28 

I was such a fool.” Gwen’s red-rimmed eyes bore witness to her sleepless night and the tears she had shed. Exhausted by their ordeal, both David and Rose were still in bed, leaving Gwen and Charlotte alone at the breakfast table. Neither woman had much of an appetite, although both had drunk extra cups of coffee. “How could I have even imagined that a man like Warren would love a dumpy woman like me? I should have realized that something was wrong.”

Charlotte’s heart ached for her friend, but she gave thanks that Gwen hadn’t been in the shed to see Warren’s final moments. After last night’s horror faded, Gwen might still be left with some happy memories.

“Nothing is wrong with you. Everything was wrong with Warren,” Charlotte said firmly. Instinctively, she touched her bruised cheek, regretting the movement when she saw a flash of pain in Gwen’s eyes. It was still difficult to believe that the baron was gone and that Charlotte no longer needed to fear that he would harm David. Though she had prayed that the baron would be found and put behind bars, she had never sought his death. Warren had been a troubled man, but so long as he lived, there was the possibility that he would change. Now that chance was gone, and Gwen was suffering.

“He didn’t hurt me until last night,” Gwen said, “and then it was with words, not his fists.” She stirred a spoonful of sugar into her coffee and tasted it before adding another. “What am I going to do now? I can’t hold my head up.”

“Oh, Gwen, that’s not true. You may feel like that right now, but what Warren did was his fault. It doesn’t reflect on you.”

Gwen shook her head. “I know you want to help me, but you don’t know how I feel.”

“Yes, I do.” Charlotte took a sip of coffee as she prepared to reveal parts of her past that she had tried desperately to hide. Though she hated dredging up painful memories, she couldn’t let her friend blame herself for Warren’s sins. “I know how you feel, because my husband did some terrible things.” Slowly she outlined what had happened at Fort Laramie and why she had called herself Charlotte Harding. “At first I was ashamed of what Jeffrey had done. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t responsible. I tried to change him, but the truth is, none of us can change another person. We can give them advice and we can point them in the right direction, but the decision has to be theirs. Jeffrey wasn’t willing to change. Warren was like that too. There was nothing you could do. You’re not responsible.”

Gwen sipped her coffee, her expression thoughtful as she settled the cup back on the saucer. “I wish I could believe that.”

Morning sun spilled into the parlor, sending a shaft of light over the carpet. Though Charlotte felt as if she’d aged years, it had been less than twelve hours since Warren had been here, writing his note and forcing Gwen and the children to go with him. But the night of terror had ended, and so Gwen’s anguish would, too, in time.

“Believe it,” Charlotte said. “And believe that God has good things in store for you, perhaps even another husband.”

“I doubt that.” As Gwen spoke, tears welled in her eyes. “No one will want me once they learn about what Warren did and how gullible I was to believe him. They’ll say I’m a fool, and I was. I was so anxious for Rose to have a father that I didn’t think clearly.” A single tear rolled down Gwen’s cheek. “I lost my chance. Now I need to resign myself to the fact that I’ll be a widow for the rest of my life.”

“I felt that way too,” Charlotte confided. “I was certain I’d never remarry. At first I worried that people would think I was like Jeffrey and would shun me for that reason. Then when I discovered that David was blind, I believed any man who might have considered marrying me would find David too much of a burden. I was wrong.” Charlotte looked at the ring that adorned her left hand. “God sent me a man who loves my son as much as I do.”

“You were blessed.” Gwen brushed her tears away, giving Charlotte a forced smile. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be all right. Rose and I have survived on our own before.”

Barely. Charlotte remembered the day she had met Gwen and how desperate the woman had appeared. “Are you worried about where you’ll live after Barrett and I marry?” Perhaps that had added to Gwen’s distress this morning.

When Gwen nodded, Charlotte reached across the table and laid her hand on her friend’s. “Barrett and I’ve talked about that. If you like, you can stay right here. With David and me gone, you’ll have more space. Rose can even have her own room.” Gwen nodded slowly. Though Charlotte hadn’t discussed the next idea with Barrett, she ventured it anyway. “If you want to be part of the school, there’s a place for you. I’ll need someone to watch over the children when they’re not in classes, and I can’t think of anyone better suited for that than you. It would mean you’d have to move to Barrett’s house, but the quarters on the third floor are as nice as our rooms here.”

