Her face flushed red as she wagged a finger at him. “I know who did it. I do.”
Whoever did it was the bravest soul in Evans Grove. Even in his worst moments, he’d not dare incur Beatrice Ward’s wrath over that gate. “Who do you think took your gate?” As the words left his mouth, Mason’s stomach turned to ice with the realization that he was one of the only other people in Evans Grove whose last name began with a “W.”
“I should think it’s obvious!” Her face was almost crimson now. Today was about to get infinitely worse, and an hour ago he hadn’t thought that possible. He waited for her scathing accusation to erupt out of her. Knowing Beatrice, she’d rehearsed this speech the whole way on her walk from the hotel.
“It’s those miscreants. Those horrid orphan boys.”
Mason didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed.
She didn’t give him a moment to choose. “I tell you, Sheriff,” she went on, her temper rising with every word, “you’re the only other one capable of seeing those hooligans for the trouble they are. If we don’t help that committee see reason, there’s no telling what terrible influence those boys will bring to this town. My gate will just be the beginning. You’ll see.”
It wasn’t completely impossible—Miss Ward hadn’t hidden her opinion of those boys and if it wasn’t just a prank then meanness was the only possible motive behind a stunt like this—but it wasn’t likely. “That gate is heavy. I doubt those boys could get it far if it was them.”
“It was them. I suspect it was that hooligan red-haired boy.”
“I don’t think Liam is the type to do that.” Liam was a lot of things, but he’d shown himself too smart to stir up the likes of Beatrice Ward. Mason had spent enough time with the boy to be able to trust his gut on that count. Liam was unruly, but he wasn’t bad.
“Well, who else would it be?”
Any other day, he’d have left that wide open door alone, but he was in just foul enough a mood to call Miss Ward on her accusation. “Who’s to say it wasn’t me?” He pointed to the “MW” monogram burned into the side of his saddle as it sat on the hitching post.
It was the first time he ever saw Beatrice Ward’s eyes open wide. Who knew they were gray? Just as quickly, they narrowed to irritated little slits. “Sheriff Wright, you cannot leave that committee.”
Being on that committee would mean spending time with Holly Sanders, and right now there wasn’t a worse idea on God’s earth. “As a matter of fact, I’m needed elsewhere and you all are doing a fine job.” He hoisted the saddle back onto Ace. If nothing else, it was a good idea to give Miss Ward the impression that he had someplace else to be. “I’ll not be missed. Seems to me if anyone needs to warn Evans Grove about the perils of placing orphan boys, you—”
She angled herself in front of him. “You simply cannot!”
Mason was sure it never even occurred to the old biddy that she didn’t have any authority to order him on or off the Selection Committee. “The way I remember it, Mayor Evans did the appointing. Why don’t you go talk to her about your concerns?”
She sniffed. “I’ve already made my views known to the acting mayor.”
Clearly Mayor Evans hadn’t been able to make her see sense, so that meant that the impossible task came down to him. He finished a buckle on Ace’s saddle and turned to the old woman, trying to smile when all he wanted to do was grit his teeth. “Miss Ward, the honest truth is that I have no evidence that those boys have done a single thing wrong since they stepped foot into this town. And with that being the case, I have no opinion where those boys go. I can’t possibly say what’s best for them or for the families that might take them in, and I have my hands full here. How can I see to law and order if I’m going to meetings about youngsters all the time?”
“Mr. Wright, we are all pressed for time. Ephraim always said, ‘there’s time enough in every day to do God’s will.’”
If Mason were a betting man, he would have wagered his badge that the last thing God wanted was him near Holly Sanders. He was feeling like it’d be better to have two states between himself and that schoolhouse already. Some part of him was in a full-blown panic about what he’d do if he saw her again—when he saw her again. “I’ll head over to your house later today and see if the thieves left any clues. Maybe I’ll find something that will lead us to your missing gate.”
