style="font-size:15px;"> “Who could have done this?” Willow whispered.
“Was there anyone who was bothering her?”
Willow shook her head. “Not that I can recall. The first few weeks we were here, she seemed really...happy. I thought it was a little strange, since the avalanche kept her from reuniting with her husband in California. She didn’t complain about being marooned, like the other ladies.”
“Did she have any trouble with one of the other women?”
“No!” Willow vehemently shook her head. “You can’t possibly think that one of the mail-order brides did this.”
“I’m just trying to gather as many facts as I can.”
“Jenny kept to herself. I think she was self-conscious about her pregnancy. She believed herself to be ungainly and...unattractive. She seemed incredibly preoccupied about the loss of her figure. She remained in her room for the most part. It was only after we all moved to the Dovecote that she perked up. She began taking walks in the mornings and afternoons. But with the guards keeping us near the dormitory, she couldn’t go far. She just circled the meadow around the Dovecote. She was always alone...” Willow’s words petered off. “But I can’t remember her having any disagreements with the other women. If anything, they tried their best to draw her out and help her.”
“Did she have any contact with anyone else?”
Willow scoured her brain, trying to remember the smallest details. “Those first days, when there were so many injured...she was in the same room with a few of those who’d suffered broken bones. That would have been one of the porters from the train, Mr. Beamon, and the conductor, Mr. Niederhauser. The rest of them would have been mail-order brides. I don’t think she ever took a shift in the cook shack, so she wouldn’t have met anyone there. The Pinkertons were in and out of the Hall on a regular basis—Jonah’s assistant, Mr. Creakle, and that nice Mr. Smalls. Once we moved to the Dovecote, the guards tried to keep the miners at arm’s length, but that didn’t prevent someone with a good excuse—a load of firewood, a box of supplies from the storehouse, the offer of a book to read—from getting a word with one of the girls. Even so, I don’t remember anyone seeking out Jenny in particular.”
“You said she was happy at first.”
Willow’s brow creased. “Yes. The fact that she would have to stay here for months didn’t seem to even dawn on her. She was eager for her baby to be born, so I thought that maybe she was hoping she could reunite with her husband looking like the same girl he’d left behind in England, rather than being...in the family way.”
Willow felt a tinge of heat seep into her cheeks at being so frank with someone of the opposite sex, but she forced herself to continue. “But after Christmas, her mood changed. She became weepy and emotional. When I tried to find out what was wrong, she said she was tired—tired of being awkward and unattractive. She wanted her baby to come. Then, just before she disappeared, she seemed uneasy and jumpy—almost fearful. What could have happened?” Willow asked aloud. “Who would have done this to her?” Her gaze fell to the basket. “And why was she so sure that the babies were in danger, as well?”
Charles shook his head. “I don’t know. But judging by everything that’s happened, I don’t think we can brush her warning aside.” His gaze dropped to the basket. “Right now, we’ve got to put our heads together and see to the bairns. Then we’ll focus on other matters.”
Such as what happened to Jenny.
A soft sneeze from the direction of the basket caused Charles’s steeliness to disappear from his gaze.
“You said the babies will need milk. Anything else?”
“I, uh...warm water to bathe them, more blankets, perhaps more flannels. Eventually, I’ll need fabric to make layette gowns. They don’t seem to have a change of clothing.”
“Then let’s focus on what we can do for them tonight.” Charles stood and reached for a pail near the stove, then his coat and hat. “I’ll head to the barn for milk. Why don’t you rustle through the larder and see if you can scrape up something for us to eat besides leftover cookies? Tomorrow, I’ll go to the company store and get whatever else we need.”
“But...your job. You won’t have pay coming in...”
He paused in buttoning his coat, then came back to her. Touching her shoulder, he said, “It’s all right, Willow. I have a great deal of credit with the store that I’ve put aside as part of my wages. It’s about time I used some of it.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
He traced her cheek—and she couldn’t resist the urge to lean into that caress, ever so slightly. “Right now, we’re in this together. These children need us. And Jenny, God rest her soul, has put them in our care. For now, that’s where we’ll put our focus.”
The words roused her fighting spirit, and Willow was instantly flooded with a fierce determination. “Yes. You’re right. I’ll have something for us to eat by the time you return.”
“Thank you, Willow.”
Tugging his hat securely over his brow, he unlatched the door and stepped outside.
* * *
If possible, the night had grown even colder in the last few hours. Charles hunched deeper into his coat, stamping down the stoop and into the darkness. As he was about to turn the corner, he couldn’t help glancing back at the row house. There in the inky blackness and whirling snow, his windows blazed with a warm, welcoming light. Charles could just make out the flickering shadows caused by the fire and the shape of a woman passing into the kitchen.
A woman.
In his home.
A wife.
No. Not truly a wife—even though they’d exchanged vows.
Turning, he trudged through the ever-deepening snow in the direction of the barn. In the space of an hour or two, he’d crashed through quite a few of the commandments—envy, dishonesty, and now he was about to add stealing to his list since, as a former member of the mining community, he had no real claim to any of the animals or their milk.
But the need to ensure the well-being of the babes—who couldn’t be more than a few days old—seemed to have brushed all his principles aside.
Tomorrow, he could talk to Jonah about paying for the use of a goat—or he could make arrangements with the company store or the cook shack. Then again, the fewer folk who knew about the bairns needing milk, the better. He had no doubts that the Bachelor Bottoms gossip mill would be chewing furiously on the news that Charles Wanlass had married in secret, fathered two children, remarried his sweetheart and resigned from his position. He didn’t need anyone puzzling over why the mother couldn’t feed them herself.
He glanced behind him again. By now, he was out of sight of the row house, but he could see the golden radiance easing into the dark night like a beacon.
And in that instant, quite inexplicably, Charles didn’t feel so alone.
“What’s going on, Charles?”
He
