Orphan Lost
A Sweet Town Romance
Sarah Christian
Published by Salt of the Earth Press
Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Christian
More information.
In the shadow of wild Deadwood, sits quiet Sweet Town. Established in the Dakota Gold Rush of the 1870s, Sweet Town is surrounded by gentle hills and fields of clover. It's a place where anyone can start over and redemption is never out of reach.
Sweet Town romances tell the stories of the community as its members fall in love. These inspiring stories explore the power of charity, the nature of good and evil, and all the miracles that can happen when you open your heart.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
Copyright Information
CHAPTER ONE
July 1879, Dakota Territory
A gentle buzz, so pervasive eventually it was unnoticeable, serenaded the little town perched on the edge of the Great Plains. As though all the cicadas took a collective breath at one time, the sound ceased for just a second and when it returned it seemed louder. Even the birds were quiet, suggesting their songs were drowned out by the humble noise, though in reality they were probably spending the hot afternoon in the shady trees on the bank of a meandering stream nearby.
David walked behind three other children. As the oldest at fifteen, he had been charged with keeping them on task while they went to the general store one street over. They all lived at an orphanage, but there the similarities ended since the circumstances that brought them each to be without a home were very different. He pushed his sandy brown hair back from a broad, high forehead and felt the moisture collected there.
Of all the children, the two girls had lost the most. Anne and Mary had been traveling west with their parents when an accident killed the adults. They had happy memories and even some keepsakes from their lives before tragedy tore their family apart. The last child, Billy, seldom spoke or even laughed for that matter. David often goaded him just to try and get some emotion to flicker across his face, but had so far been unsuccessful. The younger boy was only eleven, just a kid still. Who knew what sort of things he might have experienced? David hoped it wasn’t anything as bad as his own history.
“Can I have a stick of candy, David?” Mary turned around and walked backwards so she could look at him.
“Mrs. Leonetti said you could if you behaved.” He would have rather been working than herding the group of children. He’d been fortunate to get a job with Mack Coffman, a local builder, and summer was a busy time. But Mr. Coffman had gone to Rapid City for more materials and didn't want David working on their latest project by himself. He didn’t know what was more insulting. That Mr. Coffman didn’t trust him to work without a foreman, or to be relegated to minding children.
“I’m being good, aren’t I Anne?” Mary was now taking large steps, still facing backwards, swinging her legs out to the sides making her skirt billow out like a sail.
Anne, in the lead, glanced back at her sister but didn’t answer.
David wasn’t sure what the older sister’s problem was but lately she’d gotten snippy with everyone, most especially him. When he came in a room, she ran out. If he spoke to her, her face grew red as though she were furious and frequently didn’t answer. He felt bad for Mary. She was only seven while Anne was nearly twice that. ”You’re being good right now but if you don’t watch it you’re going to fall down and get all dusty. Turn around and walk right.” Mary giggled but followed his orders.
The children took a shortcut in the narrow space between the post office and the mercantile, coming out on Main Street. It was really the road to Deadwood, and the cluster of businesses and homes that were built along it had sprouted organically, like a grassy verge along a stream.
At least twice a day a stage coach came through, and travelers frequently passed by. Miners who lived and worked in the hills were a common sight. Since the Indians had been sent to live on tracts of land reserved for them, there were more Army men about. All in all, it was a fairly busy road in the summer. The winter was a different matter. Cold and snow weren’t the only reason for less traffic in the frosty months. Mining slowed, farming paused, and almost everything else was suspended while the supporting industries waited for spring.
But on a summer afternoon the road might as well have been back in the midst of winter, as deserted as it was. Everyone who had anything to do was doing it and David lamented again his role in the days’ errand.
Karl’s Mercantile was a general store. Its shelves carried farm implements as well as sewing goods. There were cans and jars of vegetables, fresh food, oats and wheat, and in back feed. The ceiling was tall, and with David’s newfound skills as an apprentice carpenter he looked up at the tin ceiling and tried to gauge its height. Satisfied when he figured it was about twelve feet high, he headed toward a tall counter at the back of the long room.
The lady who ran the business was related to the Leonettis in some way. He wasn’t exactly sure how. Mrs. Leonetti was a tall, handsome woman, narrow faced and often stern. The storekeeper was tiny by comparison. She wasn’t even as tall as him, and only barely taller than Anne, though she was an adult, married to the sheriff and with a baby of her own. She was tawny skinned and dark haired and could have been a half Indian like Billy, though it had never been mentioned.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Price,” he said, setting a shopping list on the counter.
“This all is for Emma?”
He nodded, wondering why she acted like it was such a great amount. “But the candy is for last and only if the children have behaved.”
While Mrs. Price began gathering the goods and packing them into a wooden box, David looked around to check on the whereabouts of the kids. Anne was running a hand across a bolt of dress goods. She had a funny faraway look in her eye. Mary was balancing on one foot chanting a jump rope rhyme. Billy was near a shelf full of books. The covers were printed with brightly colored, lurid illustrations of cowboys and buffalo, Indians and US Marshals. His eyes may have been looking but David couldn’t tell what he was thinking by his expression.
