Chapter 21
The ride passed in a blur, Charlotte aware only of the aching cold of her hands and feet and the furnace-like heat of Joshua, holding her close.
She burrowed into his warmth, trying to still the chattering of her teeth.
She wouldn’t soon forget the terror of those moments in the icy water.
Nor Joshua’s voice calling her name and the feel of his arms closing around her when she’d all but given up.
“We’re here now. Another moment and I’ll have you safe,” Joshua murmured into her ear. He gingerly dismounted, his powerful hand holding her in the saddle until he could tug her into his arms.
She ought to be embarrassed to be carried into a public room, wrapped in an old blanket. But the cold did funny things to her, for she couldn’t summon the energy to care what Mrs. Norris or any of her patrons might think. She only wanted to be warm. And she didn’t want Joshua to leave her side.
She was vaguely aware of Joshua’s voice, deep and reassuring, explaining what had happened while Mrs. Norris bustled around them.
Joshua lowered her into a chair before the fire and wrapped her in a thick quilt while Mrs. Norris tucked hot bricks around her.
A steaming mug of tea was next, though her numb fingers couldn’t grasp it.
Someone—Joshua, she thought—held it to her lips and she sipped, allowing the warmth to spread through her until the numbness in her fingers and toes gave way to a fierce, burning ache.
She heard a moan of pain and realized it had come from her.
“What’s the matter?” Joshua’s voice came from somewhere above her, urgent and fierce. As much as she wanted to set his mind at ease, she couldn’t form a sentence yet.
“Don’t fret so, Josh. Just the feeling coming back, I reckon.” Mrs. Norris’s voice, sturdy and calm, seemed to set Joshua’s fears to rest, though he still hovered near. “Come now, lad. She’ll be fine.”
“Will she?”
A large hand rested on her head, smoothing back her hair. She took a deep breath and focused on the soothing motion of his hand, distracting her from the discomfort as sensation returned.
“Charlotte? Are you in pain?”
“Cold.” A tremor shook her as she said the word.
He grimaced. “She’s got to get out of the rest of her wet things.”
Charlotte tried to summon a protest, but she couldn’t manage to do more than lift her hand, her body unable to fulfill her mind’s instructions.
“Go tend the horses, Josh. Leave the lass to me.” Mrs. Norris shooed Joshua away with a swipe of her hand, her voice filled with the gruff kindness Charlotte remembered.
“But she’ll be all right?”
Charlotte tried to marshal her thoughts to thank him properly and remind him that he should also warm himself, but she couldn’t summon the strength to speak.
She heard the door close behind him, and then Mrs. Norris was there, removing the blankets and her last soaked layers and replacing them with a voluminous nightdress that must belong to the innkeeper herself.
Charlotte had only to raise her arms, which was a blessing, for she could feel her eyes growing heavy.
The welcome weight of the blankets came around her again, a fresh hot brick at her feet and a steaming cup held to her lips before she slid into oblivion.
Joshua’s deep rumble behind her woke her sometime later. “You know for certain they’ll come here?”
“Aye, they’ve been arriving all week. On the way to Montgomery’s Tavern.”
“She can’t have any part in that! We’ll have to move her upstairs.”
“Josh, she’s in no state to climb that ladder.”
Charlotte forced her eyes open and followed Joshua’s gesture to the ladder that led to Mrs. Norris’s sleeping quarters in the loft. She’d scaled that ladder without a second thought just days ago, but now it might as well have been a cliff.
“Charlotte?” Joshua knelt before her. “I’d like to help you upstairs. Before the”—his mouth tightened—“supper crowd arrives.”
Crowd. In her current condition, the word made her want to hide under her quilt. She nodded gratefully and gripped the chair to push herself to standing. Her arms trembled, unequal to the task.
“I’ll carry you,” Joshua said. “Put your arms around my neck.”
She leaned forward and he swept her up, rising smoothly and striding to the ladder.
The nightgown could have wrapped around her several times, and she was glad now for its concealing folds.
Glad for the strong arms around her that held her close while he scaled the ladder.
Glad for the soft, near-familiar welcome of Mrs. Norris’s bed.
No one had taken care of her since Mama died.
She’d taken pride in being strong for her family, just as she’d promised Mama.
Now she had to depend on Joshua, and it felt . . . fine. More than fine. It was a sweet relief to lean back into Mrs. Norris’s crisp linen and let others do the tending for a change.
“I’ll bring some hot bricks,” Joshua said, tucking the quilts around her. He moved to leave her side, but she reached out, her hand brushing his arm in a fleeting grasp.
“Thank you.”
He stilled, his eyes moving to where she’d touched him. He exhaled, sharp and hard. “Thank me? I’d think you’d be ready to curse me by now.” He ran his hand through his hair.
Charlotte watched his bent head, a strange tenderness coming over her. She sought the words to make him understand. “You saved my life. Seems like that deserves my thanks.”
“I should have warned you. I never should have let you get so far ahead.”
The strange lethargy was growing again, and she summoned all her strength to say the words she needed. “It’s my fault. I was . . . upset. It was childish of me.” She gave up hoping he would meet her eyes. “I’m sorry. Now we’ll be delayed.”
He looked up, his eyes burning with an emotion she didn’t recognize. “None of that matters.” His voice was softer now, the bitterness turned to deep certainty. “As long as you’re safe.”
