She imagined the man driving out of town right in front of the sheriff and Deputy Joe, tipping his hat, and offering them a smile. Maybe they even knew who the man was and wouldn’t question a thing!
And what about poor Zoe, tied up back there? The poor girl was probably terrified.
Lord, I’m trying to trust You here. But it seems like ever since I placed foot in this town, bad things have happened. Wouldn’t good be happening if she was actually where God wanted her to be? She had tried to befriend Liora, and look how that had turned out. When she’d learned yesterday evening what the poor girl had tried to do, Charlotte had felt so discouraged. Maybe she should have pressed harder to be her friend. And now Zoe had been a victim, and this time directly because of her!
Her asthma began to tighten a band around her chest. Stay calm. Breathe slowly. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes. I’m right here, Reagan. Come find me, please, and I might even return to Boston, as you’ve so persistently requested.
The September morning had been cool, but now the sun must be up and baking down on the crate, because Charlotte felt the air in the box pressing down on her, growing thick. The gag in her mouth sopped up any moisture as soon as it was produced, and her tongue felt like a dried stick. It also prevented her from being able to gasp for the air her lungs now so desperately craved.
She clenched her eyes closed. Willed herself to imagine fresh clean air. Inhale. Exhale. But as the weight on her chest seemed to grow heavier, her panic began to rise.
Reagan was shaking. His worst nightmare had just come true. If he lost her… He forced out a calming puff of air. Concentrate. Nothing good would come from panicking.
He stepped out the back door of Dixie’s Boardinghouse and scanned the ground. The twins, Shiloh and Sharon, were just coming out from behind the hedge. “Go on into the schoolroom, girls.” He motioned for them to be silent and to cut a wide arc around him so they wouldn’t disturb any tracks. “Your sister Belle is inside waiting for you.”
“But where’s Zoe?”
“She’s in there too. Go on now. And stay inside.”
He turned his attention back to the ground. There! He squatted for a better look. Two sets of footprints visible in the dust, one small and delicate, the other larger and made by someone much heavier. The kidnapper couldn’t be more than a couple minutes ahead of him, could he? Not if the twins had just finished at the outhouse.
Reagan jogged forward, pausing now and again to pick up the trail. There was one good thing about Wyldhaven’s dirt roads…they were almost as good as a book for reading sign. When the trail came to an abrupt end directly behind the jail, he almost cursed. But a few moments of scouting led him to the alley where fresh wagon tracks could be seen between McGinty’s and the jailhouse. Reagan jogged toward the main street and burst out onto it, glancing in the direction the tracks had curved.
There at the end of the street, just passing the livery, a wagon trundled out of town. But there was only one hunched-over occupant on the seat. Reagan narrowed his eyes. He spun back to look the other way just in case. No conveyances in sight.
Making a quick decision, he dashed for the livery, hoping Joe would have their horses ready. He needed to stop that wagon before it got out of sight!
Thankfully, Joe was just leading both their mounts out of the barn when Reagan sprinted into the yard. Reagan didn’t even hesitate but grabbed his stallion’s reins and swung into the saddle. “Wagon on the main road. Let’s go!” He put his heels to his steed and galloped out to the road at full tilt. He could hear Joe right on his heels.
His heart hammered. What if this was a distraction? A lure to mislead them?
They easily caught up to the heavy vehicle only a few minutes later. Now that he was closer, he could see that Lenny Smith was the driver. He hadn’t seen Lenny about town since that day in McGinty’s when they’d laid their trap.
“Lenny, stop the wagon!”
“Ain’t got time, Sheriff. I gots to get to Cedar Falls pronto,” Lenny called over his shoulder. He looked stiff and agitated.
Joe gave Reagan a pinched-lip look.
“Keep a lookout.” Reagan spoke quietly to Joe and motioned for him to stay behind the wagon. Then he shucked his Colt, urged his mount past the wagon, and pulled to a stop in front of it with his pistol leveled at Lenny’s head. “I said, pull your wagon to a stop, Lenny!”
