Mary made a slow pirouette and studied her reflection in the mirror. Today she wanted, needed the confidence of looking her best, and she had chosen to wear one of her finest gowns. The light, ecru pongee with cinnamon-colored lace trimming the collar, the puffed sleeves and long, three-tiered skirt flattered her dark hair and eyes. At least, that is what Madam Duval said. And it must be true, for her mother agreed.
Mary turned her back on her image, then picked up the matching gloves of cinnamon lace and pulled them on as she walked out of the dressing room.
Her only regret with her choice of gown was the matching hat. If one could call it that. Mary frowned and lifted her hand to touch the wide band of matching fabric, shirred to stiffness and trimmed with flowers made of the cinnamon lace. The band circled the thick, loose knot of hair at her crown. There were no bows to hide her neck or chin, only the narrow ribbons that slid alongside her coiled hair and tied in the back. And there was no wide brim to hide her face. She glanced at her everyday straw hat hanging on the hat tree, but rejected the idea of wearing it instead of the minute confection. The straw hat would not do today. Elegance suited her purpose.
She sighed and walked to the kitchen. “I am leaving now, Ivy.”
Ben slipped off a stool at the table and gaped up at her. “You look pretty as a flower, Miss Mary!”
“Why, thank you, Ben.” She laughed, leaned down and gave him a quick hug, then straightened, glanced at Ivy, who had paused from her work of kneading dough, and gave a little shrug. “It is the fancy dress.” She looked down, ran a cinnamon-colored lace-gloved hand over her skirt, then glanced back up. “I wanted to tell you, Edda will stay upstairs with Katy. And that I told Callie she must come downstairs soon. I do not want Katy tired. Oh! And please make sure Katy has more of the sage tea concoction every hour for her throat. It does seem to be helping.” She tapped the toe of her foot and nibbled at her lip. “I believe that is all. I will return as quickly as possible.”
She turned with a swirl of her long skirts and started back through the dining room. “Wish me well!”
A chorus of well wishes from the kitchen and from upstairs followed her to the front of the house. She laughed at Ben’s and Callie’s exuberance as she stepped out onto the porch, and closed the door. With another swish of her long skirts she turned and hurried down the front steps.
“Good morning.”
“Oh!” Mary jolted to a stop and looked up. Her breath caught at the sight of Samuel Benton. She pressed her hand to her chest and stared at him.
He stared back.
Warmth spread through her, heating her cheeks. She had no hat hiding her face. No wonder he was staring! Her fingers twitched. She wanted to lift her hands to hide her foolish blush, but refused to do anything that might call his attention to it. She could, however, do nothing to hide the deep breath she must take or swoon. She drew in air, expelled it, drew in more. It helped. She was less...shaky. She lowered her hand to her side, wished he would look away and when he did not, lifted her chin. Let him see her plainness! “Did you want something, Captain Benton?” Good! Her voice was steady.
The captain nodded, then cleared his throat. “I had to speak with your brother this morning. I was on my way back to the jail and thought I would stop by and see how Katy Turner is doing.”
“How Katy is doing?”
“Yes.” The blue eyes looking down at her darkened. “In spite of your poor opinion of me, I am not a monster who hates children, Miss Randolph. I am a policeman doing his job. If I did not care about Katy Turner, I would not have sent for you when the doctor said she needed care.”
Embarrassment sent the heat flowing into her cheeks again. And, once again, she refused to hide the flush. She deserved his poor opinion. “You are right, of course, Captain Benton. Please forgive me. I am grateful you sent for me when Katy became ill, and I hope you will do the same for any other children you may find in the same condition.” She mustered a smile, then moved forward when he turned toward the street. “Katy is doing much better. Her fever broke last evening, and her throat is much less raspy and sore this morning. We have been giving her sage tea with honey and vinegar.”
The gate squeaked. She looked down, uncertain as to what she should do. But he was holding it open for her. She smiled her thanks and stepped through.
“Which way?”
“I beg your pardon?” She looked up, but looked down again. The directness of his gaze was disconcerting. It was no wonder she felt discomposed! She reached up to pull the brim of her bonnet farther forward to hide her face, then remembered her hat had no brim. She brushed an imaginary hair off her temple and lowered her hand.
“Which way are you going? Toward the levee?”
Gracious, he had a deep voice! “No. I am going to the courthouse. To pay a call on Mayor Stewart.” She shot a quick glance at him to see how he took that news. He merely nodded.
“I am headed that direction, if you would accept my escort?”
Poor man, trapped into offering because of good manners. And she could not refuse for the same reason. “That is most kind of you, Captain, thank you.”
They walked the short distance to the corner and turned uphill. A slight breeze played with the dangling ends of the thin ribbon bow that held her hat in place. The sun warmed her back. She sighed, grateful that her features were now in the shade.
