None of the ladies cringed at the hoity-toity way she’d said that. Impressive. Well, Charlie probably had—which was likely why she’d just leaned down to fuss with Alice’s blanket.
“That’s generous of you, Mrs. Sorenson. But what about the rest of us?” Mercy smiled as she scanned the others. His heart thudded dully upon realizing she’d purposely looked at everyone but him. “Anyone have things to donate that will draw a crowd?”
Charlie came back up from tending the baby. “Harrison and I can donate shares of beef.”
“My mother wants to sell her piano, since her arthritis keeps her from playing,” the woman across from him volunteered. “I’m sure she’d donate it.”
When the conversation turned to fundraising for a missionary, he watched Mercy talk with such animation and goodwill, he had a hard time keeping his shoulders from sagging.
She’d never talk to him with such joy on her face.
He stabbed his needle into the quilt. He’d gotten the forgiveness he sought. He’d have to be content with that.
13
Mercy shoved the medical supplies she’d carried for Caroline back into the wagon with a sigh of relief. The Hawk and Eagle looked normal enough—a two-story brick business stuck in a line of nearly identical storefronts, their signs jutting out from above their doors. They were as innocent looking as the mercantiles and millineries on Main Street. But inside was a whole different matter—drinking, gambling, and womanizing done under the guise of a soda fountain.
Walking through the Hawk and Eagle packed with men watching her every step had caused her heart to pump so fast it still raced. But there had been a badly beaten woman inside needing attention.
Though they weren’t looking at her, the men passing the wagon didn’t help her heart settle. How could they be so bold as to stroll these sidewalks with families at home? Did they see nothing wrong with frequenting such places, where no one batted an eye after learning a woman they’d used for pleasure had been pummeled within an inch of her life?
Caroline exited the saloon, sidestepping a group of men wanting inside. Though she wore servant’s clothing and carried a baby, one man looked at her in a way that made Mercy shiver.
Too many men had looked at her like that in the past half hour—she could do without ever being looked at like that again.
How did Caroline visit such evil places, often several times a week, and now with her niece? Thankfully Katelyn had slept through the whole ordeal. Since Mercy’s stomach had turned at the sight of the poor, bruised woman, she’d been happy enough to hold the baby while Caroline tended the patient.
Though she wanted to help Caroline like the last orphanage director had, this should probably be her first and last time in the red-light district. No wonder her brother had forbidden her to help Caroline—it was just too much.
“I’m sorry.” Caroline put a hand on her shoulder, her other arm cradling Katelyn as they stood next to the wagon. “I knew it’d be bad since they bothered to fetch me, but I’ve forgotten how traumatic my first visits here were for me.”
Mercy held her arms tight against herself. Her missing hand made her vulnerable, but she’d never felt how much until the last thirty minutes. A young woman, whole and healthy, had been beaten so badly the doctor was worried she’d not survive. “I-I think it’d be best I don’t come along next time.”
“I understand.” Caroline looked up at the late-afternoon sky for a second before sighing. “Let’s get you home.”
Mercy pointed to the bassinet in the back of the wagon. “Do you want to put Katelyn in there?”
Caroline stared down into the baby’s sleeping face. “I think I’ll hold her.”
“All right.” Mercy put the medical bag inside the bassinet and shoved it farther back.
Caroline hadn’t moved, still frowning down at Katelyn. “I can’t keep bringing her with me. But if you can’t watch her, do I just refuse to come?”
Mercy held her thoughts, for what advice could she give based on anything other than an offhand opinion? She’d never been a mother, had never helped in the district, and Caroline knew Patricia would be at the mansion if she was not. If she’d already decided against her sister-in-law, Mercy would not bother to mention her. “I’m sure you’ll figure out something. Do you want me to drive?”
“Yes, please.”
Mercy followed Caroline to the passenger side of the wagon and stood behind her, a hand against her back in case Caroline lost her balance holding the baby.
Once they were settled, Mercy moved to untie Knight from the post, though she should’ve had Caroline do it before climbing up. If the horse had tightened his tether, she’d have quite the struggle undoing it one-handed. She dug her fingernails into the knot, but something olive green caught her eye and she stopped.
Nearly half a block away, a worn felt hat bobbed behind a burly redheaded man.
Of course there could be more than one olive-green hat in Teaville, but one like that?
The redheaded giant turned into a saloon, revealing her brother walking behind him with a man she didn’t recognize. Their late father’s hat sat jauntily atop Timothy’s blond head, as usual.
Had Patricia sent him to check on her and Caroline?
Mercy left the horse and stepped onto the sidewalk to signal him, but he was deep in conversation. They disappeared below the crudely painted sign of the California.
He’d walked in calmly, not frantically.
And was he laughing?
Her heart and stomach sank.
“I need to check on something,” she called to Caroline and rushed toward the tavern before the housekeeper could protest.
Timothy hadn’t mentioned he’d started helping the Lowes with the district women, but maybe he had good reason to be here?
Please, God, let Timothy have a good reason to be here.
