Chapter Seven

"There's always more to find in ourselves. You helped me to see that."

Charlotte most definitely needed rescuing. The moment Arthur shut the door, her mother started in on her with a barrage of commentary. Despite Charlotte's best efforts, her mother picked at the inadequacy of her dress, her lack of jewelry and her untidy hair. She pointed out a cobweb in the corner Charlotte had missed. Then there was the quality of the dinnerware, the state of the table and chairs and the cramped quarters of the cabin.

At that point, her mother took in a breath and, before she could continue her attack, Charlotte asked quickly, "How have you been, Mama?"

"Eternally lonely without you at breakfast on the daily."

Charlotte blew out a breath. As she expected, she wouldn't be getting any relief, but she tried again. "What about Father? How's the office?"

"He will be much better when you're home. I'll arrange a ticket for you once we're back at the hotel. No need to pack up whatever meager belongings you have here. We'll take time to fix you up in Saint Denis before we leave."

Charlotte frowned. At first, she didn't understand what her mother was saying. A ticket? Did her mother truly expect her to just hop on a train without a discussion? Unbelievable.

She said firmly, "I'm not going with when you head back to Chicago, Mama."

"Of course you are, dear. Don't be foolish. Now that I've journeyed all the way out here, I'm even more certain you need to come home."

"This is my home now."

"This is no place for a lady. You can't expect me to allow you to continue living in this tiny, decrepit building with only a heathen to keep you company."

"Arthur is a gentleman," Charlotte said defensively. "He's more decent than most of the men you used to try and marry me off to. I won't hear another word against him."

"Very well." Her mother narrowed her eyes on her. "But, you failed to mention this Mr. Callahan in your letters."

Charlotte said with patience, "He hasn't been here long and he's just a friend, Mama. Nothing more."

"Hmm. I don't like him."

"Somehow, I didn't expect you to." Arthur was built for a life outdoors, rugged-looking and scarred. There was no hiding his rough edges. He'd stick out in a crowd of refined men even in expensive clothing. He just had the air of someone...dangerous. No one in her mother's acquaintance could compare.

Her mother sniffed. "None of this would have happened if you had went for that Waverly boy."

A boy, indeed. Six years her junior with the maturity to match. "Well, I didn't."

"I always knew Calvin Balfour was no good."

Charlotte barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Mama, you liked Cal just fine when we married." Right up until the moment he swept her away to country life.

"He was a banker, Charlotte. Why on Earth did he want to move out here?" She eyed the room distastefully, but Charlotte thought she detected a note of hurt in her tone.

"We wanted...something simple." She said it even though her mother wouldn't understand.

"Foolish," she said in a brusque manner, right on cue.

"Maybe so," Charlotte conceded, remembering the excitement in her husband's eyes and the way he'd twirled her about when they'd first set eyes on the house. "but we were happy, for the short time we had together."

Her mother's expression softened. "Charlotte, I understand if you have some sort of sentimental attachment to this place because of Cal, but he's gone. You need to think of what's best for yourself now. You need to come home."

This was it. This was the moment she had to be firm or her mother would aggressively contest any reasoning she presented. Arthur's words of encouragement echoed in her head, Charlotte Balfour, I reckon you're a lot stronger than you realize.

"Mama, I am thinking about what's best for myself. Remaining at Willard's Rest is the right thing."

"You want to live the rest of your life in the wilderness in moth-eaten dresses, mud-caked shoes and dusty hair?"

"Yes," Charlotte said emphatically.

Martha Dorsch stared at her daughter as if she didn't recognize her. "You've lost your mind out here."

"No, I'm seeing clearly." She placed a hand over her mother's. "Mama, you know I wasn't satisfied where my life was headed well before I married Cal."

Charlotte thought her mother might disagree, but instead she released a hint of a smile. "I suppose that's true. We'd throw a party and you'd stick your nose in a book and hide in a corner." Her eyes glimmered. "That's why I was elated when you took such an interest in Cal. I thought you'd finally have some fulfillment when you started a family." She looked around. "And then you moved out here, to get away from me."

"Oh, Mama." Charlotte released an exasperated chuckle and wrapped her arms around her mother. "I didn't leave to get away from you. Cal and I had a dream for a simpler life. I just...I want to see it through."

Her mother sighed and suddenly looked tired, older. "I don't know if I entirely understand, but I'm too weary to argue with you anymore. You're as bullishly headstrong as your father, much as he denies it. I can see I won't be convincing you today."

Charlotte squeezed her once more before letting go. "Thank you, Mama."

"However," her mother added, "if all you want is a little house to yourself, you know that could be arranged closer to home."

She opened her mouth to tell her mother she'd missed the entire point of the discussion when the door opened abruptly.

