She pressed her lips together. Blinked. Blinked again. He squeezed her hand. She looked up at him. “When I was at the jail today, there were six boys—” She lifted her hands and wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “I know I cannot care for all of these children, James. I know that. But if you had seen them holding on to those bars and looking out…” She drew her hand from his, rose and then walked over to look out the window. “I shall simply have to think of something.”
“Thank you for carrying my packages home for me, Captain.”
“My pleasure, Miss Stewart.”
She smiled up at him. “I am so glad you happened by Virginia’s house as I was leaving. It gives me the chance to tell you how very pleased Father is that you have so quickly rid our streets of the disturbing presence of those filthy urchins. Mother and I are pleased, as well. It was most pleasant shopping today. I did not see one of those dirty creatures lurking about.”
Sam nodded. “You won’t see them from now on. They are afraid to be on the streets in the daytime for fear of being arrested. They come out at night, hoping the darkness will hide them.” Because of him. He frowned. “And it may be that some of them are ill. A little girl I had in jail is sick. Doc Patterson said she needed care, but your father said there was no money for such expenses.”
“Well, of course not. Gracious! That care would be very expensive. And all of Father’s plans to improve and beautify St. Louis are costly.” Levinia gave a toss of her head, bouncing the golden curls spilling from the back of her bonnet. “And why should the good citizens of St. Louis pay for the care of those disgusting urchins? If they were not so dirty, they would not be sick.” She stopped, gasped. “Oh, my! I certainly hope they do not pass on their filthy diseases to the rest of us.” She took a step back. “Are you quite well, Captain?”
Did the woman never think of anyone but herself? Sam squelched a bubble of irritation at her total lack of sympathy for the orphaned children’s plight. “I enjoy excellent health, Miss Stewart. I would not allow myself the pleasure of your company did I not.” The compliment soured on his tongue.
“But if you are around this sick…” She gave a helpless little wave of her hand.
“Girl,” Sam supplied, keeping his tone pleasant. “You need not fear, Miss Stewart. The child is no longer at the jail. Miss Randolph has taken her to her home to care for her.” The image of Mary Randolph leaning over the child in the jail swam before him. The concern on her face, the kindness in her voice. He pushed it away, bent down and opened the gate to the mayor’s house with his free hand.
“Miss Randolph? Who—Oh, I recall her now. She is that tall, thin, plain woman we met on the steps of the courthouse last week. And again after church on Sunday.” She gave him a coquettish glance from beneath her long lashes.
It was an invitation for him to pay her superior beauty a compliment. He knew it as surely as if she had spoken it out loud. Annoyance rippled. Something in him turned stubborn. He nodded. “That’s right. That is Miss Randolph. Though I don’t know as I would call her plain.” Not with those eyes, and that proud little chin.
Anger flashed across Levinia’s face. “You find her attractive, Captain Benton?”
Careful, Sam. He smiled down at her. “You know who I find attractive, Miss Stewart.”
She tilted her head and sent another of her dimpled smiles his way.
She hands those smiles out like a reward. His annoyance surged again. Sam scowled. What was wrong with him? “Here we are.” He took her elbow, helped her up the steps to the porch, then released her arm and handed her the packages. “Good evening, Miss Stewart.”
She gave him a sharp look. He sucked in a draught of night air and pushed his vexation aside. “One could hope that Virginia Weller lived at a greater distance.” He forced a smile. “Our walk would have been longer.”
“Yes. That would have been pleasant, Captain.” She flashed her dimples at him. “Good evening.”
Sam opened the door, watched Levinia enter the house, then hurried to slip through the gate toward Chestnut Street, headed for the stables. He needed a ride. A long ride on Attila over the plains outside of town to clear his head and get his thinking straight before he sabotaged his own goals. But all the same…
Mary Randolph, plain? Sam snorted. Not to his way of thinking!
Chapter Eleven
Another steamship whistled its arrival. As a horse trotted down Front Street, Sam glanced over his shoulder, automatically taking note of the rider. A buggy rumbled over the cobblestones and he peered into the night, but it was too dark for him to see its occupants. He didn’t recognize the horse or the rig. Probably someone come across the river from Illinoistown on the ferry.
He faced front again as James Randolph tucked the key to the door of the Mississippi and Missouri steamer line office building into his pocket and opened the door. Sam followed Randolph inside and closed the door. The noise of the activity on the levee was reduced to a muffled din by the building’s thick, stone walls.
“The ledger is over here.” Randolph lit an oil lamp on the table by the window and crossed the room with it, splotches of yellow light bobbing across the plank floor as he walked.
Sam followed him around a table to the high bookkeeper’s desk and pushed aside the stool.
“Here are my tallies.” Randolph handed him a sheet of paper covered with neat columns of numbers, then held the lamp so the light fell over the desk.
Sam focused his attention on the figures, shifting his gaze between the company ledger and the paper in his hand. There was a sizable discrepancy between the totals. To the company’s deficit, of course. He closed the ledger. “The bookings for passage recorded are certainly less than those you have written down, Mr. Randolph. And they can be easily proven. What about the pelts you have listed? Where are they?”
“In the back room.” Randolph headed toward the rear of the office. “I apologize for bringing you here this late at night, Captain Benton. But the pelts are to be shipped to New Orleans tomorrow. Tonight was my only chance to prove my suspicions are correct.”
Randolph opened the door to the back room and lifted the lamp high. “Over here.” He moved forward and light splashed on bundles of pelts stacked at the end of a long table against the far wall.
Sam strode over to them, put the paper down on the table beside the first stack and began to count. He watched Randolph out of the corner of his eye. The young man was mad as a hungry bear, but handling it well. “You’re short, all right.”