She forced herself to go in after him, though she could scarcely breathe with how her heart hammered inside her chest. The California’s crowd was thankfully more subdued than the Hawk and Eagle’s, and she quickly spotted her brother near the counter to the left. He pulled out a barstool as if he did so every day and gave the bartender a smile.
Her feet refused to move.
Was this where her brother was every time he supposedly worked late at the bank?
“Get me a whiskey sour,” Timothy called, then laughed at something the man said beside him.
Whiskey? Since when did her brother drink? She fisted her hand. Kansas was a dry state. Though most knew the local police looked the other way as long as there was no ruckus, how could her brother disobey the law?
She pulled her feet out of their slog and forced herself to cross the room. Surely the shame of being caught would compel him to leave, to escort her and Caroline home, and keep him from ever returning.
At least she hoped shame would have its effect.
She ignored the pointed stares of the surrounding men and tapped her brother on the shoulder.
He turned, his smile dying a quick death. “What are you doing here?”
How dare he look at her as if she were the one in the wrong. “I have the same question for you. I came to help Caroline tend someone, whereas you don’t look as if you’re here for a good reason.”
He got off his stool, grabbed her arm, and escorted her toward the front doors—never mind everyone stopping what they were doing to stare. “I told you never to come to the district.”
She yanked her elbow from his grasp. “I assumed that was because you feared for my safety, not because you were afraid of being caught.”
He latched back onto her arm. “It is for your safety, Mercy. You’re missing a hand, for Pete’s sake. Do you know what a man who’s too far into his cups might do if he sees you around here?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” She tried to take her arm back, but he’d anchored himself better this time. “And drinking! Mr. Lowe hired us to be good examples for the children.”
“I am when I�
��m there.” He rushed her through the door and onto the sidewalk. “There’s nothing wrong with a drink or two.” He let go of her and crossed his arms.
She mirrored his defensive stance. “There is when Kansas is a dry state.” And even if he was compelled to drink, why buy here? His money supported brothels, places that created the desperate situations their orphans had escaped from.
“I didn’t ask your opinion.” He glared at her just long enough to make her squirm, then glanced down the street and tipped his head toward Caroline, who was bottle-feeding the baby. “Go home with Miss O’Conner, and don’t do anything foolish.”
He felt no shame whatsoever over breaking the law? “Come with me. We’ll talk—”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Her brother put his hands on his hips as if he were addressing a child. “You do understand that, right?”
She swallowed and looked away from him. She had little say in what Timothy did—she wasn’t his mother or his wife. She was a spinster sister, who would likely never be anything but, and would have to depend on him for the rest of her life. She had no income, no assets, no inheritance. The Lowes were paying her family to watch over the orphanage, not each of them separately.
And if the McClains weren’t in charge of the orphanage, another family would be. One who’d have no obligation to provide for her. “Please come home, Timothy.”
“I will, as I always do.” He tilted his head toward the wagon.
She eyed him again, but he only wrinkled his brow, giving her a look that made her hate that he was eleven years older and thought of himself more as a father than a brother.
She tilted her chin and walked away without another word. Once she got to the wagon, she attacked the horse’s tethered knot with a vengeance. A glance back told her Timothy hadn’t yet returned to the bar—but he hadn’t come after her either.
Finally the knot came undone, and she climbed onto the bench seat.
Caroline glanced toward her brother but went back to feeding Katelyn without a comment.
Had Caroline already known he frequented the district, or was she just being quiet because words wouldn’t help?
Shaking her head, though she’d rather growl, Mercy backed up the wagon.
If she told Nicholas where Timothy spent his afternoons and he fired them, what was the likelihood that her brother would disown her? How could she support herself without him?
Though the Lowes would certainly do what they could for her, they did not need more charity cases at the moment.
14
“Aaron?” Mercy’s voice sounded from somewhere behind him, interrupting the rhythm he’d set for cutting the weeds behind the carriage house.
She was calling him Aaron now? He stopped and turned around.
Though his lungs were already working overtime from exercise, they sped up at the sight of her. She tended to wear dresses in various shades of green, likely to highlight her eyes, but this one’s square neck and the white undershirt’s ruffled collar somehow made her prettier than the day before.
Though lately, she seemed to get prettier each day no matter what she wore.
He leaned upon his scythe, the muscles in his torso sighing with relief. “Can I help you, Miss McClain?”
“Have you seen Jimmy?”
He shook his head. They seriously needed to figure out how to keep an eye on that boy. When was he ever where he was supposed to be?
“What about Owen?”
Now, Owen missing was a little more worrisome. Aaron wiped away the sweat clinging to his hairline and looked around. “Haven’t seen him either, but I sort of go into a stupor while mowing.” It was a little too boring not to, and his stomach had been rumbling for the last twenty minutes. The half hour until dinner could not pass quickly enough.
“I thought I saw Jimmy go into the woods.” She frowned and looked past his shoulder.
They needed to get themselves a bell for rounding up the children. The estate was too massive to search every time a child wasn’t where he was supposed to be. “You’ve checked everywhere else?”
“Inside, yes. Owen mentioned they built a fort a while ago, so I thought I’d see if I could find it.” She shrugged and forged into the brambles.
