Aw, hell, he thought, kicking a pebble on the ground. Who was he kidding? She was every man’s type, and he couldn’t very well go around beating them all off with a stick. He found some comfort in telling himself that Simon wouldn’t hurt Charlotte unless they became more than acquaintances, which wouldn’t happen immediately. It would only be after charming her into his clutches that Simon would show his true colors. The thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. Max decided that he would keep his eyes and ears open. He would talk to people in town and keep abreast of the situation. If he learned that Charlotte and Simon were becoming familiar, he would step in and warn Charlotte of Simon’s character, despite it not being his business to do so.
Chapter Three: A Need for Max
The morning following her rough journey with Max, Charlotte awoke feeling better than she had for days. Before collapsing into a deep, twelve-hour sleep, she’d eaten a hearty meal of fried chicken, sweet rolls, and corn. Max had escorted her to her room at the boardinghouse, bid her farewell, and then showed up an hour later. He knocked and announced himself while she was crying on her new bed, feeling hungry, alone, and regretful over her choice to move west. When she realized he’d returned and was standing outside her door, she quickly dried her eyes and donned a robe over her nightdress. She opened the door to find him holding a platter of supper for her to eat in her room. It was a kind gesture. She felt a flood of gratefulness and a desire to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she thanked him politely and waited until he left to dissolve into tears again.
Despite how much the man needled her, it became clear to Charlotte upon reflection in the morning that there was unmistakable kindness and respect in his every action. He’d taken care of her when she was ill, done his best not to embarrass her unnecessarily, and then had seen to it that she was well fed on her first night in town. He was the only person not a stranger in the strange new place, and she hoped he would call on her. Days passed, however, and he didn’t visit. She tried not to let it bother her, but she felt rejected. Her time with him had been far from her finest hour, but she thought he might be at least mildly interested in her well-being. She even flattered herself into thinking that he might fancy her. With every day that passed, however, it became more obvious to her that he didn’t.
She got to know other people in town. She met the marshal, who was nearly as handsome as Max, and the marshal’s wife, Betty, who baked a cherry pie for her as a welcoming gift. Her fellow boarders were friendly too. She spoke occasionally with a boarder named Simon Evans, who was from Maryland. One morning, a week after her arrival, he asked her to breakfast in the dining room of the house, and she accepted.
At first she felt grateful for his company. She thought it might help alleviate some of her homesickness, but she soon regretted her choice to dine with him. Although he was mannerly, he wasn’t the least bit interesting to Charlotte. While he prattled on and on about his hobbies and various businesses, all successful according to him, her thoughts drifted to Max. Max hadn’t mentioned what he did for a living, and Charlotte hadn’t bothered to ask, which she regretted. He didn’t know much about her either, other than the look of her body in scant clothing and the lash of her sharp tongue. She regretted that too.
Simon interrupted her thoughts. “Miss Rose, are you quite well? You seem distracted.”
Charlotte started out of her musing. “Pardon me, Mr. Evans. I have a bit of a headache.” It was the truth, actually, and the sound of his plummy voice wasn’t helping. She recalled how deep and soothing Max’s voice sounded.
Simon stood. “Perhaps we should meet another time, my dear. I wish you to be well when we dine.” He gave a bow, then pivoted and exited the dining room.
Charlotte watched his retreat. Although he hadn’t said anything untoward, and in fact had addressed her in a very polite manner, she felt uneasy about how he took his leave. She realized it wasn’t anything he’d said that bothered her, it was what he hadn’t said. He hadn’t inquired about her health after she admitted a headache, and he seemed irritated, without saying so out loud. Charlotte shrugged to herself and poured another cup of tea, grateful for the time to be alone with her thoughts.
Upon finishing her meal, she walked to the schoolhouse. Max filled her thoughts during her walk just like he had during her breakfast. She felt frustrated and attempted to think badly of him so she could remove him from her mind. She conjured up every infuriating thing about him, from how he insisted on calling her Charlie to how he threatened her with a spanking. Though she didn’t succeed in removing him from her mind, she did somewhat succeed in thinking on him negatively for the time being.
Pushing the heavy door to the one-room schoolhouse open with a shove, she entered and got to work cleaning where she’d left off the previous day. Classes would start in two weeks, and the schoolhouse wasn’t yet sufficiently prepared. The large room contained two rows of four benches with tables. Each bench would seat up to five children, which, from what she understood of Weston’s population, would be sufficient. However, the desks were in a state of terrible disrepair. The legs were cracked and some even broken, and the surfaces of the tables were splintered and showed water damage. Her own desk in the front was missing all of its drawers.
Charlotte sank to her hands and knees to scrub the floor. Though the labor was far from glamorous, she enjoyed it. She was making her own path in life. She felt proud to be a government employee. The schoolhouse was under her care, and she felt a sense of duty and the desire to be the best schoolmarm Weston had ever seen, which started with making sure the room was ready by the time the children began their studies.
An idea came to her after a couple of hours of cleaning. She decided that she needed to visit the marshal. As one of the only other government employees in town, the marshal might be able to advise her on obtaining a stipend from the county to pay for repair of the furniture. Inspired by the thought, she set her scrub brush aside, shook the dust from her skirt, and headed for the jailhouse.
