Charlotte set aside her worry over the boy and returned her attention to the rowdy bunch dancing by their desks. She couldn’t help but grin at the students’ exuberance. “Sit down, everyone, please.”
The students complied, even if it was with a great deal of clamor.
“My surprise will be put on the train next week, so should be arriving in Snohomish before we know it! I’ll give it to you at the town’s Christmas festival—”
“Festival?” This again from Zoe. “But we ain’t never had a festival before.”
Charlotte was so shocked by the statement that she forgot to correct the girl’s grammar.
“Yeah!” chimed in the youngest Nolan brother, Grant. “Our pa says there’s no time for celebrating during the month when the ground is frozen good and hard.”
No Christmas Festival? Charlotte put one hand to her throat. “What does the ground being frozen solid have to do with not celebrating Christmas?” Even to her own ears she could hear the breathy disappointment in her question.
Most of the students looked back and forth at each other with expressions that indicated they couldn’t believe she didn’t already know the answer.
Washington came to her rescue. “Hauling logs is heavy work. Any kind of mud, and the wagon wheels sink right down into it and make for some miserable slow days of fighting with stuck wagons. But when the ground is frozen, well, that’s good log-hauling time.”
“I see.” Charlotte tugged at the lace of her cuffs. “But surely…taking off for one day can’t hurt too much? To celebrate the birth of our Lord?”
Washington merely lifted his hands as though silently saying, “I’m just telling you the way of it.”
Charlotte pulled in a breath. Wyldhaven would have Christmas this year if she had anything to say about it. “Well, I’ll just have to see what I can do. For now, you are all dismissed. Remember to button up your coats, everyone. It sure is cold out there!”
Today of all days, Charlotte would miss being able to just stay in the warmth of the building to dart up the back stairs to her room. Since she’d been staying at Mrs. Callahan’s place, she would have to button up just like the rest of the students. She didn’t envy those who had several miles to walk in this weather. The two blocks to Mrs. Callahan’s place was going to be cold enough. The weather had turned decidedly menacing. This morning she had woken up to blustery wind blasts accompanied by icicles dangling from her window frame. And all day long low hanging, blue-gray clouds had hung eerily quiet above Wyldhaven.
She slipped on her coat and gathered up her books and the reports that a few of the children had finished. She would need to correct them tonight. Taking her scarf from the rack in the corner, she wrapped it snugly about her neck and lower face and made her way out into the elements.
Thankfully, this cold weather had transformed the mud that normally sucked at her boots into a hard ungiving surface. Still, she really needed to talk to the town council about getting some boardwalks built in town. The wind whipped up her hems and blasted chill gusts around her ankles. Clutching her books tightly to her chest, she hunched her shoulders against the weather and tucked her face as far into her scarf as she could get it to go. Half a block down, one and a half blocks to go. She dashed around the corner between the sheriff’s office and McGinty’s Alehouse and smacked into a person coming the other way.
“Whoa!”
“Sheriff!” Her heart hammered even as her books and papers clattered out of her hands and tumbled before the wind.
“Oh no!” She started after them.
But Sheriff Callahan gripped her shoulders. “You stay here in the alley where there’s less wind. I’ll grab your papers.” Clapping his hat to his head with one hand, the sheriff chased some students’ reports down the street. He caught one, then two. And then gathered a few more that had plastered themselves against the side of the watering trough.
Charlotte picked up the heavier books that had fallen at her feet.
The sheriff had caught all but one final report now, and he hurried after it. Each time he got close, a wind gust picked the paper up again and scuttled it a few feet farther. Holding the reports that he had gathered in one hand—which also kept his hat atop his head—and scuttling low as he tried to catch the last report, the sheriff looked rather like a crab skittering down the main street of Wyldhaven.
Charlotte couldn’t help a giggle.
Even from here she heard his grumble of disgust as he bent to retrieve the paper and yet again the wind skipped it out of his reach. Charlotte’s laugh was a bit malicious this time. Served the man right for ignoring her for all these weeks!
He finally caught up to the last report and returned with them to the alley. “Got them all. Sorry about that.”
She took the papers and then lifted one side of her skirts and gave him a deep curtsy, still clutching her books in one arm. “Much obliged, Sheriff.” She let the icy feeling that encapsulated her heart seep into the tone of her words.
He blinked, opened his mouth as though to say something, but then snapped it shut again. Tugging on the brim of his hat, he made to step around her and hasten on his way.
She couldn’t let him go because she really needed to tell him about Mr. Heath’s letter, even if the sheriff already seemed determined to cut off their courtship. Courtship? Was that what they’d had? Could one call a single kiss a courtship?
The sheriff had taken a couple steps away by this time.
“Might I talk you into a piece of pie, Sheriff?” Despite the chill wind whipping past the end of the alley, Charlotte felt her face heat. The man likely thought her rather forward. Well, there was nothing for it now that the invitation was offered but to press on. She glanced down and doodled her toe against the frosty side of a rock. “I was just headed home to your mother’s place. I’m sure she probably has some pie left over from last night’s dinner?” She hurried on to add, “My way of repaying you for the kindness of chasing down my papers, you understand.”
