The Law and Miss Mary (8 page)

Mary shook her head and hung the damp dressing gown over the back of the desk chair to dry, then kicked off her slippers and crawled under the covers. She arranged her pillow, rested her head on the downy softness and closed her eyes. It did no good. The truth hovered in her heart, waiting to be confessed. She wanted him to be better than that. She wanted him to help the children instead of arresting them. She wanted to admire him.

The admission brought warmth rushing to her cheeks. She was attracted to Captain Samuel Benton, more than she had ever been to any man—including Winston Blackstone. Though why she should be was beyond her understanding. The man made her uncomfortable. Simply being in his presence was…disturbing. And today, when he had looked at her—

Mary snapped her thoughts away from the memory. She did not want to examine too closely how she had felt during that long, uneasy moment. That way led to more hurt. She was well aware of her shortcomings in men’s eyes. Especially men like Captain Samuel Benton who courted petite, beautiful blondes like Miss Stewart.

Chapter Nine

M
ary adjusted the long wrap that matched her amber, watered-silk gown and walked down the center aisle beside James, looking neither left nor right. Why did he always choose a pew close to the front of the church? She would much prefer to hide in the back, and he knew it.

James stopped beside a pew on their right and Mary slipped in, grateful for the opportunity to sit down. At least now her tallness would be disguised, not that anyone present could have failed to notice it as they had made that long walk! And thank goodness it was still overcast. The cool, stormy weather gave her an excuse to wear the dress with the high collar that hid her thin neck. And its matching bonnet, with the amber silk flowers clustered on both the inside and outside of the wide brim made her face look a little softer, less…angular.

Angular.
How she hated that word! But it had stuck in her head ever since she had overheard Winston use it to describe her to Victoria. It was unflattering…but true. Her cheekbones were—No! She would not think of her shortcomings.

Mary frowned and spread her skirt, then again arranged the lavish fabric of the wrap to make herself look a little heavier. It was the best she could do. She fixed her gaze on the pulpit, and by sheer dint of will, held Winston’s words at bay. Soon she would have to rise to sing the chosen hymn and everyone would be able to see she was at least two or three inches taller than most of the other ladies assembled. That was enough to have to think about. Oh, why had God made her so—

The organist hit a chord.

Mary set her jaw and joined in the rustle and stir as the congregation rose. She knew the words to the hymn by heart, but her thoughts froze, arrested by the sight of the tall, blond, broad-shouldered man sliding into a pew across the aisle. Her pulse quickened. James was wrong. Samuel Benton did attend church.

She dipped her head to hide her face beneath the brim of her bonnet and watched the captain. He nodded and smiled at someone. She followed his gaze to see the object of his attention and looked straight at the mayor’s daughter. The young woman’s long lashes fluttered down over her blue eyes and two dimples appeared in her pink cheeks in a coy response to the captain’s greeting.

Oh, my! Perfectly done. Mary let out a quiet sigh. The woman had flawless flirting abilities
and
beauty enough to draw any man’s eyes—to turn any man’s head. She dropped her gaze to the petite blonde’s softly rounded shoulders and arms bared for all to see—and for the captain to admire. Not that
that
mattered. It was only the unfairness…

Mary yanked her gaze back to the front of the church, squared her shoulders and mouthed words, the familiar, acrid taste of bitterness in her mouth as she pretended to sing.

“I am reading today from the book of Isaiah.” The pastor’s voice rang out into the silence.

Mary sat erect in the pew and turned inward to think her own thoughts. God loved her less than those He blessed with beauty and charm; she did not owe His word her attention.

She rested her hand on the open Bible in her lap and slanted another glance at Samuel Benton. He seemed at ease. But less than attentive. She frowned and tapped the toe of her shoe on the floor beneath the concealing hem of her skirts, the sound deadened by the multiple layers of fabric. Were young, helpless children being arrested and jailed while she sat here in church watching one of their captors stealing secret looks at Miss Stewart? And where had the woman bought that snippet of a hat that showed her blond curls to such advantage? She had never seen one quite like it. She would have to explore the shops of St. Louis this week and see what they had to offer. A hat like that would be a perfect birthday gift for Sarah. It would set off her delicate beauty the same as it did for Miss Stewart.

