A Worthy Pursuit

by Karen Witemeyer

  Stone wanted to argue, wanted to insist that he, and he alone, be the one to take care of Charlotte and Lily. But Dan was right. He needed sleep. And no one was better qualified to watch over his girls than Daniel Barrett.

  “Thanks.” Stone reached for his left boot and yanked it off.

  “Write Ashe after dinner,” Dan said in a gruff voice as he opened the door. “I’ll send a man to town to post the letter in the morning.”

  Stone fell asleep with a half-composed letter in his mind and a prayer on his heart.

  After dinner that evening, Charlotte took a seat in one of the rockers sitting on the wraparound porch that covered three sides of the big house. She closed her eyes, letting the cool evening breeze wash over her. The tension she’d been carrying in her muscles over the last three days slowly drained out of her fingertips and toes. They were safe. At least for now.

  Dozens of men roamed the area, seeing to their duties. Men who wouldn’t take kindly to interlopers. Men who answered to Daniel Barrett. He and Stone were with them now. Organizing a patrol and assigning shifts for guard duty during the night.

  The boys played in the yard. Marietta Hawkins had found a set of tin soldiers that used to belong to her brother and had brought them down for Stephen and John to play with before disappearing with Lily into her bedchamber, where the treasure chest of dime novels awaited their inspection. Charlotte smiled to herself, imagining Lily’s excitement as she pored over the books, searching for some new tale she’d not yet memorized.

  The rocker on her right creaked, startling Charlotte’s eyes open.

  “Nice evening, isn’t it?”

  Stone. Her heart, injudicious thing that it was, leapt at his voice.

  She held back the smile that begged for release and settled for a polite nod as he leaned back in the rocker and set it in motion with a push of his foot. “Yes, it is.” She’d meant to make some further comment on the weather, but her mind blanked when her gaze met his. There was something in his eyes—tenderness, perhaps?—that arrested her thoughts. Uncomfortable with the strength of the sensations his attention aroused within her, she dropped her gaze only to have it fall upon a folded sheet of paper clutched in his hand.

  “I’m writing another letter to my contact in Austin.” Stone’s fingers crinkled the paper. “I’d like your permission to ask him to dig into Dorchester’s business dealings. Discreetly, of course. Maybe take a little trip over to Houston and check in with a few of Dorchester’s associates. With what Lily has told us, I’m thinking he might be involved in blackmail or some other unscrupulous activity. If we can find evidence of dirty dealings, it could give us the upper hand in convincing him to let Lily go.”

  Dorchester. That’s why Stone had sought her out. Not because he’d wanted to spend time in her company, but because he’d wanted to discuss his plans with her. It was what she’d asked of him, after all. She should be grateful for his consideration. So why did she suddenly want to weep?

  She gripped the arms of her chair to keep from reaching for the cameo at her throat and drew in a slow, even breath. “I don’t suppose it would do any harm as long as Dorchester doesn’t suspect he is being investigated. But it could take months to uncover evidence of that nature. We can’t stay here that long.”

  “Don’t worry about tomorrow, Charlotte.” Stone’s hand—large, strong, and incredibly warm—closed over hers on the rocker’s arm. “It has enough trouble of its own. We’ll focus on what can be done today. Then, when tomorrow gets here, we’ll deal with what it has to offer.”

  Abruptly, he pulled his hand away and stood. She wanted to grab him back, beg him to stay with her just a little longer. But, of course, she didn’t. She simply sat in her chair, stared at the ground, and waited for the retreating footsteps that would signal his departure.

  The sound never came. Instead, a pair of boots stepped into her line of vision, and an outstretched hand waved beneath her nose.

  “Walk with me?”

  She tilted her chin up and met his eyes with her own. Before her brain could stop them, her fingers slipped into his palm. In the next moment, he had helped her to her feet and was leading her away from the house.

