Love Inspired Historical October 2013 Bundle: A Family for Christmas\The Secret Princess\Taming the Texas Rancher\An Unlikely Union (3 page)

They’d gone about two blocks when a man hailed Chance and the three of them paused.

“Hi, Sheriff,” Chance said, “what can I do for you?”

Eve sensed Leo stiffen beside her. Was he worried that the sheriff would find out he’d stowed away? She instinctively placed a protective hand on his shoulder.

“Are you by any chance coming from the train station?” the lawman asked Chance.

Though the man’s smile was friendly enough and there was nothing threatening in his demeanor, something about the way he eyed her and Leo made Eve uncomfortable.

“Sure did.” Mr. Dawson, apparently sharing none of her something’s-wrong-here feeling, maintained an easy smile.

“I hear there was a bit of trouble over there. Something about a stowaway?”

Eve tried to draw Leo closer.

“That’s right,” Mr. Dawson answered, his face still relaxed. “But it’s all over now and nothing to get you involved in.”

Rather than commenting on that, the sheriff turned to her and Leo. “Care to introduce me to your friends, here?”

“Of course.” Mr. Dawson’s smile faded as he finally seemed to sense something was wrong. “Sheriff Gleason, this is Miss Eve Pickering and Leo. They just arrived on the morning train.”

Eve nodded a greeting, not trusting herself to speak. Did the lawman already know Leo was the stowaway? Surely he wouldn’t arrest a little boy.

The sheriff tipped his hat Eve’s direction. “Good day to you, ma’am.” Then he turned to her companion. “Leo, is it? That wouldn’t be short for Leonard Haskins would it?”

Not certain what was going on, Eve glanced down at Leo and was shocked to see most of the color had drained from his face. A heartbeat later Leo bolted, running down a side street like a cat with a hound on its tail. But Mr. Dawson was faster. Almost before Eve could react, the man had overtaken Leo and pulled him up short.

Mr. Dawson marched him back, his smoky blue eyes meeting hers sympathetically, almost apologetically.

But she couldn’t deal with that right now. Instead she focused on Leo. “What’s wrong? Why did you run?”

The boy didn’t say anything, didn’t even raise his head.

Still trying to make sense of what was going on, Eve turned to the sheriff. “Why are you looking for Leo?”

Sheriff Gleason gave her a steady look. “I think we’d all better head over to my office so we can straighten this out.”

* * *

Chance kept a firm hold on Leo’s arm as the four of them marched to Sheriff Gleason’s office in silence. This was obviously about more than just the kid being a stowaway. Was it merely a matter of his parents, or whoever was responsible for him, having tracked him down? Or was the boy in more serious trouble?

And just how much deeper did he want to get personally involved in this? Being intrigued by Miss Pickering was one thing, but getting embroiled in the problems of a runaway kid he knew nothing about was something else altogether.

Besides, that letter he’d received earlier was starting to burn a hole in his pocket. He could feel the weight of it there, demanding his attention with the same no-refusal-tolerated attitude his father had always used.

He’d been caught completely off guard by the sight of that bold, flourishing handwriting that was unmistakably his father’s. Why, after nearly a year and a half, was the man writing to him now? He’d figured the two of them had said everything they had to say to each other in that heated discussion just before he left Philadelphia. There’d been harsh, biting words on both sides. His father was not one to apologize, so that couldn’t be it. And it wouldn’t be in character for him to be inquiring after his youngest son’s well-being. So what was it?

Then a sobering thought occurred to him.

Had something happened to one of his brothers? Perhaps he should go ahead and—

“Here we are.”

The sheriff’s words brought Chance back to the present. And logic told him that if the news was dire in nature his father would have sent a telegram, not a letter. If the news, whatever it was, had waited long enough to get here by mail, a little more time wouldn’t make a difference. Even under normal circumstances he wouldn’t attempt to read something under the scrutiny of anyone, friend or stranger. And this particular letter made that doubly true.

Chance escorted Leo inside and had just about decided to bow out and make his exit, when he made the mistake of glancing Miss Pickering’s way. She looked so worried and confused.