“‘…he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we shall see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.’”

No beauty?
Mary glanced up at the pastor. Who—

“‘He is despised and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and we hid as it were our faces from him—’”

Mary stared, her attention riveted on the words. Why, the pastor could be speaking of the orphaned children. That is exactly the way the people in Simpson’s grocer and on Front Street had treated Ben and Callie. They did not care that the children were alone and frightened and half-starved without parents to care for them. They despised and rejected them because they were dirty and unkempt. They would not even look at them. Or else they wanted to
jail
them.

Mary shot a look across the aisle at Samuel Benton. Did he see the similarity? Had he heard the pastor’s words? It appeared not. The captain’s gaze was fastened on Miss Stewart, not the pastor.

Mary drew in a long, slow breath and blinked her eyes to control a sudden rush of tears. She stared down at her folded hands, the words the pastor had read ringing in her head—
there is no beauty that we should desire him.
She bit down on her lower lip and blinked harder, furious that the words made her want to cry. Why should they? It was not anything new to her. She knew beauty made people desirable to others—and that a lack of beauty brought rejection. She should. Winston had rejected
her
for lack of beauty. That was a grim truth she carried in her heart. Carried and accepted. But…

She lifted her head and looked across the aisle, unable to stop herself, though the sight of the mayor’s daughter made the ache in her heart swell. Oh, why had God not loved her enough to make
her
petite and blond and beautiful? Rejection would never happen to Miss Stewart. A woman as lovely as she need never fear that. With her beauty, any man would desire her…as Captain Benton did.

The line of departing people ahead of them was barely crawling forward.
Another
reason she preferred the back of the church—one could exit quickly. And all she wanted was to go home and hide. She refused to cry—no matter how her chest ached. Mary inched ahead, stopped and tapped her foot, finding relief in venting her irritation. Did
everyone
have to shake the pastor’s hand?

The short, plump, elderly woman in front of them, who had greeted them earlier, looked back over her shoulder. So did the woman’s husband.

Mary pasted on a polite smile and stilled her foot.

James looked at her.

The pressure in her chest increased. They were too close—knew each other too well. She could read the silent “What is wrong?” in his eyes as clearly as if it were written on his forehead. She gave a slight shake of her head, mustered a smile she knew would not fool him and turned away from his close perusal. Her emotions were too raw at the moment for brotherly sympathy. It would break her down.

She stepped a bit to the side to see how close they were to the door and gave a soft sigh of relief. Only two more couples. The young man speaking with the pastor glanced her way and she looked down in maidenly modesty. A ridiculous subterfuge she affected upon such occurrences in order not to see the look of disappointment in the man’s eyes when he got a good look at her face or realized her height and slenderness.

The line moved.

Mary stepped closer to James, adjusted her wrap to better cover her shoulders and waited.

The line moved again. The elderly couple spoke to the pastor, shook his hand and stepped through the door. A flash of sky, people drifting down the walk toward the street.
Finally!

“Greetings, Mr. Randolph. I am so glad you joined us this morning.” The pastor beamed a smile at James, then glanced her way. “And is this young lady the sister you spoke of?”

“Yes, she is.” James’s hand tightened on her elbow and drew her forward. She summoned another polite smile.

“Welcome, Miss Randolph. Thank you for coming to join us on this lackluster day.” The pastor shifted his gaze to include James and offered his hand. “I hope you will both come again.”

“We shall, Pastor Thornton.” James released the pastor’s hand and stepped back for her to precede him through the door.

At last! They could go home. The pressure in her chest eased. Mary took a deep breath, drew her wrap more closely about her and looked toward the street. She came to a dead halt, staring at the trio standing near the end of the brick walk. For one foolish moment she considered spinning about and running back inside the church. Instead, she moved forward.
Only nod a greeting and walk on by, James. Please walk on by. Do not make me stand there and be compared to—
He stopped. Had her hand been on his arm, she would have pinched him.

“Good day, Miss Stewart…Captain Benton.” James dipped his head. Received a nod from the captain and a dimpled smile from Miss Stewart in return.

“And good day to you, Miss Randolph.” Samuel Benton rested his gaze on her briefly, then indicated the young woman standing beside Miss Stewart. “May I present Miss Stewart’s cousin, Miss Green.”