  23

  Stone didn’t release her hand when she gained her feet, and Charlotte’s pulse rate increased from a fluttery allegretto to a breath-stealing presto. She mentally cautioned herself, arguing that he simply wanted to discuss more plans with her and happened to be in the mood for a stroll, but her body didn’t seem to concur. Instead, her heart pounded in her chest as his fingers twined with hers. Her lungs tightened when he glanced sideways at her. And when he smiled? Well, her knees nearly buckled right there in the middle of the yard.

  “Careful.” He tucked her into his side and held her there for a moment, allowing her to regain her balance and her dignity. Unfortunately, the increased proximity only played further havoc with her senses as the masculine scent of him filled her nostrils and the feel of his corded muscles had her mouth going dry.

  Embarrassed at her reaction, Charlotte stiffened and pulled away from his hold. Stone allowed her to regain some distance between them but refused to relinquish her hand. Even after she’d tugged to free it. Twice.

  Fine. He could hang on to the silly thing if he liked it all that much, the big bully. She smoothed her other hand over her shirtwaist then froze. Did he really like it all that much? Holding her hand? The thought shot a blast of warmth through her limbs. A warmth that made her languid and docile. Far too easily led. She recognized this truth with a start as her feet fell into step beside him without her having instructed them to do so. She should demand he release her and continue their little jaunt walking solely under her own power. Yet doing so might make her appear a shrew. Or worse, a coward.

  So she kept her hand in his and tried desperately not to enjoy the feel of his calloused palm against hers.

  Stone steered her along the length of the corral then around the barn until they were out of view of the yard.

  “I really shouldn’t leave the children,” she protested, glancing back the way they had come even as her curiosity urged her forward.

  “They’ll be fine.” Stone continued moving, moderating his stride to fit hers but not slowing down. “Lily’s inside with Miss Hawkins and Dan’s around in case the boys get into any scrapes. You’ve been guarding them nonstop for the last three days. You deserve a chance to breathe for a few minutes.”

  As if she could breathe with him looking at her like that, all soft and concerned and . . . well, never mind how he was looking at her. She quickly repositioned her attention to the ground in front of her.

  “I won’t keep you long. I promise,” he cajoled.

  Was that sudden ache in her chest disappointment? Of course not. Hers was a practical nature. And returning to the yard in a timely matter was eminently practical. So why did she suddenly want to shuck that characteristic like a pair of too-tight shoes in order to run barefoot through a grassy meadow?

  They walked down a narrow horse trail that flanked a barbed-wire fence, neither of them speaking. The quiet gradually soothed her, calmed her pulse, and actually became rather . . . comfortable. Charlotte stole a glimpse at Stone only to find his attention focused on their surroundings. She followed the direction of his gaze. A grassy field dotted with cattle stretched before them, clear to the horizon. And above the horizon? A tiny gasp of pleasure escaped Charlotte’s lips. While she’d been staring at the ground, God had been painting one of the most glorious sunsets she’d ever seen.

  Scarlet clouds slashed across a fading sky. Deep oranges and pale pinks blended into the background, throwing the tops of the trees into black silhouette.

  “Stunning,” she breathed. Her feet stopped of their own accord, halting the man beside her as well.

  Stone released her hand, and for a heartbeat, she thought he meant to view the spectacular sight alone. Yet even as the first hint of regret registered, he banished it by wrapping his arm around her waist
and settling her close to his side.

  “Other places might have taller mountains or bigger lakes or fancier flowers,” he said, his hushed voice reverent, “but none of them can best a Texas sunset.”

  Not sure what to do about his holding her so close, Charlotte held inordinately still. He said nothing more. Just inhaled. Exhaled. And stared at the sky.

  The sight really was too beautiful to spoil with doubts and questions for which she had no answers. Why did she have to possess all the answers, anyway? Was she really so much of a coward that she’d wall herself off from a man just because he made her heart flutter? No harm would come from enjoying a moment in his company. Fire wouldn’t fall from heaven if she relaxed her guard.

  Besides, holding herself so rigid was keeping her from truly enjoying the masterpiece God had wrought upon the sky.

  Charlotte bit the inside of her cheek and, feeling as if she were leaping off a cliff, softened her posture. She leaned her hip slightly against his. Then her spine curved one vertebra at a time, until she matched the shape of his side.

