West Winds of Wyoming (19 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

C
harlie glanced up as Brenna Lane hurried out the front door carrying her small cloth bag. He noted her high color and the hard line to her mouth. Something had transpired inside that had her blood pumping.

As she descended the steps, he took in her gently curved shape and nicely formed lips. He considered her sunny disposition from the school picnic.

A man could do worse, Charlie
, something whispered inside.
Just think how happy it would make Maddie.

He glanced up at the sky.
Are you putting these thoughts in my head, Miss Baxter? I didn’t take your matchmaking seriously before, but maybe I should have.
He took a small step toward Georgia as he waited.
A wife? My wife?

That’s right
, the voice encouraged.
She’s won your daughter’s affections. Why not yours?

Was he wrong to consider her just for Maddie’s sake? Hadn’t his own father done just that when he’d married his stepmother, Priscilla? His pa had needed someone to take care of the family of small boys, help in the house, cook meals. Seemed like his pa and Priscilla had been happy enough. He couldn’t remember a cross word passing between them. Surely, it wasn’t a sin to marry for convenience.

“You needn’t have waited, Mr. Rose.” Her tone was clipped. “I’m perfectly fine walking back alone. I do it all the time.”

She sounded a little bit cross. He needed to lighten her mood. Best way to do that was to get her smiling—then she might tell him what he wanted to know. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes, I did.”

They turned and started back the way they’d come. Georgia, ambling along behind them, probably thought he’d lost his marbles, what with him walking again instead of riding her.

Wait a second. I’m not sure I believe all that. Horses don’t think rational thoughts like people. That’s just too farfetched to believe. Nell is lonely. When Seth’s gone, she needs something to talk to and she’s decided it’s the animals.

He glanced back at his mare. The image of Nell riding beside him in the moonlight made his heart pick up tempo. She touched something deep inside him that Brenna didn’t—but would that matter in the long run?

“I’m glad to hear you got what you came for,” he drawled slowly, trying to capture Brenna’s undivided attention, “but actually it’s a little hard to believe. You’re still empty-handed.” He motioned at her hands and the small satchel she carried. “Whatever you came for must be in there? Am I right?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Mr. Rose, did anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?”

He let go a laugh that spooked a flock of common yellowthroats from a fir tree along the road. They swooped into the sky and Brenna’s lips curled up as she watched them fly away. She was softening . . .

“Yes, they have, Mrs. Lane,” he said. “They most surely have. But I’ve also been told that satisfaction brought it back. What about you?”

She arched a brow, surely trying to fight the giggle that finally popped out of her mouth. “So, I see you’re a learned man. That is a bit unusual for a cowboy in these parts.”

He nodded. “I’d say somewhat learned. Not too much, though. Not enough to be stuffy, or impersonal. I’m hospitable and charming. And you must be learned, if you can recognize my educated state.”

She stopped and gaped at him for a moment. “That’s quite a statement, Mr. Rose. I’m glad you think so highly of yourself.”

His face heated. The devil had placed those words in his mouth.

“And actually, I am—a little educated, that is,” Brenna added. “But mostly, I’m self-taught by absorbing my lessons right along with my children as they bring their studies home from school. I do have a small library of books that I read and reread though.”

Charlie made a note of that. Maybe he would ask Nell if he could borrow a book or two to share with Brenna. Only on loan, of course. He didn’t think Nell would mind.

“That’s right clever of you, Mrs. Lane, learning with the young ’uns, I mean. I’m more than just a cowboy, you know. I was a merchant. I used to own a gun shop. My duties included cleaning and gun repair, bookkeeping, ordering parts from back East, and even making nice with the grumpy old man who had the glass shop next to mine. He had a way of turning everything I said back on me. That codger was always stewing for a fight over something.” He gave a quick wink to her upturned face, though she didn’t appear too impressed. “But—I learned how to get around his grouchy ways, and even make him smile.”

He glanced at the pouch clutched in her hands, worry over Maddie never far from his thoughts. “I can’t help wonder what brought you out so early on a Sunday morning, to walk all the way across town for something so small it fits in your handbag. Call me curious, or call me a dead cat. Either way, I’d like to know.”

She gave another small laugh but kept her vision trained straight ahead. “If you
really
must know, Mr. Rose, I came for some willow bark to make a soothing tea for Mr. Hutton, the schoolteacher, who has taken ill. He recently moved in across the street from me and my family, and the poor man has no one else to fetch it for him. Mrs. Hollyhock keeps a good store of herbs and roots for medicinal purposes, in case you find yourself in need of some.”

“Taken ill?” Fear frosted Charlie’s inner core. All laughter died. Was Maddie in danger? “I thought Logan Meadows had a doctor. I believe Nell mentioned that to me the other day.”

“Oh, yes. Dr. Thorn has just finished examining Mr. Hutton. Unfortunately, he’ll be down for some time—just as the new school term is set to begin. That’s another situation I need to figure out.”

They rounded the corner onto Main Street, where a few more people were out and about. “Did the doctor say what the teacher has? Is it serious?”

“Serious enough. It’s a clear case of the measles. I’m sure you’re aware that the disease is quite hard on adults.”

