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“He stole from me. That makes it my business.”
Her demanding look had likely been perfected with her wayward students, but he’d lived with Pa and Grandfather long enough to endure the most challenging of looks without flinching. Not to mention two older brothers, Dawson and Conner. They were only four and two years older respectively, but not above bossing Logan around. Even his little sister, Annie, who at nineteen ran the house ever since Ma died four years ago, felt she had the right to expect Logan to do as she asked.
Nope. No mousy little schoolmarm had a hope of making him quake in his shoes. He touched the brim of his hat. “Until school is out,” he said, and sauntered away.
* * *
Sadie would have welcomed more time crossing the street and rejoining the classroom. Something about Logan Marshall left her heart fluttering and her breathing so rapid she might have run around the block three times. But she’d left one of the older girls in charge long enough. She’d have to deal with her turmoil of emotions later. She rang the bell and called the children in from their play behind the store. The area was little more than the back alley, but until they moved into the schoolhouse, it sufficed. Lunch time had precipitated Sammy running away. For the fourth day in a row he had forgotten his lunch. She began to think no one prepared one for him. The children made the same conclusion and teased Sammy. Before she could intervene, the boy had gone outside saying he wasn’t hungry. When she’d checked on him, he was gone. The same thing had happened yesterday but, before she could search for him, he had returned, swaggering a little, looking slightly smug. Her warning bells had sounded. This little boy of seven brought out all the protective instincts she possessed, but she wasn’t lulled into believing he wasn’t capable of mischief.
And she was right. He’d stolen from Logan Marshall! What had he taken? And why had he stolen from a Marshall? They ruled the town with unwavering firmness. Sammy’s family had recently moved to Bella Creek, so Sammy might not know that yet. She spared a tight smile, wondering if knowing would make any difference to the boy. He had a certain brashness to him that made her think he often did things he shouldn’t.
The children filed in. She read to them. She assigned lessons and checked answers. She replied when spoken to though, from the questioning looks on several faces, she guessed they had asked their questions more than once. Finally the afternoon classes ended and she dismissed the children with a wave and a wooden smile. Only then did she sink to her chair, plant her elbows on the desktop and bury her face in her hands. She made certain to have a book open in front of her, should anyone step in unannounced. Hopefully, they would think she pored over lesson preparation.
Shudder after shudder raced up and down her spine. She was no longer a naive sixteen-year-old but a wiser, stronger, more careful woman. Still, the thought of facing one of the Marshall men with their broad shoulders and piercing blue eyes filled her with dread.
Big or little, powerful or weak, she simply did not trust men. Not after her father’s business partner had cornered her in her bedroom, tossed her on her bed and done unspeakable things to her.
After he was done, he smiled at her. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”
To this day she didn’t know if he’d meant the words seriously or simply mocked her pain. After he’d left she’d curled into a little ball, her pillow clutched to her chest and cried. Her tears were spent, her insides hollow, when her mother came in some time later. She’d confessed it all, hoping for, longing for, comfort. But she’d been instructed to wash her face and come down to dinner even though that man—Walter—would be at the same table.
She’d been told to never mention what had happened. It would ruin her father, would put the family out of business and lastly, as if it mattered least, it would ruin Sadie.
Every time she had to face the man brought a repeat of her pain and fear. After a few weeks she had persuaded Mother to let her go stay with Aunt Sarah, her mother’s younger sister. Sadie had found a degree of comfort there, but her insides remained raw that her family—the very people who should protect her—had turned their backs on her pain and fear.
Time was supposed to heal all wounds and she tried to believe it. She had even allowed herself to be courted by shy, gentle Ronald Wilson. She’d gone so far as to agree to marry him, but as the time for the wedding approached she couldn’t go through with it. She had never told Ronald her reason for breaking it off. Could hardly explain it to herself. Yes, she was afraid of the intimacy of marriage, but it was more than that.
She was soiled. Ruined. Unworthy.
She drew in a long breath and lifted her head. That was in the past. Time healed all wounds, she repeated to herself. Or perhaps time simply allowed a scab to form.
All that mattered now was being a good teacher, showing the children how to succeed in life and protecting them from dangers.
She rose. Her knees shook and she sat down again. She needed some inner strength and knew where to go for it. Since her own Bible was in her new living quarters—two little rooms on the end of the schoolhouse—she reached for the bigger Bible that she kept in the classroom.
She pulled it to her and opened to a verse that had become her strength in the four years since that fateful day. 1 Samuel 30:6 “David was greatly distressed...but David encouraged himself in the Lord his God.”
Her finger trailed along the verse as she offered a silent prayer for help. God, strengthen me and uphold me with Your righteous right hand. Help me be able to speak boldly to Logan. Like she’d said to Isabelle Redfield the first day they arrived, the Marshall men frightened her with their size and self-assurance.