  A movement along her waist arrested her. His fingers. Stretching. Adjusting their hold. Charlotte held her breath. His arm bowed more deeply around her, fitting her snugly against him. His eyes remained on the sunset, though. His lips fixed in an almost-smile.

  Releasing her breath, she slowly . . . ever so slowly . . . allowed her head to fall against his shoulder.

  Stone closed his throat against the shout of victory that surged up from his lungs the moment Charlotte’s head finally nestled against his shoulder. The woman was as skittish as an unbroke mare, but never had he received a sweeter reward for his patience.

  He hadn’t been this close to her since the afternoon he’d found her at the piano, her walls already torn down from hours of worry and despair. Today her barriers had been firmly in place. But he’d coaxed them down one brick at a time. Success like that gave a man reason to hope.

  Then the sun slipped below the horizon. Stone gritted his teeth, wishing it back. Wishing for any excuse to prolong the moment. He promised himself that when she pulled away, he’d let her go. Give her the freedom to choose when the embrace would end.

  She didn’t move.

  Stone bent his head until the side of his jaw rested gently against her hair. The soft tresses caught in the scruff of his whiskers as he caressed her with his cheek. He inhaled, drawing in the faint scent of lilies trapped within the strands. He shut his eyes, the lingering colors of the sunset no longer holding any attraction for him. Only Charlotte. The feel of her. The smell of her. The sound of her breathing. He wanted to savor it all.

  After several minutes, Charlotte sighed, and Stone felt her sag slightly. He opened his eyes. All traces of pink and orange had faded from the sky, leaving only the hazy gray of dusk. He should probably release her. Escort her back. But he didn’t. He wanted her to himself just a little longer. So he held his tongue and held his woman. Her breathing matched the rhythm of his as crickets serenaded. It was the single most contented moment of his life.

  Until a childish squeal from the other side of the barn brought reality crashing back down upon them.

  Charlotte lifted her head from his shoulder and turned in the direction of the noise. “That sounded like Lily. She must be finished looking at Marietta’s novels. I really should see about getting the children settled at the cottage.”

  Excuses poured out of her as she straightened away from him, the few flyaway strands of hair still tangled in his beard the only part of her that seemed willing to maintain contact. He could almost see her reconstructing her barriers as she dropped her attention to the ground in front of her, pretending as if nothing of consequence had just occurred between them. Well, she could build her walls if she liked. He’d just build a door.

  “Look at me, Charlotte.” His gruff murmur vibrated barely above a whisper. She stilled, her gaze remaining locked on the ground. “Look at me,” he said again.

  Her face inched upward but stalled before her eyes met his. He placed a curled finger beneath her chin and helped her ascend the rest of the way. Her lashes dipped, cheating him from the sight of her beautiful eyes. So he waited, holding her chin in place until the curtain finally lifted. A smile tugged at his mouth at her shy regard. It made her look younger, fresher, untouched by the world’s disappointments. The way she should look all the time.

  “When I took the job with Dorchester,” Stone said, his eyes delving into hers, “I decided it would be my last retrieval. At thirty-five, it’s past time for me to quit living in the saddle and start putting down some roots. But tonight I’ve changed my mind. I’m gonna complete one more job before I retire.”

  Charlotte’s lashes fell over her eyes again. “Because you won’t be able to collect your fee from this one.” She sounded so certain of her presumption, so wretchedly understanding about it all.

  Stone’s smile widened. “Not because of the money.” He paused, waited for her lashes to flutter out of the way.

  “To reestablish your reputation?” she guessed. “Failing to retrieve Lily for Mr. Dorchester will leave your perfect record tarnished.”

  Stone shook his head. “I don’t need a reputation for what I got in mind. But I do plan not to let anything get in the way of my completing this final job.”

  Her brows furrowed. “You sound as if you already have it lined up. Did Mr. Barrett inform you of someone in the area in need of your skills?”

  “Nope. I’ll be working solely for myself this time around.”

  “Yourself? I don’t understand. What do you plan to retrieve?”

