A Worthy Pursuit (18 page)

“But, Mama, I love
you
more than I love music. Please don’t make me stay here. I want to be with you.”

Tears had streamed down her mother’s face, but she hadn’t relented. Like Lily’s mother, Jeanette Atherton had been determined to do what she believed was in her daughter’s best interest.

“Do you remember the story of Hannah from your Bible school lessons?”

Charlotte nodded, not sure what a Bible story had to do with her mother leaving her behind. “She prayed so hard for a baby that the priest thought she was drunk.”

Mama had chuckled at that. “That’s right. And in her prayer, she vowed that if God would give her a son, she would dedicate him to the Lord’s service. And she did. She took her son, Samuel, to the priest to be raised by him, taught by him. I’m doing the same for you, Lottie. Traveling from city to city is no life for a young girl, and stifling the music in your soul is a sin I couldn’t bear to have on my conscience. This is what’s best, darling. For both of us.”

And that’s when Charlotte had stopped arguing.
For both of us
. Charlotte was holding her mother back, impeding her career.
Her love for her daughter tugged her in one direction while her love of the stage tugged her the opposite way. She couldn’t have both, not with any measure of success. And Charlotte wanted her mother to be successful. She deserved it. Jeanette Atherton’s arias could make the hardhearted weep. A talent like that shouldn’t be held back simply because her daughter was too afraid to be on her own.

“All right, Mama. I’ll stay.”

“That’s my good girl.” She hugged Charlotte to her breast. “I’m going to miss you so much!” Charlotte never wanted the embrace to end, but it did. All too soon. Her mother straightened, fumbling with the clasp on the brooch that perched high among her bodice ruffles. “Take this, sweetheart. I know you’ve always liked it. Think of me when you wear it and remember how much I love you.” She pressed the cameo into Charlotte’s palm, caught a sob behind her lacy handkerchief, then dashed for her carriage.

Charlotte had worn the brooch every day since.

At first, like Hannah, Charlotte’s mother had visited every year, usually at Christmas. They would escape to their cottage in Madisonville, chatter long into the night about operas and schoolgirl squabbles, and find each other again. But when Charlotte started her studies at Sam Houston Normal School, the visits stopped. Her mother’s career had taken off in Europe, making travel more difficult. And Charlotte had grown into an adult who shouldn’t need her mother. Yet she did.

Perhaps it was that loss of connection that made her blind to Alexander’s true motives and left her susceptible to his charms. She’d wanted to belong to someone, hungered for a relationship that went deeper than the friendly smile of acquaintances passing in the halls. But that longing only brought pain and humiliation, so she boxed it up and shoved it into the darkest
recesses of her heart to gather dust. And there it had stayed all these years, safely out of reach.

Charlotte had her students, of course, and her fellow teachers. Yet even with them she’d felt compelled to hold a piece of herself back. For protection against the time when they would leave.

All that changed the day Stone found her at the piano. He’d cracked open her chest with his gentle questions, and all her secrets had tumbled out in a bloody gush. She still couldn’t believe she had told him about her father and Alexander. She’d never told anyone about them. Not the teachers she’d worked with at the academy. Not even Rebekah Dorchester. If he hadn’t caught her at such a vulnerable moment, she probably wouldn’t have told him, either. Yet she couldn’t dredge up true regret over it. The memory of his arm around her shoulders was too precious. The feel of his fingers stroking her arm. He’d listened to the whole ugly tale and never once stopped touching her. Accepting her. Soothing her. His comfort had been addictive. Dangerous. It tempted her to clear away the cobwebs from a certain box that was better left unopened.

“Whatcha doing, Miss Lottie?” Lily’s question rang out behind her, startling Charlotte from her reverie.

Dropping her hand from her cameo, Charlotte reclaimed the dust cloth she’d abandoned on the window ledge earlier. “Dusting. Do you need help with your grammar lesson?”

Lily skipped into the room. “Nope. I finished it.”

