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At the end of the school day, she reminded Sammy of her note for his mother. He nodded and raced away.
The children all departed and she quickly tidied the classroom, then went in search of Logan. She was so anxious to learn how things had gone between him and Sammy that she would willingly seek out the very man who had the power to upset her carefully constructed world. One that had narrowed down to her students, a few friends and her books.
He saw her coming and hung his hammer on a nail to wait.
“Sammy seemed pleased with himself when he came back,” she said.
“He’s a good kid. He ate half my lunch. While we ate, I told him a man must live by certain standards or he couldn’t call himself a man.”
She swallowed hard. Just as she’d suspected, the Marshall men had high standards. A woman like her would not be accepted. Probably not even tolerated. She could imagine the look of horror she’d receive if they found out about her past.
Turning her attention to another matter, she asked, “What do you know about Sammy and his family?”
Logan leaned against the wall and faced her. “I’ve been asking about them.”
She didn’t wait for him to say what he’d learned. “His father doesn’t like company. Don’t you think that sounds ominous? I sent a note home asking to visit his mother.”
“You might have a hard time doing that. From what Uncle George learned at the store, the mother died a short time ago. A man came by to ask about an empty place on the west edge of town. He assumed the man was Mr. Weiss though he didn’t give his name. I guess the man hasn’t been around again since.”
“Sammy’s mother’s dead? Why wouldn’t Sammy just say so? Why would he lie about such a thing?”
Logan shrugged. “Maybe he’s afraid you might consider it unsuitable for a boy his age to stay with his father.”
“He has no reason to think I would object. Why would he?” Her eyes were hot with denial and objection. “The poor child. Who comforts him?”
“I expect his father does.”
Recalling the bruises she’d noted, she wondered if the father offered any sort of understanding to the child. “Being a father or mother does not necessarily mean a person knows how to comfort. Or even desires to.”
“Sadie Young, you have a very jaded opinion of family life.” He planted a big hand on her arm, an act so solicitous that her insides crackled. “What happened to make you that way?”
The trembling started deep in her soul and spread in ripples to her limbs. She must not let him know how his words affected her, and she stepped away, forcing him to lower his arm to his side. “This isn’t about me. It’s about Sammy. I’m convinced there’s more to the story than we know, and I intend to investigate.”
Logan watched her carefully. “Have a care how you deal with this hurting family. I recall how difficult it was when my mother died. I expect they’re in need of a few kind words to get them through their loss.”
“I would never be unkind, but neither would I hesitate to intervene if a child is being—” She sought for a word that would describe her concerns without demanding she provide more information because, apart from a few bruises that could be explained as normal boyhood bumps, and the hurt she saw in Sammy’s eyes, her suspicions were based largely on recognizing something in the boy that echoed from her own wounded spirit. “If a child is being intentionally hurt.”
He shoved his hat back on his head and looked heavenward, his eyes closed for a moment. He met her gaze, his piercing and demanding. “I see you’re going to be stubborn about this. At least promise you’ll let me know before you do anything.”
She met his eyes, matching him hard look for hard look. She had no intention of backing down before his insistence.
“Miss Young, I can’t let you visit a widower without an escort.”
She swallowed hard. Was he really interested in protecting her reputation? Gall burned at the back of her throat. If only he knew how impossibly late such concern was. But she had two choices—agree or walk away. She guessed if she chose the latter, he wouldn’t hesitate to bang on her door and demand her promise. Better to give it of her own volition. “I’ll let you know.” She wanted nothing more than to run to her quarters, but she walked away in what she hoped was a calm, controlled manner.
“Be sure you do,” he called.
She closed the door, but the wooden barrier did nothing to quell the racing of her heart. He’d touched her in a comforting way. He’d shown genuine care for a hurting family. And he seemed concerned about her reputation. Comfort, understanding, consolation—all things she’d once yearned for—and now got from a man she was half-frightened of. It unsettled her through and through.
