The Widow's Secret Page 2

  “Pardon me,” she said in a sweet voice, pulling his attention to her face. Up close, she looked prettier than before, and she had amazing hazel eyes. “My name is Mrs. Florence,” she continued, “and my uncle and I have seen you before.”

  Chet arched his eyebrow. What an odd subject opener, but he was curious to see where she was going with this. “Howdie, Miss Florence—”

  “No, I’m Mrs. Florence. I’m widowed.”

  Ahhh, so that was her story. “My apologies, Mrs. Florence.” He nodded. “I’m Chet Logan. It’s nice to meet you, but I’ll admit that I don’t remember seeing you before.” He grinned, running his gaze over her pink, long-sleeve dress with off-white strips of lace around the neckline of her dress. The garment appeared to be new. Her hair was coiled into a bun at the back of her head, and locks of hair curled around her ears. Pearl-drop earrings decorated her ears. Indeed, she was very beautiful. “Because I’m sure I would have remembered seeing such a lovely woman.”

  Her cheeks turned red and she shyly glanced at the floor, wringing her hands against her middle. “Thank you, sir. You’re very kind.”

  “Tell me, Mrs. Florence, where do you think you’ve seen me before?”

  She lifted her incredible hazel eyes to him again. “Well, my uncle and I have been traveling for a few days, heading toward Spruce Hill, and yesterday I noticed you were heading in the same direction.” Her gaze moved briefly over his clothes. “Most men who head that way are going to work at the lumber mill.”

  Chet grinned. She’d just given him the perfect cover. “You are very observant, and yes, I am heading that way to find work.”

  “Tomorrow, we’ll be passing through some unfamiliar territory.” She pointed toward the clerk behind the counter. “Mr. Wilkinson told me that there have been bandits in that region, and it would be better if we had someone go along with us that knows how to use a gun.”

  “Your uncle doesn’t know how to use a gun?”

  “He knows, however, the issue I’m having is that my uncle is deaf and he would not be able to hear if we are being attacked or not, especially at night.”

  Slowly, Chet nodded. “Now I see.”

  “Forgive me for seeming forward, Mr. Logan, but would you mind traveling with us until we reach Spruce Hill? We don’t have much money, but we can pay you—”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She gasped and her eyes widened. He realized she must think he was turning down her offer, and being rude about it. He shook her head. “I wouldn’t dream of taking your money, Mrs. Florence.”

  She sighed and smiled. “So, are you accepting my offer to travel with us?”

  “I’d be mighty obliged, Mrs. Florence... and honored to be your protector.”

  Her smile widened a little more. “You don’t know how grateful I am for your assistance. I’ll let my uncle know you’ll be coming along.” Her gaze moved to the hat shelf. “I’ll let you continue to pick out a hat. Our wagon is just outside. Meet us out front when you’re ready.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As he watched her move toward her so-called family, her cute little bustle bounced from her quick steps. Mrs. Florence was certainly a bold, but very charming woman. He’d have to watch himself around her since he enjoyed the company of very charming women.

  Chet sneaked a few peeks at the trio as he finally found a hat that fit and moved to the counter to pay for it. Just then, Miss Florence and her daughter stepped behind him. He glanced at them over his shoulder and smiled.

  “Mr. Logan,” Miss Florence said, “this is my daughter Gracie.”

  He turned and crouched to the little girl’s level. As he studied her blue eyes, he realized she had the mayor’s eyes and her real mother’s blonde hair. “You are just the cutest little girl I’ve ever seen.”

  Gracie giggled and buried her red face in Miss Florence’s dress. The woman chuckled and stroked the girl’s hair.

  “Sweetheart, you don’t need to be shy. This is the man who is going to help us.”

  When the girl looked at him again, he gave her a reassuring nod. He was going to help this little girl more than she ever expected. Although Miss Florence appeared to love the girl, Chet was certain her real parents loved her more. At least the girl was in no present danger.