Then she met his gaze and for just a moment he saw a plea there that tugged at all his protective instincts. But it was when she turned to face the sheriff and schooled her features, bracing herself, as if she were David preparing to face Goliath, that he was well and truly snagged.

How could he turn his back on such selfless courage?

He watched as she drew herself up to her limited height and turned back into that prim but fierce mouse he’d seen face down the conductor on the platform earlier.

“Sheriff Gleason,” she said, “please explain to me what this is all about.” There was no wavering in her tone, no indication of the dismay he’d seen on her face earlier.

The sheriff studied her a moment. “Are you this boy’s guardian, Miss Pickering?”

Now that was an interesting question. Just how would the very proper Miss Pickering answer?

Chapter Three

T
he knots inside Eve tightened another turn. Surely he wouldn’t dismiss her if she had no official relationship with Leo. If he did, who would stand up for the boy and look out for his interests? Mr. Dawson had been kind in a neighborly sort of way, but she wasn’t at all certain she could count on him to go the extra mile for the boy.

She tilted her chin up a bit higher. “Not officially, but I consider myself his friend and temporary protector.”

To her relief, the lawman nodded. “I see.” He turned and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “I received this telegram earlier today. Officials from Bent Oak sent similar ones to lawmen all along the train route asking us to be on the lookout for a boy named Leonard Haskins who stole a valuable pocket watch. There were indications he might have slipped on board the train at Texarkana.”

He eyed Leo. “The boy’s description is a pretty good match for your young friend here.”

Just what kind of trouble was Leo in? “That doesn’t mean Leo is the boy in question, or that the charges are true. He needs to have an opportunity to speak for himself.”

The sheriff folded his arms with a nod. “I’m listening.”

Eve turned to Leo, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to tell us your side of the story.” She put as much support and encouragement in her expression as she could, but Leo looked more angry and desperate than reassured.

She tried again, this time adding firmness to her tone. “It’s always best to tell the truth. I promise I’m going to help you no matter what. But you need to do your part, as well.”

“I
am
Leonard Haskins,” he finally said.

“And the watch?” the sheriff pressed.

Leo reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out an ornate gold watch. He stared at the timepiece for a long moment, then held it out to the sheriff without a word.

The lawman took it and set it down on his desk.

Eve tried to maintain her composure. She was determined to stand by Leo, but would she be allowed to? Almost involuntarily, she glanced Mr. Dawson’s way and found her spirits buoyed by the encouraging look he gave her.

As if he’d been waiting on a cue from her, Mr. Dawson turned to Sheriff Gleason. “What happens now?”

“I’ll contact the sheriff responsible for Bent Oak and let him know we’ve recovered the watch and have the boy in custody. I imagine both Leo and the watch will be sent back to Bent Oak and—”

“No!” The exclamation exploded out of Leo as if from a gun. He would have darted out the door if Mr. Dawson hadn’t grabbed him.

“Whoa now.” Mr. Dawson stood solidly in place as Leo struggled frantically to get free.

It was all Eve could do not to rush over and try to still his struggles with an embrace.

When Leo finally gave up, he glared defiantly at the sheriff. “Lock me up for what I done if you have to, but don’t send me back there. I won’t go back to Mr. Belcher, I just won’t.” He was shaking with the intensity of his feelings.

“Leo, who is Mr. Belcher?”

Leo looked Eve’s way but for a moment he didn’t seem to really see her. After a heartbeat, though, his tension eased and his gaze met hers. “He’s the neighbor who took me in when my folks died. Only he wasn’t doing it ’cause he was feeling particularly kindly toward me.” The bitter edge to his voice was jarring coming from one so young. “After the funeral he told me my pa owed him a lot of money and since he couldn’t collect from him anymore, he aimed to see that I worked it off.”

Eve’s stomach clinched as she studied the boy’s raggedy appearance and bony frame in light of what he’d just said. She resisted the urge to reach out to him, knowing instinctively he’d shy away from physical contact just now. “Leo, did he treat you badly?” she asked gently.

The boy shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “I found out he was a mean old coot, especially when he was drunk.” He lifted his chin. “But I never let him see me cry.”

