The Law and Miss Mary (12 page)

“Why, yes.” A wide-eyed look of innocence. “That is what Father called it. He felt you were…annoyed…with his refusal to spend city funds on an orphanage for those horrible street urchins. Naturally, he is upset by your stance.” She moved back to stand close to him. “He thinks so highly of you, and feels he could help groom you to take his place as mayor when he leaves office.”

Was that a threat? Sam looked down at Levinia, tried to discern what was behind her smile.

“Now truly, Captain—” This time the dimpled smile was accompanied by a slight pressure on his arm from her dainty hand. “Do you not agree the money would be better spent in completing the water works for the comfort of St. Louis’s finer citizens, and building a lovely new courthouse with a beautiful park where…” a demure lowering of her eyes “…a lady and her
beau
could stroll and enjoy each other’s company?” She lifted a coy gaze to him. “Or perhaps attend outdoor concerts together? And even plays?” A long sigh. “I would so enjoy such evenings.”

She seemed so guileless. Could he be wrong about her intentions? Perhaps her lack of concern for the children was because she heard only her father’s opinion of the situation. “I’m afraid the pleasure of such an evening would be marred for me by the knowledge of the children who would be sitting in jail weary and sore from being forced to work on those public buildings and parks.”

Anger flashed across her face, quickly hidden by a flirtatious smile. But not quickly enough. He had been right. Her purpose for the tantalizing promises was to bring him into agreement with her father. Though perhaps that wasn’t her only purpose. An odd stillness came over him. Sam tried to close his mind, to reject the thought, but it persisted. Perhaps Levinia was grooming him into what she considered to be a worthy husband for her. Perhaps she didn’t consider him good enough as he was.

“How can you feel thus, Captain? Those lowborn urchins are accustomed to working for their food. After all, they are the spawn of the filthy poor who swarm into our city from those horrible wagon trains.” Her voice coaxed, cajoled. “Why, you would be doing them a favor by arresting them. A bed in jail would no doubt be a
luxury
to them. And at least they would be under a roof that does not leak.”

The words speared straight into his memories. Sam clenched his jaw so tight the muscles along it throbbed. He had spent many a night cold and shivering in a bed soaked with rain or covered with snow. But at least the bed had been
his,
and he had been free to leave it whenever he chose. He took a breath, reminded himself it could be she simply did not understand. “The children would have the same sound roof over them in an orphanage, Miss Stewart. And in an orphanage they would not be forced to perform hard labor. Nor would they be under lock and key. They would be free to go outside into the sunshine and fresh air.”

She looked up, shaking her curls in a sad little way. “I believe you err in your loyalties, Captain. An orphanage would be a tremendous drain on the city’s coffers. And what of the children of the better citizens who may have to give up a park to fund such an institution?” She dimpled up at him, though he noted that it looked slightly forced. “Do you not agree you would do well to save your sympathy for those who are worthy of it?”

Worthy.
There it was, bald and bare. Insults, slights, sneers from his childhood flooded his head. Sam stared down at Levinia, and for the first time, he fully and truly saw beyond her surface beauty to the utter selfishness and meanness of her nature that mirrored her father’s. He felt a chasm opening between them that he was not sure he could bridge.

“I do indeed, Miss Stewart.” The ambiguous answer was the best he could offer, but it was clear it only angered her further. There was a sudden glitter in her eyes, a straight, hard-pressed line where her coaxing pout had thrust her lip outward.

She removed her hand from his arm and stepped to the door. “Perhaps you need to think the situation over, Captain. I am certain, when you have done so, you will reconsider your position concerning these urchins. When you have, I will be pleased to have you call on me again. Good evening.” She opened the door and went inside without a backward look.

Sam strode across the porch and down the steps, Levinia’s threats ringing in his ears, anger percolating. She had made herself clear. Either agree and support her father’s plans or lose her father’s backing for his political future, and his chance to win her hand. He had to choose. The Stewarts or the orphans.

