The Law and Miss Mary

by Dorothy Clark

  He made her nervous.

  So she was not as cool toward him as she portrayed. The knowledge sent joy surging through him. His heart hammered. He wanted to whoop! To turn cartwheels. To show off for her like a ten-year-old. To take her in his arms and kiss her until—

  “Capt’n Benton!”

  Sam sucked in a breath, blew it out and turned. “What is it?”

  “It’s yer man, Buckles. He’s got two mean drunks cornered at the Broken Barge, an’ they done pulled knives. He told me t’ see could I find you.”

  Sam braced his hand on the railing and leaped from the deck—“Stay here with Miss Randolph until Jackson comes back!”—and took off at a dead run.

  Knives.

  Mary shuddered, dipped her cloth in the bucket of vinegar water and scrubbed at the dirty corners of the small panes of glass. On tiptoe, she leaned her head against the window, trying to see through the dirt on the outside to the gangplank. Why did he not return? Of course, he did not say he would. And there was no reason he should. He did not know how she felt about him. How concerned she was about his welfare. Yet, there had been that moment when he had looked at her as if…as if…

  “Cease that foolish dreaming this instant, Mary Randolph!” She glared at her dim, blurry reflection in the window. “You have far too much imagination. Captain Benton is courting the beautiful Miss Stewart. Why would he have any interest in the likes of you? You are only placing yourself in danger of being hurt again. Do you never learn?”

  She grabbed a cloth from her dwindling pile and swiped the window dry, studying it as if cleanliness were the most important thing in the world. It was difficult to tell if it was clean. She would have to do the windows again when the men had washed the outside. At least most of the grime was gone.

  The rag twisted in her hands. She threw it back on the pile, sank down on the edge of the narrow bed and covered her face with her hands. What if he was hurt? Or…or worse. Oh, please, God, do not let him be hurt. Please, do not let him be hurt.

  The worrisome thoughts nagged at her, knotted her stomach. She rose, picked up the bucket and the rags and moved on to the next stateroom. The men had said they would wash the walls and scrub the floors. All she should do was the windows. Thank goodness for the training to be a wife and run a household that she had received from her mother. She was not entirely unequal to the tasks she had taken upon herself.

  She sighed, squeezed the extra vinegar water from the rag and swished it over the windowpanes in a first pass. She had to wash each window at least three times to get it clean. She had finished four. That left twenty more to do. On this deck.

  “Mary?”

  She started, then rushed to the stateroom door. “Here I am, James. Is it dinnertime so soon?”

  “Yes.” He frowned, looking over his shoulder toward the stairway. “Who are those men scrubbing down walls?”

  “That is Jackson and Harmon.” The vinegar water splashed against the bucket as she dropped in the rag she was using. She looked over her shoulder at the sound of James’s footsteps. He was in the doorway. Grinning.

  “What?”

  “You look like Edda or Ivy. Only they are cleaner.”

  The words pierced the ache inside. The captain had seen her looking like a maid. She stuck out her tongue at James so he would not guess how his innocent teasing had hurt her, and took off the apron and handkerchief. “I will tell you all about the men on the way home.” She smoothed her hands over her hair and walked with him to the stairway, forcing one foot to move in front of the other. She did not want to leave. How would she learn if the captain had been wounded? What if he needed care? Would Miss Stewart nurse him back to health?

  “Mary?”

  She looked up. They were already halfway up the levee.

  “You were going to tell me about those men.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” She shoved her anxieties away once more and smiled up at James. “The most amazing thing happened this morning…”

  It was good to feel clean again. Mary picked up the green cording that matched the trim on her dress, wrapped it around the loose knot on the crown of her head and tied it in a bow at the back. There. All finished. And she had time to write a letter home before she began the children’s schooling. It would help keep her mind occupied so she wouldn’t worry about the captain.

  She closed the dressing-room door and stepped to her desk, forcing herself to concentrate. There was so much she wanted to tell her parents. She would start with the events in church and—

  “Miss Mary?”