Everything inside her cried out at that telling statement. Who would treat a child like this? She saw Mr. Dawson’s jaw tighten, indicating he shared her outrage.

But Leo hadn’t finished saying his piece. “I finally figured two years of my working sunup to sundown should have paid off any debt my pa owed him, if he actually owed him anything in the first place. So a few nights ago I just up and left while he was still sleeping.” He gave them all a tight-jawed look. “And I don’t aim to go back, no matter what.”

“And the watch?” the sheriff asked.

Leo drew himself up. “I ain’t no thief. I took it because it was rightfully mine.”

“Yours?” The sheriff retrieved the timepiece and examined it. “This is a mighty expensive-looking item for a kid to own.”

“It was my pa’s. His great-granddad brought it over from England before he sailed here. He saved the life of some kind of nobleman and the man gave him that watch out of gratitude. My pa told me the story lots of times. He also said it would be mine someday.” His face twisted into a dark glower. “But then Mr. Belcher took it from me—said it would serve as pay for my upkeep.”

“That’s a fine story, son, and I’m not saying I don’t believe you, but can you prove it?” The lawman’s tone was firm without being confrontational.

“Look inside,” Leo answered. “Mr. Belcher tried to scratch them out, but there’s the initials
CLH
and the year 1807 in there. That’s my pa’s great-granddad Charles Lewis Haskins and the year he received the watch.” Then Leo shrugged. “If you still don’t believe me there’s likely someone back in Bent Oak who still remembers my pa carrying it when he went to church on Sunday.”

Satisfied, Eve turned to the sheriff. “You can’t arrest this boy for taking back what belongs to him. Especially after all he’s been through.”

The lawman raised a brow. “How do you know he’s telling the truth?”

“I ain’t no liar.” Leo’s tone reflected his indignation.

Mr. Dawson stepped in again. “Look, Ward, you must have some way of checking out his story. Until you do, we don’t need to be in a hurry to send him back, do we?”

The sheriff rubbed his jaw. “I suppose I could make some inquiries. But until I hear back, I can’t just let the kid run loose. I mean, there’s no one to keep an eye on him while we wait.”

“I’m old enough to take care of myself.” The boy drew his shoulders back and stood up straighter. “I been doing it the past two years anyway.”

Sheriff Gleason shook his head. “Even so, I can’t just let you out on your own until we get this matter straightened out.”

Eve laid a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I’ll take responsibility for him.”

The lawman gave her a look that was both sympathetic and uncompromising. “No offense, Miss Pickering, but I don’t know you. I don’t know what kind of caretaker you’d make for a boy who might just get it in his head to run off again.”

Eve turned to Leo. “Will you give me your solemn word that you won’t run away again as long as you are in my care?”

The boy stared at her for several moments and she could see the internal struggle in his face. Finally he nodded. “Yes, ma’am, so long as I’m in
your
care, I won’t run away.” He glanced back at the sheriff. “But I ain’t going back to Mr. Belcher’s.”

She turned back to the sheriff with satisfaction. “There. Leo won’t be any trouble for me to take care of while you work on getting this whole disagreeable situation put to rights.”

Sheriff Gleason, however, didn’t appear to be convinced. “Miss Pickering, until we get to the bottom of this, we don’t really know how good his word is, do we?”

She could understand the sheriff’s attitude. After all, it was his job to be suspicious and cautious. But deep in her heart she believed every bit of Leo’s story and she couldn’t bear the thought of him having to spend time locked up in jail, especially given what he’d already been through.

How could she convince the man to see things as she did?
Dear Jesus, please help me find a way.

Aware the sheriff was waiting for her to speak, Eve took a deep breath, still not certain what she would say. But she knew she had to—

“How about I help Miss Pickering keep an eye on the boy?”

Eve turned and stared at Mr. Dawson. Had he just volunteered to help her save Leo? Maybe she
had
misjudged him after all.

* * *

Chance was as surprised by his offer as the rest of the people in the room seemed to be. He’d uttered the words without thought, spurred entirely by the urge to wipe the worry lines from Miss Pickering’s face.

