It was a puzzle to see how she had changed during the last few weeks. The woman had been the model of female decorum for the past year. Never a cross word. Never an unkind comment. Pleasant to be around. Could cook like crazy and she even made her own dresses. And although she had hinted many times her thoughts were turning more and more toward matrimony, she had never been aggressive in her tactics...until Charity arrived back in town. He supposed competition for a man's affections could do that to a woman, but her transformation came as quite a surprise. Then again, he supposed Charity's had too.
He walked softly down the hall in case the occupants of the other bedrooms were sleeping. He stopped outside of Charity's door and listened. He didn’t hear any signs of her being awake, so he didn't knock. He thought it best to let things be for now. Tomorrow would be soon enough to settle things between him and Charity. He just needed to make her understand that he wasn’t taking sides this morning. He just wanted her to realize that every action a person took had the potential to cause an unfavorable reaction and although her intentions were golden, other people didn’t always see it the same way.
He looked in on Joshua Putnam who was fast asleep if his snoring was any indication. Thankful the boy was improving, Miles turned back down the hall to his own door. He pushed it open with his foot then closed it gently with his hand so not to wake anyone. Thoughts of Charity sleeping down the hall resurfaced. He shooed them away. He didn't have time for women troubles.
Miles set his loaded plate of food on the bed and unbuckled his gun belt. There was a wooden peg by the door he could have used to hang it, but he preferred to keep his guns closer. Long ago, he had started sleeping with the twin Colts underneath his pillow. As long as he had a decent pillow, the iron didn't bother him. In fact, it gave him a sense of security knowing they were very near and out of sight.
He took off his boots and undressed. A bath would have felt really good right about now, but he didn't want to go back up town to the boardinghouse to get one and he wouldn't disturb the Hanovers for one. They had had enough trouble for one day.
The food smelled wonderful as always and he was starving. Breakfast was interrupted and there just never seemed a good time to break for lunch. With too much to do, he felt guilty feeding his face while the citizens of his town were getting killed. As if to protest his long overdue dinner, his stomach growled. He tore off a piece of roast beef and shoved it into his mouth.
Chewing his way to the dresser, he picked up the packet of wanted posters and threw them on the bed next to his plate.
He climbed next to them and sat cross-legged. Finger-picking at his food while he tore open the package. A stack of thirty or more wanted posters slid onto his lap.
One by one, he studied the face of each criminal closely. Could this be his prisoner? Maybe with a different hair cut? Or no facial hair? One by one he wadded them up and threw them across the wall in frustration.
He picked at the roast beef and potatoes piece by piece too while he shuffled through the posters until—
A familiar face stared back at him and he nearly choked on his food. He shoved the plate aside and picked up the poster with both hands. Yes. No doubt about it. "That's him. That's the face of the man sitting locked up in my jail."
Jubilation chased away his fatigue as he read down the wanted poster's details. "Carl Faulkner. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Five feet, eight inches tall. Wanted in five states and territories for bank robbery, attempted murder, public drunkenness, and endangering the public in a gunfight."
Miles grinned at the poster and set it aside. He wanted to finish looking through the remaining posters in case Carl's name was mentioned as an accomplice. Now that he had a name, he could go back through all the wanted posters at his office to see who Carl's friends might be. Hot damn.
Still grinning at his discovery, he shuffled a few more posters until he came to another familiar face. "What the hell?" Miles jumped off the bed sending his nearly empty plate clamoring to the floor.
He stood looking at the poster for a good two minutes before he could convince his brain his eyes weren't lying to him.
"Well I’ll be damned.“
He stared at the black and white photo of Mr. Benjamin Carter. Only the man's name wasn't really Ben Carter. "Surprise. Surprise." Miles instincts had known all along there was something about the man that set his teeth on edge. And not just because he was sniffing around Charity either, because that would not be a lawman's business, he reminded himself.
"William Faulkner is it? You weren't lying to me the day you told me you had a relative in town who needed your help. I just wish I coulda seen into the future and known that your help meant killing innocent people. Faulkner? So you and Carl must be brothers. Or cousins, I suppose. Well, no matter. Carl's going to prison for train robbery. And you, my friend," he thumped the man's picture with a flick of his finger, "are going to hang for the multiple murders you perpetrated on innocent people under my watch, you sorry low life piece of filth."
He looked at the clock on the wall. "Ten o'clock. Not too late to arrest a criminal." Miles wasted no time in getting dressed. Gun belt buckled on, he carried his boots in his hand and stuffed the wanted poster of Willie into his vest pocket. He had Carl behind bars so he left that one on his bed.
Sock-footed he tiptoed down the hall taking the stairs two at a time. He surprised his deputy at the front door, but he didn't stop to explain. "Carry on," was all he said when he stopped long enough to shove his feet into his boots and disappear into the darkness surrounding the Hanover home.
Uptown, lights blazed and he could hear laughter and tinny piano music coming from the Holy Moses. His problem was, he didn't exactly know where Mr. Carter aka Willie Faulkner had been staying. The man had been cagey about that fact too when Miles had questioned him. It didn't matter. This was a small town and Miles would find him if it took all night.
