Chapter Fourteen
"I'm sure it wouldn't take you too long to adjust to a life of privilege and indolence in the big city."
Charlotte didn't think she had many regrets in her life, but this morning she may have acquired a new one. Buck up, Char. There's always tomorrow. She'd repeated that mantra all through her sewing last night. But the morning had come and gone and nothing had changed course.
How could she have just let Arthur go? She hadn't even tried arguing with him, persuading him—begging him not to leave.
When she'd tried probing him a little on where and what he was doing, he'd tensed up so she'd stopped. She desperately wanted to be in the know with him, but she didn't want to fight. He had no obligation towards her despite the way he'd kept looking at her, as if silently willing her to argue with him.
Or maybe what he'd actually been waiting for was a reason to remain and she'd made no attempt to provide him one.
"Nearly at your stop, ma'am," the driver called from above, breaking into her reverie.
She sat up with interest as the carriage rolled through the edge of Saint Denis. It wasn't as awe-inspiring in view as Chicago with its newly developed skyscrapers, as the people were calling them, but Saint Denis was large enough. She certainly wouldn't have the easiest time finding her way.
The Lannaheche River was visible on her left, through the industrial buildings and across the tracks. The driver pulled up near the post office. He jumped down and opened the door to assist her out. She thanked him as he handed over her bag.
Charlotte turned in the direction of the city. It was going to take all her mental strength to face the day ahead of her. Without Arthur, she'd have to manage confronting her father on her own. A daunting task, if there ever was one. She hadn't realized until this moment how much she'd been relying on Arthur's steady solidity to lean on.
Charlotte felt a sharp ache in her heart as palpable as his cutting absence. She turned away from Saint Denis. She wasn't ready for the day quite yet.
She heard a whistle and glanced to her right to see a train moving in. On an impulse, she quickly crossed the tracks before it was too near and headed for the docks.
She stopped near the water and closed her eyes to the breeze. She breathed in the cool air, trying to calm herself. She couldn't hide from the uncertainty in her mind as she wrestled with her confusion regarding Arthur.
What had she been hoping for? A declaration of love? A promise he'd return? He hadn't done either, but neither did she fault him for it. He wasn't the kind of man to vow a commitment when he couldn't keep it.
She opened her eyes and witnessed a bird take flight from a post on the dock. It reminded her of a sketched cardinal Arthur had penciled in his journal. Even from that single drawing, she could tell he was a brilliant artist, especially for someone without any schooling for it. Arthur was gifted that way. Sometimes she thought he looked at a person or creature and saw the truth of their nature in a single glance.
He'd sized her mother and brothers up quickly enough. He'd gotten reserved Benji on his side in one meeting and somehow stayed in a conversation with Clark and hadn't been challenged to a duel. He'd even silenced her mother without it devolving into a shouting match. Albeit, it had involved some conniving on his part. The memory made her smile.
Charlotte blew out a breath. Darn. She truly missed him already.
No matter what, she wouldn't stop being his friend. He was a good man, plagued with guilt and a sense of responsibility. He had people he cared for, issues to resolve, same as her. She only wished he'd shared some of his life with her, but maybe that wasn't a connection he wanted.
Charlotte shook her head. She had to stop her dawdling and get herself together. She needed to hold on to all the emotional stability she could muster for her own upcoming dilemma. She would save her pining for afterwards.
"I didn't take you for the brooding type."
Startled, her eyes widened and she turned around. Lo and behold, the subject of her thoughts stood leaning casually against a lamp post, as if he'd been here the whole time watching her musing.
Her heart started thumping, but she remarked in an offhand manner, "I do not brood, Mr. Morgan. In fact, I reserve brief moments of my day to cast away any feelings of misery."
Arthur pushed off from the lamp and walked towards her. "And how's that working out for you?"
"Perhaps it's merely the added company, but I am feeling suddenly more cheery."
He stopped in front of her and released a breath. "I'm sorry 'bout the way I left things."
"I certainly wasn't expecting to see you so soon," she admitted quietly.
"Charles helped me see sense."
"What about the friends you wanted to check up on?"
"It ain't the right time for it."
Arthur was being vexingly vague again. Unnecessarily hiding things from her to preserve her opinion of him, she assumed. "And what is it you're doing in Saint Denis?"
She wanted him to admit out loud he'd chosen her company over seeking violence. If he could hear himself say those words, maybe he'd realize that his choices didn't all hinge on him being an outlaw.
He scowled. "Ain't it obvious?"
"Perhaps," she conceded before stepping closer and challenging, "But, you could make it more so."
He stared at her and she wondered what was going through his mind. Whenever he wasn't in motion, he tended to get stuck in his head.