He was always a pushover for a damsel in distress. This wasn’t the first time that weakness had gotten him in trouble.

But now that he’d blurted out his rash offer, he couldn’t very well take it back.

The distressed damsel and Sheriff Gleason spoke up at almost the same time.

“Mr. Dawson, that’s very kind, but I assure you—”

“Are you offering to take responsibility for seeing the boy doesn’t run off?”

Chance decided to ignore Miss Pickering’s protest and respond to the sheriff’s question instead. “Miss Pickering seems to think the boy’s word can be trusted and I’m willing to bank on that.” He gave Leo a pointed look. “At least until Leo gives me reason to think otherwise.”

The sheriff eyed him doubtfully. “That’s all well and good, but how do you plan to keep a close eye on him?”

That was a good question. But an idea was starting to form in the back of his mind. It was a bit unorthodox, but if he could pull it off, it would make him appear a hero with minimal effort on his part. And it might have the bonus of making for an interesting few days.

“I have an idea that might simplify matters for everyone. But I need to check on something before I explain.” He turned to Miss Pickering. “Can you wait about thirty minutes before we eat?”

“Of course. But what—”

He didn’t give her an opportunity to finish her question. “I’ll explain when I return.” He turned to the sheriff. “If it isn’t an inconvenience, perhaps our visitors could wait here in your office? I won’t be long.”

Sheriff Gleason took his cue and gave Miss Pickering a short bow. “Of course. You and Leo are welcome to make yourselves at home.”

But Miss Pickering was not to be denied her opportunity to protest. She had resumed her prim schoolmarm look and raised a hand. “Gentlemen, while I appreciate your attempt to assist Leo and me in this matter, don’t you think I should have some say in whatever it is you’re planning?”

Sheriff Gleason gave her a stern look. “Frankly, Miss Pickering, unless Chance here has a real good solution in mind, I don’t see how I can keep from locking the boy up, at least for as long as it takes me to get to the bottom of this matter.”

Chance tried one of his more persuasive smiles on her. “What do you say? Can you trust me to find a solution that’ll make everyone happy? Or at least reserve judgment until you hear what I have in mind?”

She didn’t seem particularly won over, but gave a slow nod. “I suppose that’s a fair request.”

So much for charming her. “Good girl.”

He saw the startled look at his familiar address, but she didn’t chide him again. Instead she turned to the sheriff. “Perhaps we can make good use of the time we’ll spend waiting for Mr. Dawson to carry out his mysterious errand. We can get started on whatever inquiries need to be made to clear up this matter with Leo.” She clasped her hands together. “After all, the sooner started, the sooner finished.”

“Good idea.” Sheriff Gleason moved around to the other side of his desk. “I’ll draft a telegram and send it off today.”

“Speaking of telegrams,” Chance said to Eve, “isn’t there someone in Tyler you need to notify about your postponed arrival?” He found it interesting that she seemed to have given so little thought to this sudden change in her own plans.

Miss Pickering’s eyes widened and she placed a hand to her cheek. “Oh, my goodness. How could I have forgotten about Mrs. O’Connell? I imagine she’ll be worried when I don’t get off the train. I must send her a telegram immediately.”

At least that had gotten her mind off quizzing him. “Well then, it looks like you folks won’t have much time to miss me. I’ll meet you back here in about a half hour.”

Chance smiled as he exited the sheriff’s office, headed for the boardinghouse. He’d succeeded in getting Miss Pickering to trust him, at least for the time being, and also in finding something to focus her attention on while he was gone. There was some hope that he could make a dent in her reserve yet. He grinned, relishing the thought of how much fun it would be to do that.

He’d have to get Dotty on board for his plan to work, but he didn’t foresee any problem with that. Knowing she would be key to helping Turnabout’s newest visitors be more comfortable would be all the incentive she needed.

Then his smile faded. Before talking to Dotty, there was one more thing he needed to do.

He’d put it off long enough. It was time to read the letter.

Chance turned his steps toward his own place. As soon as he was inside, he tore the envelope open. Taking a deep breath, he focused all his concentration on deciphering the words on the paper in his hands. Some days he had more success than others.