“It’s not missing, Sheriff, it’s stolen.” She puffed herself up again the way she always did before making some pronouncement. “I’ll have you know I have prayed for the souls of lawless thieves who took my gate. The Bible tells us to pray for our persecutors.”
Mason was feeling a mite persecuted himself at the moment, but swallowed the “Should I pray for you, then?” remark nipping at the back of his mind. “I’ll be sure and tell you if I find anything.”
“You be sure and show up this afternoon at our committee meeting, that’s what you should be sure and do.” She pointed up at him, for he had a good foot over the old woman.
“I wonder if you haven’t heard me clearly, Miss Ward. I’m not on the committee any longer. I’ve already spoken to Mayor Evans.”
“So she told me. And I already told her, she cannot excuse you from the committee. It just won’t do. I’ll expect you at four o’clock.” She opened the little pendant watch that hung from a fussy pin on her shawl. She’d accused someone of stealing that once, too. “That should give you more than enough time to gather evidence against those vagrants.”
Mason blinked, the incongruity of her demands smacking him like an open palm. She was chiding him to be punctual to a committee designed to place the very boys she’d accused of theft. He’d live ten lifetimes and not figure how that old woman’s mind could fit facts together the way it did.
“I’ll not be there, ma’am.” He words were polite, but he put enough edge in them to make his point. I’ll be in Texas if you keep this up.
“Nonsense. You’ll be there.” As if her word commanded the very sun to rise, Beatrice Ward turned and trotted down the street with an air of achievement that sent Mason’s head to shaking. For the next five minutes, he kept shaking his head, trying to erase the image of tiny Miss Ward hauling him down Liberty Street by his ear at quarter to four.
Texas was looking better by the minute. Sure, he thought Liam was a fine boy and deserved a chance at a better life. All those kids did. It just couldn’t be his task to make it so. Things had gotten too complicated, and while some part of him felt like he was letting Liam and the others down, he knew he couldn’t stick it out. Someone else was going to have to stifle Beatrice’s continual accusations. After all, the line of people who might take her gate out of sheer meanness could stretch clear around the block.
Chapter Fourteen
“He can’t leave the committee.” Rebecca gave Holly a concerned look as they packed up the school things. “I think he’s the only one holding Miss Ward in check.” The daily transformation of schoolroom-to-living quarters had already become tedious. Amelia Hicks and the reverend were outside supervising the children in their precious outdoors time, and Holly reveled in the quiet, remembering that at least she had the chance to go home to her tranquil house afterward, where Miss Sterling could only look forward to another night of keeping the peace. Even her graceful beauty couldn’t hide the dark circles Holly could see building under Rebecca’s eyes.
Holly began stringing the line that would hold a quilt to serve as a wall between where the boys slept and where Miss Sterling and Heidi made their beds. “Mr. Brooks is a powerful presence. Surely he can keep Miss Ward in balance.”
“Not as well as the sheriff can.” She stacked slates on the shelves at the side of the room. “I know her type. She’ll find a million ways to stall the process until it looks like no one wants the boys. Oh, she’ll pretend to be seeing to their welfare, to be ‘careful,’ but she’ll come up with some way to convince everyone else to come to her view. Mr. Brooks will help, but Miss Ward will only think of him as a
meddling outsider. I know Mayor Evans wants to help the children, but she has to choose her battles with Miss Ward, and I think she’s suspicious of why Mr. Brooks is still here.”
Holly had to agree. New to town as she was, Rebecca had sized up the community with startling accuracy. Pauline was so stretched holding the town together that even her usual diplomatic ways hadn’t disguised her distrust of the banker. The loan was a wonderful thing—and Holly was sure Pauline would ensure its wise use—but it was becoming clear to everyone that tensions were running high. They certainly couldn’t count on Pauline and Curtis Brooks banding together against Beatrice.
Rebecca caught Holly’s frown and sat down with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so judgmental. Mercy, I sound just like Miss Ward when I talk like that.” She wiped stray locks of golden blond off her forehead. “I’m just so worried.”