Charlotte nodded her approval. “Good. Then you may read for a while, if you’d like.”

“But all my Dead-Eye Dan books are already packed, and I’m not in the mood for anything else.” She flopped onto the edge of the bed, her body stretched out on her belly, her feet waving in the air. A long-suffering sigh echoed as she propped
her chin on her hand. “Do you think that letter will come today? Mr. Hammond promised we could leave as soon as it got here.”

Charlotte forfeited the dusting pretense and sat next to Lily on the bed. She ran her fingers through the girl’s wavy blond hair, working a tangle or two free as she went. Ever since Stone had told the children about the trip he’d planned to visit the ranch where Daniel Barrett worked, Lily had been brimming with excitement. Unfortunately, with every day they had no letter from Austin, the child had grown more and more out of sorts. Today marked Stone’s third trip to town. For Lily’s sake, Charlotte prayed he would come back with a letter.

“Why don’t we go check on the boys, see how they’re coming on their grammar lesson? Then it will be time to move on to arithmetic.”

“Ugh!” Lily rolled onto her back, her head drooping off the edge of the bed like a piece of raw crust dangling over the rim of a pie tin. “I hate arithmetic.”

Charlotte bit back a smile at the dramatics. “Come on. It’s not so bad. You memorized the multiplication tables in one day. Division is just working backward on the same table.”

“But not all the answers are on the table. And those stupid remainders . . . Ugh!”

Charlotte stood and waited for Lily to drag herself off the bed. “You can’t always rely on your memory to get you the answers, Lily. You have to learn the mathematic procedures so you can figure out a solution when that internal catalog of yours hits a blank page.”

“I know, I know. That still doesn’t mean I gotta like it.”

After the children finished their arithmetic lesson, Charlotte gave them each a treat from the cookie jar then shooed them
outside to play. Her mind lingered miles away from teaching. Six miles, to be precise. In Madisonville. With Stone.

She snatched the loaves of bread that had been cooling on the kitchen counter and began sawing them into slices. Halfway through the second loaf, Mr. Dobson burst through the back door.

“Rider comin’ from the east. Ridin’ hard.”

Madisonville lay to the south, not the east.

Heart thundering, Charlotte dropped the bread knife and sprinted past Dobson, out the door he’d just thrown wide.

“Stephen!” Charlotte ran as fast as she could around the back of the house, praying the kids were playing in the barn as usual and not roaming farther afield. “Stephen!”

She spotted the boy on the top rung of the corral fence. His head whipped around. In an instant, he leapt from his perch and raced toward her. “What is it, Miss Lottie?”

“Rider coming,” she managed between heaving breaths. “Help get the others . . . to the cellar.”

Stephen took off for the barn without a single question. By the time Charlotte made it to the opening, he had both John and Lily by the hand.

“Hurry, children.” She could hear the quiet thuds of distant hoofbeats drawing closer. They didn’t have much time. The trees surrounding the house offered some measure of cover, but once the rider turned down the lane that led to the house, he’d have an unobstructed view. They had to be in the house before he reached the lane.

John’s shorter legs struggled to keep up with the older kids. Stephen dragged him along, but the younger boy lost his balance and fell.

Panic lent Charlotte speed. “I’ve got him,” she called, waving at Stephen to keep going. Barely breaking stride, Charlotte
scooped John up and held him to her chest. His legs locked around her waist and his arms found her neck. Thankful for his secure grip, she dashed up the back steps and through the kitchen door. Dobson threw it closed behind her.

The cellar door had been built into the kitchen floor, and her caretaker already had it propped open, waiting for them. Stephen and Lily scurried down the ladder. Charlotte handed John down to them then gathered her skirts to make the descent herself.

Halfway down, she paused and glanced up at Dobson. “Be careful.”

The old caretaker rolled his eyes at her. “Quit your worryin’, woman. I’ll be fine. I got my rifle and my wits. You just tend to them young’uns.”

