by Lori Wick
“What can I do for you, Witt?” Duncan asked as the suave banker entered his office first thing one morning.
“I’ve been thinking some more about Donovan.” Witt forestalled Duncan with a raised hand when it looked like he was going to interrupt.
“I know you think I’m wasting my time, but the truth is, it’s my time and he’s still the best lead we’ve got. I’d just like to talk to him once more.”
Duncan looked doubtful, and Witt hurried on.
“No strong-arm stuff, Duncan. I just want to appeal to him as one citizen of Visalia helping another.”
Duncan could see how distasteful that last sentence was for Witt and in all honesty he couldn’t say as he blamed him. The men talked about the bank robberies a moment more, and then Duncan assured Witt that he’d at least think on the idea.
“You have heard what a good worker he is, haven’t you?”
“Yes, Duncan, I’ll give him that. He does seem to be faring far better than I ever imagined, but I’ve got one more thing I need to say before I go. If that bank is hit again in the very near future, it won’t matter if you’re his alibi, you know there will be a lynch mob. Think on that, would you, Duncan?”
Duncan sat very still as Witt rose and left the office. He was right; there was no doubt in that. But right didn’t make it fair. Of course, no one ever promised this life would be fair. It looked like Duncan would have to talk with Sean about the robberies whether he wanted to or not.
Sean and Charlie settled into a pattern of sorts that saw them through the rest of the week. Lunch was always eaten in the livery, on the crates that served as a makeshift table and chairs. In the evenings they ate at the small kitchen table and then moved into the tiny living room where Charlie would usually repair a bridle as Sean read silently.
As soon as Charlie found out that Sean liked to read, she had the newspaper sent over. He was quickly seeing how trusted she was in town. Food, laundry, and even the newspaper were delivered without question.
By Saturday Sean was feeling a very definite change taking place in his body. The hours spent with a hammer in his hand pounding iron and pulling the bellows once again became easy.
Both Sean and Charlie went to Sadie’s for baths Saturday evening after supper. On the way home Charlie told Sean the livery was closed on Sundays.
“Every Sunday?” Sean was visibly pleased.
“Yes. It used to be open every day all year, but business is always slow on Sunday, and the hotel has a small stable at the rear of the building for folks coming in on weekends. So all I do now is feed and water morning and evening. The doors are shut all day. Sometimes I take a buggy out if one of the horses hasn’t had much exercise, but that’s not really work.”
Sean loved it when she talked to him. It didn’t happen often, but when she did open up she usually had a lot to say. And then, he’d watch as an unsure look would pass over her face as though she had said too much, revealed too much of who she was.
“Oh!” Charlie’s voice told him she had just thought of something. “I always eat Sunday dinner at Sadie’s, so we’ll be going there around noon.”
“Are you sure that invitation is extended to me?” Regret rose deep from within Sean and shone in his dark brown eyes.
They had arrived back at the house now and Charlie stood in the kitchen looking with great compassion at him. “Sadie likes you. I can’t say that all the people in the boardinghouse are going to welcome your presence, but what Sadie says, goes. She told me tonight when we left that she would see us both tomorrow.”
Sean was pleased by the invitation, but more than a little wary. He had no desire to cause trouble for Charlie’s aunt. His presence at the boardinghouse dinner table would be like inviting it in through the front door.
Sean and Charlie had no more time to discuss Sunday dinner because someone was knocking on the door. It was Duncan.
“I’m sorry to disturb you on a Saturday night, but I need to talk with Sean.”
Charlie held the door wide and Duncan removed his hat and stepped into the room. Charlie gestured both men into the living room and followed, taking one end of the sofa. Sean sat next to his wife, and then looked to Duncan who had taken the chair.
“Franklin Witt was in to see me this week,” Duncan began without preamble. “He’d like to talk with you, Sean. He’s holding out a faint hope that there’s something you overlooked that might lead us to Hartley.”
“I told you all I know, Duncan.”
“I’m sure you did. Witt would like to talk with you anyway. I think it might be a good idea, if for no other reason than to give him some peace of mind.”
Sean looked at Charlie, who had tensed when Duncan mentioned Witt and then Hartley. Husband and wife stared at one another for a moment, and Sean would have given much to know what she was thinking.
Duncan didn’t stay long, but before leaving he arranged for Sean to come to his office on Monday at 8:00. “By the way, Sean, bring Charlie with you on Monday. There’s no reason for her to stay away.”
“All right, Duncan. Goodnight.”
Sean shut the door and turned to find Charlie on the threshold between the kitchen and living room. Again Sean watched her, wishing he knew her thoughts, or at least what to say.
“I’m pretty tired. I think I’ll go to bed.”
“Are you all right?” Sean could not hold the question back.
“I don’t know,” Charlie answered, wondering herself. “Witt just isn’t one of my favorite people, and I don’t want to see you used by him.”
Not knowing how to answer, Sean changed the subject. “If you want I can get up and do the chores in the morning. You could sleep in.”
“Thanks, but I’m an early riser. Goodnight, Sean.”
“Goodnight.”