She pushed back her shoulders and lifted her head. She no longer needed any of those things. She’d found them with God, through reading the scriptures, and in standing on her own two feet. But an innocent touch from Logan and those supposedly dead feelings rushed through her like floodwaters. She did not thank him for bringing those emotions to the surface.
She must ignore those feelings, ignore the man who triggered them. She looked about her rooms for something with which to occupy herself. Her flowers. They always filled her with a sense of peace and beauty. Sitting at the little desk where she also prepared school lessons, she pulled out the thick book in which she pressed the flowers she gathered. Shortly after her arrival on the stagecoach a few weeks ago, Logan’s sister, Annie, had taken her for a buggy ride out to the open fields, and she’d picked wild crocuses to add to her collection. They were dried and she chose a piece of heavy paper. With her tweezers, she gently lifted the crocuses from their place of preparation to glue them in an arrangement. At some point, she’d add other flowers and create a picture to frame and hang on the wall.
Her usual sense of peace eluded her as Logan hammered on the outside of the building.
* * *
All weekend, Sadie worried about Sammy. Was he getting fed? Did someone comfort him? Or did someone hurt him? She busied herself on Saturday by cleaning the classroom, preparing lessons and baking a cake. But Logan and another man worked on the schoolhouse, and their noise and—she allowed herself to admit—Logan’s presence made it difficult to concentrate. She slipped next door to visit Kate.
“Did I see a small boy with Logan yesterday?” Kate asked.
Sadie had met Kate on the stagecoach earlier in the spring as they traveled to Bella Creek. Kate was as ordinary as could be, often wearing a big white apron to protect her clothing from the things she encountered as her father’s assistant. Kate’s father was the new doctor. Kate had brought her friend Isabelle with her to Bella Creek. Sadie smiled thinking of Isabelle. Imagine, an heiress in their midst, and none of them had realized it at first. Kate and her father had come in response to a plea for help from the townspeople of Bella Creek, the request for a doctor and a teacher after a devastating fire.
She turned her attention to Kate’s question. “Little Sammy Weiss.” She explained the situation. “Have you or your father had occasion to meet any of the Weisses?”
Kate said they hadn’t and they turned the conversation to other matters.
On Sunday, Sadie glanced about the congregation. Sammy wasn’t there. She told herself there might be a good reason the family didn’t attend. Perhaps they weren’t churchgoers, but she’d been hoping to see them.
Instead, she ended up meeting Logan’s gaze across the aisle. The blue sky of outdoors echoed in his eyes, sending a jolt through her. She jerked her gaze away and stared hard at the preacher...another recent newcomer. She forced herself to listen carefully to each of Preacher Arness’s words and left the service strengthened and encouraged.
She might not be acceptable in the eyes of many people, should they learn her secret, but she was wholly accepted by God through the cleansing blood of Christ. Humming a hymn under her breath, she smiled at each who greeted her. Grandfather Marshall took her hand and asked after her well-being. Although his kind words brought a sting of tears to the back of her eyes, she managed to answer calmly and moved on before Logan could do more than nod. She had no need to avoid him, and yet she couldn’t stand and make polite conversation with him, either.
* * *
Monday morning, Sammy handed her a note as he entered the classroom. “From my ma,” he said. He walked away before she could think what to say.
Logan said Sammy’s ma had died. Was he mistaken? How was she to find out?
She opened the note and read it: “I’m sick. Can you come some other time?”
She studied the writing. Many of the older children wrote better than this, but perhaps the woman had not been properly schooled, which would explain the promise she’d elicited from her son to attend classes. But why would someone say the mother was dead?
She set the children to work and checked on each of them. She paused at Sammy’s desk and bent close to speak privately to him. “I’m sorry your mother is ill. Can I do anything?”
“No, ma’am,” he whispered.
“If you think of something, don’t be afraid to ask.” She pressed her hand to his back.