Marshal Davis greeted her when she opened the door to his office. “Hello, Miss Rose. How are you this morning?” he asked, rising from his desk as she walked in.
“Not bad at all, marshal, thank you.”
The two sat across from each other. They discussed the warm weather before Charlotte got to her point about how to request funding. He rubbed his chin and frowned thoughtfully. “Didn’t the superintendent inform you of your budget? You should have some funding to use on supplies in addition to your salary.”
“Really? No, I had no idea.”
“It would be in your contract if so. I’m given a share of money to keep the jail in running order, noted in my contract drawn up by the county sheriff. I assume it would be the same for you.”
“I see. Do you know who in town I might hire to repair the schoolhouse furniture?”
“That would be a man you already met—Max Harrison. He can build and repair just about anything.”
Charlotte kept the same expression on her face, though her heartbeat quickened and she felt a rush of excitement. “Where might I find him?”
“You don’t know? He owns the blacksmith shop. It’s a block east on this street.”
“Thank you. I’ll go speak to him.”
Charlotte rushed out of the jail and took some time to regain her composure. She thought about Max’s occupation and smiled to herself. It fit perfectly. He seemed like just the kind of man who could fix and build things. She walked east until she arrived at his shop. A part of her thrilled at the excuse to see him again, but another part of her felt disappointed. She would have preferred that he call upon her, as opposed to the other way around.
Taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders, she pushed open the door and walked inside, only to discover that the large room was empty of people. Dim light streamed in from the small windows and lit the sparse furniture of the room. The ground was hard concrete that looked recently swept, and a metallic, smoky scent filled the air. Tools hung i
n neat, straight lines along the walls, and a furnace roared in the center of the room. Curious, she walked to the forge. Next to it stood a metal work table, which held a strip of bent iron. She reached out to pick it up but froze when she heard a familiar voice address her sharply.
“Hold it right there!”
She looked up to find Max striding toward her from the direction of the open door. He wore buckskin gloves, leather chaps streaked with black stains, and a scowl. She dropped her hand to her side and stared at him as he approached. She swallowed. He looked fiercer and more handsome than she remembered.
He stopped and towered over her, his hands on his hips. “What in the tarnation are you doing? Were you going to touch that iron?”
She stood taller and met his stern gaze, tilting her head higher than what was comfortable to do so. “Good morning to you too, Mr. Harrison.”
Groaning, he looked up to the ceiling and ran a hand around his face before looking at her again. “Good morning, Charlie. I thought you were about to touch metal that’s a couple hundred degrees, thus my abrupt greeting, but I’m sure I was mistaken. No one could be that silly, so please excuse my shoddy manners.”
She glared at him, stung by his sarcasm and not about to admit her mistake. “It’s not a problem, Mr. Harrison. I’m well accustomed to excusing your shoddy manners.”
His lips quirked up and his eyes took on a glimmer of amusement. “I see you’re just as agreeable as ever.”
“I know you speak sarcastically, but I’ll have you know I can be quite agreeable. Trouble is, you don’t bring it out in me. I don’t know how to be friendly when I’m constantly scolded and insulted in your presence.”
“Poppycock! I will admit to the scolding. You could use a scolding and a darn good spanking to make sure it’s heeded. I don’t believe I’ve ever insulted you though.”
Charlotte flushed at his mention of spanking her, and her stomach fluttered. The image of the strong, handsome man taking her in hand suddenly made her legs feel weak, and she thought she might lose her composure.
“And I don’t believe I should have come here,” she snapped, stepping lightly around his imposing figure. She walked toward the door with a heavy heart. It was clear he didn’t wish to see her and thought of her as little more than a fool and nuisance. It hurt her feelings more than she cared to admit, and she wished to lick her wounds in private. Before she reached the door, however, he addressed her in a weary, irritated drawl, as though she were wildly overreacting to his comment.
“Fly your ruffled feathers back here, Charlie.”
She stopped and almost stomped her foot in frustration. He was so impertinent, ordering her around and using that horrid nickname for her. She didn’t know why she felt any desire to be around him. She turned and glowered at him.
“You must’ve had a reason for coming. I’d like to know what it is. Come here and talk to me. I’ll be nice.”
Charlotte suddenly remembered why she’d come, so she sighed and trudged back. He led her to a bench, where he motioned for her to sit and then sat next to her. His leg brushed her knee, and she felt a shock of arousal travel upward from his accidental touch. Her breath hitched. No man had ever had this effect on her, and she didn’t know why her traitorous body had chosen such an infuriating man to be attracted to. She looked over at him, feeling shy suddenly and worried that the way she felt might be obvious to him. She didn’t think she could bear it if so. What if he mocked her? Relief came over her when she saw that his expression was kind and encouraging. She took a deep breath and told him why she’d come.
“The desk benches and tables in the schoolhouse are broken down and need to be repaired. I imagine some should even be replaced. The marshal said you were the person to see about this. There’s some money from the county to pay you, but I’m not sure how much. I have to read my contract again.”