Holly left the quilt and sat down beside her. “I am, too. It’s so hard on the children to feel even the least hint of being unwanted.” From the moment she realized her affinity with the orphans’ rejection, Holly’s resolve to see them find homes in Evans Grove had doubled, galvanizing her with a core of determination and purpose she didn’t know she had. She still wasn’t sure that was enough to allow her to seek Sheriff Wright’s reinstatement onto the committee. Truth was, she was deeply relieved when Reverend Turner told her just now that the sheriff had asked to be excused. The longer she could put off seeing him again, the better. “What about asking Mr. Gavin from the general store to join the committee? Miss Ward respects him.” With a wry grin, Holly added, “As much as she respects anyone.”
“If I hadn’t heard what Reverend Turner just told me, I’d say that might work.”
“What did he say?”
Rebecca cast a wary glance toward the schoolhouse door, then lowered her voice. “Miss Ward’s gate went missing last night and she believes it was stolen.”
“Stolen? Who’d steal Beatrice Ward’s gate?”
“If you ask Miss Ward, it could only be Patrick, Friedrich, Tom, or Liam.”
Holly felt a scowl bloom across her forehead. “That’s absurd. What would those four boys want with a heavy wrought-iron gate? It’s bent, besides. It fell over in the storm.” She looked around the room. “And really, where on earth would they hide it?”
“I don’t know, but I suppose in an hour we’ll all hear her theory.” Rebecca put her head in her hands. “I can’t bear the thought of her undermining everything when the children could be so happy here.” Tears threatened at the edge of the woman’s words. She needed every ally she could find to fulfill her mission, and she wanted so badly to keep those boys from going on to Greenville. “We only need a few more days to get the boys placed, I’m sure of it. They just need a bit of hope, and Miss Ward seems dead set on squashing it. Reverend Turner said she made some horrible comment about poverty breeding sin. I wouldn’t wonder if she’s started some awful rumor already.”
Holly wrapped an arm around Rebecca. “We’re all used to Beatrice’s noise. Her bark is much worse than her bite, and somewhere down inside she really believes she’s doing what’s best.” Holly couldn’t believe her own words. Had she become so hurt by Mason that she’d defend Beatrice to avoid the pain of seeing him? What kind of selfishness was that?
“I’ve seen this happen before. It only takes one person to plant suspicions. Getting the children placed is hard enough when there isn’t someone undermining it. I don’t know how to fight this without Mr. Arlington.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Rebecca let out a sigh of resignation. “I don’t think so.” She looked at Holly. “Won’t you talk to the sheriff? I think he’ll listen to you.”
I’m the last person he’ll listen to, Holly wanted to say. The desperation in Rebecca’s eyes pulled the unwanted words out of her mouth. “I’ll go talk to him and see if I can’t convince him to stay on the committee.” It wasn’t as if he could hurt her further—he’d done all the damage she was capable of bearing already.
“It will only be a week, maybe less. If we can’t place the boys by then...” She sighed again, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
“He can manage one more week.” With a smile she didn’t feel, Holly added, “Sometimes I think his only entertainment is arguing with Beatrice, anyway. And I’m sure it won’t even take a full week once people realize what good boys those four can really be.”
“For cryin’ out loud, I didn’t mean to knock you over!” Liam’s voice boomed as the schoolroom door burst open to reveal Reverend Turner holding Patrick and Liam by the elbows. Liam sported an angry glare and a bloody nose.
“You did, too!” Patrick yelled, pulling against the reverend’s grip.
“You broke my nose, you big lug!”
Holly and Rebecca shot to their feet just as Liam wiped his bloody hand down his last clean shirt.
“Don’t be such a—”
“Boys!” Rebecca barked, thrusting her handkerchief at Liam. “Sit. Now. And hush up, the both of you.”
Fifteen loud and bloody minutes later, Holly found herself walking toward the sheriff’s office with slow, dreadful steps.