Gwen’s eyes widened, and she clutched Charlotte’s hand. “You’d do that?” she asked, her voice filled with surprise and wonder. “You’d trust me to care for your pupils after what I did?”

So that was what was bothering Gwen. She feared that Charlotte would condemn her for showing Warren the Bible.

“Of course. We all make mistakes.” Charlotte had made more than her share, including not hiding the Bible.

Gwen smiled as she dashed new tears from her cheeks. “Thank you, Charlotte. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Are you ready?” Barrett asked as he entered the apartment.

It was early afternoon, and though he’d sent her several messages, this was the first time Charlotte had seen Barrett since he’d brought her and David home last night. The first message had told her that the authorities had been advised of what had happened at the Franklin ranch. The second detailed the simple burial he had arranged for Warren. The third had said there was an urgent matter regarding their wedding and that he would call for her this afternoon. Though she’d been puzzled, there had been no time to ask for an explanation, and now it no longer mattered, for Barrett was here, looking as handsome as ever, despite the evidence of his fight with Warren.

“The minister apologized,” he told Charlotte, “but he needs to meet with us today.” Barrett chuckled. “Actually, his wife needs to meet with us. She’s the organist. It seems she’s leaving tomorrow for a trip to Omaha and wants us to choose our hymns before she leaves.”

So that was the reason. “I’m ready.” Tying her bonnet ribbons, Charlotte looked down at her son, who clung to her skirts. “I’ll be back soon, David,” she said. “You can play with Rose while I’m gone.”

At the sound of her name, the little girl scampered across the room and took David’s hand. “I play with you. I and you have fun.”

“Is David all right?” Barrett asked as he and Charlotte descended the steps.

She nodded. “He will be. He’s been more clingy than normal today, but I’m not surprised. Last night must have been frightening for him.” There was nothing she could do other than lavish love on him and hope that the memories would fade quickly.

Charlotte looked up at Barrett when they reached the street. Though he’d smiled when he’d arrived, his eyes were clouded, and she knew his memories would not be so quick to fade. “Are you all right? You look troubled.”

He bent his arm and placed her hand on it. While it was less than a block to the parsonage, a distance she had walked without assistance many times, Barrett was a stickler for courtesy. Charlotte didn’t mind. In fact, she welcomed the opportunity to be close to him, especially this afternoon when she sensed that he needed comfort. Not simply the salves she had applied to his face and hands to soothe his cuts and bruises, but loving touches to heal the wounds that last night had inflicted. Those wounds would linger long after the bruises faded.

“I’m angry with myself for not seeing behind the mask.” Barrett spoke so softly that Charlotte had to strain to hear him. It was, she knew, a measure of his distress and perhaps his shame that he did not want to be overheard. “I thought Warren was my friend. Now I know he was only using me.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Charlotte tightened her grip on Barrett’s arm as she found herself using the same words she had with Gwen just a few hours earlier. Unlike Gwen, who had been able to release some of her sorrow through tears, Charlotte was certain that Barrett had not allowed himself to cry.

“Warren did wear a mask,” she said firmly. “He wore a real one when he visited Sylvia’s girls, but I think the one he donned when he was with you was even thicker. He didn’t plan for anyone to see through it, and we didn’t. He fooled us all.” Even she, who should have known better, had dismissed her concerns, telling herself that she was mistaken.

They had reached the front of Mr. Yates’s store. When a woman came out of the shop, Barrett raised his hat and greeted her. In another month, she would be one of his customers. In another month, he and Charlotte would be wed. But first he had to heal.

“I should have realized what was happening. I should have stopped it.”

Charlotte heard the anguish in Barrett’s voice and knew he was berating himself for the loss of a man he had once considered a friend. She slowed her steps, then stopped, forcing Barrett to stop too. What she wanted to say was best said when she had his full attention. She looked up at him, hoping he’d understand.

“We can’t change the past. It took me a long time to accept that and realize that all I can do is make the present the best it can be.”

Barrett nodded slowly, and the corners of his mouth started to twitch. Though she hadn’t thought she had said anything funny, Charlotte would not quibble if her words amused him. Anything she could do to lighten Barrett’s mood was good.

“You told me something like that the first time we met.” There was no doubt about it. He was smiling now, the lines of pain receding, his eyes brightening. “At the time, I thought you were an impractical idealist.”