“Whoa!” Lenny’s face was pale, and he hauled back on the reins so hard that one of his matched pair whinnied and rose up on its back legs. “Now, Sheriff, you got no call to be so persnickety! I ain’t done nothin’!”
“We’ll see about that. What you got in the back there?”
Lenny squirmed on his seat. “Nothing but some supplies for the mercantile over in Cedar Falls. Jerry Hines had some things that ol’ Buzz ain’t got. Figured to turn a little profit by sellin’ Buzz some claptrap.”
Joe spoke up from behind. “Then you won’t mind if we take a look, will you?”
“I’d be happy to let you take a look if I had the time. But I’m on a deadline, of sorts. Have to beat Dan Waters from down Seattle way, else he’ll be makin’ a deal with Buzz ’fore I do!”
Reagan let the cocking of his pistol tell Lenny what he thought about that. “Step on down from that seat, Lenny.”
“Awe, Sheriff, seriously now. It ain’t nothing but food and supplies!”
Just then a muffled groan and several thumps emanated from the back of the wagon.
Lenny’s eyes widened, and he slammed the reins down onto his matched blacks. “Get up!” The wagon lurched forward, but Reagan held his ground, knowing the horses were trained well enough that they wouldn’t run him over.
They shied and came to a dancing stop just in front of his own mount, which bobbed its head in irritation at their close proximity.
Reagan reached out and grasped the chin strap of the nearest harness so the horses wouldn’t be tempted to bolt again. “Lenny, if I have to tell you to get off that seat again, you’re going to be wheezing air through a nice round hole in your chest.”
Lenny threw his hands above his head. “All right! All right! But I just want to say, he made me do it! Weren’t my idea, no sir!”
All Reagan could think about was getting to Charlotte and making sure she was unharmed, but he couldn’t get too hasty and let Lenny escape. “Down on your belly. Hands behind your head! Now!”
Lenny complied.
“Joe?”
“I got him.” Joe swung out of his saddle and grabbed his wrist irons from his belt.
Seeing that Lenny was taken care of, Reagan holstered his weapon, swung from his saddle, and leapt up onto the wheel to survey the contents of the wagon.
There! She must be in that crate! Kegs, casks, and boxes were piled all over the crate. He tossed them aside as fast as he could. “Charlotte, are you in there? Talk to me!”
The only answer was silence.
Chapter Nineteen
The lid was wrenched from her tiny prison, and Charlotte had never felt so thankful to feel the burn of the sun against her eyes. Or to hear Reagan Callahan’s voice. She squinted blindly at the hands reaching in for her and battled the sunspots in her vision until her feet were solidly on the roadbed and she could close them for a moment.
“Oh, Reagan! Zoe—” Her words choked off.
“Zoe’s fine,” he rushed to assure her. “Doc Griffin is probably looking her over even now.” He made quick work of the ropes binding her wrists and ankles.
Relief sapped the remainder of her strength. She clung to him and slumped forward until her face pressed against his broad chest. She fought for breath. “I…was so afraid you wouldn’t…find me!”
One of his hands stroked over the back of her head. “I’ve got you now. Everything’s going to be all right.”
She gripped a double handful of his shirt and fought to pull the elusive oxygen into her lungs. “I…can’t…breathe.”
He smoothed her hands open until they pr
essed flat against his shirt, the firm muscles of his chest beneath. It wasn’t proper for her to be touching him so, but her need for air took precedence over what should be shock at his impropriety.
“Feel me breathing? Breathe with me. Slowly. Here we go…” He pulled in a long, slow inhale that she tried to match. “…And now out.”
She pursed her lips as her doctor had showed her to do and forced herself to keep pushing air out even though she wanted to do nothing more than suck madly for every last morsel of oxygen she could capture.
“Good. In…and out…”
It was doing no good. Her lungs were not opening this time. Panic gripped her by the throat, and she started to tremble. Her hands fisted into the material of his shirt, and she felt herself stumble sideways a step.