  He stood and handed the money to the clerk before taking his new hat. He waited for the woman to purchase the dress for the girl. She jumped up and down with excitement, clapping her hands. It was hard to understand why buying a dress would make this girl so happy, especially since she wasn’t with her real family. Had Miss Florence brainwashed the girl somehow? They’d changed her name, too. Georgia was the mayor’s daughter – not Gracie.

  Miss Florence took the dress and grabbed the girl’s hand as they walked out of the shop. Chet studied the deaf man. Although the man in his mid-fifties had a gentle face, that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous, especially if he was protecting the woman and girl. But since he was deaf, Chet had the advantage. The man was slightly shorter and much thinner than Chet. He was curious to where they found this man, unless he worked at the orphanage. After all, why else would Miss Florence and Gracie know sign language?

  The three walked to the covered wagon, and Chet followed. He was relieved that it had stopped raining, but since they were traveling through Oregon in late fall, he figured they’d run into quite a bit of rain on their way.

  “Mr. Logan?” Miss Florence asked. “Are you ready to leave now?”

  “Yes. My horse is right over here. I’ll follow you.”

  “Splendid.” She turned to her so-called uncle. “Mr. Logan, this is Uncle Theo. That’s what he wants people to call him.”

  Chet nodded to the older man. “I’m happy to meet you.” The woman signed what he had said, and the other man signed back.

  “He says he’s very happy that you are coming with us.” She smiled.

  “I’m glad I could help.”

  She moved to the wagon and tossed the dress in the back. Before she could reach down for Gracie, Chet scooped up the little girl and set her in the wagon. The girl giggled and hurried inside the canvas cover. She wasn’t sure about him, but he’d change her mind very soon.

  Chet turned and offered his hand to the woman. “Let me help you inside. I don’t think you’d appreciate it if I scooped you up as I did to your daughter.”

  She laughed and her face brightened with color again. “No, I wouldn’t like that at all.”

  As she slid her palm against his, he realized something about her. Although she tried her hardest to act and speak like a true lady, she had calloused hands. The orphanage had told him Miss Florence was a schoolteacher, but he was sure she did much more around the place. Why else wouldn’t she have smoother hands?

  As she climbed inside, she wouldn’t meet his gaze. She lifted her leg to step over the edge and in through the opened slot on the canvas, but stumbled. He quickly gripped her around the waist to keep her from falling. She clutched his shoulders, holding on to him.

  This time, she looked right into his eyes. For a moment, he detected a hint of fear, but he also noticed a depth of sadness. He received the impression things weren’t as they seemed with her, which made him want to get to know her better.

  When her gaze dropped to his mouth, he held his breath. Why had she done that? And why had his heart jumped with anticipation? Good grief, he shouldn’t respond this way. It didn’t matter that he’d not been with a woman for five months, he wasn’t going to break his streak of loneliness with this woman.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. Thank you for catching me.” Her face flamed red.

  She climbed inside and he released her. This woman was a very skilled performer, but just studying her expression, he knew she had secrets. How many other people had she tricked with her double life? He’d make sure that she could never trick him.

  She wasn’t the first female outlaw he’d hunted, and she wouldn’t be his last. However, she was d
efinitely the prettiest, and because she had a little girl with her, that made his job a little tougher than those other assignments. Not only that, but he now wondered if this woman was interested in him as more than just a protector.

  One thing was for sure... She’d better not look at his mouth that way again.

  THREE

  Amelia bent over the fire as she stirred the pot of beans. The night had come faster than she’d wanted, which meant they had to stop. She was anxious to get to Spruce Hill. All she’d been able to think about since escaping the orphanage, was trying to find her grandparents. For sixteen years, Amelia had wondered why her grandparents never came to find her and her siblings at the orphanage after their parents had died. Or had they even known their grandkids were without parents?