He flinched so sharply that she jerked her hand away.
“Are you hurt?” Had this occurred over the weekend? It was the first time she’d touched him in that particular place but, in truth, he had shrunk back from every touch she offered. Pain and anger tore at her insides. There had been a time she’d thought family to be a place of shelter and protection. There were families who portrayed these ideals, and many others that did not.
He sidled away as far as his desk allowed. “No.” His brown eyes were big and watchful.
She didn’t need the details to know this child had been hurt and was afraid. She glanced about. Now was not the time or place to say anything.
She waited until recess and called him to her desk as the others went out to play. “Sammy, if you need someone to talk to, or if you need help of any sort, please let me know.”
He shook his head hard, sending his overgrown dirty blond hair from side to side. “There’s nothing to say and I don’t need nothing.” He scurried outdoors. It was plain as the nose on his face that he didn’t want to talk to her.
She stared after him. Oh, Father, this child is in need of help. I know it as clearly as I know someone should have helped me. Show me what to do.
At noon, he hurried out to join Logan before Sadie reached the door.
By the time school let out, she knew what she must do. Her only regret was having given her promise to Logan to tell him before she did anything.
As soon as the children departed, she hurried across the street and confronted him. “Look at this.” She handed him the note. “I thought you said Mrs. Weiss had passed away.”
He read the few words. Logan shook his head, as puzzled by the message as she. “I’ve never known Uncle George to be wrong.”
“Something isn’t right and I’m going out there to find out what it is.”
“But she asks you not to.”
“I told you I would not hesitate to visit a family if I felt the need and, in this case, I do. I said I’d let you know and I’m doing that. I fear Sammy is in some sort of danger.” She told him about the bruises she’d observed on Sammy’s arms and the way Sammy had flinched at having his back touched. “I’m certain he’s been whipped hard enough to leave him hurting.”
“You’re sure?”
“Not completely, but I won’t let it go until I know the truth.” Uncertainty filled his eyes as he studied her.
“Very well. If you’re determined to do this, I’ll take you.”
“While I appreciate your offer of help...” Which it had not been. “I prefer to go alone.”
“Why?”
She considered her reply. She could hardly say it was because she didn’t want him hovering at her side making her aware of things she’d sooner not think of. Like the strength of him physically and in other ways. Not to mention that he made her think of how the Marshall family was a model of all the things she thought family should be, but was only a dream for many people. “If the woman is ill, she might not want a strange man showing up.”
“Or the teacher, either, yet you are set on going.”
Challenge upon challenge passed between them.
“Fine,” she said finally, only because she knew he wouldn’t give in.
“Very well. Let me get a buggy from the livery barn and I’ll come back for you.” He was on his way before she got her agreement out. While he did that, she hurried to her quarters and bundled up the cake she’d baked Saturday. At least she wouldn’t arrive empty-handed.
She stood in front of her living quarters, ready and waiting, when Logan drove up with the rented buggy.
Logan jumped down and came around to help her up. He retained her hand even after she was safely seated.
She brought her gaze to his, knew hers revealed her determination and hopefully none of her quaking fear at what they might discover. She couldn’t say what he thought, but his look gave her a jolt of courage...much-needed courage.
He released her hand and she took a deep breath, only to have it rush from her as he climbed into the buggy and sat beside her. They were on their way.
She tried to pretend Logan wasn’t at her side and tried to pretend she didn’t draw some strength from his presence. He wouldn’t be there if he knew the sort of woman she was. Soiled, dirty, ruined.
She shivered at the thought he might somehow learn the truth about her.
* * *
Logan was silent as they made their way down the streets of Bella Creek. Was it just a few days ago he had thought the schoolmarm shy and retiring? Today she was a determined, headstrong woman, ready to walk into an unknown situation in order to protect a child. Was she truly so noble, or was there more to it than that? Or less? Grandfather had warned Logan to be careful not to judge every woman based on his experience with two of them, but how was he to know what lay hidden beneath the prim appearance of Miss Sadie Young? He would not believe anything but his own heart, which wore a permanent warning—a stay-away sign.