"Mrs. Balfour!" Arthur strode in, grinning. "Look at this ripe, juicy one me and the boys caught." Arthur slapped the skinned carcass of a jackrabbit on the table with a thump. He looked around as Clark and Benjamin walked in. "You folks are stayin' for dinner, right?"

Her mother jumped from the table and backed away, appalled. "Get that thing away from me!"

Arthur frowned, but Charlotte swore she saw mischief in his eyes. "Well, it's dead, ma'am. It ain't going to hop to you clear across the room."

Benjamin said excitedly, "Arthur showed us how to track it."

Arthur thumped a hand on her brother's shoulder. "Got your boy Ben here to skin it."

Her mother gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in shock. "Benjamin!"

"Boy's a natural," complimented Arthur.

Benjamin beamed at the praise. Meanwhile, Clark looked like he was about to be sick all over the floor.

"That's wonderful, Benji," added Charlotte. "Arthur showed me how to skin a rabbit too. He's an exceptional teacher."

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable. "Well, I don't know 'bout that, ma'am. Also takes someone willin' to learn."

"Very true." She turned to her mother and asked innocently, "Will you be staying for dinner, Mama? I can show you how to cut this rabbit up for a stew."

Her mother's mouth pursed into a thin line. "That won't be necessary. I think perhaps we should take our leave. I don't need another one of my children tempted into running off into the woods." Her mother embraced her. "However, I expect a visit in Saint Denis from you before we return home."

Charlotte protested, "But, Mama—"

"I won't hear any arguments. I am allowing this—" she fluttered her fingers aimlessly, "— situation. You owe me a day in the city—or what amounts to a city down here—by the end of the week. Besides, you need to visit with your father."

Charlotte sighed. "Alright, Mama. I promise to make the trip."

"I'll hold you to it." Her mother cupped her face gently. "You know I love you dearly."

"I know, and I love you too."

"We'll be at the Hotel Grand." She patted her cheek gently. "Don't forget." Her mother kept a wide berth as she walked around Arthur, not bothering to acknowledge him. "Help me into the carriage, Clark."

Charlotte followed them outside. After her brother assisted their mother, he returned to her in front of the porch and she gave him quick hug. "Good luck at the bank."

"Good luck with your country living." He scrunched up his nose as if he smelled something odious. "I can't say I envy you."

Benjamin was talking with Arthur in high spirits, shaking his hand before he reached Charlotte. "Thanks for having us, sis. It was much more enlightening than I thought it would be."

Charlotte smiled. "I'm glad you enjoyed your time here."

She hugged her younger brother and he whispered to her, "I like him, Charlotte."

She glanced at Arthur, who was mock saluting Clark a goodbye. "So do I."

"Keep him around for our next visit."

She promised, "I'll certainly do my best."

As Benjamin hopped in the carriage, Arthur asked, "You boys got a gun or any sort of weapon on that coach?"

Clark said defensively, "Of course. I have a revolver under the seat."

"I suggest you keep it on you. Ain't telling what you could run into out there. Beast or outlaw."

"This is such savage country," muttered Clark with irritation as he pulled himself up into the driver's spot. He snapped the reins and the coach was on its way.

Charlottte waved until she couldn't see the carriage anymore and then she rounded on Arthur. "What on Earth was that?"

The silly man looked startled at her accusatory tone. "Pardon?"

She raised a brow and rested a hand on her waist. "With the rabbit?"

He avoided looking at her. "Don't know what you mean."

"Mm-hmm. You're not fooling me, Arthur Morgan. You were trying to scare them off on purpose."

He crooked a grin. "Hey now, I didn't hear you objectin' any."

"You're right," she admitted and blew out a breath. "I think my mother was about to bribe me with an entire cottage so your little performance was well-timed." He looked smug about that so she added, "But, I'm not helping you clean up the mess you left on my table."

His smirk turned into an affronted frown. "I ain't no good-for-nothing. I'll clean it up. Hell, I'll cook it too, if you want to take it easy for a couple hours."

Charlotte hesitated. She was tempted. She'd been tense all day and then sparring with her mother, even so briefly, had left her emotionally drained. Still, she asked, "You're sure?"

Arthur told her, "Lie down and read one of them books you got stacked up."

That sounded brilliant to her mind. Although, there was another small task she wanted to make some progress on...

"Alright, Arthur." She smiled. "I think I'll take you up on that."

OOOOOOOOO

The sun was low when Arthur knocked on her bedroom door. "Charlotte?"

"Coming." She left her sewing and went to the door, turning the knob. "You were so quiet out here. I didn't even hear you moving about the cabin. Did you start dinner?"

"'Course. Finished it, too."

She raised her brows. "Very funny."

"I thought so." He chuckled. "Let's go for a little walk first."