Charlotte nodded and turned her attention back to fitting her toes to each rung so she didn’t tumble. As soon as her head cleared the floorboards, the door above her slammed into place. Darkness stole her breath.

“Miss Lottie?” Lily’s tearful voice led Charlotte to where the children huddled against the far wall.

“Shh. It’s all right, sweetheart.” Feeling her way in the dark, Charlotte found Lily’s hand and clasped it tight. “I’m here. Everything’s going to be fine. Let’s just close our eyes and pretend we’re all snuggled up together on the sofa.” Charlotte maneuvered herself into the middle of the group, sat on the floor, then gathered John in her lap. Wrapping one arm around Lily and taking Stephen’s hand with the other, she hummed a lullaby until she felt the children start to calm.

Keep the children safe, Lord. Whatever happens, keep them safe.

Charlotte couldn’t tell if the children’s eyes were indeed closed, but hers were wide open and staring straight at the
tiny outline of light that ran around the perimeter of the cellar door. Her ears strained to hear any hint of what might be going on above. No shouting. No gunshots. Yet.

Thank heavens Stone had put this plan together. It had been his idea to hide her and the children in the cellar if any strangers came calling. That way Dorchester’s man would find only Dobson in residence, should he arrive to investigate. Most of the toys and clothing had already been packed for their journey, so there wasn’t much evidence of a woman or children in the house, but a keen eye might still find enough to cause suspicion.

Footsteps stamped against the floorboards above. Charlotte’s pulse stuttered. A shadow flickered across the lines of light surrounding the door. She yanked Stephen and Lily across her middle and folded her body over them as best she could.

The door creaked open above her. A shaft of light pierced the darkness. Charlotte bit back a cry.

“Charlotte? It’s me. Stone.”

Her head shot up. There he was, kneeling at the opening, his beautiful face peering down at them. “Stone. Thank God. I thought for sure Franklin had found us.” She unfolded herself and released her grip on the children.

“I took a roundabout route so no one watching from town would guess my destination.”

Lily dashed toward the ladder. “Mr. Hammond, you’re here! Did the letter come?”

Charlotte grinned as she clambered to her feet and brushed the dirt from the back of her skirt. That girl and her letter. Well, at least Lily was too distracted to be afraid anymore.

“I’m here, squirt,” Stone answered. “And yes, the letter came, though I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. Come on out of there now.”

Lily bounded up the ladder and into Stone’s arms. He patted
her back as if not quite sure how to return the hug then set her aside as John and Stephen scrambled out. He reached a hand down to help Charlotte next, and she took it gratefully. Once fully emerged, she tried to pull her hand free of his, not because she wanted to—the feel of his strong, capable hand surrounding hers soothed her nerves far better than any tonic ever could—but because propriety demanded it. However, he did not release her. In fact, he tugged her closer and whispered roughly in her ear.

“We have to leave, Charlotte. Now. Franklin’s in town.”

18

Stone felt a shiver run through the woman in his arms, but when she stepped away from him, no hint of distress showed on her face.

“All right, children.” At her voice, the chatter that had been building around them ceased. “Mr. Hammond’s letter has arrived, so you know what that means.”

“We get to meet Dead-Eye Dan!”

Stone bit back a chuckle. Daniel was going to have his hands full with this one. Stone couldn’t wait to see how his former partner reacted. Uncomfortable around females on a good day, Daniel Barrett would be way out of his depth with Lily.

“That’s right,” Charlotte continued, “and if you finish packing up the last of your belongings in the next few minutes and help Mr. Dobson load the wagon, we might even be able to leave early. How would you like that?”

Lily squealed. “Hurry, Stephen, John. We gotta go!” Lily sprinted toward her room, the boys on her heels.

Just like that, Charlotte turned the suddenness of their departure from a cause for alarm into a reward.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured, his gaze finding hers. “I probably would’ve mucked up that whole exchange and had a bunch of scared rabbits on my hands, but you made them
excited
about leaving. How do you do it?”