To be honest, she felt something more than guardedness around them. Something more than stiff awkwardness. The Marshalls were the kind of men who held strict standards. She feared that if any of them learned her secret she would be run out of town as a fallen woman. They must never know.
She closed the Bible, tucked in her chin and waited for Logan Marshall to appear.
She didn’t have long to wait. He rapped on the door frame and stood, worn gray cowboy hat in hand, waiting for permission to enter.
Feeling at a disadvantage sitting, she stood and waved him to the nearest chair.
He drew it forward, parked it in front of her desk and plunked down, piercing her through with his blue eyes.
Her knees wobbled and she sat. She lowered her eyes, avoiding his unblinking look, but still managed to study him. He was clean shaven, wore a gray shirt that had a smattering of wood dust on the shoulder and blue jeans that showed wear at the creases at the knees. Her gaze settled on his scuffed cowboy boots. A working man comfortable in his clothing and—she knew as surely as she sucked in her next breath—equally comfortable in his own skin.
She wondered how such confidence felt.
“Sammy stole my lunch. Two days in a row,” he said without any preamble.
Only a lunch? She’d feared something much bigger. “I’m not surprised. He’s forgotten his lunch every day. I’ve begun to think no one prepares one for him.” There were more signs that the boy was neglected and worse, but she didn’t mention them. One thing at a time.
“Whether or not that is so, he can’t go around thieving. It’ll end him in a heap of trouble. He needs to learn a lesson on the evils of dishonesty.” Logan leaned back, one leg propped at an angle over the other.
She tried not to let his posture of power affect her, but it made her spine prickle and made her think he meant for little Sammy to be punished. Exactly what did he have in mind? She imagined the Marshalls, with their strong personalities, wouldn’t flinch at much of anything, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him treating Sammy harshly. She decided to nip that idea in the bud. “He’s seven years old. Rather than sentence him to jail, perhaps we should find out what is going on with his family.”
Logan shook his head. “Wasn’t thinking of jail, but correcting him now might keep him out of one in the future.”
She felt her eyes narrow at the wisdom of his words. Not that she was willing to turn a small boy over to a big man. “You’re right. The boy needs to be punished. Let me take care of it.” She’d spare the rod, but make Sammy realize the dangers of his choices. Perhaps she’d have him write lines. She sat up straighter, putting a fierce look on her face to convince him she meant to handle this well.
He dropped his foot to the floor and leaned forward, his gaze so demanding she couldn’t look away. “You think he should be whipped?” His voice was soft, so she couldn’t judge his meaning. He looked about, perhaps searching for a strap.
She rose to her feet, gripping the edge of the desk to hold herself steady, and gave him her most challenging look. “Mr. Marshall, I will not tolerate physical punishment in my classroom.”
He leaned back and crossed his ankle over his knee again, taking his time about answering, as if considering how to handle the noncompliant schoolteacher. “That’s good to hear.”
She’d misjudged him and she sat down again, relief leaving her weak.
He continued. “But that isn’t what I had in mind. And it’s Logan, if you don’t mind. Wouldn’t want to be confused with all those Marshalls older than me.”
“What do you have in mind then?”
“He stole from me. He can work for me to pay off his debt.”
She stared at the man. “He’s seven.”
“Old enough to run and fetch. Besides, what he does isn’t important, but owning up to what he did is.”
His suggestion was so totally unexpected that she didn’t know what to say. Every time Logan opened his mouth, he surprised her. She’d been expecting harshness. Instead, he’d shown compassion and caring. She slowed her breathing as she realized she’d expected a lack of sympathy and understanding such as she’d experienced from her parents.
He nodded, taking her silence to mean agreement. “Tomorrow after school then? Or do you think he should come over at noon? Yes.” He answered his own question. “Noon would be better. Wouldn’t want to keep him from his chores at home.”
She pursed her mouth. “I’d like to know why he comes to school without a lunch.”
“Like you said, he’s seven. I’m guessing he forgot it.”
“Four days in a row?” Was now the time to mention the other things she’d noticed?
Logan chuckled. “Little boys can forget lots of times.” He got to his feet.
He was about to leave, but she wasn’t through. She wasn’t believing that a hungry boy would forget his lunch four days in a row. She rose to better face him as she spoke. “I believe there’s more to it than that.” She’d seen bruises on his arms and in his eyes.
He studied her, a challenge and perhaps a warning in his sky-blue eyes. “Send the boy over at noon. If he forgets his lunch again he might like to share mine.” He strode from the room.
Drained, Sadie sank to her chair. Her head fell to her cradled arms on the desktop.
How had she been railroaded into agreeing to send Sammy across the street at noon hour? But at least he’d get fed. She’d pray he’d also repent of stealing. But something else bothered her. Logan seemed upset at her suggestion there was more than forgetfulness to Sammy not having a lunch. But she knew there was something not right about Sammy’s situation, and she would do her best to find out what it was. She wouldn’t let the Marshalls’ power stop her, but she would have to tread carefully—because if she angered them, she could lose her job.
