Page 91 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“Judge Simpson,” she murmured with a twist of her lips. “He’s a friend of Henry and Leticia’s, but he’s unpredictable.”
“How so?”
She bit her lip, as if uncertain if she should say. “This stays between us, right?”
Charlotte looked around. “Who am I going to tell out here except the birds? But yes, I’ll keep your confidence.”
“The judge threatened to send Janelle to the territorial prison once.”
“Good grief!” Charlotte exclaimed. “What could she possibly have done?”
“It had to do with the Meyers women. Do you remember them?” When Charlotte shook her head, Wisteria exclaimed, “Awful, awful lying women! They’ve moved on, thank goodness. But Judge Simpson’s threat turned out to be a manipulation so that Aaron would step up and marry her. And when I first came to town, he refused to return my horse, all I had to my name. I was so mad I could spit.”
“Spitting’s not nice, Mama.”
Both women smiled at the little boy, seemingly oblivious to what was happening around him, but very much aware.
“That’s right, baby,” Wisteria told him, setting him on the floor and giving him a few toys to play with. A bright-red ball immediately distracted him, but she lowered her voice when she continued. “That night, I took justice into my own hands and rescued Shasta right out of Luke’s barn.”
“You stole from one of the wealthiest, most influential families in the territory?” Charlotte asked in disbelief, although not that surprised by her daring. This spirited Jackson bride, though small in stature, was brimming with spunk and sass.
“It’s not stealing if it belongs to you,” she replied, a glint of defiance in her eyes.
“Did Luke come after you?”
“Boy, did he.”
“What happened?”
Wisteria glanced down at her son then back at Charlotte and simply smiled—enough said.
“You and Luke are happily married, just like Janelle and Aaron. It seems like this judge might be a bit of a matchmaker. Did he also have a hand in Jenny and Heath’s marriage?”
“I believe that was Mr. Bennett’s doing, with Heath playing hero.”
“The law in Laramie must be in cahoots with the cattle barons,” Charlotte posited, suspicion lacing her voice.
“Mmm. We’ll have to see if our new sheriff joins in. You know him, Charlotte. Does he seem like the type?”
Her buoyant mood, having an engaging visitor, faded, still not having fully forgiven Seth Walker. “I don’t know him well enough to say.”
The men returned, two of them carrying the best gift of all—a bed frame and a clean mattress—while the third had another basket filled with kitchen essentials like plates, utensils, a cast-iron skillet, and, thanks to Wisteria’s foresight, a coffeepot.
While they unpacked the supplies and made up the bed, Wisteria filled her in on all the doings north of Main Street. Micah, a whirlwind of energy, explored and played with his ball across the freshly scrubbed floor. However, he soon grew tired of his games and became fussy.
“We should go,” she announced, mouthing, “It’s nap time,” as she scooped him up in her arms.
“Thank you so much for all of this, Wisteria.”
“Think nothing of it.” On her way to the door, she commented on the shotgun in the corner. “I don’t like thinking of you out here alone, but at least you have protection. Can you shoot?”
“No,” Charlotte admitted with a laugh. “I’m the absolute worst. I got by because there was usually a man around who could.”
“That won’t do if you’re living on your own.” Her gaze lowered to Micah, whose head was lolling on her shoulder, eyes half closed. “I can’t start your lessons today, but I’ll be back tomorrow and make sure you don’tneeda man around ever again.” At the door, she stopped and winked. “Wanting one is a different story.”
The men had been smoking on the front porch. One handed Wisteria her umbrella, and she followed them down the wet path toward the road, her beautiful boy fast asleep.
All the Jacksons were good people, the women especially.