Sam sucked in a deep breath of the cool evening air and stepped through the gate. Why had this situation with the orphans arisen, anyway? It made him see truths he did not want to see. Now he was forced to make a decision he did not want to make.

He traveled down the road toward the jail, the sound of his footsteps echoing in his head, dissolving into the night. He was so close to attaining all he had dreamed of. To achieving the purpose that had kept him alive and fighting through all the shame and degradation and poverty and hardship of his childhood—to fulfilling the vow he had made all those years ago. How could he throw away his goals he had worked toward all these years? How could he give them up now that they were within his reach?

How could he not?

The thought brought him to a dead halt. What had he become? Was he a man willing to sell his conscience to pay for his dreams? Sam clenched his hands at his sides, fought the inner stirring, the awakening of truth that made the wall he had so carefully erected around his heart crumble into useless rubble. His face tightened. He stared up at the darkening sky, the knots in his stomach as hard as the clenched fists at his sides, the pain, the longing for love and acceptance that had become the driving purpose of his heart bared. Anger ripped through him.
Why now, God? Why now?

Mary tiptoed across the bedroom and opened the window. Katy was so much improved, surely the night air would not harm her. A breeze flowed in the window, warm, and so slight she could barely feel it on her bare arms.

She sighed and tiptoed back to bed. There was little hope the room would cool off, but at least the air was fresh. She plumped her pillow and rested against it, then pulled up the long skirt of her nightgown to her knees and wiggled her bare toes. Did Levinia Stewart perspire? Probably not. She seemed impervious to the heat. At least, she had looked cool enough that day on the courthouse portico.

A mosquito buzzed around her ear. She swatted it away and reached for the bed curtains, then remembered Katy. She could not let the little girl be eaten alive so she could have fresh air. She slipped back out of bed and hurried over to close the window. The corner of the roof of the small shed out back caught her eye. What was in there? Could it be cleaned out and made suitable to sleep the boys? She would look tomorrow.

Ben had pleaded with Ivy to let the new boy, Will, come home with him and sleep on a pallet on the floor in his room. But if the captain brought another child…And she was quite certain he would. Gracious, that was clever of him to bring up a possible quarantine! And then, when that…that
heartless
mayor declared they simply were not to arrest any sick children, to use the declaration to keep the children out of jail….

He had looked so different—so tender and caring while reasoning with Will—talking him into staying with her. Anger spurted through her. Why did he have to do that? It was easier to deny her…her
attraction
to him, when she believed him heartless. But when he had squatted down and taken hold of Will’s arms, the look on his face…Oh, how had this happened? She did not even like the man! Mary wrapped her arms about her chest, holding in the hurt. Yes. Yes, she did. That was the problem. There was no use denying it. She had been attracted to him before he had been concerned over Katy. Before he had brought Will to her. She had been attracted to him from the moment he had grinned and took hold of her shopping basket that first day. But now…now she
liked
him. What a fool she was, to allow herself to become attracted to a man like Samuel Benton. A man who courted a beautiful woman like Levinia Stewart.

Mary wiped a spate of tears from her cheeks, crossed the room and climbed back into bed. She had tried not to care about the captain. She had truly tried. But it seemed her heart had a mind of its own.

Chapter Fourteen

“O
h, James!” Mary clutched the letter in her hand to her chest, jumped out of her chair and whirled about the room, the long skirt of her blue gown ballooning out around her. “Father says he will not increase my allowance, but he will send an
equal
allowance for the support of the children! Oh, how wonderful! Now I shall have
double
the funds to spend on them.”

James laughed and shook his head. “I do not believe that was Father’s intent, Mary.”

She stopped whirling and dropped back into her chair. “I know, but they have so many needs and I want for nothing. Oh, my. Only think, James! I shall be able to buy new shoes for Will—he does not say so, but I know his are too small and hurt his feet. And another dress and nightclothes each for Callie and Katy. And Ben needs a new shirt. And they
all
must have good clothes to wear to church. And then, of course, more school supplies. I shall go shopping tomorrow!”