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, I had them myself when I was in my twenties.” He felt like dancing the Texas Two-Step. Three years ago he’d sat by Maddie’s side, putting cool compresses on her head to lessen her fever and grabbing her hands when she went to scratch her face. By the time she was well, he’d almost gone hoarse from reading to her constantly. A small scar on the right side of her nose was the only reminder. “My mother’s brother succumbed to them but that was before I was born. After that, she always had a healthy fear of the disease.”

Brenna nodded. “With good reason, then. Logan Meadows had several cases two years ago, and a few the year before that. My whole brood caught them one after another. Three months passed before my household was back to normal.”

“Your children are all well now, then?”

“Yes, they are, at the moment. And that includes my little adopted daughter, Maddie. But I’m worried because I don’t know her medical history, or if she’s susceptible to coming down with something or not. If she is, she might contract what Mr. Hutton has. She says she’s already had the measles, but I’m not sure if a young child really remembers which sicknesses she’s had and which she has not.”

Charlie let go the breath he’d been holding. No need for Brenna to worry over Maddie needlessly. “The child says she did? Does she show any signs of having them, any pocks or scars?”

Her eyes brightened. “I never thought of that. I’ll ask her that exact question when I return home. Measles don’t always leave scars, not like chicken pox, but can if scratched deeply. All my children have a mark or two.”

Good.
Maddie knew exactly where she had a scar thanks to Miss Baxter sulking over it so often. Bemoaning the fact that the tiny spot next to her nose might never fade.
Maddie can’t see it, but she’ll be able to point it out.

A large dose of relief loosened Charlie’s limbs. And Brenna had called Maddie her daughter. That must mean she loved her. Although he longed to keep the subject going, he didn’t dare. The truth would be out soon enough and he didn’t want to make matters worse than they were going to be. Feathers would be ruffled. People would feel duped. Anger would flare. He knew that, but he didn’t have a choice. If they couldn’t understand his reasons for wanting to keep her safe, then they wouldn’t understand anything. No one knew Galante like he did.

But what if Maddie is better off with Mrs. Lane and her family than with me? What if Brenna won’t consider me?
There was that possibility—a good possibility
. What if Maddie doesn’t want to leave her?
That was outlandish to think but still he felt his insides heat up. He wiped his free palm against his pants. Of course Maddie would want to come home as soon as she knew he was here. He wouldn’t let his uncertainties get the better of him.

“Have you lived in Logan Meadows for some time?”

Brenna gave him a strained look. “I see the curious cat is back, Mr. Rose. Yes, for many years.”

“Can’t you please call me Charlie? I feel we know each other, at least a little.”

She relaxed into a smile. “All right, Charlie. I’d be pleased if you called me Brenna.”

He nodded, then said, “Thank you.”
Progress.
Several minutes passed in silence. It actually felt good stretching his legs like this. Maybe he should walk more often.

The fact that there was a pretty woman next to him didn’t hurt, either. They’d learned quite a bit about each other.
We’re becoming friends.
As far as he knew, she wasn’t stepping out with anyone else. Surely, she wanted a husband again to help feed her children, didn’t she? Wasn’t that what all widows desired?

He snuck a quick glance at Brenna when she waved at somebody in the restaurant window. Could he love her? That was the real question. Surely, they could be friends. They’d proven that fact now, by working through several topics of conversation, and ending them with a smile. But was marrying her just to create a mother and home for his daughter right? What about her feelings? And his?

Once in town, Brenna turned to him and stopped. “I’ve enjoyed our conversation. And thank you for helping Mrs. Hollyhock. She’s getting on in age and I do worry about her.”

He tipped his hat, well aware he wouldn’t be getting any more of Brenna’s time today. “I enjoyed the time, as well. And filling those kettles and starting the fire was nothing. I’m glad I could be of some help.” He fingered his reins. “Oh, I wonder if I could give you a few of my things that need mending.”

Brenna’s eyes brightened. “Of course you can, Charlie. Is that why you’ve been following me all morning talking about everything under the sun?” She laughed. “You shouldn’t be shy about asking me about mending. That’s what I do. Drop them by anytime you’d like and I’ll be happy to put your clothes to rights.”

He went to Georgia’s side; the horse—seemingly bored to tears—had already fallen asleep in the early sunshine. He unbuckled the keep on his saddlebag and reached inside. “Actually, I have them with me now.” He didn’t want to go by the house and risk bumping into Maddie.

“Even better. I’m happy to take them.”

He handed her the only other shirt he owned, embarrassed now that he’d forgotten the garment was soiled, and two rolled pairs of socks. “Sorry for their condition. Until this minute, I didn’t think about washing them first.” He wagged his finger through a small hole that was growing in the side seam.

“Not at all. If you’d like, I can wash, mend and then iron them, too.”

“Iron the socks?” he asked in shocked innocence.

Brenna laughed. “No, not the socks.” She lifted her chin teasingly. “Just the shirt. It’s only a nickel more. All total with washing and ironing would be thirty-five cents.”

Her smile went all the way up to her eyes and Charlie was mighty happy he’d decided to bring the mending into town. “That’s not enough. I’ll pay more than that.”

“Absolutely not.” Her brows drew down and she looked back the way they’d walked.

“What is it?”

“I’m worried about Violet doing all that wash by herself. Wet sheets are weighty. I’d have stayed to help if Mr. Hutton didn’t need me.”

“You mean Mrs. Hollyhock? Back at the inn?”

She nodded.

He gave Brenna his most charming smile. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll take care of everything.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE