Chapter Six

"It was just so many people, so many things. I was lost in it, I was crushed by it."

Right on schedule, Charlotte's family arrived in a coach the next afternoon. Charlotte had been tense all day, spending the whole morning tidying the house. Although Arthur didn't think it was any cleaner than when she'd started, he knew when to keep his mouth shut. To get out of her way, he found a shaving kit, took a stroll to the river and shaved his beard. He wanted to look presentable for Charlotte's sake, even though he had a feeling it wouldn't make much difference. It never did with these uppity types.

When he returned to the cabin, Charlotte had resorted to pacing. He'd never seen her so worked up. However, she paused when he stepped in, stopping mid-stride to stare.

He rubbed a hand across his jaw self-consciously. "Don't tell me I nicked myself."

She blinked and seemed to come out of her trance. "Um, no. Sorry. I—you look quite handsome."

He wanted to make a smart aleck retort, but found himself saying instead, "You're lookin' mighty fine yourself, Mrs. Balfour."

And she did. She'd combed through her dark hair until it shined. Her dress was midnight blue, matching her eyes and there was a light floral scent wafting from her direction.

She lifted her gaze. "It appears we both can spruce up well enough when society commands it."

As her dark eyes met his, the surrounding room grew small and Arthur couldn't stop himself from staring. Those eyes fairly mesmerized him. A black strand had escaped her tidy updo, gliding down her cheek. His fingers twitched with an urge to curl the thread behind her ear. Maybe he'd pause to skim his fingers over her cheekbone...

They both heard the sound of a carriage at the same time and it broke the unspoken spell between them. Charlotte flushed and looked away, saying, "That'll be them."

"Sounds like," Arthur answered unnecessarily. Get your head out of the clouds, Morgan, he scolded himself.

To cover up his awkwardness, he opened the door for her and Charlotte silently glided past him, pausing on the porch. As she watched the coach coming up, her hands bunched in her skirt, twisting and creating new wrinkles.

Arthur couldn't resist pressing a reassuring hand between her shoulder blades. "Steady now. Best not let them see your fear."

Charlotte turned a smile to him. "Thank you, Arthur."

He felt his stomach flipping in reaction to her earnest gratitude. He ain't never met a person so open with their appreciation. Damn near undid him every time.

But, he didn't have another minute for cumbersome sentiment as the carriage with two horses pulled up. A man who was tall, thin and dapperly dressed hopped from the driver's seat. His hair was as dark as Charlotte's. Arthur assumed it had to be one of her brothers. Which meant...

"They ain't got no armed guard on their coach?"

Charlotte frowned. "Father can be a bit frugal when he wants to be."

And the man allowed his family to travel unprotected through the country. Unbelievable. These were just the sort of rich fools the gang had targeted. A small, dormant part of him itched to do it now. He shook his head. Easy, easy marks.

The man opened the coach and helped a silver-haired woman down. Her first expression was an appalled look at the cabin. From the other side of the coach, another dark-haired young man hopped out, staring around with open curiosity.

Charlotte stepped lightly down the stairs and greeted them happily enough. Despite her outward apprehension all morning, she was clearly glad to see them. Arthur hung back on the porch, not wanting to intrude on their reunion.

Soon enough, Charlotte had looped a hand through her mother's arm and was pulling her to Arthur, making introductions.

"This is my dear friend Arthur." To him, she said, "These are my brothers, Clark and Benjamin. My mother, Mrs. Martha Dorsch."

He stuck out a hand. "Arthur Callahan, sirs." He nodded. "Ma'am." He and Charlotte had agreed he use an alias in case any of them recognized his name from the papers.

They eyed him suspiciously anyway, but these city folk never could resist responding politely to politeness, even if it weren't genuine. First, Clark, the older and then Benjamin, the younger shook his hand.

The mother didn't acknowledge him, but turned to Charlotte and commented immediately, "This is a highly irregular arrangement, isn't it, Charlotte?"

Charlotte pressed her lips together briefly before she said, "Things are done differently out here than the city, Mama."

Mrs. Dorsch sniffed. "How uncivilized."

"Just the way I like it," Arthur said pleasantly.

Mrs. Dorsch shot him a quelling glance and he wished he had a hat to tip at her cheekily.

"Why don't we settle down for some coffee and biscuits?" Charlotte suggested and moved to open the door for her mother.

"Fine, dear. Let me see inside this cabin you're always going on about. It certainly doesn't look like much from the outside."

Charlotte led her relatives in with Arthur following last. After he entered, he crossed his arms and leaned against the front door.

While her family inspected the main room and then into Charlotte's bedroom, discussing amongst themselves, Charlotte sidled up to Arthur and whispered, "If you wanted to abandon me now, I wouldn't be offended."

Despite his own uneasiness to these strangers, he grinned. "That wouldn't be very gentlemanly."

"When it comes to my mother, you have my permission to save yourself."

"You just say the word and I'll..." He dropped his voice low, deadly. "...frighten 'em off."

It was the growl he once reserved for threatening people for money and information, for scaring off those that didn't listen the first time.

But all Charlotte did was laugh and smack his shoulder playfully. "Oh, stop it, you. They'll never come back."

"Ain't that the point?"

The three returned to the main room, cutting off anymore private remarks. After all, it wasn't a large cabin in the first place. Mrs. Dorsch and Clark looked offended being here at all, but Benjamin continued his inspection with interest.

Charlotte gestured at the table. "Why don't we all have a seat and I'll get the coffee?"

"You made this place sound a lot bigger in your letters," commented Clark as he took a spot.

Charlotte said shortly, "I described it exactly as it is."

While Charlotte poured, Arthur grabbed the basket of biscuits and placed it on the table. Charlotte made it around and when she reached him, she handed him a cup.

"Have a seat, Arthur."

He'd rather stand, but he accepted the cup and their fingers brushed. For a brief moment, their eyes met and a crackle of the energy he'd felt earlier sparked to life.

But then Mrs. Dorsch cut in, "No sugar?"

Charlotte broke eye contact and turned to her mother. "I'm afraid that's a luxury up here, Mama."

Clark sat at one end of the table and Charlotte on the other. Mrs. Dorsch took one side for herself and that left Arthur to squeeze in next to Benjamin. At least he had Charlotte to his left, because he felt damn uncomfortable with these posh strangers.

Charlotte addressed Clark, "Are you working at First National now?"

"Yes," Despite the sour face he'd had since he walked in, Clark practically preened at the attention. "I'm a bookkeeper right now, but I've been working closely with the vice president of the bank. It shouldn't be long until I earn a promotion."

"That's wonderful," Charlotte said, too generously in Arthur's opinion. "And you, Benji? Have you decided what you want to go into after school?"

The younger of the brothers looked startled, as if he hadn't expected to be spoken to. "Not fully. But, the sociology department at the university seems interesting."

"That sounds fruitful."

They went on talking about the different classes Benjamin was taking and schedules and whatnot so that eventually Arthur couldn't follow the conversation fully. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He'd never felt more out of depth in a situation. Not even when he, Dutch, Hosea and Bill had crashed the mayor's party in Saint Denis. These people were wealthy and prized education. He had nothing to contribute to that.

Benjamin asked, "How have you been, Char?"

"Well, I—"

"What a ridiculous question, Benjamin," Mrs. Dorsch interrupted. "Clearly, she's in dire straits. She's lost weight and her once fair complexion."

Charlotte's apparently not-fair complexion was turning pink now. "Mama."

Her mother wasn't finished. "She's wearing old clothes, her hair's a mess and she's marked with freckles."

Arthur glanced at Charlotte. She did have freckles. Lightly dappling across her nose. What was so sinful about that he had no idea.

"Mama, I no longer mix in society's circles so it's unnecessary for me to maintain certain beauty standards."

"Not necessary? How outrageous." Mrs. Dorsch shook her head and then gestured with her eyes at Clark as if to convey something.

With little subtlety, Clark turned to Arthur. "Mr. Callahan, why don't we go for a walk around the property?"

Charlotte protested, "You don't have to—"

"Yes, you boys run along," Mrs. Dorsch broke in. "I want to speak with my daughter alone."

Charlotte grimaced and passed Arthur a pleading look, but he couldn't determine if she wanted him to decline and stay or allow himself to get stuck alone with her brothers. One glance at the stern Mrs. Dorsch and he decided he'd take his chances with the brothers.

"It would be my absolute pleasure." He stood and went to the door, flourishing it open like a right buffoon. "After you, gentlemen."

Charlotte raised a brow at his antics, but he only winked at her and followed the boys out the door. He led them down the path, heading for the river. He expected some kind of confrontation and he didn't have to wait long.

Behind him, Clark stated noncommittally, "Nice little situation you have here with my sister."

Here we go. Arthur stopped and faced the two. He missed his revolvers and his hands itched now for their presence on his belt. Not that he had any fear of these city boys. More just wishing for the habit of resting his hands on something. "I reckon, I don't know what you mean by that."

"Come on. Look what you've got here," Clark needled. "A nice house, secluded and alone, with a good woman to keep you warm at night."

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "It ain't like that."

Clark scoffed. "You dare to stand there and claim you aren't dishonoring my sister?"

"Char—Mrs. Balfour and I are friends. Ain't nothin' deeper than that."

"Do you know what I think, Mr. Callahan?"

Arthur crossed his arms. "I didn't know a dandy could think." He thought he heard Benjamin snicker.

"I think," Clark went on, "You're hanging around my sister for her money."

"I don't want nor need none of her money." All the pursuit of riches had ever done was cause him problem after problem.

"Then why are you here?"

"Charlotte asked me to stay on." Which was true enough.

"I don't like the idea of our sister alone in the wilderness with some cowboy."

"I reckon," Arthur's voice had an edge to it now. "It ain't none of your business, mister."

The man couldn't take a hint as he carped on, "It isn't right, an unmarried woman sharing a house with a man who's not her husband."

Some of Arthur's held-in anger boiled over. He grabbed Clark by the perfectly ironed lapels and pulled him up close. "Charlotte is a grown woman, a widowed woman. And the way she tells it, her husband's death weren't a peaceful one. I reckon, she's earned the right to live the rest of her days the way she pleases."

Clark dared to argue, "She belongs in Chicago, back home. Not depending on a stranger to barely survive out here."

"Her depending on me?" Arthur had to laugh at that. "Boy, you're a damn fool if that's what you think."

"What do you mean?" the younger brother finally piped up.

Arthur released Clark, who straightened his collar indignantly. "Sure, I met Charlotte right after her husband was killed, but I didn't stay on then. I taught her how to hunt a little and shoot a rifle straight. The rest she's been doing on her own."

The boys exchanged confused glances. Benjamin asked, "Charlotte can shoot a gun?"

"Probably a lot better than you two fools."

Clark asked skeptically, "So, you're not the reason she's refusing to return home?"

"I ain't got no more control over Charlotte Balfour than you boys."

Surprisingly, they both nodded their understanding at that statement. Mayhap the brothers weren't completely ignorant of Charlotte's resourcefulness.

"She is stubborn," Benjamin said. "And clever."

Clark conceded, "Father allowed her in the surgery room sometimes."

"I don't know why we doubted her." Benjamin said to Clark, "Remember that year she took care of Aunt Rose? She stayed all summer, even when Aunt Rosie got tuberculosis. We should have known if Char could survive that, she could get through anything."

Arthur looked between the two. "What's this now, about surviving TB?"

Clark eyed him as if he was debating saying anything else, but Benjamin explained easily, "A few years ago, Charlotte spent a summer with our aunt, caring for her when Aunt Rosie caught pneumonia."

Clark added, "That's what everyone thought it was until Father had a look at her."

"No one wanted to get sick. Most of our family cut ties with her. " Benjamin said guiltily, "Even we did."

"You were in school," Clark protested. "And I had my apprenticeship."

"We could have stopped in for Christmas." Benjamin argued and faced Arthur again. "Anyway, Charlotte was the only one of us who continued to visit Aunt Rosie and never got sick."

Never got sick? Arthur took a moment to ponder that. He supposed it were possible. After all, Thomas Downes was sick as a dog, but his wife and son never showed signs of TB. Was this why Charlotte had never flinched at his illness?

Thinking of his own inevitable death, Arthur forced himself to ask, "How'd Charlotte take it when your aunt died?"

Benjamin made a puzzled frown. "Aunt Rosie is still alive."

That surprised him. "The TB didn't take her?"

"Not yet, at least. She's a tough old bird."

Clark remarked offhandedly, "Father sent her to one of those sanatoriums. She's waited on like the queen of England."

"Well, I'll be damned..." No wonder the woman was so keen with her positive outlook on his own life. "Is your aunt...er...happy?"

Clark shrugged. "You'd have to ask Charlotte. They still write to each other and—what the hell is that!"

Arthur didn't know why, when he turned, he expected to find a wolf or cougar, something deadly. Instead, it was little Puck, hissing at them and then darting between the bushes before disappearing.

"It's just a cat." He eyed Clark. "Don't they got cats in that big city of yours?"

Clark scowled. "Of course. But, there's something wrong with that one."

"Ain't nothing wrong with the cat. Just needs some takin' care of is all. But, it's stubborn. Doesn't know what's good for it."

Clark shuddered. "Uncivilized, indeed."

"Does Charlotte truly like it out here?" Benjamin asked quietly.

Arthur turned to him and answered honestly, "I'd say so. Took her some time getting used to, sure, but she's adapted just fine."

Benjamin commented thoughtfully, "She puts on a brave face sometimes, when she doesn't want us to know she's struggling." He turned to Arthur. "I don't want to pull her away from this, if she's happy."

"Benji!" Clark stomped up to his brother and said in a low voice, "We agreed to help Mother."

Benjamin pointed out, "We didn't expect to find Charlotte content." He frowned. "Unfortunately, Mother will be trying to sway our sister. She'll lay it on thick, guilt trip her, bribe her, whatever she thinks will convince Charlotte to leave."

Arthur looked in the direction of the house, wondering if Charlotte needed rescuing. But, what could he do to help anyway?

A glimmer of an idea came to him. He slid a sly gaze to Benjamin and Clark. "You boys know how to hunt?"