Charlotte was expecting him to say something, even if it turned out not to be exactly what she wanted to hear. Therefore, it caught her off guard when Arthur clutched her wrist and pulled her against his chest. He tipped her chin with his other hand and pressed his lips to hers. He moved over her mouth, gently and slowly, but with purpose.
Her heart skipped a few beats in shock and she stopped breathing until he pulled away.
"Does that answer your question?" he asked in a gravelly voice.
"Yes," she managed to whisper weakly.
She hoped he hadn't thought she'd been playing coy with him. She truly hadn't expected an answer of that sort. But, she wasn't protesting the result. His unexpected kiss cleared up all the uncertainty she'd been feeling as to his desires for her.
A dock worker whistled from behind her, causing Charlotte's mind to crash back to reality and heat to rush to her cheeks. How had she forgotten they were in public?
Arthur ignored the whistling and picked up her bag from the ground. "C'mon. Let's get outta here."
She fell into step beside him as they crossed the train tracks. She needed her heartbeat to return to normal so she asked mildly, "You didn't wear poor Jane out getting here, did you?"
"Nah. When we reached the bayou, I got on the train."
She frowned at that. "But, there aren't any train stops in the bayou."
He grinned and her heart tumbled. "Don't I know it."
Incredulous, her eyes widened as she comprehended his meaning. "Did you jump onto a moving train?"
"I mean, it ain't the first time I done it." He rubbed his shoulder. "But, I ain't in the best shape for them kind of stunts right now. Damn near dislocated my arm."
Her brow furrowed. "What happened to Jane?"
"Charles'll take care of her. Drop her off at the stable in Van Horn for us before he heads back north."
So, it was Charles who had convinced Arthur to forgo his journey and had made it possible for him to join her in Saint Denis. She mused, "It seems I owe Charles a great deal for this endeavor."
Arthur grumbled, "Maybe you woulda preferred his company then."
She laughed and looped her arm through one of his. "Oh, don't be so prickly. It's you I'm here with, isn't it?" That seemed to mollify him so she asked, "How familiar are you with this city?"
"Been through it a few times. More than likely, I can lead you where you need to go."
"Excellent. I haven't started my shopping yet."
"Alright. Where to first?"
"I have to stop at the bank and withdraw some funds."
"'Course, you gotta go there first," he muttered. He cleared his throat. "I can, uh, show you where it is, but I best not go in with you."
She stared at him. Why would he be hesitant to enter a bank, of all places? Then she thought on it a moment longer and named herself an idiot. Why would a proclaimed outlaw avoid a bank?
That had her wondering more. She asked in a low voice, "Arthur, how dangerous is it to be walking around Saint Denis?"
"For who?"
For you, you silly man. She bit her lip and looked around. "Are you taking a huge risk being here?"
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture she'd come to recognize as him being uncomfortable with whatever they were discussing. "Er, if I'm careful, we ain't got nothing to worry about."
He'd committed crimes here, perhaps was still a wanted man. Yet, he'd chosen to join her. Why hadn't he warned her? Then she remembered his initial hesitancy when she'd asked him in the first place. She'd mistakenly thought he'd been reluctant because of her family.
Charlotte told him firmly, "Arthur, I can't have you endangering yourself for my sake."
He cracked a crooked grin. "Reckon it's too late for that, ma'am."
She frowned, concerned, but he patted her hand and said, "Hey, we'll be careful. But from what Charles told me, I ain't on the law's list of priorities right now anyway."
Her frown deepened. "What does that mean?"
"Means you did a sneaky job carting me up to your cabin 'cause no Pinkerton saw you do it. They think I'm dead."
"Will anyone else recognize you here?"
"Maybe." He shifted and told her, "If someone does, don't react any if they call me Tacitus Kilgore."
"Tacitus?" Her brow wrinkled. "Like the Roman historian?"
Arthur shrugged. "Sure, I guess."
They reached the corner of the street where the bank stood. He pointed it out and Charlotte didn't waste time inside. She withdrew a decent amount, calculating in her head what she thought she'd need for today's shopping and a little extra for anything unexpected.
When she emerged from the bank, she walked down the street to where she'd left Arthur on the corner. He was leaning against the building, alert and watching people walk by. He nodded a friendly enough greeting if anyone looked his way.
When he spotted her, Arthur pushed off the wall. "Where to next, Mrs. Balfour?"
She lowered her head a moment, deciding. "Let's visit Dr. Barnes."
"Alright. Follow me."
As luck would have it, Dr. Barnes was out for the day, but a young man was running the storefront. He assisted them as best he could, but he wasn't knowledgeable on tonics and Charlotte didn't want to purchase anything without Dr. Barnes' guidance.
She thanked the young man and promised, "We'll come by again before we leave town."
