She felt terribly foolish. How could she have been so na?ve? She imagined the conversation she might have with Max, telling him she’d been wrong about the money. She groaned. She loathed the thought of telling him. Charlotte paced the room, furious at herself and furious at Max too. He would be understanding. He would tell her not to worry about it. But it would be another foolish mistake he’d have against her. Damn him. She knew her anger toward him was illogical, but she worked herself up to such a state of dismay over her error that she became determined to save her pride. Above all else, Max could not know about this.
She came to a decision. Sitting back at her desk, she made hasty calculations and rushed to the bank to exchange her check for money. Following that, she walked to Max’s shop. He smiled upon seeing her and set down the metal file he held.
“Hello, darlin’,” he drawled.
Tim greeted her from the other side of the room.
Charlotte walked to where Max stood by the forge and handed him the money, all of her income for two weeks of teaching. “I got the money from Tucson for the furniture today. Is that enough?”
Max rifled through the bills and counted the money quickly. “This is just fine. It pays for all the supplies.”
Charlotte let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She would use her savings to buy food, and two weeks later when she received her next paycheck, she would pay rent. Max never need know about her foolish mistake. It was a good plan, and she couldn’t find fault in it; that is, until the day it shattered into pieces and led to the scariest moment of her life.
*
Charlotte’s bare feet sprinted along the dirt path, lit only by a sliver of a moon. She inhaled loudly to fill her strangled lungs, bereft of oxygen from exertion and terror. The sounds of her breathing didn’t drown out the pounding steps that fell heavily and grew louder as they gained distance behind her. She heard a shriek exit her lips as her feet tripped over her long skirt. She scrambled in a panic to find her balance, realizing that a fall would give her pursuer all the time he needed to catch up. She gathered the calico material into both of her fists and surged ahead, adrenaline masking any pain from the bruises and cuts forming on the bottom of her feet.
She could see Max’s house in the distance and the soft glow of a lamp behind the window. He was awake. All she needed to do was get to him in time. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else had ever been so important. She tried to yell his name, but it came out as a harsh whisper to no one’s ears but her own.
Time passed in a sudden flash. She found herself in a heap at Max’s doorstep, hitting the bottom part of door in front of her with her palm and looking over her shoulder for the first time. She didn’t see her pursuer. The door swung open, causing her upper body, which was leaning into it, to spill forward into the cabin. Max appeared in front of her, and his presence brought forth the sobs hovering just below her throat.
“Charlie!” he exclaimed. He bent and grasped her arms, hauling her the rest of the way inside.
Max looked around outside briefly before he closed the door and locked it.
“Oh, Max,” she cried when he swept her into his arms off the floor.
“What happened?” He carried her to the sofa and set her down. His brow creased into a million worried lines as he examined her. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes? You’re bleeding!”
“I-I had to run. I didn’t have time… He was trying to…” Charlotte couldn’t spit out a sentence. She still gasped for air.
“Never mind. Hush. Don’t try to speak until you’ve calmed down. My God, you’re trembling all over. Take a deep breath, honey, and let it out slowly. You’re going to be just fine.”
Charlotte sucked in a shaky breath and let it out slowly as instructed.
“Good girl. Breathe like that again and keep on doing it.”
Charlotte focused on her breathing as Max cleaned the cuts on the bottom of her feet with a wet rag. Tim walked out from his bedroom. He stared at her in horror. “Miss Rose, are you all right?”
Charlotte nodded. She sobbed with relief as the terror receded. She had made it to Max. She would live.
“Find her a handkerchief, Tim. And find a quilt too.”
Max finished cleaning her bruised and bloodied feet and set the rag aside. Charlotte blew her nose using the handkerchief Tim provided while Max placed the quilt on the sofa. He lifted Charlotte into it and folded it around her snugly. Sitting next to her, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side. He kissed her forehead and said with a modicum of humor, “Which would you prefer, darlin’, tea or whiskey?”
Charlotte could tell Max was trying to help her feel better by lightening the mood, though his voice still sounded worried. “Tea,” she whimpered.
“Aren’t you a good girl?” He gave her an affectionate squeeze and another kiss. He glanced at Tim, who was standing by the sofa with the same scared expression he’d been wearing since first seeing her. “Tim, would you mind brewing some tea for Charlotte? But bring whiskey for me, and for you too if you like. Looks like you could use some.”
Tim nodded and walked to the kitchen. Charlotte’s tears stopped falling and her heartbeat slowed as Max stroked her arms and back and brushed the hair away from her wet face.
“So, sweetheart, who do I need to kill for causing you such distress?”