James bowed. “Your servant, Miss Green.”

A farm wagon, with the faint smell of a barnyard about it, rolled to a stop on the road beside them and an older man tipped his hat their direction. “Afternoon, Levinia…Captain. Time to go, Rebecca.”

The young woman gave them a friendly smile. “It was nice to make your acquaintance. Please forgive me for rushing off. But we have to hurry to reach home before dark.” She turned to the others. “Do you want a ride, Levinia?”

“Gracious no!” There was the slightest crinkling of the small, narrow nose. “You go on, Rebecca. Captain Benton is escorting me home.”

“Very well.” Rebecca Green moved to the wagon.

James stepped forward and offered her a hand up. She took her seat, smiled and waved. “Good day, all.”

“Good day.” Mary returned Rebecca’s wave and joined James on the walkway.

Levinia Stewart slipped her gloved hand through the captain’s arm and dimpled up at him. “Shall we go, Captain Benton?” She turned the smile on James. “So nice to see you again, Mr. Randolph.” The residue of the smile came her direction. “And you, Miss Randolph. Good day.”

“Good day.” Mary returned Miss Stewart’s smile in kind.

The captain tossed a nod their direction and the two walked off, with the wagon lumbering its way up the road ahead of them.

Mary glanced up at James. He was staring after them, a bemused expression on his face. She gave a quick tug on his sleeve. “Shall we go home?”

“What? Oh. Yes, of course, Mary.”

She turned and started off. He fell into step beside her. “Please try not to look as besotted as the captain, James. I know Levinia Stewart is beautiful, but—”

“Miss
Stewart?
” James looked over at her and shook his head. “Miss Stewart is pretty enough. But Rebecca Green is beautiful.”

Mary gazed up at him, her mouth agape. “Rebecca Green? James, Rebecca Green has
freckles!
”

“I know. I saw them.” He grinned. “Did you notice they look darker when she blushes?”

“No. I did not even—” Mary gave him a suspicious glance. “When did she blush?”

“When she put her hand in mine to climb into the wagon.”

Mary laughed. “You sound very pleased that you caused that blush.”

“I am.” He leaned down and pushed open their gate. “I wonder where Miss Green lives. And if she goes to church every Sunday. I think I will ask the captain the next time I see him.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and whistled his way up the walk.

Mary stared up at him. Had he lost his mind? How could he think Miss Green lovelier than Miss Stewart? Why, she could point out a dozen flaws that made her less attractive. But it was obvious James meant what he said. She stole another sidelong look at him and shook her head. Absolutely besotted!

“You’ll be all right, boy. There’s no reason to be afraid.” Sam motioned the silent boy into the cell, locked the door and walked away. He had learned that was best. The kid was so scared he could hardly walk or talk, but the others would take care of him. There were four of them in there now. And a girl in the cell beside them. A little girl…seven, maybe eight years old.

The muscles in his face drew so taut his skin hurt. He tossed the ring of keys in the desk drawer, grabbed his hat off the hook beside the door, then went outside and drew in a deep breath of air. Free air. All the prisoners he talked to said the air was not the same when you were locked in a cell. And for the first time, he understood what they meant. When he locked those kids in, they were so frightened they could not breathe right and his own lungs labored to draw in air for them. Air that was stale and thin and unsatisfying.

Sam tugged his hat into place and started down Chestnut Street toward the levee. A steamboat whistle blew news of its arrival. He quickened his steps. Maybe Duffy would be working this boat. Or perhaps there would be a gambler with a bad reputation, or some other unsavory character onboard he could arrest or continue out of town.
Something
that would make him feel like a law officer doing a worthwhile job again, instead of a bully picking on kids. If it were not for his goals…

Mary Randolph’s face popped into his head. He gave a low growl. The woman was becoming a major annoyance. She made him feel like a criminal, though he was the one upholding the law. But all the same, he admired her spunk. The way she lifted that small, square chin, ready to defend a child she did not know…. Amusement tugged his scowl into a smile. He had no doubt she would fight
him
if she had to. She was a born she-bear, that one. The thing was—that was one fight he had no real heart to win.