  Her heart stopped at the hail. For one wild moment she thought someone had brought her news of the captain. Perhaps Will had heard something. Her skirts billowed out as she turned and hurried to the top of the stairs. “Yes, Will. What is it?”

  The boy charged halfway up the stairs. “Mrs. Lucas says, beggin’ yer pardon for the short invitation, but would you please accompany her to the Ladies’ Be—bene—”

  “Benevolent?” She made the suggestion absently, still adjusting to the rapid change of subject.

  A grin split his face. “Yeah, that’s it. The Ladies’ Benevolent Society meeting this afternoon. She said I was to tell you she wants to carry things in through the back door.”

  “Carry things in the back door?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah. That’s what she said. I’m to take you, or your answer, to her.”

  She did not want to leave the house—in case. But she owed Mrs. Lucas so much…Carry things in through—Oh! What had Mrs. Lucas said that day? But what won’t go in a front door can be carried in the back. Yes. That was it. But whatever could she mean? Mary sighed. This day was full of surprises. “All right, Will. Go to the kitchen and tell Ivy I will be leaving for the afternoon. I will be down as soon as I fetch my bonnet.”

  She hurried to the cupboard, found her green bonnet with the shirred brim and settled it on her head. Carry things in the back door. Well that certainly gave her something to think of besides the captain. She pulled the bonnet’s ties into place and knotted them under her chin as she hurried downstairs.

  “This here’s the place. She said you was to go on in and ask fer her.”

  Mary swept her gaze over the stone house, grander than any she had thus far seen in St. Louis. “All right, Will. Thank you for bringing me. Now go straight home, please.”

  She smiled at his nod, opened the gate, walked up to the porch and knocked. The door opened.

  “Yes?”

  Mary took in the black dress, the white apron and cap. “I was told to meet Mrs. Lucas here for the Ladies’ Benevolent Society meeting.”

  “Of course, miss. Right this way.”

  Mary stepped into the entrance hall and followed the maid to a room on her right. Muted women’s voices flowed out into the hall.

  “The meeting has already started. You can go in, miss.”

  Mary stepped through the door that the maid opened. Talk ceased. Heads turned her direction. She smiled, then froze—stared at Levinia Stewart…Levinia’s mother…read their shock. Will had brought her to the wrong—

  “Ah, there you are, Mary!”

  Mrs. Lucas. She shifted her gaze. The elderly woman smiled and patted the empty space beside her on a linen-covered settee.

  “Come sit beside me, dear. And don’t bother to apologize for being a little tardy. I have already told the ladies it was my fault for issuing my invitation so late in the day. And the meeting has only begun.”

  The shock on several of the faces turned to anger. Heads swiveled back toward Mrs. Lucas. The elderly lady seemed not to notice. She merely smiled wider and patted the cushion again.

  Mary lifted her chin. Everything in her wanted to leave, but she could not disappoint Mrs. Lucas no matter how uncomfortable she was. She pasted on a smile and made her way to the settee.

  Mrs. Lucas beamed up at her. “My, you look lovely today, Mary. The green of your gown suits your vibrant coloring.”

  “Isob
el, speaking as president of this organization, I would like an explanation, please.”

  The frost in the voice could have frozen the river. Mary glanced to identify the speaker. It was Mrs. Stewart. Her dander rose. It was one thing for the woman to freeze her out—it was quite another for her to be disrespectful to Mrs. Lucas.

  “Why, I told you I had invited a guest with a worthy project for our society, Margaret.”

  What? Mary jerked her gaze back to Mrs. Lucas, and her shock dissolved into amusement. She had never seen anyone look so sweetly innocent. Clearly, Mrs. Lucas was not disturbed by the glares of outrage aimed at her.

  “It is customary to discuss a proposed project with the officers of the society in advance of the meeting, Isobel. And you know it!”

