The Law and Miss Mary

by Dorothy Clark

  The blue eyes narrowed. “Oh, come, Miss Randolph—you may forget your pose as the virtuous woman. The captain is not around to see your performance.”

  She all but spat the words.

  Mary took a breath, held it and counted. “My performance?”

  Levinia’s eyes narrowed farther. “Do not act the innocent with me, Miss Randolph. My father and I are aware of your little scheme. You forget his office is in the courthouse. He sees you through his window, playing the sweet maiden feeding and caring for the darling, hungry, little street children. It is disgusting!” She reached up and bounced a golden curl.

  Mary looked away before she gave in to her desire to reach over and yank it. “And what motive would I have for such playacting, Miss Stewart?”

  “Why, to capture Captain Benton’s affections, of course. A woman like you would need an excuse to gain his interest.” The woman’s eyes turned from hot to icy cold. “I do not know how you learned that Father has been grooming Samuel to be the future mayor of St. Louis, Miss Randolph, but that is not of importance.”

  Mary’s mind raced. Captain Benton was to be mayor? He had said nothing—

  “What is important is that you realize your little scheme with the orphans will not work. Captain Benton is also being groomed to be my husband. As his wife, I will continue my mother’s role as the head of the women’s organizations and charities of St. Louis. It is a position for which I am perfectly suited. Captain Benton realizes that. When the captain returns, I will let it be known to him that I have forgiven him for his small act of rebellion against Father and am willing to accept his suit again. I assure you, he will choose me over you and your pathetic street urchins.”

  Mary’s heart lurched. Was it Levinia that had stopped the captain’s courtship of her? Her stomach churned. Had he lied to her? What exactly had he said?

  Levinia smiled. “You have failed, Miss Randolph. I do not know why you feel someone like you would be a fit wife for the future mayor of St. Louis, but Father has stopped you from opening that ridiculous steamboat orphanage, and that will end Captain Benton’s little rebellion against Father’s authority as well. I am planning a December wedding. There is nothing left for you here in St. Louis, Miss Randolph. I suggest you go home to wherever it is you came from. Good day.”

  “A moment, Miss Stewart.” Mary waited until Levinia turned back to face her, drew herself up and looked straight into those blue eyes. “I know nothing of Captain Benton’s plans of being the next mayor. Nor am I interested in the position of mayor’s wife that you so crave. I am, however, very interested in the children who have no parents to love or care for them, and find no mercy in the hearts of those in authority. And I have not failed in my purpose to create a home for them. I will do so. You may take that message back to your father, Miss Stewart. Good day.”

  She turned her back and returned to her task. Not for anything would she let that woman see the doubts her words had raised—the uncertainty only Captain Benton could erase.

  “I’m sorry to hear about Harry, Charlie. He was a good man.” Sam looked down at his hands. Studied the dark brew in the tin cup he held. It was the most bitter coffee he had ever tasted. But it was nothing like the bitterness that had grabbed hold of his heart. How was he to ask Charlie to sell him the land Harry had prized? And he had thought God had directed him here for that purpose. He held back a snort, took another swallow of the bitterness instead. All that risk. All that way. For nothing.

  “Harry thought high of you, too, Captain. He was always talkin’ ’bout the chance y’took on us. Riskin’ yer money so’s we could come out lookin’ fer the silver. Nobody else would listen t’ us.” The old miner stuck a fork in the meat in the frying pan and lifted it onto a tin plate. He added a scoop of beans and a biscuit, slid the plate across the table, then tossed a fork after it and turned to fill another. “Yessir, Harry thought high of y’all right.”

  And now Harry was dead. Crushed by a collapsed wall of a worthless mine he spent a lifetime searching for. And Mary’s dream of an orphanage had died with him. Sam stared down at the plate, his stomach twisted in a knot so tight no food could get through it. Harry and Charlie had laid claim to that parcel of land on the Mississippi way back when they were young. Every time he saw them, Harry talked about living on that land when they were old. It had been their dream. But he had figured, for enough money, they would be willing to change their dream and sell him the property for his showcase house. Now, with Harry gone, that was unlikely.