Reagan stepped back into the wind-break offered by the alley. He tugged at the leather gloves encasing his fingers, his gaze drilling into hers the entire time. After a long moment he scrubbed his chin against the shoulder of his coat and transferred his focus to the ground. “Miss Brindle, perhaps there is something we need to discuss—”
Charlotte held up one hand to keep him from going on. She was piqued enough with the man without allowing him to exacerbate her feelings by apologizing for the kiss. “Sheriff Callahan, I can assure you that there is no need for a discussion. I have clearly received the message you’ve been sending the past few weeks, and I merely wanted you to know that I agree. I received a letter from Mr. Heath just today.” Reagan’s gaze darted to hers, but she pressed on before he could interrupt. “And after… well… after our last shooting lesson, despite the distance that has come between us since then, I figured it would be best for me to discuss its contents with you. In the letter Mr. Heath lays out a list of rules that he had forgotten to include when he hired me. And amongst the rules is one that says…” By the amount of warmth in her face, her cheeks were probably as rosy as Zoe Kastain’s looked when Washington Nolan twitted her about one thing or another in the classroom. She cleared her throat. “It says that I’m not free to, ah, socialize with gentlemen. So you see…you’ve nothing to fear from me. I think our feelings are actually quite aligned on the matter.”
He stepped closer. “Actually, I’m not convinced they are.”
Charlotte felt her eyes widen. Now whatever could he mean by that? But in his typical silent manner, he didn’t elaborate. The alleyway suddenly felt like very close quarters with him looking at her as softly as he was.
She licked her lips and stepped back, hugging her books and papers before her like a shield. “Anyhow, you see, since we live in such a small town and ought to be on friendly terms, I thought…a slice of the pie I made yestereve might suffice as an offering of friendship?”
“Forgive me, Miss Brindle,
for assuming. You see, I received a telegram from Mr. Heath several weeks ago. He informed me in no uncertain terms that as sheriff it was my duty to make sure the laws of the town were upheld. He sent me an abbreviated list of the rules for the new schoolteacher, and…” Puzzlement furrowed his brow. “Ben King informed me that you had also picked up a telegram. I assumed yours was the same as mine.”
Charlotte felt a shiver that had very little to do with the gusting wind shake her shoulders. “I see.” So he had known about Mr. Heath’s rules for weeks?
“You are telling me that you only just today received his list of rules?”
She nodded. “The telegram I received a few weeks back was to inform me that my cousin and her husband had been blessed with a new daughter.”
If possible, Reagan’s face softened even more. “Then I sincerely apologize for what must have seemed to you my rather callous and cavalier behavior.”
Her throat was so tight she barely managed to breathe out, “Have no fear, Sheriff. All is forgiven.”
Reagan rubbed the back of one gloved hand against his chin. “His list, and perhaps that last run-in with Waddell, did get me to thinking about my own job. It carries a great deal of risk. Not a job for a family man.”
Charlotte felt her brow furrow slightly. So… He was telling her that even if it wasn’t for Mr. Heath’s list he wouldn’t want to come calling on her.
Before she could gather her thoughts enough to question him on it, he said, “As for your invitation… Did you make this pie?”
Charlotte blinked, scrambling to catch back up with his return to the earlier topic. “Indeed, I did.”
“Well then...I’m afraid I have pressing business on the other side of town.”
Her jaw dropped, despite all the harping Miss Gidden, her former finishing school mistress, had leveled her way for that particularly unladylike habit, but then she took note of the twinkle in Reagan’s eyes.
He laughed outright and offered her the aid of his elbow. “If we are to be friends, you’d best get used to a little teasing now and again, Miss Brindle.”
Charlotte tucked one hand into the crook of his arm, relieved to have the awkward discussion behind them. Now to move them on to a different topic. She glanced up at him. “I’m actually glad I ran into you. I was just talking with my students and they have informed me that there is no formal Christmas celebration in town. I would like to remedy that.”
Reagan gave her a look that could have almost been interpreted as a grimace. “I’m afraid that’s not going to be an easy battle to take on. As you know, logging is a serious business ’round these parts. And with this storm whipping up, the ground is setting in to freeze good and hard any day now. There will be lots of log hauling that begins the moment that happens. The men don’t get paid unless those logs make it to the mill. As soon as the road between the logging camp and the creek freezes up, none of them will be wanting to take any time off, even to celebrate Christmas.”
“Well, that’s just positively barbaric!”
Reagan helped her up the stairs to his mother’s porch and then opened the door for her. They swept inside, and Charlotte set her books down on the side table and allowed him to help her off with her wraps.
“There’s nothing barbaric about wanting to get paid so you can provide for your family.”
Charlotte scrunched up her nose. “No. I suppose not. Still… It seems such a shame to allow the celebration of the Lord’s birth to pass the town by without so much as even a hint of celebration. I’ll put my mind to coming up with something.”
Reagan sighed. “I’m sure you will.”
She spun toward him. “And what does that mean?”
He lifted his palms. “Only that you have a singular mind for accomplishing whatever you set your heart to, and I wouldn’t expect anything less in this situation.”
