Wilderness Courtship (6 page)

“He’s alone?”

“Sleeping. Miss Charity put him to bed in her room and he hasn’t made a peep. I’ve been listenin’.”

Thorne hurried past. She was far enough up the stairway to watch the big man go directly to Charity’s door and ease it open.

A few seconds later his shout startled her so badly she nearly lost her balance. Grasping the banister she struggled the rest of the way up and found him on his knees on the rag rug next to Charity’s bed. He was hugging Jacob. The child was clinging to his neck and sobbing.

Concerned and winded, Annabelle leaned on the doorjamb for support. “What’s wrong? Is he sick?”

The look Thorne shot her in reply was so alarming it made her demand more answers. “What’s happened? Tell me.”

“I don’t know,” Thorne said. “When I got here he was sitting on the floor, crying. All I’ve been able to get out of him was that he was going to see his papa.”

“Maybe he was dreaming,” the older woman suggested.

Thorne rose with the sobbing youngster in his arms. “I don’t think so. He kept saying he wanted to go with the man.”

“To—to see my papa,” Jacob stuttered, sniffling.

“What man?” Annabelle asked. “Where is he?”

The boy pointed across the room. “Gone.”

“Out the window?” Thorne asked.

Jacob nodded, his dark curls bobbing.

Rather than carry his precious burden to the window and expose him to possible lingering danger, Thorne handed him to Mrs. Montgomery. “Here. And don’t let him out of your sight.”

She stood there, holding the boy and staring, openmouthed, as Thorne lifted the sash as high as it would go, bent double and stepped out onto the roof of the porch below.

“Do you see anybody?” she called.

“No. I’m going to climb on up to check the rest of the roof. Take Jacob downstairs and stay with Emory until Charity gets back.”

Not about to argue with such a forceful man, especially since he was so upset, the proprietress did as she was told.

She had just reached the parlor, carrying the sniffling child, when she heard a woman’s piercing scream echo from the street outside.

Chapter Six

R
eturning to the hotel with her purchases, Charity wouldn’t have noticed the two figures atop the hotel roof if a woman across the way hadn’t shrieked and pointed.

Mindful of the horse-and-wagon traffic in the muddy street, Charity nevertheless left the raised walk and quickly maneuvered until she was in a position to view what was going on.

She froze, squinted and shaded her eyes. Was that who she thought it was? Was Thorne Blackwell actually scrambling along the rooftop,
chasing
someone?

Backlit by the setting sun, the two men appeared little more than shifting shadows, yet she instantly recognized Thorne from the way he moved, the shape of his broad shoulders, the cut of his clothes. It was him, all right, and he was gaining on his agile, more slightly built quarry.

Thorne lunged. He grabbed for the other man and managed to catch hold of his ankle. Both figures fell, and the slam of their bodies hitting the metal roof carried all the way to the street below.

As Charity watched, the thinner man used his free leg to kick at Thorne and caught him in the shoulder. Thorne lost his grip and went skidding toward the edge of the corrugated tin roof as if the surface were greased.

Charity was too stunned to remember to pray. She gasped and held her breath as Thorne rolled onto his back, dug in his heels and slowed his descent. He finally came to a halt mere inches from the edge of the precipice.

Instead of abandoning his pursuit the way Charity had expected him to, he immediately turned and started to climb back to the crest of the roof, moving like one of the hundreds of tiny crabs that crowded the shore at low tide.

As soon as he reached the highest peak, he braced himself and straightened, his hands on his hips. Charity assumed from his stillness that his target must have escaped.

She watched until he had given up, edged safely back down onto the porch roof and was preparing to enter one of the windows. That was when she realized that he was climbing into
her
room! The very room where she had left Jacob.

Frightened beyond imagination, Charity hiked her skirts and raced back across the rutted street toward the hotel. Not even stopping to wipe her feet, she dropped her purchases inside the door, crossed the lobby and bolted up the stairs just in time to confront Thorne as he exited her room.

“What is it?” she asked breathlessly. “Is Jacob all right?”

“Yes.” He was scowling. “Why did you leave him alone?”

“I didn’t. He was sleeping so I asked Mrs. Montgomery to look in on him while I ran to the store. I never have stayed with him every waking moment.” She tried to squeeze past.

Thorne reached out and grasped her arm to stop her. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have blamed you.”

“For what, exactly? What’s happened?”

“Someone tried to take him,” he said flatly.

“What?” Frantic, she twisted to free herself. “Let me go. I have to see him.”

“Settle down. He’s safe now. He’s with Mrs. Montgomery and your father.”

“Oh, thank the Lord!” Charity said, meaning the praise with every ounce of her being.

Suddenly weak-kneed, she was glad Thorne had not yet released his hold on her. She sagged within his grasp. He stepped to her side to begin guiding her down the stairs toward the parlor.

