right. I won’t breathe a word.”
The men hoisted their belongings and started up the stairs while Naomi balanced the child on her hip. Waiting until they were out of sight, Charity crossed to the desk clerk. “What names did that gentleman sign?”
The young man smirked as he spun the register book for her perusal. “Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones and family, if you choose to believe such tales.”
“I see.”
She checked their respective room numbers, then headed for the kitchen. So what if their new boarders were traveling incognito? That was often the case west of the Rockies. Here, a person could begin again without having to explain past sins. She should know. That was exactly what she’d been doing ever since her fateful journey from Ohio by wagon train with her sister, Faith.
Those had been the worst months of Charity’s life, and although her loved ones had survived the ordeal, they all bore scars of some sort. Connell McClain, Faith’s new husband, was scarred from encounters with the Cheyenne, and poor Faith had nursed broken ribs during the latter part of the arduous trek.
Charity’s scars didn’t manifest themselves physically. They were deeper, in her heart and soul, and the ache of her personal tribulation and loss remained so vivid the remembrances still gave her nightmares.
Nevertheless, she didn’t want those memories to fade. She wanted to remember precisely how foolish she’d once been so that she would never, ever, be tempted to make the same mistakes again.
Thorne closed the door to his brother’s room and stood with his back to it as he faced Naomi. “What did you say to that woman downstairs?” he demanded.
Tears softened her already pale blue eyes. “I’m so sorry. I know you cautioned us to use fictitious names but I haven’t spoken to another lady in months and the truth just slipped out. Charity won’t betray us. She promised she wouldn’t.”
He muttered under his breath. “What good is all the trouble we’ve gone to if you don’t remember to hide your real identities?”
Placing a sheltering arm around his wife’s slim shoulders Aaron stood firm. “She said she was sorry, Thorne. What’s done is done. I’m sure a simple hotel maid isn’t smart enough to engage in subterfuge.”
“Hah! Any fool could see that that woman is no simpleton. Nor is she a maid. She said she and her father are hotel guests, not staff, so don’t discount her capabilities or count on her loyalty.”
Weeping, Naomi knelt to draw the boy into her embrace while Aaron began to pace the floor of the small, sparsely furnished bedroom.
“Don’t worry,” Thorne said firmly. “I’ll take care of it. If the woman can’t be reasoned with, she can probably be bribed or threatened.”
“You sound just like Father!” Aaron blurted.
Thorne’s eyes narrowed and his countenance darkened with barely repressed anger. “Never say that again, do you hear? I won’t be compared with that man. He’s your father, not mine.”
“But you’ve obviously learned from him,” the younger man countered.
“No. I’ve learned from years on my own and from the writings of my real father.” Noting the shock on Aaron’s face, he went on. “Are you surprised? I was. Shortly before I left home, Mother told me all about her brief marriage to my late father and where I might locate the rest of the Blackwell family.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, eventually. I didn’t seek out my grandfather until I’d spent a few years at sea and felt I’d proved myself.” And had faced death more than once. “Grandfather and I didn’t have much time together before he died but we got along very well. He gave me my father’s journal, as well as willing me enough money to buy into a partnership on my first freighter.”
“So that’s how you became successful.”
“No,” Thorne countered, “I could have squandered my inheritance in any number of ways. The investments I made, instead, were based on my experience at sea, not on mere wishful thinking. I knew exactly what I was doing and lived frugally. That’s what I was trying to explain when I returned to New York three years ago. But no one would listen to me, not even you.”
Thorne noted Aaron’s pained expression. It was during that short visit that Thorne had met and fallen in love with Naomi but she had chosen to wed the younger brother, presumably because Aaron was in line to inherit the Ashton fortune.
Squaring his shoulders, Thorne faced him. “Forget the past. It’s your future that counts. Leave the details to me. We’ve come this far together and I’ll see to it that your foolish mistakes don’t sink our ship, so to speak.”
Naomi raised her reddened face to him, tears glistening on her cheeks, and whispered, “Thank you.”
It was all Thorne could do to keep from tempering his harsh expression as he gazed at her. She was suffering for her poor choices and for that he was sorry, but, as he had finally realized when he’d encountered her again, any tender feelings he had once harbored were long gone and he was therefore loath to display any tenderness that might mislead her.
If anything good came out of this fiasco, perhaps it was that it had finally freed his heart from the fetters of unrequited love and had given him a chance to make amends with his brother over almost stealing his betrothed.
Charity was climbing the stairs, one hand raising the hem of her calico frock and apron as she stepped, the other balancing a glass of milk on a plate with two freshly baked cookies. As she neared the landing, a shadow fell over her.
Her head snapped up. The mysteriously intriguing stranger blocked her path. “Oh! You startled me.”
Thorne didn’t give way.
“Excuse me, please,” Charity said politely. “I have some treats to deliver.”
“I’ll take that for you.”
As he reached for the small plate she held it away. “No need. I can manage nicely.”
“But you’re a guest here. You shouldn’t be doing chores.”
That brought a smile. “Actually, I started out as a guest about a year ago when my father decided to move to San Francisco. Since then, I’ve taken a part-time position helping the proprietress, Mrs. Montgomery, to pay for Papa’s and my room and board.”
One dark eyebrow arched as he said, “Really? I would have thought, considering the dearth of eligible women in these parts, you’d have found yourself a suitably rich husband by now.”
She could feel the warmth rising to redden her cheeks. “You assume a lot, sir.”
“My apologies if I’ve offended you,” Thorne said as he stepped aside and gestured. “After you.”
Spine stiff, steps measured, Charity led the way to the room the family occupied. Behind her she could sense the imposing presence of the man Naomi had called Thorne. He was well named, Charity decided,