His face held innocence, even if there was a bit of a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“Very well, Sheriff. I suppose I shall let your potentially reprobate comments slide, just this once.”
“Reprobate? You must have me confused with someone else!” He winked at her.
She held aloft one finger. “But only if you agree to take me into Snohomish in three weeks to collect some boxes that my father will ship to me.”
Reagan frowned. “Can’t you just let them arrive on the coach in the normal fashion the next week?”
Charlotte shrugged. “I suppose I could. But that would only give me two days to get the presents all sorted and wrapped. This is a special shipment of Christmas toys I had Father put together for the children, and I know I shan’t rest until the whole load of them are safely in my own hands.”
Reagan hung his head, obviously doing his best to look put-upon. “Very well. I believe I could manage to suffer through a trip all the way to Snohomish snuggled beneath a bearskin with you.”
Charlotte pinched her lips together and narrowed her eyes at him, doing her best not to respond to his flirting. “Very kind of you, I’m sure.”
The sheriff pressed one hand to his chest and offered her a deep bow.
Charlotte couldn’t help the laugh that burst forth. So much for not responding. “Oh do get on with you.”
“What? Without my slice of pie? Not on your life, little lady.”
Charlotte gave him a roll of her eyes. “Very well. I suppose a girl can’t go back on her word.” She turned and led him toward the kitchen where his mother would no doubt be sitting by the lamp at the dining table putting the finishing touches to some of the darning projects she took in each week.
Reagan’s boots clumped down the corridor after her. “No indeed, Miss Brindle. No indeed.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Jacinda Callahan listened with a bit of trepidation to the conversation taking place between her son and Miss Brindle in the entryway. There seemed to be a bit of reservation crackling in the air between them. That was good, she supposed. They had grown close much too quickly for her liking when Charlotte first came to town. Not because she objected to the girl. Not at all. Quite the contrary, it was her love for the girl that made her not want their relationship to work out.
She had been waiting for a long time for her son to discover the love of his life, and she had a feeling she was finally seeing that dream come to fruition before her very eyes. And yet she couldn’t feel easy about it. Not when she knew full well the dangers of Reagan’s job.
The young people bustled into the dining room and she tucked her head over her mending and pretended great interest in darning the hole in the sock she was working on.
Charlotte inhaled appreciatively. “Dinner smells delicious. I hope you don’t mind that I invited this drifter I found loitering about town to share the meal with us?” There was a note of levity in her words.
Jacinda smiled fondly at her son. “I don’t mind in the least. It’s good to see you, son. How were things about town today?”
Reagan pulled out a chair and hooked his Stetson over the back of it as he sank down and folded his hands atop the table. “Rather quiet today, which is just fine with me. The cold weather is keeping people indoors, I suppose.”
“I’ll set the table.” Charlotte squeezed Jacinda’s shoulders, a sweet gesture the girl offered each day when she arrived home.
A gesture she would dearly miss if the girl ever decided to go back home to her people in Boston. A feeling of despair settled into the region of Jacinda’s heart as she watched her son’s gaze follow Charlotte into the kitchen. His blue eyes were soft and full of an emotion Jacinda never recalled seeing there before.
She pulled her thread taut, but kept her focus on her son’s face when she said quietly, “She’s a nice girl.”
Reagan seemed to start at the realization that she was still in the room. He fidgeted in his chair like he’d done as a boy when she’d caught him stealing cookies from the jar. One of his fingers traced over the darker wood of the knot in the center of the table. “Yes’m. Right nice.”
“A very nice girl who deserves a man who will come home to her every evening and not leave her widowed at twenty-nine.”
Reagan’s jaw bunched, and he rubbed it with the pads of his fingers. “Yes, ma’am. Zeb sent me a telegram that got me thinking on that.”
“Thinking on it with the intention of doing something about it? Or just thinking on it?”
Reagan gave her a sharp look. “You know Zeb. He won’t brook any of his employees bucking his rules.”
“Well, that’s true enough.” She sighed. How many times had she asked him to give up working for the law? Not that she wanted him to switch sides. Just that she wanted him to do something safe like farming or cattle ranching. But Callahan men were nothing if not stubborn.
Still… She released a breath. “I’m sorry. I’ve broken my word. I told you I would endeavor not to bring it up again, and now I have.”
Reagan’s expression softened. “I know you worry about me, Ma, but I just—”
A knock sounded at the front door. Jacinda frowned. Whoever would be out and about in this kind of cold weather? She stashed her needle into the sock and tucked the project back into her sewing basket. “See who’s at the door, would you dear? I’ll help Charlotte put the finishing touches on our dinner.” Their conversation would be over for now. Until the next time her worry got the best of her and she miss-stepped and brought it up again. Whyever couldn’t she learn to live without worry like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field as the good book said?
Reagan returned a moment later as she and Charlotte were setting the cornbread and stew on the table. “Got room for one more, Ma?” he asked. He gestured to a man at his side. “This fella here is new in town. McGinty saw me headed this way and walked him over here to chat with me a bit about any land that might be available hereabouts.”
“Of course.”
On Eagles' Wings (Wyldhaven Book 2) Page 3