The Law and Miss Mary (21 page)

Charlie nodded, broke off a piece of biscuit and mopped up the meat juice on his plate. “Harry had high notions fer that land had he lived t’ see ’em out. But he wanted you t’ have it if anything happened t’ him. Thought high of y’ he did.”

Sam slipped his rifle into the scabbard, checked his bedroll. “What are you going to do now, Charlie? Are you going to try and open the mine again?”

The old miner glanced at the rubble and shook his head. “Nah, it’s a fittin’ grave fer Harry. I’m fer the west country. Always did want t’ see them high mountains I heard talk about. Now Harry’s gone, I’m gonna do it.”

Sam nodded and mounted. “Keep a sharp eye out for Indians. I ran into four of them on my way here.”

The old man grinned. “If yer gonna go, an arrow’s as good a way as any.”

“I guess that’s right.” Sam returned the grin and leaned down to shake the hard hand. “If you ever come back St. Louis way, look me up. I’ll be on Harry’s land.”
By God’s grace and with His blessing.

“He’d be right proud of that, Captain. Luck to y’.”

“And to you, Charlie.”

Sam reined Attila around and started down the trail, the will in his pocket, a smile in his heart and a new, strong confidence that God might have a plan for him after all.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“T
he steamboat is finished, Mrs. Lucas. It sits idle in a berth at the Mississippi and Missouri steamer line docks.” Mary rose from the settee and walked over to look out the window. Behind her the floor clock ticked off the minutes.

“Everything is prepared for the orphans—the ones I know of. Even clothing.” She looked over her shoulder at the elderly woman. “And Ivy has laid in stores enough for an army.” She tried for a laugh—could not summon one. “And still I have no land—nowhere to dock the
Journey’s End.
”

She turned and made her way back to the settee. “There are orphans in jail—and an empty orphanage. And I have run out of ideas for getting the two together. Without land, it is impossible.”

Mrs. Lucas leaned forward and patted her hand. “Nothing is impossible with God, Mary. Trust Him. He will make a way.”

“I know, Mrs. Lucas. And I believe His hand has been guiding all that has happened, that He has been blessing our efforts for the orphans’ sakes. But now…well…even you have tried to help us purchase land, to no avail. And I—My faith is failing me.”

The faded blue eyes studied her. “This is not like you, Mary. I have never seen you so discouraged. Is there something else troubling you?”

Doubts. Fears. A wounded heart that cannot quite trust, but refuses to forget.
“I am tired. Perhaps that is my problem.”

“Perhaps.” Mrs. Lucas did not look convinced. Mary sighed and rose. “It is getting late. I have to go home. I have already stayed too long.” She leaned down and kissed the woman’s dry, wrinkled cheek. “Pleasant dreams, Mrs. Lucas.”

“And you, Mary. Rest well.”

That was not likely. Mary frowned and let herself out of the house—walked to the street. She could not remember the last time she had slept well. Yes, she did. It was the night before Miss Stewart had spoken to her. Since that day, in spite of her best efforts to keep believing her plan for the orphanage would succeed, doubt slipped in. And the captain…She did not know what to believe about the captain.

Mary pulled her long skirts to the side and stepped around a small pile of horse droppings as she turned onto Market Street. Had the captain hinted at an…interest…in her because Levinia had cast him aside? And, if so, now that Levinia wanted him back…

Her steps faltered. Mary steadied her pace and walked to the cottage. She must face facts. The captain would return to Levinia. There was no reason why he should not. Why would he, or any other man, choose her—with her bold, stubborn ways and her wild dreams—over a life of privilege and power with Levinia? Unless—her breath left her—unless Captain Benton had discovered who her father was. Justin Randolph was a far wealthier, far more influential man than the mayor. Perhaps—

No!
Mary shoved open the gate, ran into the cottage and up the stairs. She removed her bonnet and gloves, put them in the cupboard and sank down onto the bed. She would not entertain such thoughts about Captain Benton—she would
not.
He had proven himself to be an honest and honorable man over and over again.

But Levinia is so beautiful. And you are plain.
The hateful words whispered through her mind, insinuating themselves into her spirit.
There has to be a reason….

The past crowded in on her, undermining the new confidence she had received from the belief that God loved her. God—not Samuel Benton. Mary closed her tearing eyes, struggling to hold on to her fledgling faith—her newfound belief that with God, all things were possible. But the hurt she felt pushed it beyond her grasp. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it tight against her aching heart. “Help me, Heavenly Father. Please help me. I don’t know what to think—or who to believe. Please show me the truth. And help me to trust again.”