* * *
Mason stood in the middle of the street and braced himself against the gaping hole opening up in his gut. Of all the things in the world to endure, Holly Sanders coming up the street toward him with that tortured set in her shoulders seemed the most cruel. He couldn’t tell if he wanted to yell at her to turn and go back, or just get on Ace now and gallop off. Hang it all if that woman didn’t keep poking herself in his life like a wound that wouldn’t heal.
“You can’t step off the committee.” She didn’t even meet his eyes. He never dreamed that would bother him as much as it did. “Beatrice Ward is on the warpath about the boys. If she gets her way, they’ll be packed off in short order. We...Miss Sterling needs you.”
He had to laugh at that. Miss Sterling wouldn’t benefit one whit from his opinions or his endorsement. And as for Holly... “You don’t. We both know I don’t bring anything to the table here. And you know as well as I that Beatrice is all roar and no claw.”
“Those boys need families. They need homes, here.” She looked up at him then, and the black void in his gut threatened to swallow him whole. “Surely you can stand me for the few days it will take to see them placed.”
“It’s not what...” Only it was, wasn’t it? Just not the way she thought. And the wretched truth was that if he told her the real reason he had to stay away from her, it would make things far worse than they already were. Her cursed persistence was his worst enemy here—if he didn’t keep hurting her, she’d never stay away from him. He’d wounded her fiercely the other night, and she was still standing here pleading for him to help save those youngsters. How much pain was this woman willing to take? “It’s not that.” The words hung weak and false in the air. “You don’t need me.”
Her glance fell to the ground and she wrung her hands. Mason felt their twisting in his chest. “Miss Sterling has had to get very strict with the children,” she admitted. “She’s got good reason to think we won’t be able to control them much longer. We need the sheriff on our side, can’t you see that?” He could have guessed that it was only his badge that kept him on the committee.
He stood there, knowing he’d give in and follow her to the church parlor but trying to dig his heels in and turn around just the same.
She persisted. “It’s difficult, I know, but those children deserve our efforts.”
Difficult? He deserved every second of torture her eyes gave him. More.
“Don’t go. Please.”
Without another word, he followed her to the church. While he was sure he already knew his limit, Mason couldn’t help thinking he was about to relearn just how much pain he could stand.
* * *
“Change of heart?” Reverend Turner shook Mason’s hand as they settled into seats around the table in the church parlor.
“Something lik
e that.”
“I told the sheriff we simply could not function without him on this committee,” Beatrice pronounced, sure she had persuaded him. It wasn’t worth the air in his lungs to try and correct her.
“I’m glad you haven’t left us,” Pauline Evans said with a genuine smile. “We’ve no small task ahead of us and we need everyone’s help.”
“It’s no less than our Christian duty,” Beatrice said. “Pastor, I do hope you’ll open us in prayer?”
Mason bowed his head with the rest of them, sure God was tolerating his sin for the sake of those children more than welcoming any measly contribution he might make. He recognized one or two phrases of the pastor’s prayer from the verses in Holly’s book. Why must the words “grace” and “forgiveness” punch their way into his life right now? A relentless, unconditional love that sought the best for every soul no matter the circumstances—the more impossible Mason considered these ideas, the more his heart began to crave them. Grace. Forgiveness. Love. With every hearing, the craving—and the pain of their lack in his life—grew stronger.
Curtis Brooks spoke first after the prayer. “Miss Sterling, those boys haven’t made the best first impression, but we haven’t given them much of a chance.” Mason gave the banker points for politely ignoring the way Pauline Evans bristled at the word “we” as if Mr. Brooks himself was part of the town. “How can we change that?”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Miss Sterling replied. “What we need is for the boys to meet families outside the formal atmosphere of a placement meeting. And frankly, they need to get more physical activity. They’re worried and isolated, and it’s making them antsy.”
“Yes, it is.” Holly was eager. “Absolutely.”
“Any boy would behave badly under the circumstances they’ve been forced into.” Mr. Brooks looked around the table. “Surely you can see that?”
Family Lessons Page 15