  “I do indeed, Margaret. But there simply wasn’t time. You see, the idea came on me suddenly—while I was examining my heart in view of Sunday’s sermon. You know, the way the pastor urged us all to do.” Mrs. Lucas shed her beatific smile over everyone. “Anyway, helping Miss Randolph provide a home for orphaned children would be a very worthwhile project. And fully in keeping with the pastor’s message. And I know it says in the Bible—though I cannot quote it exactly—that pure and undefiled religion has something to do with our treatment of the fatherless.”

  Mary scanned the faces of the ladies from beneath her lowered lashes. Some looked abashed, others—including Levinia—seemed as if they would choke on their anger. She looked at Mrs. Lucas in awe. The woman had placed them all in a position where they dare not protest her idea for fear of seeming to lack a Christian attitude.

  “Now, as I said, my friend, Mary Randolph—” Mrs. Lucas reached over and patted her hand “—has a perfectly wonderful plan for providing a home for the orphans that presently roam our streets. Of course it is costly to provide for children. But with our help—”

  “Mrs. Lucas, I believe this project is unnecessary.” Mary watched as Levinia Stewart turned a dimpled smile on the elderly woman. The smile did not reach her eyes, which continued to glitter with anger. “Father has already put a plan in motion to rid our streets of those fil—fatherless children. And the city of St. Louis will bear the cost of housing them.”

  Mary stiffened. Mrs. Lucas squeezed her hand. She took a breath and sat back to let the elderly woman handle Levinia Stewart.

  “You are young and without husband or child, Levinia. But, speaking as a mother, I do not consider a jail to be proper housing for a child. Especially one who has done no wrong save the misfortune of losing his or her parents to death. Nor do I believe it is right to force them to labor on city projects to earn their board of scanty meals and hard cots behind bars. And I am certain every mother here would agree with me. Now this is my idea…”

  Mary shoved her toe against the porch floor and set the swing moving. Her head was still reeling. She longed to go for a brisk walk, but it was improper—and unsafe—for a young lady to do so in the evening without an escort.

  She frowned and pushed with her toes again. Without James home to accompany her, she was confined to the porch and small yard.

  Despite her restlessness, excitement bubbled through her. So much had happened today. Jackson and Harmon had offered to renovate the boat at no cost to her—for only the privilege of sleeping on it—which would keep it safe from vandals! And the captain had paid for the supplies they needed. And now—she shook her head in pure amazement—now the Ladies’ Benevolent Society was going to provide all that was needed for the children’s bedrooms! Mrs. Lucas had proposed the idea that each lady provide the accoutrements—window curtains, bedsheets, pillow and quilt or coverlet—for one stateroom and they had agreed! Why, once Mrs. Lucas had finished with them, some of the ladies were even eager and excited about the project.

  Mary laughed and pushed the swing faster. The woman was a genius. Wait until the captain heard—Her laughter died. The swing slowed, the creaking of the chains a lonely sound in the twilight. If only she knew the captain was well, the day would be perfect. Oh, of course he was! He was probably this minute sitting on Miss Stewart’s porch and—

  “Good evening.”

  “Oh!” She jammed her toes against the floor, to stop the swing.

  “Excuse me. I guess you did not hear me approach on the grass.” The captain folded his arms on the porch railing and smiled up at her. “My patrol is over and I was on my way home when I heard you laughing. I couldn’t resist coming over. Care to share what has made you so happy?”

  She looked at the captain’s blue eyes, his smiling lips, his strong arms. He was well. And he was here. She smiled and let the words come out, soft and full of joy. “A perfect day.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mary glanced at the paper in her hand—fourth house on the right-hand side. This was the place. She nodded to James and squared her shoulders. They marched up the walk and knocked on the door—exchanged glances and stepped back as it was opened.

  A gray-haired, plump woman peered out at them. “Yes?”

  Mary smiled, waited for James to speak. “I should like to speak with Mr. Monroe, please. About the Spruce Street property he has for sale.”

  “Come in.” The woman stepped aside. “Wait here, please.” She disappeared into the dim interior.

