Not a Sparrow Falls (Wyldhaven Book 1)

by Lynnette Bonner

  She strode to her bureau and withdrew a blouse, two petticoats, and some skirts, and then paced back to the bed and dropped them over the box next to the valise. One at a time, she lifted items, folded them, and slipped them into the bag.

  Waddell watched her intently for a moment, but then, just as she had hoped, he apparently grew satisfied that she was indeed packing as instructed. He stepped over to one side of the window and prodded the lace curtain aside to peer out onto the street below.

  Charlotte slipped one hand beneath her clothes and eased open the lid on the box. She mentally ticked through the list of instructions the sheriff had explained to her. Lifting the skirt and the pistol together she used the material to shield the gun from Waddell’s sight. She wrapped firm fingers around the grip, just as Sheriff Callahan had shown her, and slipped her finger into the trigger guard. Be quick! She cocked back the hammer.

  Waddell flinched and started to spin toward her.

  But not before she tossed down the skirt. The gun bucked in her hand. She blinked at the hole she’d just blown through the window. She’d missed!

  Waddell bellowed and lunged toward her.

  Charlotte adjusted her aim and fired again. A chunk of wood chipped out of the wall just behind Waddell’s shoulder.

  He kept coming, his own pistol once more directed her way.

  Charlotte felt a puff of air pass her cheek, and then she heard a loud boom and saw smoke wafting from the end of Waddell’s six-shooter.

  A bullet had just barely missed her head! She blinked with the realization.

  And then Waddell was before her with the warm barrel of his gun pressed once more to her forehead. “Don’t. Even. Breathe,” he wheezed out.

  Her heart was hammering so hard, and her breaths coming in such rapid succession, that there was no way she could have obeyed his order, even if she had wanted to. Instead, she thrust her hands above her head. “All right. You win.”

  Despair swept through her.

  Blast her faulty aim!

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Reagan Callahan had just entered Dixie’s dining room and seated himself at a table when the first gunshot rent through the air, followed by tinkling glass.

  He lurched out of his seat and was out in the lobby trying to assess exactly where the shot had come from, when the second shot rang out, and he realized it was coming from directly upstairs! “Dixie, get everyone out the back door!” he bellowed as he took the stairs two at a time to the upper floor.

  Scuffling and more shots were coming from Charlotte’s room! Of course it was her room! Who else’s room would it be? He’d pulled his gun from its holster more times since she’d come to town just a few weeks ago than he had in the entire time he’d been sheriff before that.

  Without another moment’s thought, he lunged forward and kicked in Charlotte’s door. “This is Sheriff Callahan!” He plunged into the room, and in that split second took note of Patrick Waddell with his pistol to Charlotte’s head. His heart plummeted, but he put the first rule of any good lawman into practice. “Put down your weapon now!” Never let them see your fear.

  Charlotte jolted around to face him with a gasp of surprise.

  Patrick grabbed Charlotte and held her before him like a shield, his gun pressed to her temple. His gaze was narrow and calculating.

  Charlotte’s eyes were wide as they met Reagan’s across the room.

  He didn’t let his gun waver. “Let’s talk about this, Waddell. What are your options? You shoot her, and I’m just going to take you down.” The very words made his mouth dry.

  Patrick removed the muzzle from Charlotte’s temple and pointed it at Reagan over her shoulder instead, still clutching Charlotte as a shield. “How’s this for an option? I shoot you and then take the china doll here straight out of town?”

  Despite the threat in the words, Reagan felt relieved. Just as he’d hoped, Waddell had at least pointed the muzzle away from Charlotte for the moment. Now if he could just get Charlotte out of the man’s grasp, even for a fraction of a second. That would be all he’d need.

  “Why are you doing this, Waddell? She’s never hurt you.” Reagan sidled to his left a little, hoping to get a better shot.

  But Waddell turned to keep Charlotte fully in front of him. The outlaw laughed. “You really have to ask that question, Sheriff? Don’t you have eyes in your head? Look at this pretty specimen I’ve got in my arms right here.” He gave Charlotte a little shake and tilted his head to peer out from behind her and pin Reagan with a look.

