Twice Blessed (2 page)

With a shudder, she straightened. She had to keep tight rein on her thoughts before they betrayed her. Even though she had hoped the past was the past, forgotten and done with, her fingers trembled as she loosened her skirt from a splinter on the barrel.

Emma froze as a shrill creak assaulted her ears. What was happening? Only she and the delivery man from the railroad station ever came back here. The train was just in. She had heard its arrival minutes before the shout of “Thief!” went up, so the drayer would not be arriving for another hour or so. She stared in disbelief as the top of the fancy coffin Mrs. Lambert had requested for her husband shifted.

She pressed her hand over her breast, where her heart was struggling to beat. Behind her, she heard a choked curse, but she could not drag her gaze from the coffin. Slowly, slowly, as if a dead body within were fighting its way back to life, the top rose.

“What the—” muttered a deep voice behind her.

She moaned as the top struck a barrel. The fancy coffin would be ruined. Someone leaped from it and raced past her. She tried to grab the lad, but her fingers caught only air.

Emma turned to run, but hit someone behind her. She bounced back and stared at the man who had treated her so crudely out in Toby's barn. “You! What are you doing here?”

“Trying to catch a thief,” he shouted before racing out of the storage room.

Emma ran after him. As she stepped back out onto the street, her name was shouted. She waved to Reverend Faulkner, who was standing on the store's porch.

Reverend Faulkner grinned and pointed toward the green. A crowd had gathered near the retired cannon sitting in front of the Grange Hall. More stood on the porch of the Haven Hotel, which was, in truth, little more than a boarding house. The minister called, “They've caught him.”

Emma was torn between satisfaction and regret. If the boy had not been so scared, he might have heeded her. She took a deep breath. Maybe she still could help him.

“Excuse me, Reverend Faulkner,” she said.

She walked toward the crowd. Twisting her hair at her nape, she sought through it for some vagrant hairpins. In vain, she realized, and let her hair fall back along her white blouse.

She elbowed aside two men who were laughing together, not bothering to apologize. She paused as if the spring air had solidified into a wall as she stared at Lewis Parker, who had his back to her.

Although no taller than the minister, the light-haired sheriff was as slim as the cannon's barrel. No one in Haven was fooled by his size, because every fall for the past three years at the county fair he had won the title of champion boxer. He held the wiggling boy with ease.

Lewis smiled. “Miss Delancy! I was just about to send for you. Look what I've got here.” He did not loosen his grip on the lad's ear, and the boy grimaced with a half-swallowed moan.

Emma walked closer, wishing the boy would look up. With his head hanging so the brown thatch of hair drooped over his face, he could have been one of more than a dozen boys in town. Seeing him up close, she realized he could not be more than eight or nine years old. All of this excitement over such a young child?

Lewis held up a hammer and a bag. “And here's what he took, Miss Delancy.”

She glanced at him. He used such formality only when he was in the midst of his official work. The rest of the time, he addressed her by her given name, like everyone else in town. Her brow ruffled as she examined the items. The hammer showed signs of heavy use.

“Did he take these things from the store?” Lewis asked.

“No. I don't sell this kind of hammer.” She hefted the bag of nails. “And this isn't a full pound of nails. Less than half, I'd say.” She turned the small burlap bag over and looked at the faint red lettering. “These didn't come from my store. I think there's been a mistake.”

“But I heard someone yell there was a thief.”

“I did, too. Maybe it's just someone's idea of a joke.”

“It's not a joke.” A man stepped out of the crowd.

Emma locked eyes with the irritating man who had twice kept her from catching the lad. In the sunlight, she could see that, beneath the battered brim of a felt hat, his hair was a reddish brown, a shade lighter than his eyes. The air was chill, but sweat darkened his collar and lathered his shirt and suspenders to his chest, which had been so hard against her. His shirttail hung out of his trousers, drawing her gaze to the well-worn denims that followed his muscular legs. His boots might once have had a shine, but now were dull with dust. This was a man who was toughened by strenuous work and proud of it.