As they left the doctor's office, Charlotte said, "We have to meet up with my family at five o'clock at their hotel dining room."
Arthur scratched his jaw. "So, we got a couple hours. Where they staying?"
"The Hotel Grand. Do you know where that is?"
"Yeah, I know it." He said it with a grimness she didn't understand. "It's actually right near the bank. Passed it by on our way over."
"Good." She turned in the opposite direction of the bank. "Now, let's find an alternative hotel for ourselves."
His brow furrowed. "Ain't you gonna stay in the same one?"
"Trust me, Arthur," Now it was her turn to look unhappy. "After dinner, you and I are going to want to be as far away as we can."
"I don't get it." He was shaking his head. "You don't need money from them or their support in any way. Why even bother with this dinner if you know it's going to make you miserable?"
She sighed. Perhaps it was a strange concept. "Because I love them and I don't know when I'll see them again after today."
"If you say so," Arthur accepted her explanation in dubious tones. "I only know of one other hotel, but it's lively all through the night. The Bastille Saloon. Don't know if they got too many rooms to rent though and it ain't exactly a place for ladies."
"Well, let's check it out anyway."
As they started walking from the doctor's office, a voice across the street called out, "Mr. Morgan!"
They froze and looked at each other. Charlotte offered weakly, "Maybe there's another Mr. Morgan nearby?"
"Arthur Morgan!"
Arthur cursed, "Aw, shit."
Charlotte turned to find a bearded, bald man in dark robes waving them down. A...monk?
Arthur seemed to recognize him and his expression cleared. As the man strode up to them, he greeted, "Oh, uh, Brother Dorkins."
"How are you, Mr. Morgan?" the monk asked warmly.
"Doin' fine, I guess. How 'bout yourself?"
"Wonderful, wonderful," Brother Dorkins replied. "I don't know if you heard, but Sister Calderón was offered a position in Mexico."
Arthur glanced at Charlotte briefly. "Er, yeah, actually ran into her as she were boardin' the train down. Seemed pretty excited about the whole ordeal."
"Of course, she deserves it, but I can't help anticipating my own missionary trip."
"Careful, Brother, or you'll start sounding as greedy as us nonbelievers."
Brother Dorkins chuckled. "Ah, you'll hear nothing too sinful out of me." His attention shifted to her. "Who's your companion?"
"This here is Charlotte, Mrs. Charlotte Balfour."
Charlotte smiled in greeting. "Pleasure to meet you, Brother Dorkins. Do you run the church here in Saint Denis?"
"Gracious me, no, ma'am. I haven't been here near long enough, but I'm accomplishing a lot of good anyway." He turned to Arthur. "Those two young men you saved have prospered."
"Oh yeah?" Arthur nodded. "Glad to hear it."
"One of them works the stables here in Saint Denis and the other chose to stay on at the church with us." As he said this, the bells at the church rang the hour for two o'clock. Brother Dorkins added, "Ah, well, I best get back. I only wanted to stop and see how you were getting on, Mr. Morgan."
"You take care, Brother."
Charlotte added, "It was lovely to meet you, Brother Dorkins."
As he walked away, Charlotte cast an interested, sidelong look at Arthur.
Arthur straightened. "What?"
"I've been worried all afternoon about you being recognized by the law and then when we do run into someone who knows you, it's a soft spoken monk, of all people."
Arthur shrugged. "I helped him with something awhile ago."
"So I heard."
"Weren't nothin' complicated. Just some people in a tough situation."
"You don't have to explain away your altruism. It sounds like you saved their lives..." She paused and couldn't resist adding teasingly, "Saint Arthur."
As she expected, he muttered grumpily, "I don't see what's so humorous in all of it."
"It isn't funny, per se." She tilted her head as she looked at him. "You seem to see yourself in only one light, as this outlaw who's never done any good for anyone. But, you've obviously changed many lives for the better. I'm a firsthand account, after all."
"Be that as it may, it ain't enough to make up for the bad."
"Hmm," she said noncommittally before wondering aloud, "How come Brother Dorkins didn't know you as Tacitus?"
"Er, 'cause I didn't give him that name for some reason."
Arthur hadn't given her an alias when they'd met either. She wondered if he did that unconsciously or if there was meaning behind it.
"One more question to sate my curiosity and I won't tease you anymore on the subject." Charlotte peered up at him."Are you friends with a nun?"
That question at least had him smiling. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. A wiser woman I never met anyways."
An outlaw who held a nun in high regard. What an outlandish notion. She laughed softly. "You certainly have met the most interesting of people, haven't you?"
"Actually, yes." Something in his expression changed. "Speaking of interestin' people, I just thought of another hotel we can check out."