She looked over at him. “But I do not mean to ignore your news. What do Mother and Father say in your letter? I mean beyond Mother’s avowal to pray and their declarations of love. Did you tell them of your growing interest in Rebecca Green?”

“I mentioned it…casually.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “That will not fool Mother. She will know you are more than ‘casually’ interested in Miss Green.”

“I know.” He shot her a suspicious look. “Have you mentioned my interest in Miss Green in your letters home?”

She laughed and leaned back in her chair. “I may have
casually
mentioned that I spend quite a few evenings home alone when you call on Miss Green.”

“Mary…”

“It is only the truth, James.” She waved her hand toward the letter he held. “What does Father have to say?”

He gave her a last exasperated look and glanced down at the letter. “He speaks about business, of course. He agrees with my opinion that it would be more profitable to scrap the
Journey’s End—
” He glanced over at her. “That is one of our steamboats. An old stern-wheeler that is small and in very poor condition. Stern-wheelers are harder to maneuver, and her small size is not conducive to high profits per run. So, as I was saying, Father agrees it would be more profitable to scrap the
Journey’s End
and build a new, large and luxurious side-wheeler, rather than to invest money in repairs. I estimate a new ship such as I envision will pay for herself in four runs.”

“You did not tell me of that, James.” She pursed her lips, nodded her head. “It sounds very sensible. You are turning into quite the businessman. You are certainly learning about steamboats.
And
you caught the man who was stealing the profits from the line—though he escaped the law. Wait until Father and Mother learn of that! They will be even more proud of you—as am I. Truly.” She smiled at him. “You will have this line turned around and making huge profits in no time.”

He laughed and tapped his letter. “I had better. That is what Father sent me here to do. And speaking of profits…I need your help, Mary.”

“
My
help? Whatever for?”

“The line has been so neglected, we have to do something to improve our reputation. You have excellent taste, and I want your advice on decorating the main hall and passenger cabins of this new luxury steamboat I picture. I want this steamer to be the very best boat on the river!” He frowned and leaned forward. “I have been trying to think of ways to make it different—better than the competition, so people will swarm to book passage with us.”

“That is easy.” Mary laughed and smoothed the wrinkles from the letter she had crushed in her excitement. “All I have to do is remember our journey here to St. Louis. I was longing for a well-prepared meal. And a greater selection. I became very tired of the fare offered. And those narrow beds! Why, I almost rolled out of mine every time I turned over. You should put regular double beds in each cabin.
That
is luxury! And—”

She stopped fiddling with the letter and stared up at him.

He waved a hand. “Go on, Mary. Those are excellent ideas. What else have you to suggest?”

She shook her head, trying not to be too excited by the thought that had occurred to her. “James…you said you were going to ‘scrap’ the
Journey’s End.
Does that mean you are going to…to
discard
it?”

“Yes, of course. Why?”

“And everything on it?”

His gaze sharpened at her eager tone. He nodded his head. “Yes, everything is old and, as I said, has been neglected. Why?”

“Then I can have the cots for the children!” Mary jumped to her feet again, too excited to remain seated. “I have been wondering where we can sleep any more children—I am certain there will be more now that—well…now. And I thought perhaps we could make use of the shed out back. But, of course, we had no beds. And—”

“And now we have them.”

“Yes.”

“And you have been praying for beds?”

“Yes, but it is only a coincidence, James.”
Was it?
She folded her letter. “I should like to accompany you the next time you go to the levee. I would like to see the
Journey’s End.
I may find other useful items aboard.”

“Very well. We shall go tonight, directly after dinner. Before nightfall, but after the heat of the day has begun to wane. But now, I must return to the office. I have hired a new bookkeeper to take Goodwin’s place and I am keeping a sharp eye on his accounting!”

“It is such a pleasure to have your company, Miss Randolph.”