  Sighing, she sat down on the tree stump. Maybe her grandparents were dead, too. Either way, Amelia would start a new life in Spruce Hill with her daughter and Uncle Theo. She could become a teacher, a seamstress, or she could work at a hotel and clean rooms. Theo would be a good lumberjack, she was sure. With any luck, perhaps Amelia would find a man to fall in love with – one who loved her unconditionally. One she could confess the truth to. But right now, she must pretend to be a widow... and a mother.

  Gracie’s cheerful laugh brought Amelia out of her thoughts as she looked toward the wagon at the girl and Mr. Logan. He was a very attractive man, especially when he smiled. He’d been doing that quite often when he talked with Gracie, and the girl seemed to love the attention. Mr. Logan had found a bunch of hand-size sticks and they were building a house, or at least it resembled a house until Gracie bumped into it, knocking the structure down. They both laughed heartily, but it was Mr. Logan’s baritone voice that made Amelia catch her breath as warmth filled her.

  She still couldn’t believe how he’d caught her from falling out of the wagon earlier today. Embarrassment grew inside her again from recalling the way his strong hands held onto her waist, and the way his gray eyes held her gaze captive. Heat slowly filled her remembering how his wide shoulders were incredibly muscular. His mesmerizing gaze made her heart flutter... and heavens, why she had looked at his mouth, she’d never know. She’d never do that again.

  Sitting beside Amelia, Theo bumped her arm. She looked at him and he began signing. It’s good to see Gracie smile again.

  Amelia nodded and signed back. We’ve only been gone from the orphanage a week, but she acts like she doesn’t remember the place.

  He sighed and frowned. I’m trying to forget, too.

  Her heart twisted. Most everyone who had lived there had been affected one way or another. She had been a young girl when she’d heard the rumors that the Stone’s had been so upset at Theo for breaking the fence, that they repeatedly kicked him in the ear, which caused him to go deaf.

  She signed. From now on, let’s pretend that place never existed. I want a new life and new memories.

  He smiled weakly. Me, too.

  She moved off the stump again to stir the beans in the pot cooking over the fire. Another reason she couldn’t wait to get to Spruce Hill was that she was tired of the limited supply of food they had. They’d spent more money on clothes and blankets in order not to look like runaways from the orphanage, which didn’t leave them a lot to spend on food. She reminded herself that they were very fortunate to find all of that money on the floor... and that Mr. Stone slept through it.

  The beans were soft enough to eat, thankfully. They were all hungry and tired, and she couldn’t wait to eat. She was also ready for tomorrow to arrive.

  “The food is done,” she said loud enough for the laughing pair to hear.

  Gracie jumped up and rushed to Amelia’s side. She spooned a good portion of beans on a plate and handed it to her along with a spoon. Gracie carried her plate and sat by Theo. Amelia lumped the beans on another plate and handed it to Mr. Logan.

  She smiled. “I hope you like beans. That’s all we have until we reach Spruce Hill tomorrow.”

  “I’m sure they will taste heavenly.” He took the plate from her and sat across the fire.

  She fixed Theo’s plate and gave it to him before spooning some on her plate. When she took her first bite, she sighed, thankful that the beans were completely cooked. She was also grateful that it was edible.

  “Mr. Logan,” she said after swallowing her food, “why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

  His gaze lifted to hers. “What do you want to know?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “California. I lived there since I was a young boy.”

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Were you there during the gold rush?”

  He nodded. “My parents moved the family there to dig for gold.”

  “Did you find any?”

  “Yes, but my parents had it all spent by the time I was eighteen.” He took another bite.

  “What did you do after that?”

  “I worked for a rancher who raised horses.”

  She rested the plate on her lap, moving her gaze over his physique again. Staring at him as though she’d never seen such a robust man was another thing she needed to stop doing. “You look like just the type of man who would enjoy that.”

  “Yes, I did enjoy that.”

  “So, why are you heading to the lumber mill?” She took a bite, hoping he’d talk more than just a few short sentences so she could finish chewing.

  “While working on the ranch, I met a man who had been at the lumber mill. He told me stories about his time there, and it fascinated me.”