The thwack of the axe, falling in a smooth arc to slice each length into neat quarters, filled Joshua with satisfaction. He grabbed another log, and another, until his back ached and sweat ran cold down his spine. Still, there was no peace. His thoughts circled in a restless loop.
The vision of Charlotte floundering in icy water, her face pinched and pale. The knowledge that rebels were on their way. And looming above it all, the threat of Deacon Cole’s arrival.
Joshua needed to save Henry. He needed to get Charlotte home. He needed—
“I reckon that’s enough.” Mrs. Norris’s voice came from behind him.
Joshua froze, glancing at the pile of split wood around him. “You’ll need far more to get you through the winter.”
“That’s not your problem anymore.” Her voice was gentler than he’d ever heard it, and it made him turn in surprise. “I reckon your lass’ll be just fine.” She nodded toward the inn.
“She’s not mine,” Joshua said, his voice wooden. He lined up another log and took a hefty swing.
“Is that so?” Mrs. Norris raised her voice to be heard above the splitting wood. “Sure seems like she is.”
“I’m only taking her back to the city.” Joshua bent and picked up the scattered quarters. “Where she belongs.” He straightened, looking to the north. “When do you reckon they’ll arrive?”
Mrs. Norris sent him a withering look that said she knew he’d changed the subject. “’Bout five o’clock. They’ve been coming steady. Young lads, a few older ones who ought to know better.”
“You’re sure they’re”—he sent a hasty glance over his shoulder and lowered his voice—“rebels?”
She nodded. “Don’t make any secret of it. They’re all heading to the same place. Last stop to get a hot meal and water the horses.”
“They give you any trouble?”
Mrs. Norris shook her head. “I know their families. Besides, Ogden’s been hanging around, making a nuisance of himself.”
That made Joshua smile. Ogden wasn’t a young man, but his aim with a rifle was legendary. He’d keep her safe. “That so?” He grinned, wondering if the man was any closer to winning Mrs. Norris’s hand.
“Oh, stop your foolishness,” she said. “You worry about keeping that girl safe and keep your nose out of my business.”
Joshua stacked the logs in a precise triangle, absently running his fingers over the rough bark of a shagbark hickory. Keep her safe. Hah. He hadn’t had much luck with that so far.
The men wouldn’t see Charlotte, tucked away in the loft, but she was clever. All they’d need to do was drop a few hints and she’d know what was afoot. She’d saddle up Tuck and be off to her brother at the first whiff of impending rebellion.
“Josh.” Mrs. Norris put a hand on his shoulder. “No need to worry so. Those rebels won’t harm her.”
Joshua squirmed at how easily she detected his thoughts. “It’s not only that. I . . . I’m expecting someone to come by.”
“What have you gotten yourself into, Josh?”
“I told you I was hired to find information.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance.
The less Mrs. Norris knew, the safer she’d be.
“Well, I didn’t find it. If a man comes by, asking after me, tell him there’s no news.
” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to be safely away before he arrives.
I don’t want her frightened.” He turned to stack the wood, avoiding the innkeeper’s sharp eyes.
Mrs. Norris frowned. “Didn’t strike me as a cowardly sort, but you know her better, of course.”
“Charlotte isn’t a coward,” he said, his voice sharp.
“Then why are you so fixed on keeping her in the dark? Seems to me she ought to know the danger she’s facing on the roads.” She sighed. “You know I . . . I’m fond of you, Joshua. You’re as close to a son as I’ll ever have.”
Joshua dropped the log he held and turned in surprise.
This was more emotion than he’d ever heard from her.
He nodded, a welling of affection making words stick in his throat.
When he was a starved, gangly teenager, eager to work but all thumbs, Mrs. Norris took him on.
He wouldn’t say she’d lavished him with love, but he’d had more of a home with her than with his mam.
She’d taught him his letters and how to keep books.
She’d taught him he had a heavenly Father who would never die or reject him, as his earthly fathers had done.
“I hate to say it, Josh, but it might be you who’s the coward.”
“What?” Her words broke through the fog of emotion. He had a lot of faults, but he’d never thought cowardice was among them.
“The good Lord gives you opportunities. Only you can choose what you make of them. I reckon you haven’t told her a word of how you feel.”
“But she’s . . .” He shook his head, refusing to rise to her prodding. “The only thing I can offer Charlotte Carruthers is a life of hardship and an uncertain future.” He tried to keep his voice matter-of-fact, but he heard the despair in his words.
So did Mrs. Norris, judging by how her expression softened with compassion. “What about the sawmill? You’d have a fine future ahead of you as the owner of the first mill in Nassagaweya.”
He gave a short, bitter laugh. “Where will I find the capital to set up a mill? I can’t even afford a milk cow.” His hand sliced through the air in a gesture of finality. “No. I won’t ask her to give up a fine house and a fine family for the likes of me.”
“What that girl needs is a man who would put her first. Show her she’s loved.” She pointed a finger at him, square in the chest. “You could be that man.”
Guilt sliced him. “But I didn’t put her first. She had to sell her horse to pay me to take her north. She loved that horse.”
“You have a good reason for needing that money. She’d understand that. Look at the lengths she went to for her brother.”
He shook his head. Charlotte was the heiress of a famous family. Poor, hardscrabble Joshua Robertson didn’t stand a chance.