Three hours later Charlie was convinced that this was anything but a good night. She’d tossed and turned for what seemed like days. Never had she known such a myriad of emotions over anything in her life, and certainly never a man.
She had stood and watched Sean pound iron into horseshoes and then those same hands, as gentle as those of a nurse, slid tenderly along her bruised jaw.
And again, when she had nearly fallen in the general store, he had grasped her arm ever so lightly, but with enough strength to let her know she wouldn’t fall.
It had taken until the next day for Charlie to find out that Sean had only thrown one punch before Murphy hit the floor. And then those same hands, lightly clutching his napkin, had paused to pray before eating.
Prayer. Sean was the only adult Charlie knew who actually prayed. She thought such petitions were for children before they figured out that no one was there listening. Charlie had prayed until she was 12. She had asked God every night to give her a pony of her own and to make her grandfather stop hitting her. But there was no one up there, so naturally her prayers went unanswered.
Sean however, believed in Someone. Charlie could see that. He didn’t seem to be the type of man who prayed without belief. But what type of man was he? The question plagued Charlie until she fell into a fitful sleep. In the morning she wished she’d taken Sean up on his offer to do the chores.
eighteen
Sean wore the still-new pants and shirt on Sunday morning. The shirt was a blue-and-white check, and the pants were a heavy denim. Freshly shaved and with his hair brushed into place, Sean cut a handsome figure.
The moment he opened his bedroom door, he could hear Charlie moving around the kitchen preparing breakfast. He wondered if his wife was thankful that even though she could cook, she had the means to have lunch and supper delivered after she’d worked all day.
Sean’s thoughts moved to May Taylor, his sister Kaitlin’s mother-in-law. She was a woman who for years worked all day in Santa Rosa’s shipping office and then went home to prepare supper for her family. Of course her sons were helpful, but it had to take some of the edge off one’s appetite to be so tired when eating.
“Good mornin
g,” Sean greeted Charlie as he stepped into the room.
“Morning,” she answered, and Sean thought she sounded like she was getting a cold.
“How are you this morning?”
“Fine.”
Sean doubted that, but was hesitant to press her. He thought of another tack.
“Why don’t you let me finish breakfast?” Charlie stopped, a cracked egg poised over her bowl, and stared at him. Sean continued, “You’ve already done the chores, and I haven’t done a thing today, so—”
“You can cook?”
“Sure. My brother-in-law taught me.”
Charlie turned fully away from the bowl now. “You have family?”
“Yes, I do,” Sean spoke as he stepped forward and rescued the dripping egg from her hand. “A father, two sisters, a brother-in-law and two nieces, last I knew.”
“Do they know about—” Charlie hesitated.
“About the hanging?”
Charlie nodded.
“No. I haven’t seen any of them for two years,” Sean said as he stared intently at the eggs in the bowl.
“Where do they live?”
Glad for any question to distract his painful thoughts, Sean answered promptly. “Everyone is in Santa Rosa except my father—he lives in Hawaii. If you haven’t heard of it, it’s a group of islands out in the Pacific Ocean.”
Charlie watched as he held the bowl in his arm and beat the eggs furiously with a fork. Once again she was overcome with curiosity about this man.
“Why is your father in Hawaii?”
“He’s a missionary.”
Charlie blinked in surprise, and then her face lit with understanding. “That’s why you pray before meals,” she almost whispered, “because your father is a missionary.”
Sean knew he had to weigh his next words carefully. “With missionary parents, I probably did learn about prayer at a younger age than some, but that’s not why I pray now.”
It was on the tip of Charlie’s tongue to say “why do you?” but she suddenly thought she might be intruding. Instead she picked up on something else he had said.
“You didn’t mention your mother.”
“She died when I was 14.” Even now it pained Sean to say those words. “We were at my aunt’s house in San Francisco. None of us knew she had tuberculosis until the end. We had a few good weeks together, and then she died quietly one afternoon during her nap.”
This time it was Sean’s turn to wonder if he had shared too much. Talking about his mother made him feel vulnerable, and once again he concentrated on breakfast.
Some five minutes later they sat down together to a meal of scrambled eggs with bits of salt pork. Sean had also fried large slices of bread. Charlie’s contribution was her great-tasting coffee.
There was no conversation about who would wash or dry, but both husband and wife pitched in after the meal to clean the kitchen.
Sean moved into the living room to read the newspaper and was pleased to see Charlie join him. By the time they had finished with the dishes, she’d grown quite pensive, and Sean was glad to see that she wasn’t trying to avoid him. There had been something on his mind from the first night he’d come here, and he knew now was finally a good time to mention it.
“Charlotte,” Sean called her name and waited for her to look up from her account books. “I’ve never thanked you for what you did for me at the hanging. It took a lot of courage to come forward and marry a bank robber. I’m not really sure why you did, but I do know I’m grateful and in one sense, I owe you my life. Thank you.”
Charlie didn’t know what to say. She certainly realized that he’d have hung if someone hadn’t stepped forward, but she never expected to be thanked for it.
“You’re welcome,” she finally spoke softly, knowing by the way Sean watched her that he was waiting for a reason.
