Maybe she could do anything she wanted.
Chapter Nine
“BERTRAM MCNAB’S WIFE?” Sheriff Ben Young rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“Yes, I believe so. That’s what the woman at the restaurant said,” Mark replied. He shifted to avoid the blinding sun coming through the front window of the sheriff’s office.
The sheriff nodded. “I remember now. That happened right about the same time as McNab found himself in a spot of trouble with a few of the business owners in town. Seemed he liked to purchase on credit—except he never paid the credit down. They skipped town right after I heard about Mrs. McNab making off with money from Mrs. Smith’s place.”
It was probably best that they were long gone. Charlotte would be disappointed, but it didn’t sound as if this friend of hers was much worth knowing these days.
He thanked the sheriff as he mentally chastised himself for thinking of her asCharlotteagain. He’d made a mistake caving into that desire to be familiar with her yesterday. If her father had any idea, he’d not only be out of work in an instant, he’d likely find his name smeared from here to San Francisco.
And yet, how could it be a mistake if it felt soright?
Outside, he drew in a great gulp of air to help set his mind straight. Charlotte ought to be back at the boarding house by this hour. He’d extracted a promise from her not to pay a visit to any place remotely scandalous while he attended to meeting with the sheriff and penning a report to Mr. Montgomery. She claimed she would only while away her day at Grace Hill’s dress shop and perhaps a hat shop. When he asked if she needed money, she laughed and informed him that although she didn’t bring much from home, money was the one thing she hadn’t left behind.
The memory drew a smile to his face as he approached the boarding house. The more he got to know Charlotte, the more he understood how exceedingly sensible she was. And like the rest of her, that was unexpected.
Although, he realized, by this point, nothing should surprise him about Charlotte Montgomery.
“Is Miss Montgomery in?” he asked the friendly older woman at the desk just inside the door of the boarding house.
“No, sir.” She gave a shake of her head as she tapped a short pencil against her ledger book. “Miss Montgomery hasn’t returned yet.”
Mark turned the brim of his hat around in his hands. How long could it possibly take a woman to purchase a dress?
The woman behind the desk must have noticed his perplexed expression, because she smiled at him. “You must have been the one she waited on.” When he said nothing, she added, “When she returned from her shopping, she waited down here for a while and then told me she was going to take a walk down by the river. I imagine that’s where she still is, unless she’s gotten hungry.”
Mark thanked the woman and tugged his hat back onto his head. It wasn’t far down to the Arkansas River at the south edge of town. He passed the depot and turned right, hoping he was headed in the same direction Charlotte had gone—and was now hopefully headed back.
As he strolled along the riverbank, among cottonwoods and pines, he felt his worries ease away. No wonder she’d chosen to walk down here. It was peaceful, even with the thrumming of the town nearby. Birds sang from the trees, and when the breeze came up, it ruffled the long grasses and made the heads of the wildflowers bob. And then there was the river itself. Down below, it churned and rushed, still full with the spring melt.
Mark found his mind wandering toward pleasant thoughts, all of them including Charlotte—laughing at a joke he told, spinning across a makeshift dance floor at a church social, baking him one of her terrible pies, resting her hand gently on his arm, and gazing up at him with pink lips and closed eyes—
“Help!”
