Chapter Twelve
WITH ONE DRESS DRYINGfrom the wash after its dip in the Arkansas River and another not yet made, Charlotte had the choice of exactly one skirt and one shirtwaist the following evening—the ensemble she already wore. She looked down at the serviceable navy blue skirt and lacy white shirtwaist. They were fashionable enough, she supposed, not that it mattered so much out here. It was sort of freeing, in fact, not to have to worry about keeping up with the latest in hems and sleeves. Besides, she looked perfectly fine in this clothing, even if her mother would have shuddered at the thought of her wearing a day dress to dinner.
Worries about what she wore wouldn’t have even crossed her mind if Mark hadn’t sent around a note saying he would take her out for dinner this evening. The little missive with his careful printing had made her smile so much that one of the other girls staying at the boarding house had asked if she had a suitor.
She’d foolishly smiled again and again for no reason throughout the day until it was time to excuse herself to her room to prepare. Not that she had much to prepare, but a quick splash of water on her face and a freshening up of her hair made it feel as if she were doing something right.
At precisely six o’clock, she went downstairs to await Mark’s arrival in half an hour. It was early, but she supposed it would be better to while away the time chatting with some of the other girls instead of pacing about her room in nervous anticipation.
What would Mama and Papa think about all of this? Her sister Mary would be overjoyed, and Charlotte was certain Mary would adore Mark. But her parents . . . Charlotte frowned as she imagined their reactions. Mama would utterly disapprove of a man with “such little means,” and Papa would outright forbid it—particularly since he was paying Mark to look after her.
But they weren’t here, she thought as she swept into the parlor. Which meant she could do as she pleased, including having dinner with one particularly kind and handsome gentleman.
She took a seat next to one of the other girls, who was engaged in a lively conversation with two other young women who stayed at the boarding house. Charlotte tried to pay attention to the topic, which had something to do with an upcoming church social, but she found her mind wandering again.
Thoughts of Mama and Papa had made her wonder exactly what Mark was telling her father—or what hewouldtell her father. If they kept on having dinner and going on walks and . . . well, takingwalks, he’d have to say something to Papa eventually. And Charlotte shuddered to think of how well that would go over.
She shouldn’t let it bother her. After all, if she wasn’t returning home, she needed to forge a life for herself somehow. And why shouldn’t it be here? Why shouldn’t it be with Mark . . . if he were to ask, anyhow.
She looked down at her hands, her face going warm at the very thought. But she determined to put her parents from her mind. If it came time to tell Papa, then so be it. And hopefully they would come around to the idea once they had time to get used to it.
“Charlotte?” One of the other girls stood at the door, a folded sheet of paper in her outstretched hand.
Charlotte jerked her mind from her thoughts and stood. “Is that for me?”
The other woman nodded. “It came just a moment ago. A young boy delivered it without a word.”
That was curious. Perhaps it was Mark, advising her of some delay in their plans for dinner. Charlotte took the note and thanked the girl. Standing just inside the doorway to the parlor, she unfolded the paper.
It was not at all what she’d expected.
With a hand going involuntarily to her mouth, Charlotte read the note again.
Dearest Friend,
Please, I need your help. Find me around the rear of the Methodist Church on Macon Ave. Do hurry. I cannot wait for long, and the situation is dire.
The note was unsigned, but Charlotte knew it was from Ruby. Who else in Cañon City would send her such a note?
She pinched the paper between her fingers as her heart raced. Ruby was in trouble. She needed help. And she needed it quickly. CharlotteknewRuby couldn’t have been the one behind stealing that money at the restaurant. That wasn’t the woman she’d known back in Baltimore. It must have been a misunderstanding. And now . . .
Show it to Mark first. That was the most practical course of action. Mark could help. He could, at the very least, go with her to the church. Because if there was even the slightest chance this was Ruby, Charlotte was not leaving her alone to face whatever trouble she’d found.
If it wasn’t Ruby . . .
She didn’t much want to think on that even as she had to acknowledge it was a possibility. Swallowing the fear that rose in her throat, Charlotte slipped out of the parlor just as the front door opened to reveal Mark.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Relief rushed out of her as she stepped toward him. He cut a handsome figure in a nice black suit, and Charlotte couldn’t help but let her eyes trace the width of his shoulders even as she handed him the note.
“What’s this?” He read it quickly, then read it a second time.
“It’s Ruby. We must go,” Charlotte said, stepping around him to the door.
He reached out and laid a hand on her arm, shaking his head.