  Reagan judged the distance between Waddell’s visible eye and Charlotte’s ear. Not enough room for a clean shot. Just a little more, Waddell. Keep talking to me. He took another small step.

  Waddell angled with him, tucking his head in closer to Charlotte again. “Come on, Sheriff. Don’t try to convince me you haven’t noticed. In fact, I’ve heard that you and the little miss here have become quite close. That’s the very reason I’m here. I’ve been lying awake nights pondering, you see. You set me up. Let the boys know I was going to be on that stage. This here”—Waddell grabbed Charlotte’s jaw and jostled her head—“is payback, Sheriff. Plain and simple.”

  In that moment, Reagan decided to give him what he wanted. “You’re right, Waddell. In fact, I plan to marry her, so I can’t let you walk out of here with her.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened.

  Reagan tipped her an apologetic look as he took another step to one side.

  Waddell chuckled. “I might even feel a little sorry to disappoint you, Sheriff. You should feel this little gal trembling. I’m betting she didn’t know you wanted to marry her.” He turned them again, but this time one of his legs planted a little wide.

  Reagan dared not look too closely lest he draw the man’s attention to it. “Haven’t you ever wanted a family, Patrick?”

  There was a moment of pause before Waddell replied, “Had me a family once. Pretty little woman and a little girl that looked just like her.” He huffed. “I’m afraid I wasn’t much of a father.”

  Reagan held steady this time. “What happened to them?”

  “Can’t rightly say that I know. Liora would have been ten when I left them. Haven’t seen them since.”

  Charlotte stiffened. “Liora? There’s a woman named Liora who is a—she works for Ewan McGinty, just next door.”

  “What?!” Patrick’s surprise was evident in the shuffling of his feet. One of his boots protruded just beyond the hem of Charlotte’s skirt.

  Reagan took the shot.

  Waddell screamed.

  Charlotte yelped and dove to one side. Her shoulder knocked Waddell’s arm, and his reflexive shot went wide.

  Reagan’s focus found the front pocket of Waddell’s shirt. He fired again.

  Waddell’s mouth dropped open, and he looked down at the crimson stain blooming across his chest. His hand fell limply to his side, and then the fingers went lax and his pistol thumped loudly to the floor. He took a stumbling step backward, and then his legs seemed to melt out from under him. He collapsed to the floor, his unseeing gaze pointed toward the ceiling.

  Reagan quick-footed it to Waddell’s side and kicked his pistol farther from his body. Bending, he felt for the man’s pulse. Nothing. Reagan sighed but gave himself only a moment to absorb the reality that he’d just taken a man’s life, before he thrust his own pistol back into his holster and hurried to Charlotte’s side.

  “Charlotte, I’m so sorry.” He squatted down next to her and laid a hand against her head. “It’s all right now.”

  Charlotte threw herself into his arms so forcefully that she nearly took him to the ground. “Oh, Reagan! I was so terrified!”

  Reagan closed his eyes and tucked her head against his chest. She would certainly not change her mind about going back east now. The ache that had begun earlier this afternoon when she’d said she wouldn’t be staying now burgeoned into a full-out pain.

  But just then she pushed back from him, swiped at the tears
on her cheeks, and pinned him with an almost desperate look. “You have to teach me to shoot!”

  He blinked.

  She gave a firm nod, her chin jutting off to one side. “I read the verses. You were right. I wasn’t trusting what I knew to be true. I’m staying! And I’ll learn to aim that blasted gun if it takes me a month of Sundays! I had the drop on him but missed twice!”

  Reagan’s heart still pounded, and he pulled her close again. He was actually glad that she wouldn’t have to bear the burden of having shot the man, but he knew better than to voice that thought aloud. And it really would be safer for her if she learned to handle the weapon properly.

  He spoke his next words directly into her ear, soft and low. “Yes, I’ll teach you to shoot.”

  Trembling, she nestled in just below his chin, and he couldn’t help but notice what a perfect fit she was in his arms.