Reagan gripped her by the shoulders. “Stay with me, Charlie darlin’. Just stay with me.” He forced her hands to unclench and pressed them flat against his chest once more. “Feel it! We’ll breathe a little shallower at first this time.” He drew air in slowly.
She did her best to imitate him but ended up bent double and coughing. His hands tightened around her shoulders as he spoke soothingly and refused to let her go. Finally she was able to inhale. First one shuddering breath and then another.
“Good.” He placed her hands against him once more. His chest moved beneath her fingers again, and she exhaled with him.
Slowly her lungs gave up their clench, and she sagged forward, feeling the cool imprint of one of his shirt buttons against her cheek. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure if she was thanking Reagan or God, but hopefully both understood her appreciation.
She felt a tremor slip through the muscles beneath her cheek, and he whispered a few muffled words that might have been a prayer of his own.
Deputy Joe stepped up with a man in handcuffs by his side.
Reagan slowly set Charlotte back from him. And then he turned and slugged the prisoner right across his jaw!
Charlotte yelped and jumped back. “Reagan!”
The prisoner went to the ground like a sack of rocks that had just been dropped.
Reagan didn’t even spare Charlotte a look. He was glowering at the prisoner, who lay sprawled on the ground, gingerly assessing the damage to his lips and cheek. “You could have killed her!”
Wiping blood from his split lip onto his shoulder, the man spat. “I didn’t know she had a lung disease, Sheriff. Honest I didn’t.” A startled look crossed his face. “I ain’t gonna catch it, am I?”
Reagan grabbed him by his collar and yanked him to his feet. “I doubt you are going to live long enough to have to worry about that, Lenny.” He gave the man a shove toward Deputy Joe. “Joe, tie him to your saddle and walk him back into town, would you? I’ll take Charlotte on ahead in the wagon.”
Charlotte wasn’t sure whether to be flattered that Reagan thought enough of her to clobber his prisoner that way, or terrified of a man seemingly so prone to violence.
After he helped her onto the seat, he tied his own horse to the back of the wagon. She simply sat in silence. She offered a fleeting prayer of thanks to God that this apparently wasn’t going to be her last day on earth after all, and tried to remember what day it was that the stagecoach came through town. Surely she’d misheard God. All these bad things had to be Him telling her to return home, didn’t they?
After a moment, the sheriff climbed up beside her and set the wagon into motion. He shifted. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit him in front of you like that. Just…seeing you unable to breathe…” A muscle worked in his jaw. “That scared me. A lot.”
Charlotte darted him a look. “I would think a man in your position out here in the wilds of the West would have been faced by men much scarier than him.”
“Oh, I have been. But it wasn’t Lenny who scared me. It was the thought of losing y—” He broke off and cleared his throat.
Charlotte felt her eyes widen. Her heart thumped against her breastbone.
He glanced over and captured her gaze, and for a long moment they simply looked at one another. His vivid-blue eyes were soft and full of an emotion she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it made her mouth turn dry and her palms turn clammy. She tore her gaze from his and faced the road before them.
Her thoughts drifted first to Senator Sherman and then to Mr. Covington—both men who hadn’t thought her worthy of fidelity. Would a man like Reagan be any different? She couldn’t deny that she found the man attractive, but the realization that he might reciprocate the feeling filled her with apprehension. If they started courting, would he too one day betray her? The thought lodged a painful lump just below her heart. She hadn’t known him long, but she would almost call Reagan a friend, and she hated the thought of one day feeling toward him as she felt toward Senator Sherman or Mr. Covington each time she thought of them now.
Yet she couldn’t dismiss his comments from the dance about his Savior being more important to him. There had also been his murmured words… Any man who would cheat on you is a fool.
Her heart hammered at that memory. She clenched her hands atop her skirts. She could ponder more on that later. Right now she had a more pressing question. “Sheriff, have you ever thought you heard from the Lord only to later question if it were true?”
He looked over at her. “What did you think you heard?”
She shrugged. “Well… Before I came here, I prayed for the Lord to lead my steps. Then I noticed Mr. Heath’s ad. And everything went so smoothly I just thought it must be God opening the doors for me. But now… My staying has put my students in danger.”