He turned back to the counter just as Mrs. Price unscrewed the lid to a large jar full of striped sweets. “Here’s your treats, children.”
David carried the heavy box. Because his hands were full, he put his candy in with the other groceries, but the children all popped theirs directly in their mouths. “We aren’t going to be able to take the shortcut,” he said to them. With the box in his arms he wouldn’t be able to fit through the narrow space between the buildings. “Let’s go up to the end of the street and around.”
“Oh good,” Mary clapped her hands together. “We’ll go over the culvert. Can I stick my feet in the water?”
Anne looked down her nose at her little sister. “No, you may not.”
Mary began crying and ran ahead.
“There wasn’t any call to speak to her like that,” he said to Anne, causing the girl’s face to flush so red her blonde eyebrows were stark white lines above her eyes. He hurried ahead to catch up to Mary, who had now turned the corner at the end of the row of buildings.
Just as he was able to see around the side of the Town Hall he spotted the child running, the sound of her cries echoing against the wall. Her eyes were likely screwed up tight shut because she didn’t appear to even slow down before barreling right into a man standing there.
Even from the distance of twenty feet, David heard the air knocked out of the man. An “Oomph” sound followed by a small cry. He didn’t fall but obviously he’d been
hurt and the younger man wondered how such a small girl could cause any injury to an adult fellow.
When the man looked up, David was unable to control his own gasp. He was old, his face covered in wrinkles and scars, with dirt worked into the crevices of his skin. His clothes were little more than rags. He also carried a box, though not as large or full as the one David was burdened with, and he clutched it tighter to his chest.
That was when David noticed that one of the man’s hands was missing. In its place was a hook.
Mary must’ve spotted it at the same time because she screamed and took off at a run toward the culvert where the stream passed under the road. David quickly set down the box he carried and ran after her but he saw that a lady approached from the other side and captured Mary’s sobbing shoulders in her own hands.
He turned back, retrieving the box, and urged Anne and Billy to come along.
CHAPTER TWO
“Miss Berg,” Mary cried, “there was a monster back there. A horrible filthy creature.” Her sobs made her words nearly incoherent.
Mrs. Leonetti’s friend, Laura Berg, had come to stay a couple of weeks before. She was a nice lady, and kind to the children, but David hadn’t spent much time around her. For one thing, he’d been very busy working for Mr. Coffman. She looked at David and raised her eyebrows. “What in the world?”
David bent a leg and rested the box on his knee. “Mary was upset with Anne and ran ahead. She wasn’t looking where she was going and ran into a prospector back there.” He pointed behind them and they all looked. The old man was still walking slowly toward Main Street, a noticeable limp in his stride.
Miss Berg pulled Mary a little away from her and looked down into the child’s face. “Why do you say he’s a monster. He just looks like an old gentleman.”
“His face is horrid, all dirty and torn up, and he growled when I bumped him.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “He did not. It sounded like you knocked the wind out of him.”
Mary scowled at her big sister. “Did so. He made a noise like this,” and she imitated perfectly the small cry David had heard.
Miss Berg shook her head. “It sounds like you hurt him.”
Mary couldn’t leave it be. “But he had a claw for a hand.”
“You mean a hook?”
“Yes, just like a pirate,” she said, her blue eyes open wide.
Miss Berg stood up and looked around at the children. “It sounds likes he’s been injured in the past. You should be more understanding, because someone with that many scars might be in a lot of pain.”
David lifted the box off his knee and straightened up. Miss Berg probably had lived a safe and kindly life and had no idea of the cruelties in the world. Unfortunately, those who had been hurt the worst, were often the ones who hurt others in turn. It was up to people like him, he thought, to protect those who had no idea of how mean others could be. “We don’t know his story,” he agreed, “but he looks pretty rough. It’s best you kids steer clear of him.”
Miss Berg was looking at him as he spoke, her clear gaze without censure, but for some reason he still felt like he’d been petty or insulting. He reminded himself that she didn’t know what it was like to be knocked around or called names. She probably thought everyone had a heart of gold and wanted to be friends.
“Come on, let’s get Mrs. Leonetti’s groceries to her.” He began walking in the direction of the orphanage.
“Wait,” Miss Berg called out. “I just have to mail this letter,” she held up a pale blue envelope. “The children can come with me if you would go take Emma’s shopping to her. Then you could meet us back here and we could go berry picking.”
While it didn’t sound like a terrible lot of fun, David figured he had no choice but accompany them since they would likely need a protector.
“I’m excited to see the land around here,” she continued. “Today is a perfect day to go for a walk in the foothills.”
David hurried with his heavy burden toward the large square house where he and the children lived, anxious to meet back up with the others before they could encounter some other danger.