On another day she might have feigned indignation over the description, but not today. “And now? Have you changed your mind?”

“Now I know you’re the woman I love, the one who’s seen me at my worst moments and who still wants to marry me.” His expression sobered. “I suppose I should ask you the same question you asked me. Have you changed your mind? Now that you’ve seen what a poor judge of people I am, are you sure you want to marry me?”

Tightening her grip on his arm again, Charlotte smiled at the man she loved. “More than ever.” Barrett’s face might be battered; his hands might be bruised; but to Charlotte he had never looked more handsome. The wounds he bore were wounds of honor, sustained defending her and David. They were visible proof of Barrett’s love, and though she might wish he had not had to incur them, she could not help but be moved by them.

The momentary doubt in his eyes vanished, replaced by the sparkle of happiness. “I love you, Charlotte.”

“And I love you.”

As his lips started to curve into another smile, he flattened them, and for an instant Charlotte thought he would scowl. She couldn’t imagine what had changed his mood so suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Barrett appeared startled. “No. Yes. Maybe.” He refused to meet her gaze. Instead, he stared into the distance as he said, “I suppose I ought to thank you for not giving Warren the ransom money, but you’ve created a problem.”

“A problem?” He was making no sense. Charlotte had heard that people who sustained injuries to their heads could be confused for several days. Perhaps Warren had hurt Barrett more seriously than she had realized. Perhaps they should be on their way to see a physician, not a minister. “How can there be a problem?”

Barrett’s lips quivered again, and once again Charlotte had the impression that he was trying to fight his smile. “Now I can’t collect the payment,” he announced.

“I don’t understand.”

Barrett’s eyebrows rose in what appeared to be astonishment. “How could you forget? Don’t you remember that when you insisted I should not sacrifice my savings, I told you I’d ask for payment when David was safe?” Charlotte nodded as the memory resurfaced. “That’s the payment I want to collect. The problem is, your son is safe, but it doesn’t seem quite fair to ask for anything when I still have all the money.”

Though Barrett’s voice was solemn, his eyes sparkled with ill-concealed mirth, and Charlotte realized that he was neither serious nor injured. He was in his right mind, trying to bring a little levity to a day that had had more than its share of tragedy.

“What kind of payment did you have in mind?” Charlotte tried to match Barrett’s solemnity, though the twinkle in his eyes told her that the payment he wanted couldn’t be onerous.

“A huge one.”

“How huge?”

“Enormous.”

She pursed her lips, pretending to be annoyed. “But you said I’d be able to afford it.”

Barrett nodded. “You can. The question is whether you will want to pay it.”

This was a side of Barrett Charlotte had not seen today, playful and joking, and—oh!—how she liked it. Living with a man like this would never be boring.

“Unless you tell me what you have in mind, I’ll have no choice but to refuse. My mother taught me never to buy a pig in a poke.”

“A what?”

“A pig in a poke.” When Barrett did not seem to recognize the term, Charlotte explained. “Poke is an old-fashioned word for a sack. Not buying a pig in a poke means you shouldn’t take something without looking at it. If it’s still in the sack, you don’t know whether it’s a healthy pig or whether it’s a pig at all.”

“I assure you, the payment I have in mind is no pig.” Oddly, the muffled noise that accompanied Barrett’s words sounded like a pig’s snort.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s simple and yet complex.”

“Sounds like a pig in a poke.” Charlotte shook her head in feigned indignation. “Just tell me, Barrett.”

“All right.” As the sun dipped behind a cloud, Barrett’s lips curved into the sweetest smile Charlotte had ever seen. “The payment I want is a kiss.”

Her smile matched his as she thought of the kisses they had shared last night. The prospect of a lifetime of those kisses broadened her smile. How glorious it would be to be married to this man!

“That’s all?” she asked, pretending disbelief. “You were prepared to give up your entire fortune, and all you want is a kiss?”

“Not just any kiss. I wanted a kiss from you.”

“One kiss?” He’d given her many more than that last night.

He nodded. “That’s all.”

“Then you shall have it.” Though it was clear that Barrett expected his payment later, Charlotte had other ideas. Barrett was the man of her dreams, the one she’d been waiting for her whole life. He was the man who’d filled her heart with love and happiness. He was her hero. And so, in full view of anyone passing by, Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

“I love you, Barrett Landry,” she murmured.