Page 86 of Charlotte's Reckoning
As she sat there, catching her breath, she looked at the shadows growing longer as the sun sank behind the mountains. She listened to the bugs and frogs and other creatures chirping and croaking in the trees, and it looked more and more like they would be her home for the night. Even that didn’t motivate her to move as she sat staring at the poor excuse for a road with deep grooves that appeared to be permanent. A few were curious as they curved off into the trees ahead of her. Sitting up, she peered at the thick overgrowth of vegetation, but much shorter trees, some just saplings. Could this be the turnoff to the cabin?
Excited by the possibility, she moved closer, eyeing the weeds, tall grass, and fallen branches almost obliterating the path. But it was a path, or at least it used to be. It looked like it might be crawling with snakes and ticks.
She laughed so loud, several birds squawked and flew out of the trees. But the ultimate irony, after all she had been through, would be to die from a snake bite.
“All I have to say is, there better be a cabin at the end of this.”
Charlotte sallied forth, tromped through weeds and brush for what felt like forever. Thankfully, there were no snakes, but the mosquitoes were relentless and had feasted on her thoroughly by the time she finally spotted the cabin. Even in the waning light, she could tell it had seen better days, with weathered walls and crooked shutters, one barely hanging on. Despite its dilapidated state, to Charlotte, it was a welcome sight.
As she cautiously opened the front door, she half expected the whole thing to collapse, but it stood firm. The floorboards creaked under her weight as she entered. She smelled something musty and foul. Covering her nose with her hand, she surveyed the room. In one corner stood a small fireplace, its stones blackened with years of soot. Near it was a rickety table and chairs, and beside them a sink with a hand pump.
There was another room with a lopsided frame bed and a dirty straw mattress. Imagining what might have taken up residence inside it, she decided that would be the first thing to go. A small closet contained blankets and a dusty man’s coat hanging on a hook. Neither item looked much cleaner than the bed, but she grabbed the blanket and took it outside to air it out.
When she returned, a firefly darting around above her head caught her attention, prompting her to look up. She gazed up at what should have been the ceiling, but she saw the sky, visible through a rather large hole in the roof.
Charlotte heaved a tired sigh but tried to look on the bright side. “At least it isn’t raining.”
It wasn’t much, but it was home, at least for the night. If it looked better in the sunlight come morning and seemed remotely salvageable, she planned to locate the man who had lost it to Fenton and have him sign it over to her.
“Before Quentin can steal it from me, too,” she muttered.
Charlotte found an oil lamp and matches in the small kitchen. Once lit, she also found the source of the foul odor—animal droppings. With the broom in the storage closet, she swept what she could see out the back door and secured it and all the other openings where the creatures could return—except for the gaping hole in the ceiling.
Next, she dragged the mattress out and swept the bedroom. Its roof seemed sound, at least. Then, dead on her feet and too tired to be hungry, she made a bed out of the clothes in her satchel, happy for the extra layers she had on as the temperature dipped for the night.
She wiped away a tear, missing Fen and everyone at the Red Eye. Thoughts of Seth holding her close flooded her mind. Oh, to have his strong arms around her now, keeping her safe and warm. She had been upset with him for not supporting her at Mr. Bennett’s office. Deep down, she knew he was doing his job and trying to navigate a challenging dilemma. But what annoyed her most was that he couldn’t see Quentin, a fraud and a swindler, whom she didn’t trust at all, as clearly as she did.
Charlotte closed her eyes and tried to get comfortable on the hard, unforgiving floor. Her last conscious thought was how far she’d fallen from her childhood dreams of breeding thoroughbreds in the Eldridge House stables.
Chapter 21
Being Neighborly
Harold Owens, the previous owner of the cabin, had been visiting the saloon every few weeks for years. Her unexpected appearance at his barn left him speechless. But not for long. While mucking out stalls in his barn, he wasn’t the laid-back, happy-go-lucky customer she remembered from the Red Eye. From the smell of horse manure emanating from the shovel he held, she didn’t blame him.
When she explained the purpose of her visit, he couldn’t have been more surprised.
“I haven’t thought about my uncle Jeb’s cabin in years. I’m surprised it’s still standing.”
She pulled out the handwritten deed he’d signed over to Fenton four years earlier. “Then you won’t mind signing it over to me. As Mr. Sneed’s partner.”
Bringing up the man he had lost the cabin to turned out to be a mistake, as his expression quickly soured. “I always suspected Sneed of shady dealings. I can offer you the cabin, but it won’t be for free. The price is $5000.”
Her jaw dropped in disbelief at hearing the outrageous amount. “But, Mr. Owens, the land is overgrown, and the cabin is in terrible condition. When was the last time you visited? There’s an enormous hole in the roof!”
His eyes moved slowly over her. “I might consider reducing it by $25 if you’re nice to me. Really nice,” he insinuated, his wandering gaze now locked on her chest.
She tensed and responded firmly, “Just like at the Red Eye, I am not for sale. I’ll give you $1800 for the cabin and land, which is worth half of that. That’s the most I’m willing to offer.”
He snatched the paper from her hand. “Then I’ll take my deed back. No one is going to question my word against a—”
His mother must have taught him some manners as a child, because he stopped short of calling her a whore to her face. But he was right. No onewould take the word of a woman in an unsavory profession over that of a local landowner and businessman.
She snatched it back and in a voice trembling with frustration, made a counteroffer, “$2000,” all that she had.
“I’m thinking $5000, firm,” he reiterated.
“Fine. We’ll let the judge decide, which means you could potentially end up with nothing.”