CHAPTER THREE
At the back of the house was a wide enclosed porch. It was there that things like rubber boots and umbrellas, croquet mallets and an old string mop, were to be found in a messy jumble. The other end of the house was an entirely different story. Mrs. Leonetti kept it neat as a pin, and you would never know that the back porch held such an eclectic collection.
From the porch a doorway led directly into a large kitchen. The back staircase came off that room, with the front staircase being somewhat more for show off the front hall inside the entryway.
The kitchen had many windows making it a bright and well lit room, each consisting of four square panes of wavy glass. A large cookstove dominated the space, though a huge, rectangular, oak table was the centerpiece. That was where pie crusts were rolled out and cookies cut. The weekly bread was kneaded upon its surface and often times a child could be found doing his or her lessons there while dinner was being prepared.
David set the wooden crate on the table and began unpacking it. He’d only gotten as far as his forgotten stick of striped candy when his caretaker came in from a door next to the back stairwell. “Oh, good, you’re back,” she said smiling. “Where are the others?”
“We saw Miss Berg and she invited us to go berry picking in the hills.”
“You know you can call her Laura, just as you can call me Emma.”
They had had this conversation before. He felt awkward calling these adults by their given names, and to avoid it he’d taken to not calling them any names to their faces, but sometimes it was unavoidable, like now. He nodded to show her that he’d heard and put the sweet in his mouth.
“Did the others go with her then?”
Working his tongue around the candy, he spoke with some difficulty. “No, they all went to the post office. She had a letter to mail. But I’m supposed to go back and meet up with them so we can all go together.”
Mrs. Leonetti pulled a small paper bundle out of the crate and unwrapped it, revealing several cinnamon sticks. “I think that would be alright. And I would feel better if you went along since Laura doesn’t really know her way around. Remember when that city fellow went looking for his friend and he got lost not two miles outside of town?” She opened a jar and slid the sticks inside, placing it back into a cupboard where other spices were stored. As she closed the door it pushed the scent of all the different seasonings through the air and David breathed deeply.
He wouldn’t likely forget the story of the man from Chicago who couldn’t follow directions and got turned around in the foothills. Mr. Leonetti, Mayor O’Cuinn, Sheriff Price, and Mr. Coffman had to go out and find the missing lady as well as the lost city slicker. He grinned. He wished he’d been able to go along. “So then, it’s alright with you if we all go with her?”
Just then Mr. Leonetti came in. “What’s cooking in here?” he asked, sniffing the air.
“Oh, Neal, I haven’t even started supper. Laura has offered to take the children berry picking. What do you think?”
“I think berries sound like a fine idea, especially if they are encased in a pie.” He winked at David.
Mrs. Leonetti’s mouth got tight and though she looked angry, David knew it was just a way she had. Maybe she had some unpleasant years in the past and now it was just a habit because he knew by the twinkle in her eye that she wasn’t mad at her husband. “I meant, what do you think about them going out into the countryside?”
Mr. Leonetti looked at David, instead of answering. “What do you think, young man? You probably have almost as much experience as I have in Dakota Territory.”
David felt his chest swell with pride at being asked his opinion. He paused to swallow down a lump in his throat. Why couldn’t his own father have been like Mr. Leonetti? Instead he’d been berated and beaten. “I’ll keep them safe, sir. Remember, I was living on my own
before I came here.”
Mr. Leonetti made a fist and slowly pushed it against the boy’s shoulder, as though he were punching him in slow motion. “I know you will but could you please call me Neal. Calling me sir makes me feel like an old man.”
David couldn’t help but grin back.
Mrs. Leonetti looked at him. “While I am always impressed with your survival instincts, David, please don’t take risks.” She handed him several small pails. “That should be enough,” she said glancing out a window at the bright sunny sky. In summer the sun didn't set until late. “You have plenty of time before dark, but please be back in time for supper.”
“We will,” he called as he stepped through the door.
“And if you find enough berries, I’ll make us a dessert for this evening,” she called out.
His heart light with anticipation and the sense of duty and responsibility that had been bestowed upon him, he jumped from the top step to the ground. Before taking off he hesitated and leaned down to feel his ankle at the top of his boot. A Bowie knife was there in a leather sheath, just in case.
CHAPTER FOUR
The group reunited at the culvert and headed on a trail into the foothills. They skirted the Beacham homestead and in the distance could see the roof of the Mayor's house. Before long they were beyond town, the homes and businesses left behind.
David felt the reassuring weight of the knife at his ankle and kept his eye out for anything dangerous but soon that vigilance became tiresome and when Miss Berg walked next to him he allowed her to draw him into a conversation.
“What brought you to the Leonettis’ home?” she asked, not even breathing hard as they trudged in an upward trend, though not steeply. The two youngest children explored their surroundings and even Anne seemed more lighthearted in the country.
David was surprised that Neal and Emma hadn’t shared his story with their friend. “My mother passed away and it was just my father and I.”
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