Nor would he let the teacher go alone to confront Mr. or Mrs. Weiss or whomever they’d discovered. After all, the family had come from Wolf Hollow, and that alone was reason to be cautious, though he couldn’t help wondering at the mixed information he’d learned. There was something not right.
They drove past the tidy houses of Bella Creek and reached a slightly wooded area where squatters often used the ramshackle house standing there. “I believe this is the place.” He pointed to the right. He hadn’t been past in over a year and it had not improved one bit. The yard was littered with debris. Once it warmed up, the flies would be thick as syrup.
He pulled to a stop in front of the house. A window had been repaired with scraps of wood.
Logan helped Sadie down, “Careful where you step.” Poverty always bothered him. Being careless about taking care of one’s property bothered him even more, because the first couldn’t be helped but the latter could. However, if they’d only recently moved they likely hadn’t had time to clean up. Or if the parents were ill...or worse...there would be no one to do it apart from Sammy and, though the boy was a good little worker, he needed guidance and instruction.
Sadie grimaced. “I understand that some people are content to live like this. I’m not here to judge how Sammy lives, only to see if he’s safe.”
Logan nodded. “Let’s go find out.”
Someone must have surely heard their approach, but no one came to the door to welcome them.
Logan took Sadie’s hand and guided her across the littered yard. She clung to him. He told himself it was only to keep her footing and there was no need to feel all protective toward her. After all, she’d been prepared to come here on her own and would surely have managed fine without his help.
He was grateful she didn’t have to. They reached the door and he rapped his knuckles against the worn wood. From inside came a rustling and a muted voice, but no one came to the door or called out an invitation to enter.
Sadie gave him a questioning look and he shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t hear.” He knocked again, harder this time, and again they waited, knowing someone was inside. “We need to speak to you,” Logan called. “May we come in?”
Silence and then a shuffle of feet, and the door opened enough to allow Sammy to peek through. “Teacher? Mr. Marshall? What’re you doing here?”
Sadie squatted down to eye level with the boy. “I was worried about you and came to make sure you are okay.”
Logan leaned closer to peer through the narrow opening of the door. The interior showed little sign of life—a bare table and an equally bare cupboard. He’d never seen a kitchen with nothing to indicate food preparation. “Can we come in?” he asked when it became apparent Sammy didn’t mean to extend an invitation.
Sammy glanced behind him, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Sadie straightened and turned to Logan. “This isn’t right,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“I’m okay,” Sammy said. “You don’t need to worry none about me.”
“But, Sammy, we are worried.” He knew he spoke for both of them. As he studied the boy, a pair of small feet entered his field of vision. “You have a little brother or sister? And a sick mother?”
Sadie gave him a look full of appeal, seeking his help, perhaps even his opinion. He tried not to let the notion make him feel that she might see him as a man worthy of her respect. Which, he thought with a degree of irony, he was. What he meant was he no longer cared if a woman thought so.
Nevertheless, he listened to her silent call for help and shouldered the door open, the squawk of its rusted hinges rending the silence.
Sammy stepped back. An older girl pulled him close while, in her other arm, she held a smaller girl. The older girl wore shoes with the toes cut out to accommodate her feet. Her dress had a tear in the skirt and was almost colorless from frequent washings. The little one was barefoot and her faded pink dress was equally worn, yet they were both surprisingly clean.
In a glance Logan took in the room—a bed with no mattress and only a scattering of blankets. A narrow wooden table sagged to one side, and nearby was a single chair with rungs missing in the back. Again he was struck by how empty the place was of belongings. Or any sign of domesticity. Not a curtain. Not a dish. Nothing.
“Where’s your mother? Your father?” Sadie’s words were surprisingly gentle considering the state of the place and the children.