"Okay..." She cast a glance to the table, but it wasn't set. Nothing was on the stove and there wasn't even the smell of food filling up the cabin. She eyed him askance, but he only started for the door.

They walked side by side down the trail. A cool, but comfortable night was blowing in and Charlotte breathed in the evening air, loving the serenity of the area. She heard the yips of coyotes somewhere in the woods, an animal she'd only recently learned how to identify by its howls. She frowned a bit as she thought of the little cat who could be sleeping nearby.

"Have you seen Puck today?" she asked, wondering if she should leave a little something on the porch tonight.

"Actually, I did." A smile tugged on his lips. "That cat was lurkin' around down here a ways. Scared the livin' daylights outta Clark."

She laughed. "I told you Puck was a prankster sprite."

"That boy looked at him like it was the devil himself."

"I don't doubt it. Ever since we were children, Clark has burst into sneezing fits around cats." She frowned. "I wish I could tempt Puck to come inside the house. I'd clean him up so he at least wouldn't look so wild."

"I don't know about that. Sounds like a lot of work for very little pay off." Arthur lightly steered her elbow to the right. "Just over here now."

Charlotte peered around curiously. "What are you up to?"

"Just another couple a steps, ma'am."

Charlotte opened her mouth to challenge him when she spotted something odd on the top of the rock ledges overlooking the river. A small table was set up with two chairs from the house. A candle flickered on the table, revealing set dinnerware.

"Arthur," her mouth dropped open. "What is this?"

He waved. "Ma'am, I give you, the finest dining in all of New Hanover."

Arthur grabbed a hold of the edge and pulled himself up. "I found that little table in the shed and brought up the extra chairs. Now, come on. I'll help you up."

He offered his hand and she clutched it. He hauled her up as if she weighed nothing. She stumbled when she landed on her feet again. She braced herself on Arthur's muscled forearms, a little startled at the skin contact as she hadn't realized he'd rolled up his sleeves.

Arthur cleared his throat and stepped back, but offered his elbow. "Allow me to escort you to dinner, Mrs. Balfour."

She mock curtsied. "Why, thank you, Mr. Morgan."

Arthur walked her over and pulled a chair out before taking his own seat. Her view was gorgeous. The setting sun's light streamed across the river where she saw elk drinking. The waterfall sprayed delightful mists to her right. It could have been a painting on the wall of her father's den.

Arthur reached over the side of the table and revealed a covered basket. He drew back the cloth and started filling the small table with biscuits, boiled potatoes and what she believed to be the rabbit. The way he had cooked it, its appearance was more akin to grilled chicken. Lastly, he pulled out a bottle and poured a little of its contents between two glasses.

"Found this bourbon in a cabinet," he commented. "It ain't wine, but it'll do the trick with a meal."

"How did you have time for all of this?" she marveled. "All I was expecting was simple rabbit stew."

"It ain't much. Most of it's leftovers from this afternoon and yesterday."

Charlotte picked up her fork and took her first bite into the rabbit steak. Her eyes widened at the savory seasoning and tenderness. She chewed and swallowed. "Arthur, this is divine!"

"Ya don't got to exaggerate. It's barely camp food." But he appeared pleased at the compliment.

She happily savored the next bite, exclaiming, "Why have I bothered to cook at all? You must think I'm a wretched chef."

He chuckled. "Your dishes ain't the worst I've eaten."

She replied wryly, "That's the most backhanded compliment I've ever received."

"Now, now, hear me out. Cooking's just one of them skills that takes practice is all. Like shootin', and you can do that just fine now." He took his own bite before saying, "If you want, I can show you which herbs to pick 'round here to make your meat tastier."

He'd already shown her so much, but he was always patient with her ignorance of country living. "I would love that." She smiled warmly. "Thank you for this, Arthur. It's perfect."

"You don't got to thank me for every little thing I do."

"I want you to know that I'm grateful," she said and added with earnest, "Your words of encouragement truly helped me today, with my mother."

He shrugged. "Aw, you did it all yourself. I weren't even there."

She tilted her head, studying him. "Why do you do that?"

He paused, mid-chew. "What?"

"Anytime I compliment you, you brush it aside."

"Believe me, ma'am, I don't deserve no thanks on what you accomplished." He changed the subject, "Now, 'bout this seasoning, oregano grows near the house..."

Charlotte listened to what he was telling her about herbs, but she was also thinking. Arthur was always saying things like that. That she didn't know him well enough, that he didn't deserve thanks, or wasn't worth the time.

It bothered her that he dismissed compliments to his character as if he didn't accept them as truth. How could he find himself so undeserving of praise when he handed it out to others easily? Somehow, Charlotte had to make him see he was worthy of appreciation.