He smiled broadly. “I’d be happy to help. Will you allow me to escort you to the schoolhouse so you can show me what needs doing?”
“All right,” she said, standing.
A boy entered as they walked toward the door. He was about Charlotte’s height and of slight build. Blond hair draped his forehead and shaded his eyes until he swept it away with the back of his hand.
Max introduced them. “Tim, meet Miss Rose. She’s the new schoolmarm. Miss Rose, this is Tim. He’s been my apprentice for some time and also in my care.”
Tim blushed a little as he regarded her. He shyly shook the hand Charlotte offered him. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
“And you also, Tim. Will I see you in class in a couple of weeks?”
Tim shook his head. “No, ma’am, I’ve not gone to school for some time now. I like to read, though.”
She smiled. “That’s good. I have a few books I’d be happy to lend to you if you’d like some new material. One is about a boy a few years younger than you who goes on adventures. It’s called Huckleberry Finn. Does that sound interesting?”
His eyes lit up. “I’d sure as a gun like that. Thank you, Miss Rose.”
Charlotte caught Max smiling at her before he turned his attention to the boy. “We’ve got us a new job, son. Miss Rose is going to show me some desks that need fixing. I’ll be back shortly. Get going on smithing a length of chain about the width of my thumb if you don’t mind.”
“Will do, Max,” he said, and walked to the furnace.
Max took off his work gloves and untied the heavy chaps from his trousers, then draped them over a wooden chair against the wall. He washed his hands in a bucket of water near the door of the shop, clapped his Stetson over his head, and held the door open for Charlotte. She passed, and he stepped out behind her.
Chapter Four: To Be Frank
“How are you getting on so far in Weston?” Max inquired as they walked side by side along the wooden sidewalk to the schoolhouse.
“Fine, thank you.” She didn’t elaborate, and an uncomfortable silence followed. Only the sound of their steps gave away the presence of one to the other.
Finally Max spoke. “Something wrong, Charlie? You seem awful quiet. Did I do something to upset you, other than being my usual loutish self?”
“No, not really,” she said, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.
He stopped and touched her arm to halt her steps. “I’m not an expert on women’s feelings, but I’m pretty sure your tone suggests I did. What have I done to vex you?”
Charlotte hesitated, not sure if she should be frank, but then decided it couldn’t hurt anything but her pride, which had already been smashed to smithereens in front of him. She sighed and looked at the ground. Her voice was smaller than usual. “I thought you might have inquired about how I was doing before now is all.”
She looked up to see his eyebrows lift in surprise. “You mean you wanted me to call on you?”
“It would have been nice,” she responded ruefully, looking away again and focusing very hard on a patch of dirt. “But only if you wanted to. It doesn’t really matter since you didn’t.”
“I did want to. Very much,” he said quietly, with regret in his voice. “Forgive me. I thought you wouldn’t want to see me. But trust me, Charlie, I’ve all but nailed my feet to the floor to prevent them from running to your doorstep. I’ve had a devil of a time getting you out of my head.”
Charlotte felt her heart swell at his words. She smiled at him. Her smile brought one from him, and they stood in the middle of the sidewalk smiling at each other without speaking for a time longer than what would be considered normal.
Max broke the spell. “Charlie,” he said with resolute force. “I’ve a mind to take you to lunch and have a good yammer, if that thought doesn’t offend you terribly.”
She momentarily forgave his impertinent nickname for her. Not only did he care about how she was doing, he fancied spending time with her, which was exactly what she wanted, though she hadn’t admitted it to herself until that moment. She blushed and looked down at the dusty sidewalk, t
hen back into his eyes, which were twinkling and hadn’t stopped studying her face.
“I’m a bit hungry and admit the prospect of dining with you is not entirely displeasing to me.”
Max threw back his head and laughed, holding his hand on the top of his hat to prevent it from falling off. “I feel like that’s the best compliment I’ve ever received. Come along, Miss Rose.” He held out a bent arm. “Show me your desks that need fixing. Then I’ll take you to lunch before we both get back to work.” Charlotte smiled at him again and hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow.
Max examined the furniture in the schoolhouse and pointed out where some of the wood had rotted. He explained that there must be a leak in the roof that allowed rain to soak into a good number of desks, causing them to become brittle and likely to break sooner rather than later. Charlotte’s desk needed drawers, which he explained would require measuring and crafting pieces fitted with metal sliders.
Max shook his head. “This furniture is in a sorry state. I can’t help but wonder why the previous schoolteacher didn’t hire me.”
“Will it require a great deal of your time?” Charlotte asked.
“Yes, but it must be done. Even a small child’s weight could break some of these benches. I’ll get started on it tomorrow. Hopefully I can finish before your classes start.”
“That’s awfully good news, Max. As soon as I read my contract and determine the amount available, I’ll withdraw the funds to give to you.”
“You called me Max. Thank you.” He winked at her.
“You could thank me by not calling me Charlie.”
Max laughed. “I’ll try not to, but I make no promises. How about we get some chow? I’m feeling wolfish.” He held his arm out again. She latched on and they walked the few blocks to Mary’s Diner.
Fetching Charlotte Rose Page 3