Randolph nodded. “I figured if Goodwin was the one skimming the profits from the company, he would in some way take advantage of my ignorance of the value of pelts. I would not know the difference in value recorded in the ledger and true value. That is why I kept count of the ones he accepted as payment. And, as I suspected, he has made off with a portion of the pelts. That is another reason I brought you here at this late hour. I believe Goodwin may be leaving town tonight.”
Sam studied the young man’s face. “Goodwin has likely been stealing company profits for quite a while. Why do you think he is planning to run tonight?”
“Because of this.” Randolph picked up the piece of paper on which he had carefully recorded all the transactions of the past week and started back to the front office. “I keep this in the top right drawer of my desk, hidden between two papers in a folder. When I went to get it tonight, it was between the wrong two papers.”
An expression of disgust swept over Randolph’s face. He closed the door of the back room. “I leave the door to my office ajar, so I can hear and record all the transactions. The hinge squeaked a bit this morning and when I looked up, the opening was a bit narrower. Someone had bumped the door. I believe it was Goodwin.”
The young man shook his head and placed the oil lamp back on the table. “He must have seen me writing down information and suspected I was on to him. When I came back tonight to check on the pelts, I saw the list had been moved, which meant he must have searched my des
k after I went home for the evening. So I counted the pelts, confirmed my suspicions were correct and set out to find you.”
Sam moved to the front door. “It looks as if you have proof enough, Mr. Randolph. Do you want to press charges?”
“Yes.”
Sam nodded. “All right. You hold on to that piece of paper—and I will go pay a call on Goodwin. If we get lucky, I may catch him with the pelts.” Another steamship whistled news of its departure. He looked in the direction of the levee. “But my guess is—since he learned you now know—he has already left town.” He opened the door. The sounds of activity and nighttime revelry poured in.
“I will come with—”
“No.” Sam shook his head. “This is my job, Mr. Randolph, and I’ll handle it. You have done your part. I’ll be in touch.” He stepped out into the night and turned north. Goodwin lived on Olive Street. Near the boardinghouse Thomas had stayed in. Sam frowned and hurried his steps, even though he was sure the man had already caught a steamboat out of town.
Mary stooped to feel Katy’s forehead. The summer savory herb Ivy had given her seemed to have broken the fever. The little girl felt cooler. And she had stopped moaning and thrashing about in her sleep.
Mary let out a sigh of relief, and stepped over to the window. It was too warm in the bedroom for her comfort, but she did not dare open the window and expose Katy to the cooler air. She glanced back at Katy. The little girl was sleeping soundly. It would be all right to leave her for a few minutes.
Mary snatched up her dressing gown and tugged it on as she went downstairs and out onto the porch. The sounds of St. Louis’s revelry drifted to her on the breeze flowing from the river. She lifted the thick, heavy braid off the back of her neck and moved to the steps. It was so late. Why did James not return? And why had he gone back to his office tonight? Had it something to do with his suspicions of Eli Goodwin?
She dropped the braid and placed her hand against the post beside her. Could James be in danger? She glanced up at the star-sprinkled sky. Please, God, do not let any harm come to James.
A steamboat whistle blew three short bursts.
Mary jerked her gaze down from the sky. Why had she prayed? It was useless. Her family believed that God loved them, watched over them and answered their prayers. But she was not one of God’s favored. Why would He care enough to answer her prayers? Tears filmed her eyes. In spite of her mother’s teachings, her prayer was simply an ingrained habit, not an exercise of faith.
Footsteps sounded. The gate creaked. Mary started, slipped behind the post and looked toward the street. The dark form took on shape and features. “James!”
Her brother stopped, looking up at the porch. “Mary? What are you doing awake and outside at this late hour?”
She smiled down at him. “Waiting for you to come home. And catching a breath of cool air. It is warm upstairs and I did not want to open my bedroom window. I thought a breeze might harm Katy.”
He nodded and started up the steps. “How is she doing?”
“Much better.” Mary smiled at him as they crossed the porch. “Her fever has broken. And she is sleeping well.”
“That is quite an improvement.” He opened the door.
“Yes.” Mary glanced up at him as she walked into the house. “What has kept you so late, James? Has it something to do with your suspicions of Mr. Goodwin?”
“Yes. I now have enough proof to press charges.”
“Those secret records you have been keeping.”
James scowled and nodded. “Yes. But Goodwin found them. That is why I had to take care of things tonight. Captain Benton has gone to arrest him—if Goodwin has not left town.”
“I see. At least the matter is solved and you can now turn your full efforts into making the steamer line the best in St. Louis.”
“I am not certain it is solved, Mary. I believe Captain Benton thinks there is someone other than Goodwin involved. I could be wrong, of course.”
She watched him hang his hat on the tree. “Speaking of Captain Benton, James…”
“Were we?” He glanced down at her and grinned.
She knew immediately he was thinking of their conversation last Saturday evening. She wrinkled her nose at him. “His name was mentioned.” Her dressing gown floated around her slippered feet as she moved into the parlor. “I have been thinking about those small boys Captain Benton has in his jail. Their faces are haunting me.” She lifted her chin and turned to face him. “I cannot leave them there, James. I have to get that horrid law revoked, then go to the jail and bring them home.” Her pose of bravado collapsed. “Will you come with me?”
James shook his head. “I cannot, Mary. With Goodwin gone, I have to stay at the office.”
“Oh, of course. I had not thought…” She brushed at her hair and glanced around the small parlor. “If I bring those boys home, I have no idea where they will sleep…”
James stepped closer, draped his arm about her shoulder and squeezed. “You get those boys free, Mary. We will find a way to take care of them.”
Chapter Twelve
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.
The Law and Miss Mary Page 10