  Movement drew his gaze to the doorway. Dixie stood there, skirts still clutched in her hands, mouth agape.

  Reagan cleared the emotion from his throat and gently set Charlotte back from him. He propped his hands on his hips and tipped his head toward the body. “Waddell was waiting for her when she got to her room.”

  Dixie’s eyes rounded even more. “Is she all right?”

  Reagan didn’t respond. They both turned to look at Charlotte.

  She twisted her fingers together, trembling visibly. And when she glanced over at Waddell, her face paled. As though she’d just lost all her strength, she sank onto the bed. Her focus shifted around the room until it rested on the pillow beside her. “I-I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to sleep in this room again.”

  “I have just the solution to that.” Reagan urged her to her feet and nudged her out the door. He prodded her down the stairs and out onto the street.

  She looked around numbly, her hands fiddling nervously with the material of her skirt.

  He placed one hand to the small of her back and turned her toward the alley. He prayed his mother would be home and not out on a delivery of some sort.

  As they walked, he considered… Was he putting Ma in danger by bringing Charlotte to her home? The Waddell gang had put out the word that they held Charlotte responsible for Waddell’s death when he wasn’t even really dead. Wouldn’t they come after her with even more gusto now that their leader actually was dead? Unless… He squinted. Could it be that Waddell and Lenny had been the last of the gang? There might be no one left to come after Charlotte now that Lenny and the other members who had been rounded up by Joe were in jail and Waddell was dead.

  He scrubbed one hand over the back of his neck and thought through all the potential outcomes. And by the time they reached his mother’s clapboard house at the back edge of town, he was satisfied that the danger to Charlotte from the Waddell gang had likely passed.

  Even if there was a remnant of the gang’s members, their time and thoughts would likely be taken up with vying for top spot in the new pecking order. Charlotte was most likely not going to be a priority any longer. At any rate, Ma knew how to protect herself, if it came to that. And Charlotte soon would too.

  His mother’s place came into view, and Reagan directed Charlotte up the stairs. When they entered the front door, Ma took one look at Charlotte, bounced a glance off him, and rose from the dining room chair where she’d been kneeling, hands folded, when they walked in.

  Ma stretched her arms wide and enfolded Charlotte in her full embrace. “Come here, darlin’. Was all that kerfuffling something to do with you? I’ve just the thing! A hot bath ought to fix you up just right.”

  Over Charlotte’s shoulder, Ma’s worried gaze searched him from the top of his hat to the tips of his boots.

  With a gentle smile, he spun around so she could see the back of him had no holes in it ether.

  She rolled her eyes and shooed Reagan toward the exit, giving him a look that assured him Charlotte would be in good hands.

  The next Saturday, Charlotte once again found herself riding on a wagon seat next to Sheriff Callahan as they headed out for her promised shooting lesson. The sheriff had arranged with his mother for Charlotte to stay in her spare room for the remainder of the school year, for which Charlotte was very thankful. She shuddered at the memory of Patrick Waddell’s lifeless body on the floor in the middle of her room.

  She and Reagan had been to visit Liora right after the incident. Considering that she’d only recently lost her mother, Liora took the news about the death of her father rather well. “Ma always said he’d be the cause of his own death” was all she’d said. Charlotte had been surprised by her lack of emotion, but then again, maybe a woman who’d been raised and then abandoned by a man such as that would feel more relief than sorrow at his death?

  How sad.

  Her face must have revealed her agitation, for the sheriff took one look at her and shifted on the seat next to her. “So tell me how you’ve been? Enjoying our crisp Wyldhaven autumn weather?” His tone was light. An obvious attempt at diverting her thoughts.

  Charlotte glanced over at him. They had hardly spoken to each other since he’d left her in his mother’s kitchen right after the shooting, but one thought had plagued her from that moment to this. Had he really meant he wanted to marry her? Or had he only been saying that to distract Waddell?