“Please, call me Mary, Mrs. Lucas.”

The elderly woman beamed a smile at her, then went back to pouring their tea. “Thank you, I shall. Cream, dear?”

“A little. No sugar.” Mary accepted her cup and placed it on the table in front of her. “I am sorry it has taken me so long to pay my promised call. But I have been so busy I find it difficult to find time for social calls.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” Mrs. Lucas added sugar to her tea and stirred. “How many children have you taken in now, dear?”

Mary gaped. “You know of the children?”

“Oh, yes. Ben keeps me informed. But my lumbago is acting up again, so I have not been to Simpson’s in a few days.” Mrs. Lucas made a face that caused her wrinkles to deepen. “A nasty inconvenience, lumbago. It interferes with my gathering of the latest news.” She gave a hearty chuckle.

Mary’s own lips curled in a wide responsive grin. “How many of the children do you know of?”

“Hmm, let me think. There is Ben, of course. And a young girl of eight years named Callie—” her face squinched in thought “—and another little girl named Katy, who, I believe, was ill. How is she doing?” Mrs. Lucas picked up a tray and held it out to her. “Cookie, dear? There are ginger and plain sugar ones.”

Mary smiled and put a ginger cookie on her plate. “Katy is doing fine. Her sore throat is healed, she is able to eat and is putting on some weight. But you are behind one child. We—my brother James and I—”

“Yes, I know about James. I believe he is courting Levinia Stewart’s cousin, Rebecca Green.” The faded blue eyes brightened with interest. “I also know about your cook, Ivy. And your maid, Edda. But you were saying…?”

Mary choked back laughter. “Our newest child is a young boy of ten, named Will. You may, perhaps, see him the next time you go to the store. He, like Ben, wants to earn his way. And I thought perhaps he could join Ben in carrying baskets for Mr. Simpson’s customers. Actually, it was Captain Benton that suggested he do so.”

“Ah, Captain Benton.” Mrs. Lucas’s wrinkled face flooded with satisfaction. She placed a cookie onto her plate, set the tray down and smiled. “And is this Will of yours a nice, handsome, blond young lad like Ben?”

Mary jerked her thoughts back to the children. “No. I mean, he is very nice, but there is no physical resemblance between Will and Ben. Will has dark eyes and brown, rather curly hair, a long nose and a wide mouth.” She watched in fascination as Mrs. Lucas broke off a piece of ginger cookie, placed it on her spoon and lowered it into her cup of tea. A moment later the woman lifted the spoon to her mouth and ate the bite of cookie.

“The boy sounds a mite homely.”

There was nothing mean about the words, only factual. But still, Mary bristled. She knew how it felt to be unfavorably compared to others. She took a sip of tea, put down her cup and broke off a piece of cookie, giving herself time to form a calm response. “I suppose some would see Will that way. But that is only his outward appearance. He has a wonderful, kind heart. And a gentle manner with the girls, who absolutely
plague
his steps. And when he laughs, you cannot help but laugh with him. Everyone in our home adores Will. I find him quite beautiful.” She put the bite of cookie in her mouth to keep from saying more.

“He sounds right pleasant to be around.” Mrs. Lucas soaked another bite of cookie in her tea. “Do you suppose he would be willing to do some chores for me? Nothing too hard, mind you. Only fetching in stove wood and such like. I’d pay him well.”

There was a wistful quality in Isobel Lucas’s voice. Mary peered more closely at her smiling eyes. There was a shadow of loneliness in them. Her heart swelled. “I am sure Will would be pleased to come and help you. Would it suit if I send him around tomorrow morning? We have school in the late afternoon—before supper.”

“Morning will be fine.” The old woman’s eyes sparkled across the table at her. “And if there is anything I can do to help you with these children you take in, you let me know.”

Mary peered at her, remembering her influence with Mr. Simpson. “Can you get this ridiculous law about arresting orphans under the age of twelve revoked?”

