“Sir?”
The maid wasn’t much more than a child herself, he realized, studying her upturned nose and brown eyes. With her neat cap and apron, she looked older, but she couldn’t be older than sixteen.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
“Alice.”
He grinned.
“It’s not a funny name, sir.”
“I know. It’s just...” He paused. He didn’t really want to explain that Megan had just named a calico kitten Alice.
“Alice, there’s a little girl in my room. She needs a bath. I think it would be easier for her if you helped her rather than if I did.”
“Yes, sir.” Alice smiled. “I’ve got seven younger brothers and sisters. I know plenty about bathing a young’un.”
“Wonderful.” He turned. “Bonnie, Alice here is going to—”
But Bonnie wasn’t standing in the doorway. He frowned and walked into his room. She wasn’t there, either. Everything was as he’d left it. He glanced toward the door. Had she run off? No, he would have heard her leaving. Then where was she?
He walked around the bed. Part of the carpet had been turned up, as if someone had tripped over the edge. He bent down and touched it, then got on his hands and knees and looked under the four-poster bed. Bonnie lay on her belly up by the headboard. He could see her face. She had her eyes tightly shut.
“Are you hiding?” he asked.
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’m scared.”
She looked so small huddled there. With her tattered clothes and dirty face. She also smelled like a sheep.
“Are you afraid of taking a bath? There’s a nice lady, whose name is Alice. She’s going to help you. They sent up some soap. I think it smells nice.”
“Will it hurt?”
“No. It’s warm water. You’ll feel toasty when you’re done. Then we’ll have something to eat. Would you like that?”
Instead of answering, Bonnie shimmied out from under the bed. Alice stood in the doorway between the two rooms and smiled encouragingly.
“Hello,” she said. “Can I help you bathe?” She held out her hand, then wrinkled her nose. “What do you want me to do with her clothes, sir?”
Justin opened his mouth, then closed it. “Wash them?”
“Does she have others? These won’t be dry by morning.”
“No, Mrs. Jarvis didn’t leave anything.” He thought for a moment. “Here.” He opened the armoire and pulled out one of his shirts. “Put her in this after her bath. Take her clothes outside, brush them and let them air. In the morning, I’ll find her something else.”
When he was alone in his room, he sank onto the window seat and sighed. He’d been back in Landing exactly two days. In that time he’d fought with Megan twice, kissed her, found out about a murder, insulted half the women in town by asking them about a dead saloon girl, learned about a second murder and found himself responsible for a small child.
A knock sounded on the door. A cheerful male voice called out that it was a delivery from the dining room. As he rose to let the man in, he hoped they’d remembered to bring whiskey because he sure as hell needed a drink.
* * *
The little girl who was escorted to the table set up by the foot of his bed wasn’t the same child who had disappeared thirty minutes before. Instead of a dirt-encrusted waif, this girl was all pink and white, sweet-smelling with beautiful, shiny black hair that fell halfway down her back. His white shirt dwarfed her, dragging on the floor. Alice had rolled up the sleeves.
“Here you go, sir. One clean girl. We had fun, Bonnie, didn’t we?”
Bonnie nodded. Justin wondered if she ever smiled.
Alice held the child’s dirty clothes in her arms. “I’ll see what I can do about these and leave them outside her door in the morning.”
“Thank you.” Justin accompanied the maid to the door, then tipped her generously. When she’d left, he turned back to Bonnie, who stood beside the laden table staring as if she’d never in her life seen that much food.
“Why don’t we start with some soup and bread,” he said, pulling out a chair for her. If she hadn’t been eating regularly, she wouldn’t be able to hold that much. He didn’t want to make her sick on her first decent meal in God knows how long. She glanced from him to the table setting and back. Confusion darkened her blue eyes, and fear, or maybe hunger, made her tremble.
“Don’t be afraid.”