Chapter Two (#ua39c284a-0d58-5692-b634-2d78695d4abd)
The next day Sadie called Sammy to her desk on the pretext of going over his work.
“Sammy, I’d like to meet your parents. Can you ask them when would be a good time for me to call?”
Sammy jerked back from leaning his elbows beside her on the desk. “No point you coming to visit.”
She held his gaze steadily for several seconds, but his eyes revealed nothing. “Why is that?” she asked when it became clear the boy would offer no explanation on his own.
Sammy shuffled his feet and looked past her right shoulder. “My father—”
She couldn’t help but notice how he stumbled on the word.
“He don’t care for company.”
“I see.” Except she didn’t. What reason could a man have for not wanting visitors? “Perhaps your mother would welcome a visit when your father is away.”
Sammy ducked his head and scuffed the toe of his shoe along the floor. “I’ll ask.”
“I’ll write a note.” She took a piece of paper and penned a request to visit, folded it and handed it to Sammy. “Give that to your mother.”
Sammy stuffed the note into his pocket. “Can I go now?”
She thought of mentioning the plan for him to help Logan at noon but, not knowing how he would react, she decided to wait until it was too late for him to run off. “Yes, you may.” Sadie watched him return to his seat. Would he give his mother the note or would it be forgotten in his pocket?
All too soon noon hour arrived. She told the children to eat their lunches. Sammy again had not brought one. “Sammy, would you please come to my desk?”
The boy stuck out his chin in a defiant gesture and swaggered toward her.
She might have found his bravado amusing if it wasn’t so sad. Aware that the other children watched and listened intently, she nodded toward the door that opened into the store. “We’ll talk out there.”
She didn’t touch him, yet she felt his trembling. The poor child. “You have nothing to be afraid of.” Her words offered him no comfort. She would have put an arm around him and drawn him to her side, but every previous attempt at physical contact had caused him to shrink back and she must respect his wishes in the matter. In time, he would learn to trust her.
They stepped into the store. Thankfully, no one but George Marshall, the owner of the store, was in and, apart from sparing them a friendly nod, he was busy rearranging an assortment of tools. A rather noisy job that would enable her conversation to be private. She faced Sammy.
“Mr. Logan Marshall has offered to let you go over to the schoolhouse for the lunch break.”
Sammy’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
The door to the street opened and Logan strode in. He called a greeting to his uncle as he crossed the floor.
Sadie told herself there was no cause for a case of jitters, and yet her heart fluttered madly and her blood pounded in her cheeks. Men always made her nervous, but this was a different reaction and it defied explanation...a fact she didn’t appreciate.
Sammy pressed his back to the door and his fists curled, making Sadie forget her own reaction. The poor child feared he was in trouble.
Logan tipped his head toward her in greeting, then turned to Sammy. “Well, young man, did your teacher tell you of our arrangement?”
“She said I had to go with you.” Defiance colored each word.
“I didn’t get time to explain why.” She would let Logan do it.
He flickered a look at her that carried a whole world of accusation.
She ignored it. Her reasons for not telling Sammy sooner were valid.
Logan gave Sammy his full attention. “You stole my lunch two times.”
Sammy’s only response was a stubborn look.
Logan continued. “You know that’s wrong.”
Still no response.
“I could call the sheriff.”
Sadie opened her mouth to protest, but Logan held up a hand to signal silence and she decided to wait and see what he had in mind. Still, if he thought to have the boy arrested, well, she wouldn’t stand idly by.
Logan leaned back on his heels. His stance did not fool Sadie. He was ready to catch little Sammy should he decide to run.
“The way I see it,” Logan continued, slowly, as if thinking what to say, “is you owe me for the stolen food.”
“I gots no money.”
“Then you will work for me.”
Sadie almost smiled at the eager light in Sammy’s eye.
“I don’t have to go to school?”
Logan chuckled. “You can work during the lunch hour. But first we’ll eat.”
“Okay, then, let’s go.” He eased between Sadie and Logan and headed for the door.
A grin widening his mouth, Logan spoke to Sadie. “I’ll make sure he’s back for classes.”
Sammy waited impatiently at the door. Logan plunked his hat on his head and the two left the store.
Sadie watched as they crossed the street...the big man who cared about a little boy and the little boy doing his best to match Logan stride for stride.
Satisfied the boy was in good hands, she turned back to the classroom. If only she could be a little bird on the eaves of the schoolhouse and watch the two together.
Sammy returned just before the bell rang, a wide grin upon his face.
At recess, the other boys surrounded him, demanding to know where he’d gone. He refused to tell them and a couple of them looked angry. She’d have to make sure they didn’t torment him.