Dawn was breaking. Sam rose, went to the window and looked at the pink and gold streaking the lighter gray of the sky over the river. He had ridden long and far yesterday. But he had never felt more rested and eager for a day to begin.
Please, Lord, bless my efforts today.
He grabbed his shaving gear and strode down the hall to the dressing room. He had a lot to do, though some of what he planned had already been accomplished. He had met James Randolph returning home from Rebecca Green’s place last night when he had ridden into town, and they had worked things out between them.

Sam chuckled, looked in the cloudy mirror and ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. James Randolph was fast becoming his best friend. And soon, if things went as planned, he would be a lot more than that. Yes, sir, a
lot
more than that. He grinned, took out his razor strop and started honing the blade. He wanted a good, sharp edge. No chance of skipped whiskers today.

Mary shook out the long skirt of her gown and straightened the lace adorning the collar and the sleeves. She had to hurry. She had promised the children she would take them to the
Journey’s End
today. They missed playing on the steamboat. But with the steamer now in a berth at the levee, it was inappropriate for them to stay for very long. And, truth be told, she could not bear to be on the boat. It saddened and infuriated her to see the bedrooms empty and the kitchen, dining room and schoolroom idle when there was such need. But her well was dry—she had been unable to come up with a solution.

Mary sighed, shook off the thoughts as she had shaken out her skirts and crossed to the dresser to search for a matching ribbon to hold her hair. She selected a narrow one of darker rose color, carried it to the mirror, wrapped it around the thick knot of hair at the crown of her head and tied it in a neat bow. Now for her gloves and bonnet, and she would be ready.

She started for the cupboard, paused at the writing desk, staring at the piece of paper resting there.

“Dear Mother and Father.”

That is all she had written. There was nothing new to tell them. No good news to impart. But perhaps she would think of something cheering to write them about today. And James had good news to share with them. Rebecca had said yes to his proposal. Also, the new luxury steamboat he had commissioned was almost ready for her maiden voyage, though they had yet to choose her name. It was important to make the right choice.

She smiled and walked to the cupboard to fetch her bonnet and gloves. The
Right Choice…
That might do very nicely for the name. She would have to suggest it to James tonight.

A steamboat blew its whistle. She frowned and hurried toward the stairs. James was going to meet her at the dock. He said he had something to show her. If only it were a deed to a piece of land!

“Thank you, Judge. I appreciate your hurrying things along for me.” Sam tucked the papers in his suit pocket and shook the judge’s hand.

“Not at all, Captain Benton. I am pleased to help. That is a fine piece of land—some of the best acreage around. And I was not unaware of what has been happening lately. I think you are both prudent and wise to get the deed secured.”

Sam nodded and put on his hat. “All legal and settled, sir. I am taking no risks.”

He strode from the judge’s office, his long legs making short work of the distance to the jail. The interior was cool and empty. He crossed to his desk and did the necessary paper work. When he finished, he shoved it in the drawer and rose. The papers in his pocket crackled. He grinned, patting it to make sure it was secure, and left the building.

The sun played hide-and-seek with white puffs of cloud. A soft breeze blew off the river. A beautiful day. Sam crossed Chestnut Street and cut across lots to Market Street, every step he took one of pure pleasure.

The children were working the land on the right side of the courthouse. Some were picking up stones. Some were carrying the buckets to dump in the wagon. Others were raking and leveling the soil. The sight hit him in his gut. He quickened his stride. “Children, come here to me.”

They froze in place, stared at him, dread clear to read on their faces. They thought he was taking them back to the jail. “Come on. Leave your tools and come over here.” He beckoned. They put down their buckets and rakes and started moving toward him, their steps slow. They preferred the hard work in the outdoors to sitting idle in their dark, dank cells.

“What is the meaning of this, Captain Benton? These kids work until suppertime.”

Sam looked down into the foreman’s scowling face and shook his head. “Not anymore. These children are no longer prisoners. They are free.”

“We’ll see about that!”

Sam turned.

One of the workers stepped out of the courthouse and pointed their way. A second—short, portly—figure emerged. The mayor bobbed down the steps, skirted the hole for the foundation of the new north wing and hastened across the broken soil toward them.

Sam could hear his labored breath before he reached them.

The children started backing away.

He looked down, read the wary looks on their faces and remembered the smell and taste of fear. When you were young and on your own, you developed an instinct about trouble. That highly developed instinct was one of the reasons he was a good policeman. “It’s all right, stay by me.” They obeyed. But he could sense their tension—their readiness to scatter.