If the old tree with the haphazard planks nailed into its torso-sized branches was the fort, she could easily miss it. “It’s by the pond,” he called. Hopefully she’d heard him. Though there were two ponds and plenty of other spots to check.
Was he supposed to clear pathways to the fort, the meadow, the ponds, the wild blackberries, and take care of the mansion’s yard too? His body ached at the thought. Lowe had said he would hire a few boys come summer to help mow, but that was still two weeks away.
Maybe he could convince Jimmy to cut paths to the places he liked to disappear to. Then again, giving Jimmy a long, sharp blade probably wasn’t the wisest idea.
And why was Mercy the one looking for them? Hadn’t her brother come home earlier?
Something didn’t sit right with him in regard to Timothy McClain. He was well-mannered and intelligent, but for a man who was supposed to be in charge of the orphanage, he acted as if he wanted to be there about as much as Jimmy did. And since his wife seemed to be a basketful of nerves, why had they chosen to work at the orphanage? Was it because this was Mercy’s dream?
For some reason, Mercy’s brother and sister-in-law didn’t strike him as the kind to sacrifice their desires for a spinster sister.
Aaron finished cutting the weeds along the west wall of the carriage house, then took his implements back to his cabin’s lean-to. At the well, he splashed cool water on his face and ran it through his hair.
The smell of garlic and onions coming from the mansion made his stomach twist. He scanned the woods and the yard, but Mercy hadn’t returned.
With how Jimmy had been acting lately, he wouldn’t put it past the boy to have tied her up. Or maybe Mercy had gotten lost, or one of them was hurt . . .
Ignoring his stomach’s pleading, he headed for the woods and forged into a grassy pathway that thinned as the trees’ branches grew thicker overhead. He took the trail to the pond.
The sound of chattering birds slowly turned into that of children arguing. No surprise to find Jimmy couldn’t play nicely with Owen.
He’d been having some success with Jimmy while gardening, but what could he do to get closer to Owen? The game of marbles had done little to diminish the boy’s fear of him. He’d tried inviting him to help with the flowers, play catch, take a ride on the pony, but the youngster always slunk away—or outright ran from him—whenever he got close.
He needed to discover why Owen was scared of him before he lost his chance to parent him.
Ahead about two hundred feet, Owen’s blond little figure stared up into the tree-turned-fort with his hands on his hips. “I said, let me up there!” he hollered.
Something fell out of the tree, or rather was thrown, and hit Owen on the head.
“Ow!” The boy rubbed his head and stamped his foot. “I’m telling if you don’t let me up there!”
Aaron shook his head as he forged through the undergrowth.
“Let me up!”
“How ’bout this,” Jimmy hollered down, his head poking out below a branch several feet above the platform. “I’ll let you up if you go kiss Miss McClain on the end of her nasty, stumpy arm.”
“Yuck!” Owen shuddered. “You do it!”
“I wouldn’t kiss her if you paid me. No one would. So go away.”
Hopefully Mercy wasn’t within earshot.
Aaron hurried forward. “Owen!” he called, but the boy didn’t turn around.
Jimmy pelted the younger boy with whatever dead pods were hanging from the tree. “Leave, snot nose.”
From the bushes to the right of the fort, where a trail broke through brambles, Mercy appeared. With her arms wrapped around her middle, she marched forward, struggling to keep her expression blank.
Seemed she had heard w
hat they’d said.
She stopped below the fort and moved Owen behind her. “That’s enough,” Mercy said, her voice low and convincing. “Come down, Jimmy. It’s time for dinner.”
“I’m not eating ham and beans again,” Jimmy called.
Aaron finally made the clearing, but Mercy’s attention was locked onto Jimmy. “If you don’t come down immediately, I’ll have Mr. Firebrook tear down your fort.”
Jimmy sneered over the rickety railing. “I’ll just build another.”
“I’ll have him take that one down too.” She growled a little. “You were acting better last week. Why are you being a rapscallion now?”
Why was she arguing with him? The more she fought, the more Jimmy would believe he had the upper hand. “Come down as Miss McClain told you.”
Mercy startled and her neck turned red.
Jimmy leaned against the trunk as if settling in for the night.
With a few more steps and a leap, Aaron grabbed the bottom of the makeshift platform, caught hold of the rope, and yanked it down. He landed back on the ground and stilled the swinging rope. “Do you want me to come up there and haul you down, or are you going to keep your dignity and come on your own?”
Jimmy’s gaze narrowed.
Seemed he’d have to back up his words. Aaron grabbed the rope and tested his weight, but Jimmy leaped off the platform before he had both feet on the first knot. The boy landed in a thick spot of muddy grass.
Good. He’d not been eager to wrestle the boy down. He let go of the rope. “Now, apologize to Miss McClain for not obeying upon first request and be on your way.”
Jimmy muttered something as he brushed past Mercy, and she nodded as if his apology were acceptable, but judging by her lackluster smile and her bad arm tucked under her good one, it hadn’t mended her hurt feelings.
Had his own schoolyard taunts turned her pretty face that gloomy? She’d always been mad at him, of course, had cried even, but right now she looked as if she’d aged three years in a handful of minutes.
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