“I saw you out on the roof just now,” Charity said as they descended. “Was that man the one who tried to steal Jacob? Was that why you were chasing him?”

“Yes. Jacob told me he had fled out the window. When I followed, I spotted him running away.”

“Did you recognize him?”

“I’m not sure. I think he may have been one of the hotel guests.”

“The man who was listening to us talk in the kitchen?” she asked, barely whispering and looking from side to side to make certain they were alone.

“No. A different person. I don’t recall his name but I’m fairly certain I’ve seen him around.” His frown deepened and he paused with her before they reached the ground floor. “As a matter of fact, I think he’s one of the volunteers who was helping me search for Aaron.”

“But, why would he try to take Jacob?”

“Probably because he’s working for my stepfather,” Thorne said with obvious malice.

His arm tightened around her shoulders and Charity permitted the social faux pas. At that moment she needed Thorne’s strong moral and physical support more than she needed to maintain her usually prim demeanor. Jacob had been in mortal danger and she had failed him. She could only thank a benevolent providence for the child’s deliverance.

That was a direct answer to her prayers for Jacob and Naomi’s safety, she realized with a start. Even though she had temporarily failed in her duty, God had looked after the innocent little boy.
And his mother, also?
she asked herself.

Grasping the banister with her right hand, she swiveled to look back up the stairs. “Wait. Have you checked on Naomi, too?”

Thorne froze. “That’s where I was headed when I ran into you. Stay here.”

“Not on your life,” Charity said. “From now on, where you go, I go.”

“No. It might be dangerous.”

Charity gave a nervous laugh as she dogged his steps in spite of his sensible admonitions. “Fine,” she muttered, speaking as much to herself as to Thorne, “if you get into any more trouble like you did on the roof, I’ll be there to clunk the other fellow over the head and rescue you.”

Naomi was asleep when Thorne unlocked her door but he thought it best to rouse her and make certain she was unmolested.

“Naomi?” He gently touched her shoulder.

“Oh. Is it morning?” she asked, yawning and blinking rapidly. “Dear me. I seem to have fallen asleep without getting ready for bed. What will Mama say?”

“I’m sure she won’t be upset,” Charity volunteered. “Are you feeling better after your nap?”

“Fit as a fiddle.” The paler woman swung her feet over the side of the bed and looked at her own feet. “My, my, I’ve left my shoes on, too. How silly of me.”

She stood, stretched, then smoothed her fitted jacket over her skirt with a delicate tug at the braid decorating the bottom edge, as well as the collar and cuffs. “Well, I’d best be going.”

“I think you should come downstairs with us,” Charity said before Thorne could object.

He agreed. “You’re right. It will be best if we all stick together until we sail.” Looking to Charity he added, “You can sleep with Naomi tonight and I’ll keep the boy with me. We’ll leave our door open so we’ll hear you if you call out.”

“Do you really think that’s necessary?”

“Vital. Do you have a gun?”

“No. I’ve never been fond of firearms.”

“Well, you’d better get fond of them because you may need to defend yourself. Have you ever learned to shoot?”

“Yes. Faith insisted I practice with Papa’s old Colt. It was so heavy I had to use two hands to lift it.”

“I’ll find you something lighter, something you can safely carry in your apron pocket or your reticule.”

“If you insist.”

Seeing Charity shiver and pull her lacy shawl closer brought a tightness to his gut. What had he gotten her involved in? And how was he going to protect all three of his charges if they were ever separated? Jacob was dear to his heart and Naomi was kin, but the notion of having to choose them over Charity Beal gnawed at his conscience. The only sensible conclusion was to see that the four of them were together all the time until he had delivered Naomi to her parents. After that, he’d simply escort Charity back to San Francisco and everyone’s troubles would be over.

Thorne would have felt a lot better about those logical conclusions if his heart and mind had not immediately countered them with serious misgivings. First, it would be improper for him to travel with only Charity. Although she was perfect as Naomi’s chaperone and Jacob’s caretaker, escorting a lovely, single woman like her posed an altogether different moral dilemma.

And that wasn’t all that was bothering him. There were clearly forces of evil at work. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to clear his mind of vivid images of impending doom. Images that involved Charity Beal.

Naomi had taken Thorne’s arm, leaving Charity to follow them down the stairs. She wasn’t offended. After all, she reminded herself, she was merely the hired help, not a part of his family, no matter what he had promised about treating her as such. Besides, she had only accepted the position because she cared about poor little Jacob.

And now look what’s happened,
she chided.
You left him alone and he was nearly kidnapped. Or worse!