  Mary closed her eyes. Please, Lord, this is the last name on the list the captain gave me. Please, let this man be willing to sell the land to us.

  A well-dressed, prosperous-looking man came striding into the hall. He looked them both over, addressing James. “You are interested in my Spruce Street property, young man?”

  James smiled, held out his hand. “I am if you are Wilfred Monroe.”

  “I am.” The man grasped James’s hand. “And you are…?”

  “I am James Randolph, Mr. Monroe. And this is my sister—”

  “Randolph!” A scowl darkened the man’s features. “I have heard about your sister. Making an orphanage out of a steamboat.” He gave a disdainful snort. “A ridiculous idea. And I have been warned you are now coming around to decent people and trying to buy land from them to hold that disgrace.” He pulled the door open. “You will get no land from me. No, nor from anyone I know, for I will tell them all of your scheme. You will devalue all the properties around your ridiculous steamboat orphanage. Good day to you!” He rattled the doorknob.

  “And to you, sir.” James took Mary’s elbow and together they walked out the door. It slammed shut behind them.

  “Is that the last of them?”

  “Yes.” Mary looked up at him, tears in her eyes, though from anger or defeat she could not say. “What are we to do, James? The Journey’s End will soon be ready for the children, but we have no land to put it on. And none of these people will even talk to us.”

  “There is more property for sale than this small list, Mary.” James smiled down at her. “The captain gave us a list of the best properties for our purpose. And the ones we might be able to afford. We shall simply have to expand our search, and extend ourselves more. I believe you should write Mother and Father of this problem. They are so proud of what you are doing for these children, I am sure Father will increase the amount he will pay for the land.”

  The thought cheered her. She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you are right. I shall write Mother and Father this evening.” She sighed and glanced back at the house. “Sometimes it is very hard to maintain a Christian tongue.”

  He laughed. “I saw you swallowing your words. The truth is, I swallowed a few of my own.” He sobered. “But I truly believe God has been blessing your efforts, and I am certain you will have your land when you need it.”

  “You are right, of course.” She slanted a wry look at him. “I am new at trusting God, but I am learning. Thank you for coming with me today, James. I would not even have been received had I approached these people on my own.”

  “My pleasure, Mary. With all that has happened at the steamer line, I have had little time to help with your endeavors. But I am happy to do all I c
an. And now, my dear sister, you may help me in return.”

  “Oh? In what way? What do you wish?”

  “Come with me to the office. Our new luxury steamboat is well under way and there are final decorating decisions to be made. I need your advice on carpet and paint and chandeliers.”

  “Goodness, Miss Mary!” Ivy stopped and shook her head. “I’ve been admiring the boat from afar, but it looks even better when you get near.”

  Mary laughed and swept her gaze over the Journey’s End. The steamboat gleamed. The fresh white paint was so bright it hurt your eyes to look fully at it when the sun was high. The boat’s name, which she had kept, deeming it so appropriate for the orphanage, was emblazoned on the side in the dark blue paint that also graced the window frames, the two tall stacks and the paddle wheel at the stern. The deck glistened. The windows shone. The outside of the boat was finished.

  Her heart swelled. She was so proud of the steamboat orphanage, and so grateful to everyone who had helped make the dream come true. Her mother was right. God truly did work through His children. Why had she resisted that truth so long? She smiled at Ivy. “I agree. I cannot simply go aboard. Every time I come, I stop here by the gangplank to admire the steamer. And to remember how many people have helped along the way.” She smiled at her cook. “You were the first, Ivy. You opened your heart and your home to help the children, and I am very grateful.”

  Mary shook her head. “I always scorned my mother’s insistence that God watches over His children, and that the things that happen in our lives are not coincidences but God’s blessings. Now I know that is true. The way the steamboat orphanage has come about in the face of the city fathers’ opposition has proved that beyond any doubt. But there is more to be done. We need land.” She looked down at the children fidgeting with impatience. “And you must all help by praying every day. Now, go ahead.”