Mrs. Lucas shook her head, fluttering the gray wisps of hair escaping from the knot on her head. “I’m afraid not. Nobody can change Simon Stewart’s mind when he gets ahold of an idea. But what won’t go in a front door can be carried in the back. An’ I know most everybody in this town—an’ all their secrets, too. So if you have a problem…you come see me. I’ll be pleased to help. It’ll give me somethin’ to do.”

“It is kind of you to offer, Mrs. Lucas.” Mary finished her cup of tea. “I am afraid I must be leaving. I am going with James this evening to see a steamboat that is being scrapped. I hope to salvage a few of the beds.” She sighed and ran her hands over her hair. “We are running out of space to sleep the children, and I am considering turning the shed in our backyard into a dormitory of sorts for any more boys that come our way. It is very small, but it shall have to do as the mayor will not consider establishing a city-funded orphanage.”

“You asked Simon Stewart to build an orphanage?” The elderly woman chuckled. “I can imagine his answer.” She shook her head. “Simon’s nose is so high in the air he can’t even see the ground. He’s plumb lost his way. Still…there’s always that back door.” She brightened again. “If you need some help with supplying the needs of those orphans…you know…blankets, clothes, shoes an’ such, you let me know.”

The sun was still shining, the golden rays bathing the
Journey’s End.
But nothing on the steamboat reflected the bright light.

Mary lifted the front of her long skirt and walked up the gangway onto the scarred deck. The white paint of the railing was chipped and peeling, and the paint on the sides of the boat was little better. Everywhere she looked there was dirt or soot. The cabin windows were dulled with dust.

“This way, Mary.”

She turned and followed James to the stairs that led to the boiler deck. He stood back and let her precede him. The steps were worn, but sound, the railing firm. She stepped off the stairs into the main cabin and looked around. There were four round, wood tables, each with six chairs, clustered about a heating stove with a round chimney pipe that rose straight through the ceiling. At the far end was a similar heating stove in the middle of a grouping of furniture—a couch and two chairs with dirty, torn fabric—sitting on a threadbare carpet.

“Goodness, James. I thought the
Fair Weather
was in poor condition. Has this boat been running in this state?”

“Until a few weeks ago, yes.” He looked around and shook his head. “I told you that we needed a truly luxurious steamboat to repair our reputation.”

“My, yes!” She turned and opened the door to one of the passenger staterooms that lined both side walls. The room was small, narrow and deep, with a single bed covered with a faded woven coverlet, a stand beneath the window in the outside wall and a horizontal board, with double hooks every few inches along its length, spanning the wall opposite the bed. Everything looked dusty and dingy. She could not decide if the paint on the walls was faded and dirty, or if it was the quality of light coming through the thick dust on the window. But that did not matter. It was the bed she wanted.

She lifted the hem of her gown clear of the door sill and turned. “James, how will—Oh!” She pressed her hand to her chest and stared at the figure at the top of the stairs.

James pivoted—smiled. “Good evening, Captain.”

Samuel Benton nodded, then looked her way. “I did not mean to startle you. I thought I saw movement through the windows and came to investigate.” He strode toward them.

Mary glanced down at her gown, brushed at a spot of dust clinging to it. Was there any on her bonnet? She glanced back over her shoulder, but it was impossible to see her reflection in the filthy window.

“As long as I am here, may I have a word with you, Mr. Randolph? About that business you told me of this morning.”

Mary shot a glance at the captain, then looked at James.

“You may speak freely in front of Mary, Captain. I discuss these things with her. She knows the M and M line lost three steamboats to questionable ‘accidents’ shortly before the line was purchased and I took over as manager.”

“Very well.” The captain glanced at her. “The buyer kept his name a secret, and for a while I suspected him of arranging the ‘accidents,’ but—”

Mary jolted. “You thought m—the new owner arranged to have the steamboats destroyed?” She caught the captain’s quizzical look at her and hastened to cover her shocked slip of the tongue. “Gracious! Why would anyone do such a thing?”