The Marriage Barter. Christine Johnson
to greet the Hutchinsons’ dog Sparky, like she always did when they passed. The beagle mix had started to wait expectantly each day for his hug and kisses. Sasha squealed with laughter as the dog lapped her face.
The little girl was starting to fit into the community. To Charlotte, she’d become dearer than life. Charlotte would do anything for her—even marry. Thirteen years ago she’d wed Charles Miller out of necessity. She could do it again. Given the slim selection of available men, she preferred Wyatt by far.
But how could she convince him to marry her? The brides of old used a dowry to lure an eligible husband. Her parents had left her nothing, but Charles had. That was it! She’d offer him money.
Wyatt Reed would take any job for money. Hopefully, the sum she had would be enough. She felt a flash of panic at the thought of giving up the money—her security to take care of herself and Sasha—but she pushed it away. Sasha was worth it. At first, Charlotte would offer only part of the total amount of money she had, but even if Wyatt demanded every last dollar, Sasha was worth the price. When all this was over and the little girl was truly hers, Charlotte would do anything—even scrub floors—to put food on the table. Whatever it took, she’d do it to keep her daughter.
Charlotte gathered Sasha and marched toward the hotel. If she was going to do this, she’d do it now, before Wyatt Reed had time to run and she lost her nerve.
The distance had never seemed so short. Before she had time to formulate how to broach the subject, the hotel porch came into view. What on earth would she say to him? Good evening, Mr. Reed, would you be looking for a wife? Or perhaps, Mr. Reed, perhaps you would prefer not to eat alone each night. Or even outright begging.
Every approach made her blush madly.
When Mrs. Regan stopped to console her, she fanned her face and made up excuses. “This mourning dress is so hot and heavy.”
If the woman recognized the true source of Charlotte’s discomfort, she had the grace not to point it out. “I’m so glad we get to keep Lina. Teddy and I were beside ourselves over this whole mess. Why, that Mr. Reed should go back to Greenville where he belongs and leave us alone. I say if the Orphan Salvation Society agreed to keep the children in Evans Grove, then that’s where they should stay.”
As she rattled on with her condemnation of Wyatt, it took all Charlotte’s strength not to walk away. If even those who’d benefited from his concession despised him, how would they feel if she married him? Would they hate her, too? Would they spurn Sasha?
She glanced at her daughter, hoping she didn’t understand all that was swirling around her.
“I’m sorry to hurry away, but we have business.” Charlotte couldn’t listen to another word. “Urgent business that can’t wait.”
Taking Sasha’s hand, she hurried toward the hotel. The little girl appeared not to have understood what Mrs. Regan had said. But Charlotte wondered how to break the news to Sasha if she couldn’t find a husband.
Her stomach churned as she envisioned handing Sasha to Rebecca to take on the train to Greenville. The little girl wouldn’t understand. She’d cry and wail. She’d reach for Charlotte and wonder why her mama was abandoning her. And then to board a train again after the horrible robbery and shooting that had occurred on Sasha’s last train ride. Charlotte couldn’t bear to think of her little girl scared and alone, without her mama to comfort her. She stumbled and had to stifle a sob. No one could take away her daughter. She’d do anything, marry anyone to prevent it. Even Wyatt Reed.
Please, Lord.
They’d reached the hotel with its broad veranda. Charlotte stood before the steps. She’d never realized how many there were. Six in all. Was Wyatt there? She looked toward the front windows, but they reflected the late-day sun, and she couldn’t tell if he was dining. Through the door spilled a jumble of conversation and the clinking of glass and flatware.
The time had arrived. She must do it. For Sasha’s sake.
She took a deep breath. “Come, Sasha, let’s see if Mr. Reed is here.”
They climbed the six steps. Charlotte waited for Sasha on each while the men chewing tobacco on the porch watched her progress. With each step, her heart pounded harder.
Good evening, Mr. Reed. Could I have a moment of your time?
Perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades.
I would like to propose a business transaction.
Her knees threatened to give out.
A marriage in name alone, so I can keep Sasha.
Bile rose up her throat.
You may come and go as you please.
She couldn’t catch her breath.
And will be handsomely paid.
Dear Lord, what am I thinking?
They’d reached the porch. One of the men spat into an old chamber pot and grinned at her. Would he offer himself as a husband? His gapped yellow teeth made her queasy.
“Papa!” Sasha cried and, in an instant, slipped from her grasp.
Papa? Charlotte stumbled after her. She was an orphan, wasn’t she? How could her father be here?
Sasha raced into the hotel and through the dining room door. Charlotte strode as quickly as she could in the heavy skirts but couldn’t catch up. When she reached the hotel dining room, she halted, stunned.
The man she’d called papa was none other than Wyatt Reed.
* * *
Wyatt hated needless waiting. Stalking a fugitive was one thing. In those cases he was on the move, using his senses and his wit to outfox the criminal. Waiting for a judge was another thing altogether. He had to do something, find some way to fill his time. He couldn’t just sit around the hotel.
He’d figure out why these orphans mattered so much to the folks here. He could understand the ones that had been taken into homes already, but the unclaimed? It made no sense.
He picked at his heaping plate of roast beef and potatoes slathered in gravy and then reached for the cup of coffee. Ordinarily Wyatt wouldn’t drink coffee so late in the day, but he wanted to see what went on in Evans Grove after dark. Who visited whom, who took care of the orphans and where. Few houses had curtains, and much as it galled him to look in on unsuspecting people, many a parlor became visible after dark.
While eating, Wyatt pondered the banker. Brooks was an interesting part of the puzzle. Wyatt had never known a banker to get personally involved in a project like this, particularly in a town where he didn’t reside, yet Brooks had sat right there beside the mayor making policy decisions. Odder yet, everyone approved his interference.
Maybe that could be used against the town. If he could get the man tossed off that council, then maybe he could win over enough remaining members to finish up this job. Miss Ward was certainly on his side. He might be able to sway that petite schoolteacher gal, too. That left the preacher, the sheriff and the mayor. He’d have to work hard to make inroads with any of them.
“Papa!” a young girl squealed.
Moments later, that girl launched herself at him. Wyatt dropped his fork and put his hands up. What on earth? The girl’s raven hair and pigtails betrayed her identity. Sasha. Her thin arms wrapped around his waist. Why would she call him papa?
Everyone in the dining room was staring at him. Apparently, they had the exact same question.
“She’s not mine.” He awkwardly patted Sasha’s back and gave the staring diners a half smile. “She must be confused. Maybe I look like her pa.”
“Not at all,” chuckled an overweight woman with a splotchy yet kind face. “Charles Miller was a big man.”
“I meant her—” How could he say it? Real father sounded cruel and might remind the girl of the parents she’d