He pulled the wagon to a stop in the middle of the road and planted his elbows onto his knees. Just ahead of them Wyldhaven stretched out, the livery on the near end and the river on the other. Several children were just now coming across the bridge, presumably headed for school.
The sheriff finally spoke. “I think we often make the mistake of thinking that if we are in the center of God’s will there should be no troubles or hardship. But take the apostle Paul. He was warned that going to Jerusalem would result in his death, yet he also knew that was where he was called to go.”
Charlotte’s lips quirked. “Are you trying to say that staying might get me killed?”
He didn’t smile as she’d thought he would. Instead he reached over and wrapped one of her escaped curls around his finger. He rubbed it with this thumb, studying it for a moment, and then finally he lifted his eyes to hers. “I certainly hope not. I’m going to do my best to ensure that doesn’t happen.” There was a softness in his gaze that made a tremor sweep through her. “The judge may require you to testify for a conviction.”
She pushed away concerns about a looming trial for the moment. “I thought you would be elated if I said I was thinking about going back home.”
He loosed her hair and scrubbed one hand across his stubbled jaw. “For the sake of your safety, I ought to be. However…” He turned to meet her gaze once more. “I find I’m loathe to give up the pleasure of your company.”
Charlotte smoothed a trembling hand over her skirts and tore her gaze from his. “You have given me much to ponder. For now I need to get back to my classroom and get on with my day.”
“No one would blame you for cancelling classes after what must have been quite a traumatic morning for you.”
Charlotte tipped up her chin. “I’m afraid it was probably even more traumatic for Zoe.”
The sheriff smirked. “I think you’ll find that Zoe Kastain is made of sterner stuff than you might realize. As are you.”
“I hope that’s true on both counts.” She pleated a piece of lace trim along her sleeve and offered him a smile. “Here I am late for my first day of classes, and I had a speech about the importance of promptness all planned.”
He slapped the reins against the horses’ rumps, setting them down the road once more. “I think kidnapping should be an exception to your rules.”
Charlotte glanced over at him.
&nbs
p; He grinned and shrugged. “Well, don’t you?”
She laughed. “Yes. I suppose that’s as good of an excuse as any for tardiness.”
“You sure you should go ahead with classes today?”
She shrugged. “Sterner stuff, didn’t you say? And it will help me keep my mind off—” A sudden thought struck her. “You don’t think they would come back, do you? Today?” Her stomach pitched, and her lungs threatened to rebel from doing their duty yet again.
He adjusted his Stetson, a grim look crimping his lips. “I doubt it, but as soon as I get Smith settled in the jail, I’ll come over and sit in the lobby right outside the classroom door.”
Charlotte immediately felt chagrin for her fears. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure all will be fine. I don’t want you squandering a day on account of me.”
He pulled the wagon to a stop in front of Dixie’s and came around to help her down. As he settled his hands around her waist and lifted her to the ground, he said, “It’s not a squander. I’d be doing the very thing I was hired to do—protecting a Wyldhaven citizen.”
Of course. The man was only doing his job, naught more. “Well then, I thank you, Sheriff.” She started to pull away, but his hands tightened about her waist.
Eyes widening, she lifted her gaze to his.
“Some citizens are a lot more pleasant to protect than others, Charlotte.” He let go of her then and stepped back, giving the brim of his hat a tug as one eyelid lowered in a quick wink. “And don’t forget about our shooting lesson this afternoon.” He leapt up to the seat, clucked his tongue to the horses, and left her standing, mouth agape, in a cloud of dust in front of Dixie’s.
The man had made “shooting lesson” sound like an evening of courting in a Boston parlor. “Oh for heaven’s sake, Charlotte. Pull yourself together. The man is nothing like Kent or the senator.” Maybe he was one of the reasons the Lord had directed her to Wyldhaven? The thought made her heart pound in anticipation.
Not a Sparrow Falls (Wyldhaven Book 1) Page 25