"Return to Paradise Trail" PART TWO
Mr. Wooster's funeral was to be a fairly quiet affair that Charlotte wasn't exactly sure she wanted to be a part of, she concluded from her boarding house room the following day. She treasured having that man in her life. He was almost like a father to her since she lost her own pa in the war when she was just a baby. Every time she thought of Mr. Wooster, she pictured those two goons up in her face and threatening Mr. Wooster with tip of their gun shoved into his midsection. The gun had gone off mostly because of the second man's drunken carelessness. Nothing more.
Charlotte stood in front of her mirror longer than usual as she listened to the church bells toll from across town. Their echoes pierced her in every way, reminding her of the bad and little of the good. She clasped her eyes shut tightly against a falling tear as the clang of the bell continued to haunt her. She immediately saw the stranger's face in her mind. His eyes searching for hers in the jailhouse, wanting to be reassured that she was indeed safe. Her eyes then fluttered open again, Brazos' face and dark complexion still fervently in the forefront of her mind.
Charlotte wiped at the tears forcefully and proceeded to pick of the pitcher before her and pour a bit of water into the basin. She than bent forward and splashed a healthy dose of the refreshing liquid on her warm face. A single cluster of hair fell into her face as she rose up just enough to look at herself in the mirror once more, a sigh ending her moment of recovery. She was nearly ready to leave her room when a knock sounded on her door. She jerked towards the sound, every little disturbance causing her undue stress since experiencing what she had yesterday.
"Coming!" Charlotte took one last look in the mirror and prayed the reddened cheeks away with a fleeting mumble and hurried to the door, opening it with a forced smile.
Sam Brazos tipped his hat and grinned. "The sheriff thought you might like someone to walk you over to the funeral. Says his deputy was pretty close to the storekeeper, and he let him go so he could watch the prisoners."
Charlotte nodded. "Yeah. Deputy Adams was like a son to Mr. Wooster."
A silence settled between them.
"Are you ready to go?"
Charlotte nodded limply and retreated to get her shawl before allowing Mr. Brazos to walk her to the funeral.
As they walked across the dust-filled streets filled with passing wagons and eager horsemen, Brazos could not deny that Charlotte was an amiable young woman. He caught a single glance as they walked in silence, not desiring to cause the girl anymore grief than what she had already endured. "Have you lived here long?"
"All my life." Charlotte tried to respond quickly. Courteously.
"And you like it here?"
Charlotte nodded, keeping her eyes mostly on her moving feet.
"That's good," Brazos mumbled through a brief exhale as they neared the cemetery. Any comments he had towards the young woman's good nature would have to be saved for a more proper time than now.
Charlotte didn't feel much like company after attending Mr. Wooster's funeral, stopping at the entrance to the boarding house an hour later under the touch of the oncoming sunset to bid her Good Samaritan goodbye. Mr. Brazos had offered to bring her a bit of dinner after he had his own at the hotel restaurant; but she had politely declined the offer. She barely felt like eating anything although it was well past suppertime. Instead, she decided she'd return to her room for some much-needed rest.
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Charlotte didn't get the rest she wanted that night and woke to the blistering Pennsylvania sunshine hours later after just barely drifting off to sleep at five in the morning. Yet it wasn't entirely the sunlight's strong rays that stirred her as much as it was the same raging thoughts in her mind. They couldn't leave her alone. With Mr. Wooster gone, she no longer had a job at the general store. Whoever was to buy the store whether friend or foe would not be anything to her but a stranger. And to them, she would be a burden.
With an elongated sigh, Charlotte pushed herself from the bed and reached for her wrap, crossing to the window to push away the lace curtains for a view of the busy morning streets below. She caught a glimpse of Sam Brazos just as he was coming out of the hotel, shading his long black hair beneath the brim of his dark hat as he paused and looked down the street before continuing on. She could have been mistaken but was almost sure he had cast a glance up to her window before he focused his eyes on the path he chose to follow across town.
Before she had a chance to properly compose herself, Charlotte jerked midstride as a knock sounded against her door. She was tempted to ignore it, glancing in the mirror at her disheveled hair and tear-stained cheeks. Yet the rapping knock seemed more urgent by the second as it continued.
"Coming!" She called softly before wiping forcefully at the moisture beneath her eyes. Charlotte raised her chin in the air and took a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob and opening it half way. "Yes?"
Sheriff Andrews tipped his hat as he then eased it from his head, extending a folded piece of paper to the girl. "This came for you ma'am. It seemed rather urgent."
Charlotte accepted the note, looking the sheriff in the eyes warily as she opened the paper to full size. She gripped the one edge with her left hand, still securing her wrap against her with her other hand. Having almost read the note in full, Charlotte would have surely collapsed beneath the thought of its magnitude had Sheriff Andrews not quickly dove in to catch her by the arm and lead her to the nearby bed.
"Are you okay, Charlotte?" He asked but went for the water pitcher and a glass of water before the young woman even had a chance to answer.