20
Charity awoke from a dead sleep. But why? She listened for the sound again, any sound, but there was nothing except the usual creak and pop of the big house in the night's cool mountain air.
Maybe it was Miles coming back from wherever he had gone. She wondered if Miles was having trouble sleeping too. She had heard him leave around the time she turned off the light to go to sleep. She didn't know where he was headed so late. Maybe he was going to check on his deputies to make sure they hadn't fallen asleep on their watch.
He was like that, she mused. The man was tireless when it came to protecting the people under his charge. She knew he would do everything he could to protect the people in this house, but… She felt for her pistol underneath her pillow. It was something she knew she could count on no matter what else went wrong.
The clock down in the foyer struck midnight. It was late. She needed to try to go back to sleep. Tomorrow was gonna be a long day if she had any hopes of putting a full day's ride between her and this town. And its sheriff.
She squeezed her eyelids closed and tried to force herself back to sleep, but they were swollen from crying and they throbbed. Maybe a cool cloth against them would ease the pain. She grimaced and threw her covers off. Naked, she swung her legs out of bed and stood. She knew nothing could be done about the pain in her chest. Her heart ached for her handsome lawman who wore the tin star of justice. He was a man of justice. She knew that. She just wish there was some justice for her.
She shook her head. No, justice wasn’t the right word. Maybe a better word would be injustice, for her life had always been littered with unfairness. Just once, she wished life would fall her way without the hardship of having to fight for every square inch of ground she gained.
She walked around her beautiful bedroom naked as the day she was born. Thoughts of the man down the hall pushed her to want to do something bold to get his attention. She wished she had the nerve to walk down that hallway and tap on his bedroom door. She even imagined the surprise on his face when he saw her standing in his doorway covered in nothing but waves and waves
of copper hair.
She knew what she would see there. At first, heat would flare in those steel gray eyes of his. But then, he would stop and think too much which would bring about his reservations and doubt. And lastly, his restraint would resurface and that heat she first saw in his eyes would die away and leave her to wonder once more why he wouldn’t let himself love her.
She shook off her thoughts and returned to her bed. Tucked deep inside the soft folds of the luxurious bedding, she rolled toward the inky blue sky dotted with the brilliant blinking stars. If she did believe in wishing stars, she would spend the rest of her life wishing every night that the man of her dreams with the sparkling gray eyes was sleeping by her side.
A door opened and closed outside in the hallway and footsteps padded down the hallway. What the hell was going on? Charity jumped out of bed and threw a robe over her nakedness. She tucked her pistol between the voluminous folds of her robe and quietly opened her bedroom door. Whatever she had expected to see was not even close to the sight in front of her.
She stood in the shadows of her darkened doorway and watched in stunned silence as Selina backed out of Miles' bedroom...in her nightgown. Charity's stomach lurched and she felt like she might be sick for there was no mistaking what was happening right before her eyes.
She had assumed that because Selina and Miles were a guest in this house, they would behave themselves…especially the prim and proper woman Miles held in such high esteem. But she couldn’t have been more wrong. She couldn’t believe they would do such a thing. And wasn't it just two days ago he was more than glad to pin her up against the wall and take whatever she offered? She had offered herself to him out of love, but a man couldn't love two women. And he had chosen the one he wanted by taking her to his bed.
Tears blinded her vision as she watched Selina disappear down the hallway to her own room. The soft click of her door returned everything to quiet. Everything except the roaring injustice that cried out from Charity's broken soul. She had given her heart to a man who didn't deserve it. No. It was much worse than that. He didn’t want it. Rejection hit her hard.
She cast another glance to the door down the hall and then to the door where Miles's slept. She imagined him behind it lying naked in his bed, his body exhausted and sated from time spent with Selina amidst his tangled bedsheets.
She felt the bite of metal from the handle of her gun in her hand. It would be so easy to remove her competition from this earth. And just for a moment or two, she allowed herself the luxury to consider the possibility. Just once she wanted to take control of her own destiny and make her dreams come true.
Charity turned away from the hallway and closed the door between her and the woman down the hall. She was safe from Charity’s wrath because she would never claim Miles that way. She didn’t want him that way if she had to force him to want her. She wanted him to want her more than anything else in this world, but not because she had taken Selina from him.
She wished she could turn a cold heart to the world, but she would never be able to overcome her need for love. She might be rough around the edges, but she would never take another life for her own selfish purposes. It wasn't who she was, in spite of the fact that everyone called her Crazy Charity.
She couldn’t fall back to sleep right away so she spent most of last night packing her things and making them ready for an early morning departure. The less people she ran across tomorrow, the better her chances would be to get away from Creede without Miles trying to force her to stay.
Finally around three o’clock, she lay back down and drifted off to sleep. All too soon, she would have to rise and get out of town before someone tried to stop her.
She would miss Aggie and Hiram so much. They were so kind to her and never once had they hesitated to provide for her needs.
Perhaps one day, she would return to see them and her sisters and their families when she no longer cared whether or not Miles lived here with his baker wife. But until that day, she wouldn’t have the courage.