That dire conclusion brought unshed tears to her eyes. She had made a bad mistake and the Lord had sent Thorne to set things right again. She would not make any more errors of judgment. From now on she was going to stick closer than that child’s shadow. No one was going to harm him. Not while she still had breath in her body.

When they reached the lobby, Charity dodged past the others and made a beeline for Annabelle and the boy. It was clear that Jacob had been crying because his eyes were red and his cheeks streaked by tears.

She held out her arms. He immediately scrambled down from Mrs. Montgomery’s ample lap and ran to Charity as fast as his short, pudgy legs would carry him.

She scooped him up and held him tight for a long moment before she smiled and said, “Look at you. We need to wash your face.”

“I want my papa,” he whined.

“I know you do, dear. But I can’t do anything about that right now.” Balancing him on one hip she started toward the kitchen. “Let’s go get you cleaned up and then maybe we can find you another cookie. How does that sound?”

A glance back toward Thorne told her he wasn’t keen on having the child out of his sight for even a few minutes.

“We’ll be right here in the kitchen,” she said flatly. “If you want to join us, you’re most welcome, but it’s not necessary. I will not leave him alone again, I promise you. Not for any reason.”

“We’ll be right here, talking,” Thorne said as he formally escorted Naomi to the settee and placed her beside Annabelle. “Don’t be long.”

“No longer than it takes to wash and find a treat.” Charity smiled. “And don’t bother telling me I’m spoiling him. I know I am. And I fully intend to continue.”

To her relief, Thorne returned her smile, although his was more lopsided and wry than what she was used to seeing. It gave him an impish air that she fancied was more a reflection of the boy he had once been than of the man he had become.

“I’m not at all surprised,” he said. “I’d be doing the same thing if I were not otherwise occupied.”

“Then I’ll give him a cookie on your behalf, too. How does that sound?”

With his eyes glittering suspiciously and his voice hoarse he answered, “Please do.”

Charity was so touched by the tenderness she noted in Thorne’s response she had to bite her lip to keep from weeping tears of joy and relief. They had had a terrible scare, one that might very well have spelled the end of their proposed rescue mission, and she was so thankful to have the child in her arms, healthy and unharmed, that she would have given him just about anything he had asked for.

The one thing she couldn’t give him, of course, was the return of his missing father. It was hard to believe Aaron was actually deceased, although all indications pointed to that heartrending result.

Then again, Charity told herself, the ways of the Lord truly were mysterious. Aaron could still be alive even if he had been shipwrecked.

Thinking that gave her an inkling of peace and she chose to latch on to the possibility that he had survived rather than dwell on his probable death.

She sat Jacob on the edge of the enameled sink while she pumped fresh water to wet a clean cloth. “This is a bit cold,” she said, wiping his cheeks, “but your face is really dirty, you know that?”

He nodded and accepted her ministrations stoically. “Uh-huh.” Looking past her shoulder at the doorway into the parlor, he asked, “Is Uncle Thorne mad at me?”

“Oh, honey, no,” Charity said quickly, kissing his damp forehead. “He was just worried, that’s all. You must never go off with strangers, not even ones that seem nice or say they can take you to your papa. Promise?”

His lower lip quivered. “Uh-huh.”

“Good.” She tried to lift his spirits by pretending she wasn’t concerned when what she really wanted to do was clasp the child tightly to her breast for the rest of the day and night. “Now, how about that cookie?”

“Two cookies,” the bright child said as she lifted and set him on the floor. “One from you and one from Uncle Thorne.”

Charity laughed. “That’s right. Hold up your fingers and show me how many that is.”

When he struggled to display only two fingers and finally succeeded, she clasped his hand and kissed his extended fingers. “That’s right. What a smart boy you are.”

“I’m almost three,” Jacob said, laboriously adding another digit and displaying the count.

“That’s wonderful. When is your birthday?”

He looked puzzled, then brightened. “Mama knows. We can ask her.”

Charity had to turn away. She busied herself getting his cookies while she sought to compose herself. What were they going to do if Naomi never regained her memory or even came to her senses about the simplest things? What if she continued to believe that she, too, was a child? What would happen to her little boy then?

The dreadful consequences of such a misfortune were unthinkable.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I almost had him,” the wiry young man said.

“And nearly got yourself into serious trouble. I told you I’d take care of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You just want all the glory for yourself.”

“I deserve it,” the heavier man replied, giving his tall companion a look of disdain. “I never would have tried a stunt like you pulled. Not right under their noses. What were you thinking, man? What if you’d gotten caught?”

“But I didn’t.” He peered from one end of the alleyway to the other, clearly wary and understandably nervous.

“Not yet you haven’t. The night is still young.” Blowing puffs from his cigar into rings, the heavyset smoker paused for effect before he said, “If I were you, I’d be down at the docks right now, looking for passage out of here on the first boat I could find, like I told you.”