Accidental Family. Lisa Bingham

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      “I don’t know. She disappeared a few days ago, just like I told Mr. Batchwell. I—I wasn’t sure whom to tell.” She shifted uneasily. “After the Devotional, I finally decided to come to you. That’s how I came to be at your house.” Willow gripped her hands together. “Jenny, is she...”

      It was his turn to look uncomfortable. He seemed to be searching for the right words. At long last, he said, “I’m so sorry.”

      Willow wasn’t sure how it happened. There was a keening cry, the sound of sobbing. Then, as Charles drew her to him, she realized that she had been the one to make the noise.

      Unconsciously, she gripped him, her fingers digging into the strength of his shoulders, her cheek pressing into his chest. His arms wrapped around her as she wept for a friend she’d known for only a few short months. She and Jenny had met at the docks in Liverpool and made the journey to America together. By combining their courage, they’d formed a bond that had helped them both complete the voyage.

      “What happened, Willow? Do you know where she went?”

      Her tears soaked into the homespun linen of his shirt. “No! She’d been upset the past week or so. I tried to get her to talk, to see if I could help, but then...she disappeared. She didn’t tell me she was leaving. Only that—”

      The door suddenly burst open. The lamps fluttered and sputtered as Ezra Batchwell stood in the doorway, his features overcome with fury.

      “Explain yourself, madam!”

      * * *

      Charles was glad that he held Willow in his arms because he felt her knees give way. As he tightened his grip on her slender frame, he demanded, “What’s the meaning of this? This is my home. The least you could have done is knocked.”

      Willow began to tremble so violently he feared that she might fall to the floor. For the first time, Charles realized how slight she was beneath her all-encompassing gown. She was a tiny thing, yet soft and feminine and smelling inexplicably of violets.

      Ezra stepped into the room, allowing Jonah and one of the Pinkertons—Gideon Gault—to follow.

      “No. This is my row house, my property, my silver mine! You, of all people, know the rules of this community—and you need to explain yourself this instant. As it is, if the canyon weren’t completely impassable, I’d ride you both out on a rail!”

      Charles had worked at the Batchwell Bottoms silver mine long enough to know that Ezra Batchwell was more bluster than substance. He had a short temper and tended to blurt out his frustrations without thinking. His partner, Phineas Bottoms, was calm and methodical, tending to examine a situation from every possible angle before weighing in. Unfortunately, since the mail-order brides had been marooned in the community, Batchwell seemed to regard the women as an open threat—to the point where even Bottoms couldn’t calm him down.

      Thankfully, Phineas Bottoms must have been summoned into town, because he wove through the men congregated on the stoop and stepped inside.

      “Now, Ezra—”

      “Don’t you ‘now, Ezra’ me, Phineas! This man has been carrying on with one of the brides right beneath our very noses! Worse, he’s had a couple of babes by her! And all the while, he’s been claiming to be a man of God and preaching to us each night during evening Devotional. It’s nothing but a tawdry—”

      “She’s my wife!”

      The words blurted from Charles’s lips before they’d even formed in his head. A shuddering silence descended around the room—one broken only by the whistle of the wind whirling snow into the house.

      Willow trembled even more in his arms, but she didn’t speak. Luckily, she’d turned her face toward him. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to hide her shock at his pronouncement.

      He squeezed her, imperceptibly, meeting her gaze for a fleeting instant in a way that he hoped reassured her, and then offered, “Willow and I met when you sent me to England to oversee the shipment of the new machinery last spring. We fell in love and married.”

      Ezra made a huffing sound that was at once disbelieving and outraged.

      How could he make the lie sound more convincing?

      “We hadn’t planned on her being marooned here in Bachelor Bottoms.”

      Batchwell’s hands clutched his walking stick so that his knuckles gleamed white.

      “So, we kept things...secret...”

      “And do you have a marriage license to back up your claims?”

      Charles was unable to think of a quick enough response.

      “As I recall, we were never able to find all of Miss Granger’s baggage,” Jonah Ramsey offered. “If the document was in one of her trunks, we may not find it until spring.”

      Charles met his friend’s gaze in surprise, wondering if Jonah knew the truth or if he was merely trying to smooth things over in the most logical means possible.

      “And you’ve all got another think coming if you believe I’m going to take their word on the matter.”

      “Sir, I—”

      Ezra turned to Gideon Gault, stabbing a finger in the air. “Go get that man who married Ramsey. If these two have already been legally wed, it won’t make no never-mind to do it again.”

      Charles felt Willow stiffen, so he offered a quick objection. “Now, see here, I don’t think—”

      Ezra’s finger pointed in his direction. “Not a word out of you, you hear me? You’re a man of the cloth—or the nearest thing we have hereabouts—and I won’t tolerate a big hullabaloo interfering with the men or the jobs they’re supposed to be doing. More importantly, I refuse to have a scandal on my hands—or even whispers of scandal. Therefore, you’ll be remarried. Within the hour. Until then, you will remain in the Miner’s Hall.” The finger stabbed in Charles’s direction once more. “Ramsey, send for a few women to sit with Miss Granger. And post some guards at the door! I don’t want anybody going in or out until we’ve seen to this matter.”

      Batchwell motioned for his retinue to follow him, then stormed toward the door, grumbling, “As if we don’t have enough on our hands.”

      Charles resisted, knowing that he had to speak to Willow. He couldn’t let this charade continue. Not if it meant the poor woman would be forced into marriage—to him.

      But before he could offer a single word, Gideon Gault was at his side, looking tall and broad and imposing in his dark blue Pinkerton tunic.

      “Sorry, Charles. You heard the boss. He’s being high-handed, but it shouldn’t hurt either of you to repeat your vows in his presence.”

      Vows they’d never spoken. Vows that would bind them together as man and wife.

      He tried to convey a portion of his thoughts to Willow, wanting to reassure her that she could bring this whole thing to a halt, and he’d take the consequences, but her eyes were curiously shuttered. СКАЧАТЬ