He picked up a biscuit and handed it to her. She stared at it, then snatched it from him and shoved it in her mouth. While she was busy chewing, pushing and swallowing all at the same time, he lifted her and set her on the chair. Her head barely cleared the table.
Justin frowned. That wasn’t going to work. He grabbed the pillows from his bed, picked her up with one arm and shoved the pillows under her behind.
“How’s that?” he asked.
She swallowed the last of her biscuit. “Nice.”
He grinned. “Try the soup.” He lifted the cover of the tureen and ladled some broth into the bowl in front of her. The aroma of chicken and spices must have enticed her because she licked her lips. He tucked the napkin into the collar of the shirt she wore, then handed her a spoon.
“It might be hot,” he said. “Blow on it first.”
She stared at him as if he’d told her to ride a pig to market, then obligingly bent forward and blew on the soup. After a couple of minutes of listening to her huff and puff, he told her the soup should be fine now.
Before he’d even chewed more than two bites of his steak, she’d finished the bowl and set the spoon neatly on the table.
“You still hungry?”
“Uh-huh.”
He handed her another biscuit. This time she ate it slowly, a bite at a time. Her big, blue eyes studied him. He wondered what she was thinking. He cut another piece of his steak and chewed slowly. After swallowing, he took a sip of the whiskey that had come with his meal, then leaned back in his chair.
“You mind staying here tonight?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I’ve never had a little girl around before, so you tell me if you need anything. And if you want to know something, you just go ahead and ask me. You’re safe here. Mrs. Jarvis isn’t coming back.”
She set the half-eaten biscuit on the tablecloth and wiped her hands on her shirtfront. He could still see the faint outline of the bruise on her face. It made him want to find that wretched woman and show her what it felt like to be bullied by someone bigger and stronger.
“What’s your name?” the child asked.
“Justin.”
“Is that for me?” Bonnie asked, pointing to a glass of milk.
“Sure is.”
She took a long drink. “Am I going to stay here with you?”
Justin didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m going to see if there’s a nice family who would like a pretty little girl like you. Until then, yes, you’ll stay here with me.”
Bonnie carefully set the glass on the table. “Mrs. Jarvis says no one wants me. I’m a burden.” She tossed her black hair over her shoulders. “A burden is a bad thing, ain’t it?”
He didn’t know how to answer that. She was only six years old, yet she sounded older, as if she’d experienced a lot of life in her years. “I don’t think you’re a burden.”
“Mrs. Jarvis took me to see that lady at the church.” She shivered. “She had a mean smile. I thought smiles were happy, but hers wasn’t. She said no one would take me in ’cause my mama was a p-postute.” She frowned and wrinkled her nose as she stumbled over the unfamiliar word. “Mrs. Jarvis said whores have bastards same as other people. Mrs. Jarvis always said Mama was a whore. I’m afraid to ask her what that is. Do you know?”
Justin stared at the pretty child across the table. He studied her big eyes, the bruise on her face, the now-clean scratches on her hands. He’d seen enough of life to know evil people flou
rished everywhere. He shouldn’t be surprised by the cruelty. But every now and then something caught him unaware.
He fought the anger, knowing it would frighten Bonnie. Mrs. Jarvis was a poor uneducated dirt farmer who had probably grown up in poverty and would die that way. Colleen Estes had no such excuse. She was the wife of a minister. She was supposed to be an example for the community. He gripped his glass so tightly he thought it might shatter. He’d come back to Landing with the best of intentions. He was beginning to wonder if he was destined to relive the past without a chance to change the outcome.
“The lady at the church was wrong to say those words, Bonnie,” he said slowly. “I knew your mama. She was very sweet and pretty. I haven’t seen it yet, but I think you have her smile.”
The solemn little girl brightened a little. “I thought Mama was pretty, too. When she came to see me, she would let me brush her hair. When she had to leave, she would cry. She said they were good tears. Her ‘I love you’ tears, she said. Why does crying mean you love someone?”
