Sean Donovan (The Californians, Book 3) (14 page)

Prayer. Sean was the only adult Charlie knew who
actually prayed. She thought such petitions were for
children before they figured out that no one was there
listening. Charlie had prayed until she was 12. She had
asked God every night to give her a pony of her own and
to make her grandfather stop hitting her. But there was
no one up there, so naturally her prayers went unanswered.

Sean however, believed in Someone. Charlie could see
that. He didn't seem to be the type of man who prayed
without belief. But what type of man was he? The
question plagued Charlie until she fell into a fitful sleep.
In the morning she wished she'd taken Sean up on his
offer to do the chores.

Sean wore the still-new pants and shirt on Sunday
morning. The shirt was a blue-and-white check, and the
pants were a heavy denim. Freshly shaved and with his
hair brushed into place, Sean cut a handsome figure.

The moment he opened his bedroom door, he could
hear Charlie moving around the kitchen preparing
breakfast. He wondered if his wife was thankful that
even though she could cook, she had the means to have
lunch and supper delivered after she'd worked all day.

Sean's thoughts moved to May Taylor, his sister Kaitlin's mother-in-law. She was a woman who for years
worked all day in Santa Rosa's shipping office and then
went home to prepare supper for her family. Of course
her sons were helpful, but it had to take some of the edge
off one's appetite to be so tired when eating.

"Good morning," Sean greeted Charlie as he stepped
into the room.

"Morning," she answered, and Sean thought she
sounded like she was getting a cold.

"How are you this morning?"

"Fine."

Sean doubted that, but was hesitant to press her. He
thought of another tack.

"Why don't you let me finish breakfast?" Charlie
stopped, a cracked egg poised over her bowl, and stared
at him. Sean continued, "You've already done the chores,
and I haven't done a thing today, so-"

"You can cook?"

"Sure. My brother-in-law taught me."

Charlie turned fully away from the bowl now. "You
have family?"

"Yes, I do," Sean spoke as he stepped forward and
rescued the dripping egg from her hand. "A father, two
sisters, a brother-in-law and two nieces, last I knew."

"Do they know about-" Charlie hesitated.

'About the hanging?"

Charlie nodded.

"No. I haven't seen any of them for two years," Sean
said as he stared intently at the eggs in the bowl.

"Where do they live?"

Glad for any question to distract his painful thoughts,
Sean answered promptly. "Everyone is in Santa Rosa
except my father-he lives in Hawaii. If you haven't
heard of it, it's a group of islands out in the Pacific
Ocean."

Charlie watched as he held the bowl in his arm and
beat the eggs furiously with a fork. Once again she was
overcome with curiosity about this man.

"Why is your father in Hawaii?"

"He's a missionary."

Charlie blinked in surprise, and then her face lit with
understanding. "That's why you pray before meals,"
she almost whispered, "because your father is a missionary."

Sean knew he had to weigh his next words carefully.
"With missionary parents, I probably did learn about
prayer at a younger age than some, but that's not why I
pray now."

It was on the tip of Charlie's tongue to say "why do
you?" but she suddenly thought she might be intruding.
Instead she picked up on something else he had said.

"You didn't mention your mother."

"She died when I was 14." Even now it pained Sean to
say those words. "We were at my aunt's house in San
Francisco. None of us knew she had tuberculosis until
the end. We had a few good weeks together, and then
she died quietly one afternoon during her nap."

This time it was Sean's turn to wonder if he had shared
too much. Talking about his mother made him feel vulnerable, and once again he concentrated on breakfast.

Some five minutes later they sat down together to a
meal of scrambled eggs with bits of salt pork. Sean had
also fried large slices of bread. Charlie's contribution
was her great-tasting coffee.

There was no conversation about who would wash or
dry, but both husband and wife pitched in after the meal
to clean the kitchen.

Sean moved into the living room to read the newspaper and was pleased to see Charlie join him. By the
time they had finished with the dishes, she'd grown
quite pensive, and Sean was glad to see that she wasn't
trying to avoid him. There had been something on his
mind from the first night he'd come here, and he knew
now was finally a good-time to mention it.

"Charlotte," Sean called her name and waited for her
to look up from her account books. "I've never thanked
you for what you did for me at the hanging. It took a lot of
courage to come forward and marry a bank robber. I'm
not really sure why you did, but I do know I'm grateful
and in one sense, I owe you my life. Thank you."

Charlie didn't know what to say. She certainly realized that he'd have hung if someone hadn't stepped
forward, but she never expected to be thanked for it.

"You're welcome," she finally spoke softly, knowing
by the way Sean watched her that he was waiting for a
reason.

"I also want to thank you for all you've given me. You
didn't owe me a thing, but you've dressed me and fed me
like a king, and well, thanks for that too."

He completely flustered her this time. She sounded
almost irritated when she spoke.

"Well, it's not as if you haven't worked for it. I mean,
blacksmith work is hard, and well, that's why I married
you."

It suddenly occurred to Sean as he watched and listened to his wife that she hid her true feelings behind a
mask of irritation when she was upset. Sean was usually
much better at hiding his feelings than she, even if he
did blush every once in a while, and he felt real compassion for the upset he'd caused in her life.