She lit a small candle on the vanity table and stood before the vanity mirror. Shadows filled the valleys underneath her tired eyes. She studied herself in all her slender naked glory, and wondered why a man like Miles couldn't love her.
And then she reminded herself. It wasn't her looks. He was a man and he couldn't hide his attraction to her. Sadness crept into her eyes as she met her own gaze. He couldn't love her because she was flawed and no amount of pretty dresses and pretty manners were gonna fix that.
She splashed water on her face and brushed her long copper hair free of tangles. She had done everything everyone had asked of her. Fix her hair. Wear perfume. Applied the best makeup with just the right touches to make a man swoon. But not the man she wanted. With all of her finishing touches to be a proper young lady, he still didn't want her. He would always be ashamed of her.
"It's over, Charity. Stop whining and get on with it," she admonished herself. She rummaged through the trunk at the foot of her bed where she had kept all of her old clothes, the ones everyone said she should throw away. But she hadn't been able to discard them. They were like her. Rough. Used. Discarded. Unwanted. And yet, they made her feel whole again.
She pulled out her leather pants...the ones that fit like a second skin. She slide them up her long slender legs. They hugged her curves and moved with her, not against her like her corset and all that other falderal women chose to imprison themselves inside.
Saddle bags, bed roll and oil-slick duster, she's ready for anything the weather can throw at her. And with two forty-four Colts, a rifle, her pocket pistol, and enough ammunition to hold off an Indian raid, she didn't need anything else—or anyone—but her own self.
She rummaged through the trunk until she had enough clothes to last a week or so. She could buy more on the road. She packed them in her bed roll and placed everything by her bedroom door. A quick glance around the candle-lit room, she blew out the candle and lay down to try to get a few more hours sleep.
Two hours later, just after five in the morning, the milkman with his milk cart rattled down the street jarring her awake. She was tired from lack of sleep, but there was a new energy that pushed her to get up and get moving. Ten minutes later, she shouldered her belongings. Careful and quiet, she made her way downstairs.
Charity stepped outside into the hall and listened. Not even Josh's usual snores were interrupting the silence. She could see that Miles and Selina's doors were closed. Still asleep. The thought made her sick and then it made her want to shoot holes through both doors.
But a lady never fires a bullet through an unopened door. She grinned to herself. She might just decide to take some of her money and open a school for girls herself. A school for peculiar girls. Like her. They could be taught to be part lady and part hell-raiser. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.
Charity tiptoed downstairs and into the parlor. Careful to avoid the creaking floorboards, she carried her gear to the unguarded parlor window on the south side of the house and opened it. She had decided if she could avoid both front and back doors in her escape from the house, she could avoid a confrontation with the guards. Since the parlor window wasn’t far from the ground outside, it offered the best chance to climb out without breaking something or being heard.
She dropped her gear out first and then she followed. Dropping to the ground outside, she waited to see if anyone would sound an alarm. No one did.
Resolve firmly in place, she hurried to the carriage house to saddle her horse. She wanted to be gone from here before Miles awoke and found her gone.
An experienced horsewoman, she saddled the gelding Hiram usually rode when he wasn't with Aggie in the carriage. The big-boned gray wasn't a fast mount, but he was sturdy and she needed a horse for the long trip to Utah Territory. She would send a letter to Hiram with money to pay for him for the horse. She didn’t want to be remembered as a horse thief.
Charity tied her bedroll over her saddle bags on
the back of her saddle and then slid her rifle into the sheath.
Around five thirty, the eastern sky pinked with corals and oranges and purple hues. Daylight was comin' and she needed to hurry.
She peeked out of the carriage house side door. She couldn’t be seen by Big Angus from here so she led the big gray out of the barn and across the neighbor’s yard. She just prayed the gelding didn’t neigh a goodbye to his stall mates.
Charity led the horse through the yard and on over to the next block. Confident she was free from detection, she stepped a foot into the stirrup and swung her other leg up and over the saddle. She took a deep breath and turned for one last look at the house she called home knowing that in just a few hours, they would realize she was gone. She wondered what Miles would think? Oh, he’d be mad because she disobeyed his orders and he was missing a witness, but would he be sad that she was gone? A quick glance toward the upstairs window at the back of the house where Selina slept and she decided probably not.
“Where you headed, Miss Charity? The sheriff said you can’t leave the house,” Angus’s voice whispered to her in the pre-dawn light.
She turned to see the big Irishman standing in the yard watching her. Damn it. “Angus, good morning. Um, I have to go, Angus. And since the sheriff won’t be happy about it, it’s probably best you don’t know. Sheriff can’t get mad at you that way,” she smiled at the big Irishman
She kicked her horse forward and reined him south not giving Angus a chance to think about whether he should try to stop her or not.
She hurried down the street, urging her horse into a fast trot. Perhaps she should stop by Grace and John’s on her way to Utah. To say goodbye. No, that wouldn’t be a good idea. Grace would just try to talk her out of leaving.
The rising sun cast a soft glow on the chilly mountain morning but it would be at least another hour before it cleared the top of the mountain. By then, she’d be gone and even if Miles did try to find her, he wouldn’t have any idea which way she rode.
Charity (Brides of the Rio Grande Book 4) Page 19