“I also want to thank you for all you’ve given me. You didn’t owe me a thing, but you’ve dressed me and fed me like a king, and well, thanks for that too.”
He completely flustered her this time. She sounded almost irritated when she spoke.
“Well, it’s not as if you haven’t worked for it. I mean, blacksmith work is hard, and well, that’s why I married you.”
It suddenly occurred to Sean as he watched and listened to his wife that she hid her true feelings behind a mask of irritation when she was upset. Sean was usually much better at hiding his feelings than she, even if he did blush every once in a while, and he felt real compassion for the upset he’d caused in her life.
“Would you like to go for a ride in the buggy?” The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sean saw that she was trying to make amends for what she had said.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“Good,” Charlie replied, looking so relieved that Sean smiled. “Sadie doesn’t expect us for a good two hours, so we have plenty of time.”
Not for a moment did Charlie consider asking Sean to pull the buggy out or hitch the horse. She had gone out ahead of him and was almost finished by the time he arrived. He stood by rather helplessly as she climbed aboard, and couldn’t help but remember how often he’d seen Rigg lift Kaitlin into the wagon. Kaitlin had seemed to expect it, and he knew Rigg enjoyed doing this small service for his wife.
As usual, none of these feelings showed on his face, and Charlie simply looked at him expectantly as she sat on the seat, holding the reins loosely in her grip.
Sean climbed aboard and they headed out the back doors. The day was growing hot, but the top was in good shape. The canopy afforded them plenty of protection from the sun. Cooper’s Livery also had a surrey, but there was no need for the extra seat, and it had no top.
Sean got to thinking about what fine equipment and horses the livery had, and said as much to Charlie.
“That’s the way my grandfather liked things,” she explained. “He believed that if you invested in your own business, people would trust you to do right by them, thus expanding and paying you back for your investment.”
“He sounds like he had a good head for business. I take it your grandfather is no longer living.”
“He died six years ago. I’ve been running things on my own ever since.”
“And doing a good job, from what I’ve seen.”
Charlie smiled at the compliment, and Sean leaned back in the seat to watch what he could see of her profile. He began to wonder why she was so seldom without her hat. And why, when she obviously had such a prosperous business, she didn’t buy clothes that fit.
Her blouse was so full it seemed she might be able to fit another person inside, and her skirt, although the proper length, seemed to have an unusual number of gathers at the waist. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. After all, she had a very physical job, and to be confined by tight clothing could hinder her work.
Charlie talked as the buggy moved through town. She told Sean about the different people in the area, and once in a while asked Sean questions, but the conversation never ventured to the personal. It was a very relaxed time, and Sean was a little surprised when he suddenly realized Charlie was pulling up in front of Sadie’s.
His feeling of contentment evaporated. At that moment, Sean was certain he could relate to those long-ago Christians as they entered the arena filled with hungry lions.
nineteen
Tansy Lang was a flirt, and she made no apology about it. Since she worked in the hotel dining room, it was unusual that she would even be at Sadie’s table for dinner on Sunday, but she was there, making Sean wish he wasn’t. He had prayed so specifically, asking God to help him bear up under the hostile looks and words he was sure to find. But nothing could have prepared him for Tansy.
She seemed to find it exciting that he’d robbed a bank, and in her high-pitched voice told him so at least ten times. Her dress did a fine job of exposing her cleavage. But it didn’t seem to be enough for Tansy, who was intent on drawing Sean’s attention to her chest by leaning toward him eve
ry few moments. He finally trained his eyes across the table on his wife, who wouldn’t look at him, and tried valiantly to get through the meal.
There were six other people at the table besides Sadie, Tansy, Charlie, and himself, but Tansy, who was seated next to him, had so monopolized the entire conversation that Sean had no idea how people felt about his presence.
After the meal, which Sean barely tasted, Sadie directed him and Charlie to a small sitting room back by the kitchen. He was thankful that no one else joined them as they sat down on the long sofa. An uncomfortable silence enveloped them.
“Charlotte,” Sean spoke up because he couldn’t let the question wait. “Does Tansy eat lunch here every Sunday?”
Charlie was so shocked by the question that she didn’t immediately answer. Sean suddenly stood up, his agitation very clear.
“Because if she does,” he went on, “I won’t be back.”
Charlie could do nothing more than stare at him. She had been so intent on her own misery that she never once considered how Sean might be feeling.
Tansy’s clothing always showed off her full breasts and tiny waist, and for the first time Charlie had felt like an old crow in her presence. Tansy’s nails were attractively long, and her hands were never rough like those of a livery owner’s. The woman had stood back while Sean seated her, and then thanked him by leaning close and whispering something in his ear.
Charlie had not waited for anyone to seat her, and she felt her face burn as one of the older women at the table raised a wrinkled brow in her direction. From that point on, Charlie couldn’t watch anything that went on across the table.
“Does she, Charlotte?”
The question brought Charlie back to earth. “No. She works at the hotel, and actually she’s never here on Sundays. I think she’s been under the weather and taking a few days off work.”