"Would you like to go for a ride in the buggy?" The
question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sean saw
that she was trying to make amends for what she had
said.

"I think that's a great idea."

"Good," Charlie replied, looking so relieved that Sean
smiled. "Sadie doesn't expect us for a good two hours, so
we have plenty of time."

Not for a moment did Charlie consider asking Sean to
pull the buggy out or hitch the horse. She had gone out
ahead of him and was almost finished by the time he
arrived. He stood by rather helplessly as she climbed
aboard, and couldn't help but remember how often he'd
seen Rigg lift Kaitlin into the wagon. Kaitlin had seemed
to expect it, and he knew Rigg enjoyed doing this small
service for his wife.

As usual, none of these feelings showed on his face,
and Charlie simply looked at him expectantly as she sat
on the seat, holding the reins loosely in her grip.

Sean climbed aboard and they headed out the back
doors. The day was growing hot, but the top was in good
shape. The canopy afforded them plenty of protection
from the sun. Cooper's Livery also had a surrey, but
there was no need for the extra seat, and it had no top.

Sean got to thinking about what fine equipment and
horses the livery had, and said as much to Charlie.

"That's the way my grandfather liked things," she
explained. "He believed that if you invested in your own
business, people would trust you to do right by them,
thus expanding and paying you back for your investment."

"He sounds like he had a good head for business. I
take it your grandfather is no longer living."

"He died six years ago. I've been running things on
my own ever since."

'And doing a good job, from what I've seen."

Charlie smiled at the compliment, and Sean leaned
back in the seat to watch what he could see of her profile.
He began to wonder why she was so seldom without her
hat. And why, when she obviously had such a prosperous business, she didn't buy clothes that fit.

Her blouse was so full it seemed she might be able to
fit another person inside, and her skirt, although the
proper length, seemed to have an unusual number of
gathers at the waist. The more he thought about it, the
more sense it made. After all, she had a very physical
job, and to be confined by tight clothing could hinder
her work.

Charlie talked as the buggy moved through town. She
told Sean about the different people in the area, and once
in a while asked Sean questions, but the conversation never ventured to the personal. It was a very relaxed
time, and Sean was a little surprised when he suddenly
realized Charlie was pulling up in front of Sadie's.

His feeling of contentment evaporated. At that moment, Sean was certain he could relate to those long-ago
Christians as they entered the arena filled with hungry
lions.

Tansy Lang was a flirt, and she made no apology
about it. Since she worked in the hotel dining room, it
was unusual that she would even be at Sadie's table for
dinner on Sunday, but she was there, making Sean wish
he wasn't. He had prayed so specifically, asking God to
help him bear up under the hostile looks and words he
was sure to find. But nothing could have prepared him
for Tansy.

She seemed to find it exciting that he'd robbed a bank,
and in her high-pitched voice told him so at least ten
times. Her dress did a fine job of exposing her cleavage.
But it didn't seem to be enough for Tansy, who was intent
on drawing Sean's attention to her chest by leaning
toward him every few moments. He finally trained his
eyes across the table on his wife, who wouldn't look at
him, and tried valiantly to get through the meal.

There were six other people at the table besides Sadie,
Tansy, Charlie, and himself, but Tansy, who was seated
next to him, had so monopolized the entire conversation
that Sean had no idea how people felt about his presence.

After the meal, which Sean barely tasted, Sadie directed him and Charlie to a small sitting room back by the kitchen. He was thankful that no one else joined
them as they sat down on the long sofa. An uncomfortable silence enveloped them.

"Charlotte," Sean spoke up because he couldn't let
the question wait. "Does Tansy eat lunch here every
Sunday?"

Charlie was so shocked by the question that she didn't
immediately answer. Sean suddenly stood up, his agitation very clear.

"Because if she does," he went on, "I won't be back."

Charlie could do nothing more than stare at him. She
had been so intent on her own misery that she never
once considered how Sean might be feeling.

Tansy's clothing always showed off her full breasts
and tiny waist, and for the first time Charlie had felt like
an old crow in her presence. Tansy's nails were attractively long, and her hands were never rough like those of
a livery owner's. The woman had stood back while Sean
seated her, and then thanked him by leaning close and
whispering something in his ear.

Charlie had not waited for anyone to seat her, and she
felt her face burn as one of the older women at the table
raised a wrinkled brow in her direction. From that point
on, Charlie couldn't watch anything that went on across
the table.

"Does she, Charlotte?"

The question brought Charlie back to earth. "No. She
works at the hotel, and actually she's never here on
Sundays. I think she's been under the weather and taking a few days off work."

Sean relaxed, and Charlie searched for something to
say. She spotted her aunt's paper.

"You didn't get to finish the newspaper. Why don't
you sit down and read Sadie's?"

Sean took up the offer and settled back down on the
sofa. There was probably more they should have said to
each other regarding Tansy's behavior, but Sean watched
Charlie reach for a catalog on a nearby table, so he began
to read the paper.