely different woman now that she knew the Lord.
He resettled his Stetson. How far was too far when pushing protection on someone who didn’t want it? She’d made it more than clear she didn’t want him tagging along.
And normally he would never force his help on anyone. Heading back to town was probably best because, in addition to Liora not wanting his help, the town wouldn’t stand for him spending too much time with her. Mrs. Hines had already brought up that issue at the last town council. And she was right that he’d spent a good number of his off-duty hours out at Liora’s property. He’d also urged the townsmen to help build Liora’s cabin. There’d been no denying it. Thankfully, the vote had fallen in his favor. But would it the next time? Pushing to help Liora could cost him his job, he had no doubt of that. Unfair as that might seem, it was the reality.
He jutted his jaw to one side, and then clicked to urge his horse out of the yard.
Halfway back to town, he yanked on the reins with an oath of frustration. He sat for a long moment considering the consequences of what he was about to do. Liora would be upset with him, but she would get over it. And even if it cost him his job, he’d never be able to live with himself if he rode away and something happened to her.
He nodded.
Whether she wanted his protection or not, she was going to get it.
Pulling the horse around, he slapped his reins against its rump. “Get up, now.” He dug his heels in too, until his horse settled into a distance-eating gallop.
But when he arrived back at her house, Liora was nowhere to be found. A sinking sensation settled into the region of his heart. She must have departed the moment he’d ridden out of the yard. And she hadn’t been on the road toward town, or he would have encountered her while coming back. Where could she have gone? To a neighbor’s house? Out to the logging camps? If so, which one? She could have gone in any number of directions.
Joe leaned on the pommel and pondered. He could take the time to track her and go after her. But with all the activity that had taken place here recently, it likely would take him a good hour to pick up her trail and by that time she’d be so far ahead of him she might be returning home.
There was also the consideration that she might be en route to meet a beau. She’d denied as much earlier, yet…a beautiful woman like her had to have plenty of interested suitors. And it would be some awkward to track her down only to find her passing time with another man.
With a grunt of frustration, he reined his horse toward the road and headed back to town.
He would come out in the morning to escort her in to the diner.
Until then, he would have to content himself with praying for her safety.
From her position on the front bench of the carriage next to Reagan Callahan, who was driving, Charlotte Brindle withheld a sigh.
Seated on the back bench just behind Reagan, the new Mrs. Hines hadn’t ceased prattling for the past hour.
Charlotte couldn’t help but wonder what Jerry Hines had seen in the woman he’d married last year. Certainly, he’d probably been lonely after the death of his first wife, but how could anyone be that lonely? She almost laughed at the irreverent thought. Of course, perhaps Jerry hadn’t quite known what he was getting into since the woman had been a mail-order bride.
Even Reagan, who was normally much more patient with people than she, had his jaw clamped so tight she could practically hear his teeth grinding together.
Charlotte covered her mouth and looked away, lest the laugh break free despite her efforts. She shouldn’t be so ungrateful. When Pricilla Hines had heard that Charlotte planned a trip to the mining camps to try to raise more funds for the town boardwalks, she’d simply wanted to help. And Charlotte might even dare say they had raised more money with the woman’s help than they would have without it. Several people had plunked coins in Charlotte’s can simply to be shut of Mrs. Hines’s incessant babbling, she felt certain. Never mind that Charlotte had been looking forward to spending an afternoon alone with Reagan. Instead they’d been chaperoned. And neither of them had been able to get a word in edgewise for hours.
The woman was currently in the midst of expounding on the differences between butterflies and moths. A conversation that had been spurred by the innocent curiosity of a monarch that had flown near the carriage.
Reagan glanced over and caught her attention. Humor crinkled the corners of his eyes and he reached over to clasp her hand.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Mrs. Hines leaned over the back of the bench and smacked the knuckles of Reagan’s hand with her folded-up fan. “You see, it is a good thing I came along with you two. You may have been courting Miss Brindle for nigh on two years, Sheriff, but you are not married yet.” When Reagan didn’t immediately let go of Charlotte’s hand, the woman barked. “Release her hand, if you please!”