“Are you becoming accustomed to St. Louis, Miss Randolph? To the clamor and din of the steamboats and levee? To the sight of Indians and mountain men roaming the streets?”
There was a smile in his voice. Mary met his gaze. The memory of that moment when she had seen her first Indian and crowded close to him for his protection flashed between them. And then she remembered Ben, who she had also met that day, and looked away. “I am indeed, Captain Benton. I no longer jump every time a steamboat blows its whistle. And I am no longer wary of going shopping without escort. But I despair that I shall ever become accustomed to the sight of the Indians.”
He chuckled, and the sound seemed to bounce around in her stomach, causing it to quiver and tighten. She took a breath to ease the sensation. “You said you had to speak with James this morning. Were you successful in arresting Mr. Goodwin?”
“You know of that?” He took her elbow. “We cross here. Mind the step down.” He waited for a passing wagon, then guided her at an angle to the other corner. “I’m afraid Goodwin escaped. When I got to his boardinghouse, he was already gone. I made some inquiries on the levee and found he had taken passage on a steamboat headed downriver. There’s no telling where he’ll go from there. To join Thomas, likely.”
She looked up at him. “The former manager of the line?”
He nodded, took her elbow again and guided her onto the brick path that led to the courthouse. “That’s right. I figure they had to be working together. Otherwise Thomas would have turned Goodwin over to me, same as your brother did.”
They reached the courthouse steps and he offered his arm. She stared at it, remembering the image of the petite Miss Stewart clinging to it. Comparing that to her own tall self soured her stomach. But there was no help for it. She slipped her hand through and rested it on his forearm, aware of the firm, muscular strength of it as they began to climb.
“I have come to know your brother quite well since you arrived in St. Louis. He’s a fine man.”
“On that we agree, Captain Benton.” She drew her hand from his arm as they reached the portico and forced a smile. “Thank you for escorting me, Captain. I am grateful for your kindness.”
He gazed down at her, and the heat crawled into her cheeks again. She had not meant it to sound like a dismissal. He crossed to the double doors, opened one and gave a polite little bow. “My pleasure, Miss Randolph. The mayor’s office is the first door on the right.”
“We have no money for an orphanage, Miss Randolph, and I will not have those urchins roaming our city, stealing from our shopkeepers and cluttering up our streets with their dirty, unkempt presence! They are offensive to our finer citizens!”
Finer citizens? Mary took a breath, held it, then slowly released it. Clearly appeals to the mayor’s conscience would not work. Perhaps he would be moved by financial considerations? “Mayor Stewart, when these children are arrested and jailed, the city must provide them with meals and a place to sleep—the same as would be done in an orphanage. Surely there is a building available to the city where—”
“Miss Randolph—” The mayor’s palms slapped against the top of his desk. He rose to his feet. “I have tried to be patient, but my patience is at an end. In an orphanage, the city would have to pay people to care for these urchins. In jail there are already keepers to—”
“Jailers, Mr. Mayor.”
The man’s face flushed an angry red. “Those ragamuffins stay in jail! As for meals and a place to sleep—they will earn their keep. There are jobs they can do on the additions to the courthouse, and on the public school we are to begin constructing.”
Mary shot to her feet and looked him straight in the eyes. “And did your daughter help construct the private academy she attended, Mr. Mayor?” The words flowed from her mouth sweet as honey.
The mayor’s eyes narrowed. He rested his palms on his desktop and leaned toward her. “You have a bold, sharp tongue, young woman.”
“Better a bold, sharp tongue than no heart, sir! Good day!”
Mary whirled about, took two steps and faltered at the sight of Captain Benton standing beside the open door. She raised her chin, her back ramrod straight, and marched on. When she reached the door, she shot him a glance that told him what she thought of men who would treat helpless children in such a fashion and stormed out into the corridor.
“Miss Randolph, wait!”
She turned, her entire body quivering with anger, and watched him walk to her. “You might have warned me of the mayor’s plans to make laborers of the children, Captain. You might have warned me that my visit to his office would be futile.”
His face flushed. But his gaze held steady on hers. “I did not know the purpose of your visit, Miss Randolph, or I would have told you. And I heard of his plans to use the children as laborers the same time as you, when I stepped in that office minutes ago. The mayor does not inform me of his plans.”
“I see.” Sadness swept over her. Unreasonable, unwelcome sadness. She believed him, but it made no difference. “Well, you know now, Captain. What are you going to do about it?”
She pivoted and walked to the front doors. And this time she did not look back.
Mary moved about the store, anger driving her steps. She may not be able to get those boys out of jail at the moment, but she could do something to make their lives a little brighter until she could think of a way. How anyone could be as heartless as the mayor when it came to children was beyond her. And Captain Benton was little better!