  Stone bent his head close, his heated gaze delving into hers. “You.”

  Charlotte peered at him, searching. Her own eyes glowed with confusion and a touch of fear, but there was a longing beneath it all that shot straight to Stone’s heart and injected a healthy dose of hope.

  He opened his mouth to say something—what, he wasn’t sure. But before he could utter a word, Charlotte spun away from him, grabbed up her skirts, and fled.

  Stone watched her go. Smiled as she halted at the edge of the barn to smooth her clothing and hair. Her shoulders lifted as she inhaled a deep breath, no doubt fighting to reclaim the control his bold proclamation had shattered.

  She didn’t glance back at him, but he could feel the pull that stretched between them. She wanted to. For now, that was enough.

  “Beware, Charlotte Atherton,” Stone murmured as she disappeared around the corner of the barn. “I’m coming for you.” A smile of anticipation stretched across his face. “And I always retrieve what I set out after.”

  24

  Each of the last two mornings when the sun rose, Charlotte had awoken and begun counting the hours until it would set again. For that’s when Stone would court her. She had no other words to describe his actions despite her valiant efforts to explain it away as something else. Kindness? No, it was more than that. Flirtation? Not when he’d declared his intention to retrieve her.

  Tonight, she sat on the edge of her bed and picked up her brush from the small bedside table, one of the few pieces of furniture in the bedroom of Daniel Barrett’s cabin. She tilted her head and brushed the tangles from her hair as she recalled Stone’s words to her on their first stroll. A secret smile curved her lips, escaping the confines of her control now that the children were abed for the night on their cots in the main room, and she was alone with her thoughts.

  Retrieve her. She should be offended by the notion. It sounded like something a Labrador would do to a dead bird. Hardly a romantic image. Yet when Stone had said it, his eyes had lit with purpose, and a shiver had danced through her midsection, stirring all manner of dreams she’d thought securely packed away.

  Relentless. That’s how Lily’s novels described him. Would Stone pursue her with the same tenacity he exhibited when hunting down a villain? There’d be no reward spurring him on. Nothing beyond the atrophied affections of a washed-up spinster. She wasn’t even sure she knew how to
love a man. She’d spent so many years training herself not to, that opening herself to such a possibility made her heart ache like an out-of-use muscle suddenly called upon to heft a great weight.

  The brush stilled in her hand. What would you have me do, Lord? I’m afraid of being hurt again, but I can’t let fear rule my life forever. If only I could know for sure that Stone won’t ever leave me.

  Charlotte sighed wistfully. A guarantee would make everything so much easier. She’d promise herself to Stone this very minute if she had proof he’d never betray her. But life offered no guarantees—she knew that better than anyone.

  Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

  The familiar proverb rose in her mind to convict her. She’d leaned on her own understanding for all of her adult life. It was how she maintained order, control. How she avoided pain. But what if her own understanding was flawed this time? What if God was trying to direct her paths and her fear of future hurt was impeding his plan? Or what if it wasn’t God directing her but her own foolish longings? How was she to know the difference?

  Charlotte sighed in frustration and set the brush back on the small table. Gathering the length of her hair, she pulled it forward over her right shoulder and started braiding it.

  Once her braid was secured with a scrap of ribbon, Charlotte stood and slipped her arms into her dressing gown. She’d check on the children one last time before going to sleep. The path involving Stone might be unclear, but she had a firm grasp on her purpose regarding Lily and the boys.

  Padding on bare feet, she opened the bedroom door and peered into the darkened room. The bedroom lamp allowed enough light to see, but not enough to disturb the young sleepers. Stephen and John shared a pallet in the corner, John in a cocoon of blankets, his small body completely still and contained while Stephen’s legs and arms were flung every which way, with only a corner of the blanket clinging to his middle. Charlotte smiled at the odd pair, each so dear in his own way. She glided over to them, bent, and straightened the twisted blanket until it once again covered Stephen adequately. Then she placed a gentle kiss on each forehead before straightening and crossing to the small settee where Lily bedded down.