“I wasn’t told all the details, ma’am,” Wyatt was saying, “but I understand the Orphan Salvation Society sends two agents with the children. If Miss Sterling was indisposed, couldn’t the other agent have escorted the children to Greenville?”
“Unfortunately, Mr. Arlington was shot during the robbery and died before Doctor Simpson could treat him. Since he was the senior agent, Miss Sterling felt she couldn’t in good conscience move forward without the Society’s counsel.” Mayor Evans wrapped up her argument. “As you can see, there was no one available to escort the children to Greenville.”
“Maybe not at the time, but it’s been two weeks,” Wyatt pressed. “Surely Miss Sterling has recovered and gotten her orders from the Society by now.”
“She has, and they accepted our offer to place the orphans here in Evans Grove. So you see, there’s no need for an escort. The children will be staying.”
“No, ma’am, I’m afraid they won’t. The Orphan Salvation Society had a prior agreement with Greenville, and I aim to see that they deliver on the terms. They can’t go changing their minds halfway through.”
“The Orphan Salvation Society is the children’s caretaker,” the mayor reminded him.
“That is not my point. They already had an agreement. Those children are supposed to go to Greenville. Now, if there’s no one to escort the orphans there, I’ll take them myself. There are eight, I believe.” Wyatt Reed’s words shot through her.
All eight? Charlotte gasped and clutched Sasha to her side. He would take her daughter away from her?
Never!
Without the slightest concern of being overheard, she scooped up Sasha and fled the building.
* * *
Wyatt heard the gasp and turned in time to see a shadow of black flit across the doorway. Mrs. Miller. She must have heard every word.
If the mayor saw her, she gave no indication. “Several of the children have already been placed. Surely the citizens of Greenville would not want to tear children away from their new families.” A triumphant smile slid into place. “For instance, Mrs. Miller—the woman who brought you here—took in Sasha Petrov.”
So Sasha was one of the orphans. An icy finger of doubt slid into his well-constructed plan. Focus, Reed. You need that money to get to San Francisco. He took a deep breath. The mayor said several of the children, not all.
“How many?” he said between his teeth.
“How many what?” she asked cheerfully.
So, she would play a game, would she? “How many of the orphans are already taken?”
She hesitated, as if counting. “Four of the eight, but other families are in the process of selecting children. One of the boys was just claimed, pending the selection committee’s approval. I expect the rest will be placed soon.”
Wyatt quickly calculated his options. If he insisted on taking all eight, Evans Grove would fight him. The new parents would fight him. That orphan society might fight him. He could lose all eight and the rest of his fee. Better to settle for something.
He stared down the mayor. “But only four are now placed.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “At this moment, but as I said—”
“The four can stay.”
Her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“The four children who’ve already been taken can stay, but the rest go with me to Greenville tomorrow.”
The mayor raised herself to her full height, completely in control of her emotions, which at this moment indicated she would not budge one bit on this subject. “It is late, Mr. Reed. I suggest we continue this conversation tomorrow afternoon with the entire selection committee present.”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow afternoon.” The woman’s firm command was beginning to irritate him. “The train passes the Evans Grove whistle-stop at noon. I’ll need to arrange in advance for the train to stop. Let’s make it a morning meeting. Say nine o’clock.”
Her smile faded, but just for an instant. “The committee members do have businesses to operate. One of the members, our schoolteacher Miss Sanders, will need to arrange for someone to watch her class. In truth, Mr. Reed, tomorrow evening would be best.”
He had to give her credit for quick thinking. She’d managed to push the time even later. At this rate, he wouldn’t be out of Evans Grove until Saturday.
He pushed back. “Ten o’clock, Mayor. In the morning. No later. I expect to put those children on the noon train to Greenville tomorrow. Miss Sterling may accompany them if she wishes.” It seemed a generous concession at this point.
“That is up to her,” the mayor said stiffly, “but I will convey your demands—and your offer—at once.”
He nodded, and picked up his hat. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mayor.”
“Ten o’clock, Mr. Reed.” Her words were tough, but she looked worried.
She should be. Wyatt Reed always got his man.
* * *
Even after feeding Sasha, Charlotte still quaked with fear. What could she do? Where could she go? Who would help her? Since Charles’s death, life had been filled with uncertainty, but never as much as right now.
She couldn’t lose Sasha. The little girl meant everything to her. But now Wyatt Reed was trying to take her away. She had to do something.
The sun’s waning rays illuminated the Bible sitting on the trestle table. Charlotte ran her fingers over the leather binding. God’s Word had brought her comfort in the past. It helped her understand the loss of her parents and Charles, but could it gird her for the loss of her daughter, too?
“Mama?” Sasha’s voice trembled, and Charlotte realized the little girl had seen her tears and was frightened.
She blinked away the moisture and folded her arms around Sasha. “It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”
Still, the girl shook, and a sob wrenched out.
Charlotte smoothed her hair. “Look at me, dearest.” When the girl finally lifted liquid eyes to her, she smiled with more confidence than she felt. “Everything will be fine. Understand? I love you, and I will always love you. You’re my little girl, my forever little girl.”
Unable to hold back the tears any longer, Charlotte hugged Sasha close and kissed her repeatedly until the trembling passed. She must do something to cheer Sasha.
Holding her at arm’s length, Charlotte asked, “Would you like a new doll?”
Sasha’s eyes brightened. Clearly, the promise of a doll had distracted the little girl. Charlotte pulled some blue muslin from the bottom of her trunk. “Won’t this make a pretty dress for her? She’ll have black hair, like you, and blue eyes. Would you like that?”
Sasha nodded vigorously and stretched out her hand for the fabric.
Charlotte almost told her to wait, but Sasha had waited for so much already—parents and love and a real family. And it could all be taken away tomorrow. Why make her wait for anything more?
She dug some more in the trunk and found her tattered old rag doll. “This is the doll I had when I was your age. You can play with her while I make your new one.”
Sasha hugged the ragged old doll.
Charlotte smiled to think Sasha could like something so misshapen. “Let’s think of a name for your new doll.”
“Katya.”
Charlotte wished she would have chosen a more common name like Katy or Katherine, but