She nodded limply. "Does this mean…"
The sheriff extended the glass of water to Charlotte with a smile, drawing her gaze to his tall figure. "I believe it does mean what you think. I had old Charlie double check its accuracy to be sure. He wired a man in Utah he knows who confirmed it. It's no gimmick. You're an heiress."
"Heiress." Charlotte scoffed and sipped the water slowly. "I'm hardly an heiress. Just someone who has inherited property."
Sheriff Andrew stifled a growing smile and took a seat next to her on the bed. "Charlotte, maybe you don't understand."
Charlotte had a hard time acknowledge Sheriff Andrews as she listened.
"Mr. Wooster owned about a hundred acres of prime land just outside Paradise Valley in Utah. He planned to move there someday as you already knew. But in his will he left it all to you."
"How?" Charlotte doubted that someone not blood-kin would leave her anything of worth.
Sheriff Andrews' agitated sigh gave way to his good nature as took Charlotte's hand in his, stroking it softly as a father would his daughter. "He left it to you, hon, because he considered you someone special. Now, I'd consider that an honor."
Charlotte shook her head and stood from the bed, crossing the room past Sheriff Andrews to the window overlooking the town below. "But I don't know the first thing about caring for land. Farming. Ranching. All I've ever done is run the store with Mr. Wooster."
Sheriff Andrews knew that Charlotte was overwhelmed and remained cautious with his words lest he upset her more. "Why don't you think about joining a wagon train that's going that way soon?"
A tear gently ran down her cheek as Charlotte crossed her arms firmly against her chest. Her eyes squinted against the morning rays while her hands quivered ever so slightly against her arms.
"I'll leave you to think about it." Sheriff Andrews stood slowly and turned around to see Charlotte with her back turned to him at the window. He clasped his lips together as he reached down to the floor and drew up the telegram, setting it on Charlotte's nightstand nearby. He then replaced his Stetson on his head and turned for the door, pausing one last time to glance at an unmoved Charlotte. He almost said another parting word but held his tongue as he left the room in the same stillness and quiet grief that he had been greeted with moments before.
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Charlotte spent most of the following week between the store and her room at the boarding house, taking the afternoon shift behind the counter by day and nursing her heart's wounds by night over a cup of tea and a book. It wasn't much of a lifestyle to speak of. But it was what she was left with. Truthfully, it was all she had ever had. Mr. Wooster's death simply sealed that in stone.
Her tea had often grown cold many nights in a row as she rested her head against the wooden rocker by the window, her book strewn carelessly upon her lap as she stargazed through the dainty white lace curtains above her.
Charlotte had almost decided to let the Sheriff know she would not be joining any wagon train soon. She would sell the property in Utah and use the money to better her life where she currently lived. It wasn't much of a life. But it was a life out of the saloons. That had to amount to something, right?
"Charlotte?"
Charlotte turned in her seat and noticed her door was slightly ajar. Sam Brazos' familiar figure shadowed her doorway.
Sam couldn't help but notice her weariness as she stood to her feet, straightening her skirts and hair.
"I'm afraid I'm not much for company right now." Charlotte attempted a laugh.
"That's okay." Sam tried to smile but found it hard to do so. "Are—are you alright?"
Charlotte nodded and proceeded to light a few extra candles as sunset pressed into the nighttime hours. "I have been better. But I suppose I can't complain." She lightly tossed the box of matches back onto its home on her dresser and traced a path closer to Brazos. "What can I do for you, Mr. Brazos?"
"Um," Brazos cleared his throat. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Oh?"
"Sheriff Andrews told me about your situation."
"He had no right." Charlotte spun on her heeled and marched to the other side of the room. A scoff formed on her lips as she busied herself with straightening the room in an effort to ignore the man's words.
Sam took a step forward and raised his hand gently. "He was only concerned for you, Miss Wilson. And since I'm the wagon train master, he thought it was a good idea that I be told." He sighed, bowing his head and brushing his index finger along his cheek. "If you're going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me."
Charlotte's eyes narrowed as she stood to full height, her arms crossed snuggly against her chest as she clasped her lips together for fear she might say something she would regret. For inwardly she found it hard to be mad at Mr. Brazos, who had saved her life after all. "I'm not mad at you, Mr. Brazos." She inhaled. "Thank you for considering me."
Brazos nodded curtly. "It was the least I could do." And he turned to leave.
Charlotte rushed forward, feeling a slight sting of pain as her hand brushed against the wooden doorframe. "No, wait." She ceased her steps in the hall about a yard away from Brazos. "I—I just need some more time to think. That's all."
Sam Brazos' tight lipped smile was the only physical response he gave as he turned back to her pleading eyes before sighing. "I understand. Just be aware that the wagon train will be forming outside of town tomorrow afternoon. We will be leaving in a day or two after that." With that, Brazos figure disappeared down the hall and around the corner, completely away from view, leaving Charlotte's thoughts torn about her decision at hand.