“I don’t know.”
She took the last bite of the biscuit.
“Do you want some more soup?” he asked.
“No.” She rubbed her tummy. “I’m full.”
He noticed the dark shadows under her eyes. If her bedding had been as disgusting as her clothing, she probably hadn’t been sleeping very much. It was still cold at night and he suspected Mrs. Jarvis didn’t provide much in the way of blankets for her young charge. But first he had to find out what the little girl knew.
“Bonnie, do you have any family?”
She shook her head. “Mama’s dead. Mrs. Jarvis said she’s never coming back.” Bonnie blinked several times, then picked at the tablecloth. “I miss her.”
“I know, honey. There’s no one else?”
“I asked Mama about my father once. It made her cry sad tears.” Bonnie took a drink of milk. “She said we didn’t need him.”
Justin swirled his glass of whiskey. The bastard had probably run out on Laurie when he’d learned she was pregnant. Figured. The same thing had happened to his mother. He watched Bonnie, hoping the town would treat her better than it had treated him. Not for a single day had he been allowed to forget who he was and what his mother did for a living.
She yawned widely.
“All right, little girl. Let’s get you to bed.”
He helped her down from the chair and escorted her into her bedroom. When she climbed up onto the mattress, her shirttails flapped around her skinny legs exposing the back of her thighs and three ugly bruises. Justin balled his hands into fists. The marks could have been caused accidentally, but he didn’t think so. The child had been beaten.
Bonnie settled on her back and stared up at him. He pulled the covers to her chin.
“You warm enough?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m going to be right next door. You holler if you need anything.”
“Am I going back with Mrs. Jarvis tomorrow?”
She reached her hand up and brushed her hair out of her face. Without stopping to consider the action, Justin caught her small fingers in his. He squeezed gently. “You’re never going back to her, Bonnie. I promise.”
Big blue eyes held his as she seemed to weigh his words. There wasn’t a lot of trust in her expression, little hope for a better fate than the one she’d endured. He knew how that felt. It would take time for her to learn to trust again.
“Good night.” He released her hand and stood. After turning down the lantern in her room, he retreated to his side of the door and shut it partway. He sat himself at the table once more and stared at his half-eaten dinner, but his appetite had deserted him.
He would keep his word to the child. He wouldn’t send her back to Mrs. Jarvis. But what was he going to do with her? He knew firsthand exactly how Landing treated the less fortunate who lived here.
He leaned back in his chair and sipped his whiskey. He wasn’t that half-grown boy who’d been taunted at school, he reminded himself. He was the sheriff now. He would do everything in his power to make sure Bonnie didn’t suffer the same fate he had. She deserved better and he was going to make sure she got it.
* * *
“Well, you can imagine how shocked I was.” Colleen pulled off her gloves and set them on the counter.
It was early yet. Not many customers were in the store. Megan stared at her sister and tried to remember the last time she’d seen Colleen up and dressed at this time of day. Her dark brown cloak, matching hat and gloves were of the latest style. Megan had ordered them and knew exactly how much they cost. If not for the inheritance left them by their father, Colleen would be hard-pressed to buy her expensive clothes. Megan wondered how her brother-in-law felt about his wife spending so much money on what he would no doubt consider frivolities. Not that he would tell Colleen to stop. Not many people were willing to stand up to her sister’s temper and vicious tongue.
“Why were you surprised?” Megan asked. “It is a church. People have brought you orphans before.”
“I know. It’s a burden.” Colleen grimaced. “This one was worse than all of them combined. She was filthy and smelled.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “I don’t know why people allow themselves to sink to such a state.”
Megan stared down at the box of buttons. For almost a month now, she’d been promising herself she would sort them by size and price. She drew in a deep breath and prayed for patience. Once Colleen told her story, she would be gone. Casually, Megan glanced at the clock and wondered how long it would take.