  “Bear meat’s best et afore it gets cold, Captain. Mite gamy else.”

  Sam looked across the table at the old miner, nodded and picked up his fork. If he had to ask the man to part with the last link he had to his dead brother, the least he could do was eat the man’s meat. He took his knife from the sheath at his belt and cut off a bite.

  “Glad ya come out t’see how we was comin’ along with the mine, Captain. Saves me makin’ the trip back t’ St. Louis.” Charlie shoved back from the rough board table, then opened a trunk and rummaged through it. “This here’s fer you.” He shoved a folded piece of paper at him. “Harry said I was t’give it to ya should anything happen to him.”

  Sam put down his knife and fork and unfolded the paper. “This is a will.” He hadn’t even known Harry could read and write.

  “Yep. He got that writ up all legal-like ’for we left town t’ come out here.”

  Sam nodded, started reading. Read it again and looked over at Charlie. “It says here Harry leaves the property on the Mississippi to me.”

  Charlie nodded, broke off a piece of biscuit and mopped up the meat juice on his plate. “Harry had high notions fer that land had he lived t’ see ’em out. But he wanted you t’ have it if anything happened t’ him. Thought high of y’ he did.”

  Sam slipped his rifle into the scabbard, checked his bedroll. “What are you going to do now, Charlie? Are you going to try and open the mine again?”

  The old miner glanced at the rubble and shook his head. “Nah, it’s a fittin’ grave fer Harry. I’m fer the west country. Always did want t’ see them high mountains I heard talk about. Now Harry’s gone, I’m gonna do it.”

  Sam nodded and mounted. “Keep a sharp eye out for Indians. I ran into four of them on my way here.”

  The old man grinned. “If yer gonna go, an arrow’s as good a way as any.”

  “I guess that’s right.” Sam returned the grin and leaned down to shake the hard hand. “If you ever come back St. Louis way, look me up. I’ll be on Harry’s land.” By God’s grace and with His blessing.

  “He’d be right proud of that, Captain. Luck to y’.”

  “And to you, Charlie.”

  Sam reined Attila around and started down the trail, the will in his pocket, a smile in his heart and a new, strong confidence that God might have a plan for him after all.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “The steamboat is finished, Mrs. Lucas. It sits idle in a berth at the Mississippi and Missouri steamer line docks.” Mary rose from the settee and walked over to look out the window. Behind her the floor clock ticked off the minutes.

  “Everything is prepared for the orphans—the ones I know of. Even clothing.” She looked over her shoulder at the elderly woman. “And Ivy has laid in stores enough for an army.” She tried for a laugh—could not summon one. “And still I have no land—nowhere to dock the Journey’s End.”

  She turned and made her way back to the settee. “There are orphans in jail—and an empty orphanage. And I have run out of ideas for getting the two together. Without land, it is impossible.”

  Mrs. Lucas leaned forward and patted her hand. “Nothing is impossible with God, Mary. Trust Him. He will make a way.”

  “I know, Mrs. Lucas. And I believe His hand has been guiding all that has happened, that He has been blessing our efforts for the orphans’ sakes. But now…well…even you have tried to help us purchase land, to no avail. And I—My faith is failing me.”

&nbs
p; The faded blue eyes studied her. “This is not like you, Mary. I have never seen you so discouraged. Is there something else troubling you?”

  Doubts. Fears. A wounded heart that cannot quite trust, but refuses to forget. “I am tired. Perhaps that is my problem.”

  “Perhaps.” Mrs. Lucas did not look convinced. Mary sighed and rose. “It is getting late. I have to go home. I have already stayed too long.” She leaned down and kissed the woman’s dry, wrinkled cheek. “Pleasant dreams, Mrs. Lucas.”

  “And you, Mary. Rest well.”

  That was not likely. Mary frowned and let herself out of the house—walked to the street. She could not remember the last time she had slept well. Yes, she did. It was the night before Miss Stewart had spoken to her. Since that day, in spite of her best efforts to keep believing her plan for the orphanage would succeed, doubt slipped in. And the captain…She did not know what to believe about the captain.

