Montana Cowboy Family Page 2

  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

  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 st
ore. “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.

  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.
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  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.