“Children don’t usually have a choice about keeping themselves clean,” Megan said curtly. “You can’t blame the little girl if her mother didn’t bathe her.”
Colleen leaned over the counter. Her thick cloak completely covered the box of buttons and scattered the piles Megan had already sorted. “But the woman wasn’t her mother.”
Colleen glanced at the two other people in the store. Both were men. One was old Zeke from the livery stable. He couldn’t hear too well. The other was Cameron Forbes, a handsome widower with a large farm just south of town. Cameron was at the far end, looking at some gardening tools Megan kept along the back wall. Even so, Colleen lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Yesterday, our new sheriff—” she said the last word with a sniff of contempt “—was going all around town asking about that dead prostitute.”
“I know.” She was still smarting from his accusations. It didn’t matter that she’d tried to explain. Justin hadn’t cared. Megan wondered why he was always so quick to judge her.
“It was her child.”
“Who was?”
Colleen glared at her. “Will you please pay attention. I’m trying to tell you. A horrible woman, her name was Mrs. Travis, or Jarvis, something like that. Anyway, she came to the church with the dirty, disgusting girl and told me she’d been paid to take care of her. The prostitute died, there’s no more money and she wanted to thrust the child off on me.” Colleen touched her pale white hand to her chest. “I was shocked. Gene was gone, of course. That man picks the most inconvenient times to visit sick people. I had to deal with this woman myself.”
Megan pulled the box out from under Colleen’s cape and started sorting the buttons again. “What happened?”
“I told her the truth. That I wasn’t interested in the bastard child of some whore.” Colleen smiled. “I told her a few other things, too, and sent her packing.”
Megan stared at her sister. At times she found it hard to believe they’d had the same parents, grown up in the same house and lived similar lives. “You turned away the child?”
“Not just a child. I told you. A bastard. And her mother is—”
“Yes, I know what you said. You seem to enjoy saying those bad words, Colleen. Do you find it exciting?”
Her sister drew herself up to her full height, only an inch above her own, Megan told herself, refusing to be intimidated. “Don’t you speak to
me in that tone.”
“I’ll speak to you any way I like. You’re not my mother.”
Colleen’s small hazel eyes narrowed. “I am married to the minister. You’d best keep that in mind.”
The threat wasn’t a new one. Megan knew she should be used to it by now, but every time her sister made it, she got a tight feeling in the bottom of her stomach. “You turned her away. But she’s just a little girl. Where is she going to go?”
“Why should I care about that? My heavens, Gene forces me to do charity work, as it is. That’s enough for anyone. You can’t expect me to take in a bastard.”
Megan scooped up the loose buttons and dumped them back in the box. She reached for the lid, then fitted it in place. “She’s just a little girl,” she repeated. “It’s not her fault who her parents are. Why are you so cruel?” She started toward the back of the store.
Colleen came after her. “I have a duty to this town and to the church. As the minister’s wife, I must set an example.”
“Exactly.” Megan came to a stop and spun toward her sister. “An example of charity and caring.”
“If you could have seen her. It was disgusting. And her father. He could have been anyone.”
“I don’t care if her father was the devil himself. How could you turn her away?”
“Don’t you lecture me, Megan,” Colleen said, her voice shrill. “I know my place in this town. We have a position to uphold. A family name. It’s bad enough that you’re a spinster and running this business on your own. Don’t forget that my acceptance means the town’s acceptance. The lines are very clear, so you make sure which side you stay on. I do more than my share. I know my duty.”
Megan stared at her, noting the rapid rise and fall of her sister’s chest as she got carried away by indignation. The knot in her belly didn’t seem so tight all of a sudden. Instead of worry or fear, she tasted sadness. She thought about their mother and her fate. Something that Colleen never wanted to discuss.
“Are you always so sure you’re right?” Megan asked quietly.
Colleen opened her mouth, then shut it. “Of course.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure that I’m right, or sure about yourself?”
Justin's Bride Page 8