  She quickly swallowed. “But why the one in Oregon?”

  He chuckled. “I hope this doesn’t make me sound like a weakling, but...” He shook his head, grinning. “I’ve always wanted to see a lighthouse. I’ve heard there are two lighthouses in the area where we’re traveling.”

  She nodded. “I heard that, too – and no, admitting you want to see the lighthouse doesn’t make you weak. It makes you normal.”

  “Normal?”

  “Yes, because now I know you have hopes and dreams, just like the rest of us.”

  “Is that why you’re going? To see the lighthouse?”

  Amelia’s smile slowly drooped as memories returned. During her year of mourning after her parents never returned from their trip across the ocean, Amelia had wondered if going to the lighthouse would help her find her parents. After all, wasn’t that the purpose of a lighthouse? To help bring ships safely into port?

  “As a child, I had silly dreams of what I thought a lighthouse could do. However, I’m mainly going to see if I can find my grandparents. I know they used to live in Spruce Hill.”

  “Then I hope you find them.”

  She smiled again. “And I hope you find your dreams there too, Mr. Logan.”

  “Please, call me Chet.”

  Chet? She’d never heard that name before. Then again, she’d spent most of her life in an orphanage. There were probably many names she would never know. “Then you must call me Amelia.”

  “Amelia,” he sighed. “What a pretty name for a pretty lady.”

  She blushed again. Another thing she wasn’t used to, was having men compliment her. “Thank you.”

  “Amelia,” Gracie tapped on her arm. “I’m tired.”

  Sucking in her breath, Amelia realized what name Gracie had called her. Stepping back into her role as Mother, Amelia shook her finger at the girl. “Although I’ve given Mr. Logan permission to call me Amelia, I’m still Mother to you, little missy.”

  The girl’s face turned red. “Sorry,” she mumbled and pressed her hot face against Amelia’s arm. “I’m just tired.”

  Amelia set their plates aside and lifted Gracie in her arms. Chet jumped to his feet and held out his hands to help.

  “Thanks, but I can take her to bed now,” Amelia told him, walking past him.

  “Goodnight, Gracie,” he said.

  “Nite.” Gracie waved.

  Amelia was able to get them in the wagon and she assis
ted the girl with undressing and putting on her nightclothes. The wind outside picked up and blew against the canvas covering the back of the wagon. Gracie sobbed and cuddled against Amelia. The poor girl’s eyes widened as she looked around.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It’s just the wind.”

  “Will the wind tip us over?”

  “No.” Amelia caressed Gracie’s cheek. “There’s nothing to worry about. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “And Chet? Will you make sure he’s fine, too?”

  Amelia wanted to laugh, but at least Gracie still admired her as a mother figure. Gracie’s first month at the orphanage was hard. Amelia understood it well. The other kids teased Gracie, and the older servants – and the Stones – ignored the poor frightened girl. Amelia took it upon herself to be the girl’s mother... or at least an older sister. Gracie snatched onto Amelia like a ragdoll, and she loved every minute of the girl’s attention. Amelia had needed Gracie just as much as the girl needed her.

  “Now, lie down and close your eyes. Let the wind lull you to sleep.” Amelia prepared the bedroll.

  Gracie climbed inside and pulled up the blanket to her chin. “Will you sing to me as you used to when I was afraid?”

  Tears burned behind Amelia’s eyes. She was happy that Gracie hadn’t forgotten those times. As a child herself, Amelia recalled when her own mother used to sing her to sleep. She’d been so comforted just hearing her mother’s voice.

  “Of course, sweetheart.”

  Amelia brushed the girl’s hair back away from her face and started singing a song she’d known for years. Three more songs later, Gracie’s eyes closed, and her breathing grew heavy. Amelia leaned over and kissed the girl’s forehead before moving to the end of the wagon to climb out. Just as she moved the canvas aside, she gasped. Chet was sitting on a rock very close to the opening. Amelia was sure he’d heard her singing.