  Mary pulled her long skirts to the side and stepped around a small pile of horse droppings as she turned onto Market Street. Had the captain hinted at an…interest…in her because Levinia had cast him aside? And, if so, now that Levinia wanted him back…

  Her steps faltered. Mary steadied her pace and walked to the cottage. She must face facts. The captain would return to Levinia. There was no reason why he should not. Why would he, or any other man, choose her—with her bold, stubborn ways and her wild dreams—over a life of privilege and power with Levinia? Unless—her breath left her—unless Captain Benton had discovered who her father was. Justin Randolph was a far wealthier, far more influential man than the mayor. Perhaps—

  No! Mary shoved open the gate, ran into the cottage and up the stairs. She removed her bonnet and gloves, put them in the cupboard and sank down onto the bed. She would not entertain such thoughts about Captain Benton—she would not. He had proven himself to be an honest and honorable man over and over again.

  But Levinia is so beautiful. And you are plain. The hateful words whispered through her mind, insinuating themselves into her spirit. There has to be a reason….

  The past crowded in on her, undermining the new confidence she had received from the belief that God loved her. God—not Samuel Benton. Mary closed her tearing eyes, struggling to hold on to her fledgling faith—her newfound belief that with God, all things were possible. But the hurt she felt pushed it beyond her grasp. She grabbed a pillow and hugged it tight against her aching heart. “Help me, Heavenly Father. Please help me. I don’t know what to think—or who to believe. Please show me the truth. And help me to trust again.”

  Dawn was breaking. Sam rose, went to the window and looked at the pink and gold streaking the lighter gray of the sky over the river. He had ridden long and far yesterday. But he had never felt more rested and eager for a day to begin. Please, Lord, bless my efforts today. He grabbed his shaving gear and strode down the hall to the dressing room. He had a lot to do, though some of what he planned had already been accomplished. He had met James Randolph returning home from Rebecca Green’s place last night when he had ridden into town, and they had worked things out between them.

  Sam chuckled, looked in the cloudy mirror and ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. James Randolph was fast becoming his best friend. And soon, if things went as planned, he would be a lot more than that. Yes, sir, a lot more than that. He grinned, took out his razor strop and started honing the blade. He wanted a good, sharp edge. No chance of skipped whiskers today.

  Mary shook out the long skirt of her gown and straightened the lace adorning the collar and the sleeves. She had to hurry. She had promised the children she would take them to the Journey’s End today. They missed playing on the steamboat. But with the steamer now in a berth at the levee, it was inappropriate for them to stay for very long. And, truth be told, she could not bear to be on the boat. It saddened and infuriated her to see the bedrooms empty and the kitchen, dining room and schoolroom idle when there was such need. But her well was dry—she had been unable to come up with a solution.

  Mary sighed, shook off the thoughts as she had shaken out her skirts and crossed to the dresser to search for a matching ribbon to hold her hair. She selected a narrow one of darker rose color, carried it to the mirror, wrapped it around the thick knot of hair at the crown of her head and tied it in a neat bow. Now for her gloves and bonnet, and she would be ready.

  She started for the cupboard, paused at the writing desk, staring at the piece of paper resting there.

  “Dear Mother and Father.”

  That is all she had written. There was nothing new to tell them. No good news to impart. But perhaps she would think of something cheering to write them about today. And James had good news to share with them. Rebecca had said yes to his proposal. Also, the new luxury steamboat he had commissioned was almost ready for her maiden voyage, though they had yet to choose her name. It was important to make the right choice.

  She smiled and walked to the cupboard to fetch her bonnet and gloves. The Right Choice… That might do very nicely for the name. She would have to suggest it to James tonight.

  A steamboat blew its whistle. She frowned and hurried toward the stairs. James was going to meet her at the dock. He said he had something to show her. If only it were a deed to a piece of land!

  “Thank you, Judge. I appreciate your hurrying things along for me.” Sam tucked the papers in his suit pocket and shook the judge’s hand.