As she looked back to his face, she swallowed her gasp when he gave her an unexpectedly roguish smile. It seemed to suggest he knew far more about her than any living man should. With a slow, sensual perusal, his gaze slipped along her, appraising her as she foolishly had him. Heat swelled each place his eyes touched.

He put his fingers to the brim of his hat. “Ma'am.”

“Who are you?” Lewis asked. “This your boy?”

“Hardly.” The man's lips became straight again.

Emma said quietly, “Sheriff, why don't you ask the boy his name?”

“What's your name, boy?”

The youngster's shoe traced a pattern in the dust as he mumbled, “Sean O'Dell.”

“O'Dell? There aren't any O'Dells around here,” the sheriff retorted. He gave the boy a shake. “Tell the truth, lad.”

Reverend Faulkner stepped forward and put his hand on the sheriff's arm. “He's telling the truth, Sheriff. I recognize him. He's one of the young'uns who just arrived on the train.”

Lewis's voice grew hard. “On the orphan train from back east? Is that true, lad?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy murmured, an Irish brogue lilting through his words.

“You're not making a good new start, lad.” He turned to the man who was still frowning. “And who are you, mister? Are you with these kids?”

“I am Noah Sawyer, and I want you to punish this boy for theft.”

His brows arched. “Strong charge, Mr. Sawyer.”

“Only the truth. That boy stole the hammer and nails from my wagon over there.” He pointed to a dilapidated buckboard in front of the store.

The sheriff looked at the boy. “Is that true?”

“I didn't really steal them.” He shuffled his toe again in the dusty road. “I was just looking 'round. I wanted to see what this place was like. We went through lots of towns on the train, and I wanted to see one up close. So I was looking 'round. Then he came up and I got scared and I ran and he chased me and—”

“I think I've got a good idea of what happened.” Lewis smiled when he turned back to Mr. Sawyer. That smile wavered when Mr. Sawyer continued to scowl. “Sounds like it was just a boy's curiosity, sir.”

“Sounds like he was poking his fingers into things that don't belong to him,” Mr. Sawyer fired back. “There's a big difference between looking and helping yourself.”

“True, and I'm sure the boy knows the difference.” He gave Sean another small shake. “Tell the man you do, son.”

“Do know that, sir,” he said, not looking up.

“Now that you've been caught?” Mr. Sawyer asked.

Emma suspected she would regret getting more involved in this, but this commotion had gone on long enough. “May I speak with you a moment, Mr. Sawyer?”

“Sure.” He spit out the word as if it were strained by clenched teeth.

She glanced around at the crowd. “Privately?”

“I haven't got anything to say that I'm ashamed to have everyone hear.”

Fire coursed across her cheeks, and she knew she was blushing. His answer suggested she had a reason to guard her words. Another shudder ached in her stiff shoulders as she hoped no one guessed how right he was. This was going all wrong.

With what dignity she still had, she said quietly, “Mr. Sawyer, he's just a boy.”

“A boy who is old enough to know better than to try to help himself to tools that don't belong to him.”

She took his sleeve and drew him to the edge of the road. Paying no attention to the shocked expressions around them, she found it more difficult to ignore Noah Sawyer's frown. His gaze led hers down his arm to her fingers. Abruptly, she was aware of the firm muscles beneath that cotton sleeve. When his hand covered hers, she could not silence her gasp. Something twinkled in his eyes, but vanished as he lifted her fingers away.

“Miss Delancy, isn't it?” he asked coolly.

“Yes.”

“Miss Delancy, I trust you'll resist using your feminine wiles to persuade me to change my mind. I assure you you'll be wasting your time and mine.”

“Mr. Sawyer,” she said as she clasped her hands tightly and hoped that the fire again burning her cheeks was not coloring them bright red, “I'm asking you to reconsider. Every child makes mistakes now and then.”

“He made a mistake
now
. Some of those tools could be very dangerous for a young boy who doesn't know how to use them properly. That he ran carrying that bag of nails and a hammer warned me he didn't have respect for the tools. If he'd fallen, he could have injured himself horribly.”

