Sean continued to stand next to the window, the events of the day going once again through his mind until a hunger pain tore at his stomach. The pain was impetus enough to cause him to move. Not wanting to dwell on the hours he had just lived through, he decided to make the bed.
He found himself mentally thanking his brother-in-law, Rigg, for the months he had lived with him. Rigg had taught him to take care of himself. Prior to that, his mother, and then his aunt, had seen to everything.
No water had been offered to Sean in jail beyond that which he’d been given to drink. So when the bed was finally made, and he noticed a pitcher and bowl on the dresser, he decided to find some water and have a quick wash. It couldn’t really compare with a bath, but it would have to suffice and would certainly make him more presentable at supper.
Sean’s door squeaked as it opened. Carrying the pitcher, he stepped tentatively into the hallway and walked softly out to the main room of the house where he stood looking around. There was no sign of his wife.
He noticed for the first time a large stove in the corner with wood stacked nearby. The kitchen table, appearing to be about four feet square, was made of oak and had four matching chairs.
Sean discovered that a doorway off the kitchen led to the living room. It had a long sofa and one overstuffed chair. There was a small table stacked with a few old newspapers, and all the furniture sat on an old, braided rug.
After a superficial inspection of both rooms, Sean looked more closely in the kitchen for a container of water. He had circled the room twice and figured he’d have to ask his wife or go without.
He turned to head down the hall and nearly dropped the pitcher he was carrying when he found Charlie standing just inside the room watching him.
“Is there a problem?”
“I was looking for some water.” Sean gestured with the pitcher before noticing the shotgun in her hand and changing his mind about needing water. “I was going to have a quick wash, but it can wait.”
His voice dropped on these last words; his whole body tensed. He wanted to move past her, but she was blocking his path and he wasn’t about to do anything to make her use that gun. He stood still and waited.
“There’s a well outside at the back of the house. I’ll show you.”
Sean watched in some surprise as she leaned her gun against a wall and preceded him to the door. Sean noticed as they walked that she was finally without her hat, and had even removed the oversized jacket she’d been wearing. There wasn’t much to her; in fact, her frame was rather slight. She had the brightest red hair he’d ever seen.
There was no conversation as Sean filled his pitcher. Not until they were ready to go back to the house did Sean notice a bucket sitting beside the well.
“Charlotte,” Sean used her name for the first time. “Do you want me to fill this for the house?”
Charlie’s head had whipped around at the sound of her name, but there was no teasing in Sean’s eyes. No one called her Charlotte, except in wisecracking, and Charlie just assumed that he was getting smart with her. She couldn’t have been more wrong. His eyes were as respectful and hesitant as they had been since the two of them had stood in the courthouse and become man and wife.
“Yeah, we’ll need it in the morning.”
Sean proceeded to fill the bucket. Charlie stayed to watch him, although she wasn’t sure why. For a moment in the kitchen she had thought he was out there to make a run for it, but that thought was swiftly put to rest when she had looked into his eyes.
Charlie was finally admitting to herself that his size had little to do with why she had married him. It had been his eyes. How many times were they going to get her into trouble? She had spoken up at the hanging because of those eyes and the way he’d kept them closed. Then in the kitchen, when she confronted him with the gun, it was the fear she saw in them that caused her to put the weapon down and escort him to the well.
Charlie had been amazed to see that he was afraid of her. She found she didn’t care for that at all. She didn’t plan to get close to this man in any way. They might be married, but in her mind he was nothing more than hired help. Yet to see a man of his size and obvious strength showing fear tugged at her heart.
Sean set down the bucket in the kitchen and took the pitcher to his room. While they had been at the well, a young girl named Ruth had delivered a plateful of food from the hotel to Charlie’s kitchen table. By the time Sean returned to eat, Charlie had carefully divided the food. He sat down in the chair across from her.
Sean, believing he could consume five times the amount on his plate, found himself suddenly queasy. He ate slowly of the beef stew before him, and when Charlie tried to pass him half of her biscuit, he declined. Though he found himself hoping there would be more food in the future, for now he was thankful that he had no more to tackle.
The meal was eaten in silence. By the time Charlie rose, Sean was also finished, and he watched as she put their plates in a large pan. She turned and spoke her last words of the evening.
“We start work at 6:00, so you’d better get some rest.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you for supper,” Sean said softly. “Goodnight, Charlotte.”
Charlie frowned again at the use of her name before watching him leave. The frown caused Sean to wonder what he had done this time.
Sean’s body was trembling with fatigue and something else he couldn’t name by the time he crawled beneath the blanket on his bed. Even though the bed was too small, it felt wonderful to relax his tense muscles.
In a state of physical exhaustion, Sean thought he would fall right to sleep, but again the day’s events began to play through his mind. One moment he was about to be hanged, and the next he was married. In quick succession the faces of Father, Rigg, Kaitlin, Marcail, Gretchen, and Molly all floated through his mind. Someday he might see them again. The thought was too much for him.
His hand came to the tender line on his neck where the rope had rubbed. This time he let the fear and helplessness come fully to mind. Tears flooded his eyes. He had cried in the jail cell right before the hanging, but these tears, in the house of a stranger who now happened to be his wife, made the earlier tears seem minor in comparison.
Sean’s entire body shook with sobs, and he was unaware of the hoarse cries that issued from his throat. He thought he would never gain control, and in fact, didn’t even try. He wept and thanked God he was alive, allowing himself for the first time to really believe it.
Unknown to Sean, Charlie stood in the middle of her bedroom and listened to his cries. Her face was a mask of shock and confusion. Before this time she would have said that the sound of a man’s tears would disgust her, but not now, not this man’s.
Charlie’s heart was hard, but something was beginning to tear inside of her. She told herself that if he didn’t stop soon, he was going to make her cry. And that was something she was sure couldn’t happen, since she hadn’t cried in years.
She listened until the tears stopped, and wondered what type of man her husband really was.
“My husband,” Charlie said out loud, as if she had just realized this fact. She whispered, “What have I done?”
Franklin Witt stood in the sheriff’s living room, where he had tracked down Judge Harrison. The banker was fraught with frustration, since the judge would not listen to reason.
“Doesn’t anyone recognize that we’ve let a bank robber loose? He has probably murdered Charlie and is halfway to Hartley’s hideout by now.”
“I think you’ve got him all wrong, Witt. For one thing, Charlie can usually take care of herself, and for another, Sean is not violent. He’s also not really loose, at least, not the way you’re talking about,” Duncan assured him. “I’ll be keeping an eye on him, you can count on that.”
Witt ran a distracted hand through his hair, and the judge took pity on him.
“Go home now, Witt. The document was legal, and there’s nothing you can do. Maybe things will look better in the morning.”
Seeing that he had no choice, Franklin bid the men goodnight. Once outside, he stood for a moment on the porch and drew the night air into his lungs.
“Things might look better in the morning,” he said to himself as determination overtook him, “but I’m not through with Sean Donovan. I’m sure he can tell me more.”