  He’d stopped by her classroom yesterday, but he’d made no mention of the subject. He’d only stopped to see if she wanted to go shooting this afternoon. She presumed he’d been waiting till after the coach had come and gone to see if she really would stick with her decision to stay in Wyldhaven.

  Despite the fact that she only wanted to discuss one subject, the better question would be to ask him how he was faring after taking a man’s life—even if he was a low-down kidnapper and outlaw—so she turned his question back on him. “How have you been?”

  His lips pinched in a way that told her he hadn’t missed the real reason for her question. He scrubbed one hand over his jaw. “I’ve killed two men in my time as a lawman. Both of them were outlaws set on hurting someone. Despite that, it’s never easy to live with the knowledge that you are the reason another human being is now walking in eternity.” He shrugged. “The angst will pass. Even slept pretty good last night.”

  Charlotte was glad to hear he seemed to be handling it all right. She smoothed a hand over a pleat in her skirt. “I…I wanted to thank you for asking your mother to put me up.” A shudder shivered across her shoulders. “I don’t think I could have—” She cleared her throat.

  The sheriff reached over and squeezed her hand. He didn’t say anything, nor did he keep her hand in his, but the gesture was comfort enough to ease a sigh from her lips and to cause contentment to bloom to life in her heart.

  Reagan reined the wagon to a stop and once again pulled her pistol out of its box. He studied her, wondering if the sight of the weapon would cause her anxiety, but her demeanor seemed steady and at peace.

  While he’d been loading the gun, she’d dragged his old wooden barrel target into place against the base of the cliffs, so all that remained to be done was to once more show her how to hold the gun and let her begin to practice.

  “Come here.” He motioned her over right in front of him and turned her to face the target. He reached around either side of her to demonstrate the clasp he wanted her to use. He held the pistol in a two-fisted grip. “I want you to hold the gun like this. You take your right hand”—he spread open her fingers, trying to ignore how soft her skin felt beneath his own calloused ones—“and you tuck the butt of the pistol in tight against your palm like so.” As he leaned around her shoulder to better see if she was following his commands correctly, a scent that reminded him of Ma’s lilac bush tugged for his attention.

  Business, Callahan.

  He forced his focus back to his instructions. “And then you are going to wrap these three fingers around the handle, and this first one slips into the loop of the trigger guard, like so. Now…” He reached to guide her other hand up to support th
e pistol. “This hand just acts a little like a guide.” He smoothed her fingers around her others and wrapped his own hands around the outside of hers.

  With his face so close to her hair, the lilac scent practically danced in his senses now. He swallowed. Drew in another breath and let the scent linger before expelling it slowly.

  Charlotte tilted her head to get a better look at him over her shoulder, which put her face within an inch of his.

  He didn’t pull back, because dash it, he didn’t want to think about business at the moment. Hang it all, he didn’t even want to remember that he was a sheriff at the moment. All he wanted to think about was kissing Miss Charlotte Brindle.

  Her tongue darted over her lips, captivating his attention in a most alluring way.

  He let his hands trail across the softness of her forearms to her elbows and then slip down to pry the pistol from her fingers. His focus never leaving her face, he stowed the Bulldog in the back of his belt. He wrapped one hand around her waist and angled her toward him.

  Her hands skimmed over his chest and came to rest at each side of his neck. A glint of mischief softened her eyes, and she tilted her head to give him a coy bat of her lashes. “Is this part of learning to shoot a gun, Sheriff?”

  He felt a slow grin bloom on his face. “Oh, I’m thinking about making it a regular part of our lessons, of a certainty.”

  A pretty blush that reminded him of peaches and cream shaded her cheeks.

  Charlotte felt a tremor sweep through her. She’d known this man for only a few short weeks, and already she felt more for him than she ever had for anyone. The intensity of her emotions frightened her a little. She’d never felt this much for anyone before. She lowered her eyes from his so he wouldn’t see just how much his words pleased her.

  But he touched her chin and bent to reconnect their gazes. His thumb traced gentle strokes along the dip just below her lower lip. “I said something the other day, when Waddell had you. It was maybe a bit premature and brash.”