“How about later in the year?” Ma said. “We could have our Harvest Festival in October instead of November. Then a Christmas ball in early December?”
“Yes!” Mrs. Brown breathed a sigh of relief. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Finally, they planned on a plain Harvest Dance with some of the numbers called as in a square dance, and some waltz-type. The booths were all planned and, except for a few odds and ends, the organizers of the Harvest Festival and Dance were ready to tackle practical matters, such as cleaning and decorating.
Livvy, afraid the subject of Charles might be brought up again, breathed a sigh of relief when the last lady walked out the door.
“Whew.”
Ma chuckled. “I think we’re all a little curious about you and Charles. And I’m more than curious. Anything to tell, daughter?”
“Not yet, Ma. But when there is, you’ll be the first to know.”
Chapter 15
Charles winced as Jeremiah, seated across from him, cracked his knuckles again. The boy was obviously a bundle of nerves and Charles had no idea how to help him.
Mrs. Saunders patted her son’s restless fingers. At once, his hands stilled. Charles smiled. Amazing, the power of a mother.
The train whistle blared, then softened to a mournful howl as they rounded a curve.
Within a few minutes they pulled into the station at Rome.
After disembarking, Jeremiah shouldered his mother’s suitcase and his own small bag. By the time they’d registered at the hotel and stashed their luggage, it was dinnertime.
Charles grinned as Jeremiah’s glance darted his way. The boy gazed around the dining room at the scurrying waiters, the gleaming table appointments and the high-domed trays. But as soon as his fried chicken dinner arrived, his appetite superseded the sparkle and shine and he dug in with gusto.
Afterward, Mrs. Saunders went to her room while Trent and Charles took Jeremiah around to a local carnival. The boy might as well have a little fun before the trying day ahead.
The chill wind whipped through Charles’s light jacket as they strolled to the outskirts of town where the carnival was in progress. He was happy that Jeremiah’s mother had seen to it that her son’s jacket was heavy and warm.
Jeremiah was immediately drawn to a small arena where a makeshift rodeo was being held. The boy’s eyes gleamed as, one after another, all the cowboys were thrown.
“I could have stayed on,” he boasted as they made their way back through the crowds to the hotel.
Charles eyed him. Should he nip the boasting in the bud or let it be?
Trent clapped Jeremiah on the shoulder. “You know, I think maybe you could have.”
Jeremiah’s face glowed and his shoulders straightened.
Charles glanced at Trent. Another wise lesson learned from his friend. Pride in one’s accomplishments wasn’t so bad for a boy. It lifted his confidence. And that was something Jeremiah desperately needed.
The next morning, after breakfast, they walked to the sheriff’s office to meet with the judge who’d been appointed to hear the case.
The office was neat and fairly clean, although the smell of pipe and cigar smoke hung heavily on the air.
The sheriff leaned back in a chair with his feet on the desk. When Mrs. Saunders stepped into the room, he jerked his legs off the desk and stood. “Mrs. Saunders?”
“Yes, I’m Faith Saunders and this is my son, Jeremiah. I believe you’ve met Dr. Quincy and Mr. Waverly.”
The sheriff nodded to acknowledge Charles and Trent, then turned back to Mrs. Saunders. “The judge is waiting for you and your son in back. It’ll be more private there.”
“I’d like for Dr. Quincy and Mr. Waverly to be present, as well.” Her hand shook as she motioned toward them.
The sheriff shook his head. “Were they witness to the alleged beatings?”
Mrs. Saunders’s face flamed. “Alleged?”
“Sorry, ma’am. We have to call it that until his guilt is proven.”
“I understand.” Her voice trembled, but she cleared her throat. “No, they were not witnesses to the beatings, Sheriff. But Dr. Quincy has examined my son thoroughly and Mr. Waverly is his trusted teacher.”
The sheriff scratched his ear. “I dunno. Maybe the doctor, but I doubt Waverly’s getting in.”
Charles laid his hand on her arm. “It’s all right. I’ll wait here.”
“But Jeremiah might need you.” She turned to the sheriff with pleading eyes. “Will you at least ask?”
The sheriff took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll ask.” He headed down a short hall. In a few minutes, he was back.
“Judge says all of you can come on back. He’s ready to hear the case. He’s going to wait until after your testimony before he brings in the prisoner.”