  “Not at all, Captain Benton. I am pleased to help. That is a fine piece of land—some of the best acreage around. And I was not unaware of what has been happening lately. I think you are both prudent and wise to get the deed secured.”

  Sam nodded and put on his hat. “All legal and settled, sir. I am taking no risks.”

  He strode from the judge’s office, his long legs making short work of the distance to the jail. The interior was cool and empty. He crossed to his desk and did the necessary paper work. When he finished, he shoved it in the drawer and rose. The papers in his pocket crackled. He grinned, patting it to make sure it was secure, and left the building.

  The sun played hide-and-seek with white puffs of cloud. A soft breeze blew off the river. A beautiful day. Sam crossed Chestnut Street and cut across lots to Market Street, every step he took one of pure pleasure.

  The children were working the land on the right side of the courthouse. Some were picking up stones. Some were carrying the buckets to dump in the wagon. Others were raking and leveling the soil. The sight hit him in his gut. He quickened his stride. “Children, come here to me.”

  They froze in place, stared at him, dread clear to read on their faces. They thought he was taking them back to the jail. “Come on. Leave your tools and come over here.” He beckoned. They put down their buckets and rakes and started moving toward him, their steps slow. They preferred the hard work in the outdoors to sitting idle in their dark, dank cells.

  “What is the meaning of this, Captain Benton? These kids work until suppertime.”

  Sam looked down into the foreman’s scowling face and shook his head. “Not anymore. These children are no longer prisoners. They are free.”

  “We’ll see about that!”

  Sam turned.

  One of the workers stepped out of the courthouse and pointed their way. A second—short, portly—figure emerged. The mayor bobbed down the steps, skirted the hole for the foundation of the new north wing and hastened across the broken soil toward them.

  Sam could hear his labored breath before he reached them.

  The children started backing away.

  He looked down, read the wary looks on their faces and remembered the smell and taste of fear. When you were young and on your own, you developed an instinct about trouble. That highly developed instinct was one of the reasons he was a good policeman. “It’s all right, stay by me.” They obeyed. But he could sense their tension—their readiness to scatter.

  The mayor puffed up to him, glared at the idle children and waved his hands. “Get back to work,
all of you!”

  Sam lifted his hand and stopped their movement. “The children stay with me, Mr. Mayor. They are no longer prisoners. I am taking them to the new home Miss Randolph has provided for them aboard the Journey’s End.” He felt the children’s reactions, knew they were hanging on his every word. “From now on, Mr. Mayor, you will have to hire laborers.”

  “Nonsense!” The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “No one can live on that steamboat. She has no land—” He stopped. Stared at the folded paper Sam held. “What is that?”

  Sam smiled. “That, Mr. Mayor, is the deed to the piece of property where the Journey’s End will be permanently docked.”

  “Impossible!”

  “Not with God, Mr. Mayor. Not with God.”

  The mayor snatched the deed from his hand, reading it.

  “All legal—and settled in the city records, Mr. Mayor.” How good it felt to speak those words. His only regret was that Mary was not here beside him.

  The mayor’s face turned purple. He crushed the deed in his fist and shook it in the air. “You are through in this city, Samuel Benton! I will see to it that you never get elected to any office, or position of importance, or—”

  “That, too, is in God’s hands, Mr. Mayor. And in the hands of the people of St. Louis. Now, I believe we are finished.”

  He looked down at the children who had crept steadily closer and smiled. “You all heard what I said to the mayor. Miss Randolph has prepared a home for you all—and that fulfills the requirement of the law. You are free. Now, follow me! I am taking you to her.”

  There was an explosion of shouts and laughter.

  Sam grinned and started for the street with the children in a tight cluster around him.

  “What have you to show me, James?” Mary tossed her bonnet on the table and smoothed her hands over her hair. The children had disappeared into the upper decks of the Journey’s End.

  “You will see in a moment, Mary. And then—Ah! There they are now. Come with me.” He turned from the window, grasped her by the elbow and tugged her after him out the door. “Look!”