She frowned, picked up a ball, turning it in her hand. That would not be a good choice, as the cell was far too small to allow for throwing a ball. And if it rolled out of the cell, who would retrieve it for the boys? She put the ball down and moved on.
To be fair, the captain had sent for her when Katy took sick. But he should not have jailed her in the first place! Of course, if Katy had been on her own on the streets, what would have happened to her when she became ill? She would have had no care.
Mary paused. How many other children on the streets were sick or injured in some way? The possibility of their suffering made her ill. And angrier. There had to be some way to provide a home for those children! And she would find it.
She glanced at the shelves in front of her. Smiled at the sight of a gaily painted kaleidoscope. That would be perfect. If it were light enough for them to see through it. It had been so dark and dank in that cell! She put the toy in her basket, added another for the children at home and moved on. What else? She needed six toys. One for each of those boys, so they could be busy, have something to do. Tops!
Mary added two of the wooden toys to the basket and wandered over to another table. A game of checkers caught her eye. That would entertain two of the boys at once. She picked up the wooden box and a smile touched her face. She and James often challenged each other at checkers. Sarah was not as much fun to play with. She was not as competitive. What else? Jackstraws! Yes, they would do well. And perhaps one of those wooden cup-and-ball games. And paper dolls for Callie. There were several to choose from. She made her selections and went to the counter.
Sam sat deep in the saddle, the wind blowing in his face, the thunder of Attila’s hoofbeats in his ears. The chestnut loved to run and Sam gave him his head, exalting in the power and strength of the horse’s legs beneath him.
He needed this. He needed this wild gallop out here on the open plain to clear his head. He needed time alone. Only he and Attila...running.
Sam’s face went taut. He leaned forward, patting the thrusting neck. “Ease up now, boy. Ease up.”
The chestnut slowed. Sam held him to a canter and rode on trying to escape his own thoughts...his conscience...the memory of Mary Randolph’s accusing eyes. Those eyes!
Sam glanced to his left. The sun was hanging low in the western sky. He reined Attila into a big sweep toward the right, and headed back toward town.
What was he going to do? Why did Simon Stewart have to come up with this scheme for using these kids for free labor? It was...it was wrong. Plain wrong. And there was no way to put a good face on it. What kind of life was that for kids? Up in the morning, marched to a job—And what sort of job would it be? Picking up rocks? Sifting sand? What? Then marched back to their cells, fed a supper of scraps from the restaurant—half of it not fit to be eaten—and then laying down their hurting bodies on hard cots and sleeping behind locked, barred doors until the morning when it would start all over again?
Sam swept his gaze over the waving grasses on the plain, on the band of trees he was approaching. He was free to go where he wanted—but not those kids. They were locked up in cold, dark cells away from the sunlight and fresh air. And they had done nothing wrong. Nothing to deserve such treatment. It was all because they had no parents. No one to care about them.
No one but Mary Randolph.
She had brought them toys. Things to make their days a little brighter. And what a fighter, that woman! A smile tugged at his lips. Taking on the mayor of a city to fight for kids she didn’t even know. The smile died unborn. Sam stared into the distance—saw the past. What would his life have been like if there had been someone like Mary Randolph to care enough to fight for him? And what of Daniel? Maybe Daniel would have lived if there had been someone like Mary Randolph to take him into her home and nurse him when he was so sick.
Sam’s stomach knotted. He yanked his thoughts from that path. That was a dangerous, costly road to travel down. The past was dead. There was no help for the boy he had been, but there was plenty of help for the man he was determined to become. Help from the mayor and Levinia, to achieve all he’d dreamed of. He tried to summon her face but Mary Randolph stayed stubbornly in his thoughts.
She was a pretty woman. He had known that from the first time he saw her laugh, but he hadn’t realized how pretty until today, when she came hurrying out of her house with her brown eyes sparkling, her lips curved in laughter and her dark hair shining in the sun. It was the first time he’d seen her without a bonnet. She was beautiful. And when she smiled...
Sam blew a long breath of air into the twilight and shook his head. He’d had all he could do to stop staring at her. And when she had taken his arm... She sure fit well at his side.
He scowled, turned Attila onto the path toward town and slowed him to a walk. He had no business thinking about Mary Randolph. He was going to marry Levinia Stewart—even if she seemed less admirable than he had thought. He could be wrong about her. But even if he wasn’t, he was not going to give up his plans. All he needed was the deed to the land he wanted for his house. Then he would ask for her hand.
But what about those kids?
Sam reined in the horse at the stables and dismounted. He pulled open the door and led Attila inside, the comfortable sound of the horse’s hooves thudding against the puncheon floor easing his tension. He undid the cinch strap, reached for the saddle and froze.
He narrowed his eyes and absently scratched under Attila’s mane, examining the idea that had popped into his head from all sides. The argument might hold water. Maybe there was a way to help those kids.