The mayor puffed up to him, glared at the idle children and waved his hands. “Get back to work, all of you!”

Sam lifted his hand and stopped their movement. “The children stay with me, Mr. Mayor. They are no longer prisoners. I am taking them to the new home Miss Randolph has provided for them aboard the
Journey’s End.
” He felt the children’s reactions, knew they were hanging on his every word. “From now on, Mr. Mayor, you will have to hire laborers.”

“Nonsense!” The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “No one can live on that steamboat. She has no land—” He stopped. Stared at the folded paper Sam held. “What is that?”

Sam smiled. “That, Mr. Mayor, is the deed to the piece of property where the
Journey’s End
will be permanently docked.”

“Impossible!”

“Not with God, Mr. Mayor. Not with God.”

The mayor snatched the deed from his hand, reading it.

“All legal—and settled in the city records, Mr. Mayor.” How good it felt to speak those words. His only regret was that Mary was not here beside him.

The mayor’s face turned purple. He crushed the deed in his fist and shook it in the air. “You are through in this city, Samuel Benton! I will see to it that you never get elected to any office, or position of importance, or—”

“That, too, is in God’s hands, Mr. Mayor. And in the hands of the people of St. Louis. Now, I believe we are finished.”

He looked down at the children who had crept steadily closer and smiled. “You all heard what I said to the mayor. Miss Randolph has prepared a home for you all—and that fulfills the requirement of the law. You are free. Now, follow me! I am taking you to her.”

There was an explosion of shouts and laughter.

Sam grinned and started for the street with the children in a tight cluster around him.

“What have you to show me, James?” Mary tossed her bonnet on the table and smoothed her hands over her hair. The children had disappeared into the upper decks of the
Journey’s End.

“You will see in a moment, Mary. And then—Ah! There they are now. Come with me.” He turned from the window, grasped her by the elbow and tugged her after him out the door. “Look!”

“What?” Mary turned to look the direction of his pointing finger and gasped. “What—How—” She lifted her hands to cup her chin, her fingers covering her mouth while her eyes filled with tears and her heart ricocheted around in her chest. She stared at the cluster of dirty, ragged, bone-skinny children marching toward her, Captain Benton in the lead. She had never seen a more beautiful sight. One of the figures broke free of the pack and ran up the gangplank to stand in front her. The rest halted where they stood.

“Miss Mary, the captain says you made this here boat a house for us. And we don’t have to go to jail no more. Is that true?”

Mary swallowed hard, looked at the captain, saw him nod and looked back at the boy. “Yes, Tommy. It is true. This is your home now.”

The boy turned, lifted his arm and whipped it forward. “It’s true! It’s true! We don’t have to go to jail no more!”

There was a wild whoop. The children raced for the gangplank, ran up it and slid to a stop. They looked about, stared at the swings, at her, at James, uncertainty in their eyes. She got control of her emotions, smiled down at them. “Welcome home. I am so glad to see you all. Come, I will show you—” She stopped—looked down at James’s restraining hand on her arm.

“No, Mary. Miss Withers and Ivy and I will show them around. There is someone waiting for you.”

Mary turned, looked at the captain standing at the end of the bright red gangplank and her heart soared—then plummeted. It reached depths she had not known existed. He had stayed away so long. It must be because of Levinia. She brushed her hands down her skirt, pushed her feelings aside and started forward. She had to thank him. No matter how he had trifled with her heart, he had brought the children to her. Perhaps one day she would learn the truth.

She stopped in front of him and looked up. “I do not have words to thank you for what you have done for these children, Captain. But how did this happen? How is it that they are free to stay here, at last?”

A whistle blasted. Mary nearly jumped out of her skin. She spun toward the boat. Steam was pouring from its stacks. The paddle wheel at the stern was churning. And James, Ivy, Miss Withers and the children stood on the “porch” deck. They grinned and waved. She stared. “Where are they going?”

She whipped back around. “Stop them, Captain! They—”

“Will be fine, Miss Randolph. I give you my word.”

He smiled. Her treacherous heart fluttered like a wild bird trapped in her chest.

“Now…if you will stop asking questions and come with me, I promise you will have all your answers soon.”

He took her elbow and she could not refuse, though the words hovered on her lips. He led her to a chaise, handed her in and climbed beside her. The beat of the horse’s hooves on the cobblestones matched the cadence of her heart when he looked at her and smiled.