Charlotte squeezed his fingers in a quick gesture of camaraderie, before tugging her hand back into her lap. There was no sense in them giving the woman further ammunition for the gossip she willingly spread to anyone who entered Jerry’s mercantile.
Pricilla gave a satisfied hum to have them both once again firmly on their own sides of the carriage seat, and then launched into a tale about a couple she’d known back in New York who had “most scandalously” ridden through the park without chaperones. “It was really most shocking. Most!”
Charlotte so wanted to insert. “This from a woman who traveled west to marry a man sight-unseen.” But she managed to restrain herself.
A movement ahead caught her eye at the same moment that Reagan spoke low to the horses. “Whoa there.” He pulled the carriage over to one side of the road.
Liora Fontaine walked along the road with a basket over her arm, heading toward the logging camp they’d just left.
From the back bench Mrs. Hines gasped softly.
Reagan nodded to Liora. “Afternoon to you.”
“Hello.” Charlotte smiled her own greeting.
Liora returned the greeting cordially and then offered, “I’m heading out to Camp Sixty-Five for a bit.”
Reagan nodded. “We’re just coming from there. How was your first night in your new place?”
A snort emanated from the back seat.
Liora’s feet shuffled as her gaze darted to the woman.
Charlotte’s irritation with Pricilla Hines mounted.
“It was lovely. Thanks for asking. So wonderful to see the fruits of my labor finally coming to bear.” Liora’s smile seemed a bit thin around the edges, but there was no denying the sparkle in her eyes.
“We’re so happy for you.” Charlotte infused as much enthusiasm into her words as she could. “You’ve worked so hard for this. We’re all so proud of you!”
A louder snort from Mrs. Hines this time.
Liora looked down and adjusted the basket on her arm. “Yes. Wel
l. I’d best get going if I’m going to make it back home before dark.”
Reagan touched the brim of his Stetson. “Evening to you, Miss Fontaine.” He clucked to the horses, and with that they parted company.
The wheels on the carriage had barely started rolling when Mrs. Hines emitted a shocked exclamation. “Well, I never! You surely aren’t going to allow her to continue on without challenging the blatant immorality of what she’s doing, are you?!”
Charlotte clenched her hands together and clamped her teeth over her tongue. The woman was insufferable.
“Blatant immorality?” By the underlying tone of Reagan’s words, Charlotte could tell that he planned to have a little fun with Mrs. Hines. “Last I checked there were no Biblical laws about walking along a road minding one’s own business, Mrs. Hines.”
“Oh! Go on with you. You know exactly what I’m talking about. She used to be a woman of…well…a woman of… Oh! You both know very well what she used to be. And there can be only one reason she’d be heading out to the camps at this time of night! Why Camp Sixty-Five is so heathen I’d lay money on the fact that not even the Lord can bring Himself to search it out!”
Reagan’s jaw bunched. “If you and I can find Camp Sixty-Five, Mrs. Hines, I’m sure the good Lord certainly can.”
Charlotte busied herself with brushing invisible dust from her skirts to keep from laughing at that.
Mrs. Hines gasped her outrage and craned around to watch Liora disappearing into the distance behind them.
But Reagan wasn’t done. “And in case you hadn’t heard, Miss Fontaine has repented of her past sins and found a new life in Christ. In my book that makes her a sister in Christ and someone to be respected and admired. Certainly no more of a sinner than someone who, say, makes a habit of gossip, for example.”
“Well-well, yes,” Mrs. Hines sputtered. “But actions do speak louder than words. If she were truly repentant, she wouldn’t place herself in such a questionable situation!”
“The only thing questionable I see, Mrs. Hines, is your rush to judgement in a situation you know nothing about.”
Beauty from Ashes (Wyldhaven Book 3) Page 3