She faltered on the retort she had been about to snarl back at him. Because he had spoken only of his determination to see the boy punished for daring to steal his tools, she had not guessed he was worried young Sean would get hurt. Maybe Noah Sawyer was not the icy-hearted beast she had labeled him.

“You should have told me before that you were concerned about the child's safety,” she said.

“I didn't think explaining myself to you was as crucial as stopping the boy before he was hurt, Miss Delancy.” He paused and glanced at the storefront across the street. “Delancy? Like the name on the store?”

She nodded. “Yes, I own the store.”

Surprise flashed through his mercurial eyes, and she could not keep from raising her chin. During the past seven years, folks in Haven had gotten accustomed to having a woman running the village's store. Mr. Sawyer would just have to get used to it, too.

“Then,” he said calmly, “you must be well aware it's vitally important that a young thief learns his lesson so he won't repeat it.”

“I think the boy has learned his lesson. Heavens above, Mr. Sawyer, he's a stranger here and just a boy. He was curious, that is all.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she did not give him the chance.

“Mr. Sawyer, you must be new in Haven, too.”

“How do you know?”

She laughed, then wished she had not when his scowl drew his lips tighter. “If you're planning to stay around here, you need to learn the folks in Haven trust each other.” She motioned toward the store's front door. “I haven't locked up since the first week I came here.”

“You could be robbed blind.”

“I could, but I haven't. The Andersons live right across the road, and they would be certain to send for me if they heard anything amiss.”

His brown eyes narrowed as he combed his fingers through his russet hair. “You don't live above the store?”

“No. Mr. Baker lives up there. That was part of the deal when I bought the store from him. I got it lock, stock, and Mr. Baker. He claims to be half deaf, but he doesn't, I assure you, miss a thing that happens in the store. No one could sneak in without him hearing.”

“That protects you—”

“It protects all of us.” She folded her arms over her blouse, which was probably as dusty as his shirt. “Let me give you some advice, Mr. Sawyer, whether you want it or not. You're new in town, and this isn't the best way to make a good impression on your neighbors.”

“So you think I should just let the kid go without punishment? Is that how you do things here?”

“He's far from home, whatever it was, and in trouble. Isn't that punishment enough?”

“If someone does something criminal, he should have to pay for it.”

“Here in Haven, we help each other instead of trying to make trouble for each other.” She faltered, then hurried to say, “Mr. Sawyer, trust me on this.”

When his eyes widened, she knew her request had startled him. He jammed his fists into the pockets of his denims and nodded with reluctance as he looked back to where Lewis was talking quietly to the boy.

“It seems,” Mr. Sawyer said, “I'm in the minority on this. All right. I'll give the kid this one mistake this one time.”

“That's all I ask. Simple justice.”

He laughed tersely. “You've got a strange idea of justice, Miss Delancy. A real strange idea. I'd be right interested in knowing why a shopkeeper is so generous with a thief.”

She knew she should say something, anything, but every word vanished from her head. A single wrong word might reveal what had happened before she fled Kansas.

When she did not reply, he tipped his hat to her. “If you'll excuse me, Miss Delancy, I think I'll retrieve my hammer and nails and be on my way.”

As he walked back to the sheriff, Emma wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly as cold as if a blizzard were sweeping along the street. A panicked laugh tickled her throat. Once she had shared Noah Sawyer's opinion about those who broke the law. Punishment should be as heinous as the crime.

That had been before she learned how many victims a crime could truly have.

CHAPTER TWO

Emma was not sure why she agreed to walk with Lewis over to the Grange Hall to return the lad to the chaperones who had brought these orphans on the train from the east. Maybe it was as simple as wanting to avoid speaking with Mr. Sawyer again.

She could understand his irritation at having young Sean O'Dell poking through his tools in the back of his buckboard. That his anger had come first from his fear for the child's well-being, rather than the theft of his tools, had unsettled her. It had been easy at first to be aggravated at him. When his concern for the boy had proven he was not a cad, she had not had her anger to keep her from realizing how his eyes suggested he was thinking of things far different from a mischievous lad.