Prairie Wife (27 page)

Cay shook his head. "Scrap got us food tonight."

"How did he pay for it?"

"I dunno, but I paid him for my share."

"You used your earnings?"

He nodded.

Jesse tilted his head as though to say, well, it was Cay's money.
"What do you know about Scrap?"

"Nothin'. Just that he lives back there where you found me,
and that he knows how to get food and stuff."

She glanced at Jesse. "Where did you find him?"

"Sleepin' under a wagon."

"And Scrap
lives
there?" Amy asked.

Cay nodded. "I asked him about his family, and he said his pa
had left 'em a long time ago and his ma died."

Amy looked from Cay to Jesse in shock. "And he's allowed to
live without a home or anyone to care for him?"

Jesse shrugged. "I'll inquire about him at the sheriff's in
the morning."

"That won't be long now." She glanced toward the window.
"We'd better get some sleep."

Jesse locked the door. "Cay, you take the bed with Amy, and
I'll stretch out on the floor." He opened both bedrolls, which had been
stacked in the corner, and made himself comfortable.

Cay shucked down to his union suit and lay on the bed. "Think
Sam's worried, too?"

"He is," Jesse replied. "I'll send a telegram to
Liscom's first thing, so he'll know we found you."

Cay pulled the blanket up to his chin. "Okay."

"Where did you sleep last night?" Amy asked.

"Same as tonight—under the wagon," he replied.
"Scrap found me last night and showed me the place to hide out."

"Weren't you afraid?"

Cay didn't say anything.

"Men don't admit to being afraid," Jesse told her in the
darkness.

"Pardon me. Did you miss us? Would that be okay to
admit?"

"I missed home somethin' awful." A few minutes passed.
"I'm glad you found me."

"Me too," Amy answered.

Reassured now that Cay was with them, and pretty certain that the
boy understood he was wanted at Shelby Station, Jesse closed his eyes.

Cay had called it
home.

***

While Jesse visited the sheriff the next morning, Amy led Cay into
a dry goods store and he helped her shop for fabric and ready-made shirts for
Jesse and her father. She purchased two shirts as well as two new pairs of
dungarees for Cay.

The store carried rows of footwear, and she insisted Cay try on
boots until he found a pair that fit him well. "It'll be getting colder
and you'll need warm socks," she told him.

Cay looked down at the new pair of boots thoughtfully. "There
will be lots of snow soon, huh?"

She nodded as she looked over spools of thread.

"Scrap don't have very warm clothes," he said.

Amy stopped in reaching for a package of needles and looked at
Cay. She'd been unable to get the other boy out of her mind. Surely someone
would take care of him before winter set in hard.

Jesse found them, and he and Cay carried the packages to the
boardinghouse, then returned and met Amy in front of an eatery with
red-and-white checked curtains in the windows.

Inside, they seated themselves, and a tall young woman with braids
wound around her head brought them cups and a slate with the day's menu. They
ordered and she hurried away.

Amy folded her hands on the table. "What did the sheriff
say?"

"He knows about the boy, of course. Seems he's been taken by
the authorities before, but always manages to run away. Apparently that
Bartholomew fellow at the saloon said he'd be responsible for him, and lets him
sleep in a back room when the weather is bad."

"That's unacceptable," Amy responded. "What about
the families in town, the church women? Why doesn't someone take him in and
provide for him?"

"Seems his mother wasn't respectable enough for them,"
Jesse replied. "They look the other way."

Amy's compassion and sense of injustice had been riled. "If I
lived here, they'd have a piece of my mind."

"I'm certain they would."

Steaming plates of roast beef and mashed potatoes were delivered.
Jesse and Cay picked up their forks.

"Well, we'll just have to take him home with us, then."

Their forks paused midway to their mouths and similar blue gazes
turned to her. Jesse laid his fork on his plate, the bite uneaten.

"Are you sure?"

"Can we let a child spend the winter under a wagon or sleep
in the back of a saloon?"

He raised a brow and couldn't disagree. "I reckon not."

Amy looked over at Cay. "What do you think? Do you object to
inviting Scrap to come live with us?"

Cay seemed to consider for only a few seconds. "I think
everybody should have a family."

Amy's smile made her appear less weary. "Then we'll go to the
sheriff and tell him what we're thinking. Then we'll find the boy and ask him.
If he wants to come with us, the sheriff will have to take whatever steps he
must to make it legal. We should probably consult an attorney while we're
here."

Jesse had no objections. Amy made it sound like the only thing
they could do.

Cay set down his cup and grinned with a milk mustache. "Boy,
will Sam be surprised."

J
esse bought a springboard from a man selling his possessions to
move back East. He made the best of the day, buying supplies and a few extras,
and treating Amy and Cay to meals in the restaurant.

In the afternoon, the sheriff sent for them, and the Shelbys
entered the lawman's office. Jesse walked forward.

"You wanted to see us?"

"I rounded up the kid for you. I wired Denver and heard back
that the foundling home there will send papers to make you taking him
legal."

Amy glanced around. "Where is he?"

"In the rear."

She took note of the solid door behind him. A terrible suspicion
filled her mind. "Are you holding the child in a cell?"

"Ma'am, he fought tooth and nail just getting him here—what
was I to do with him?"

"Let him out right now!"

"He'll just run."

Amy looked to Jesse for help.

"Once he's turned over to us, that will be our problem, won't
it?" Jesse asked.

"It sure will."

"Let's go talk to him." Jesse gestured for Cay to take a
seat and wait for them.

The sheriff opened the door and led them along a narrow corridor
with half a dozen small, caged cells.

"There he is. Name's Richards by the way. Toby
Richards."

The boy who'd come to their room the previous night sat on the end
of a narrow cot. He glared at them, anger and resentment in his hazel eyes. Amy
experienced a slice of pain in her chest. The urchin looked so alone and so
young, and the inhumanity of locking up an innocent child chafed. She hoped
he'd be open to their invitation.

She moved to the bars. "Unlock the door and let us in,
please."

Apparently seeing no harm, the sheriff used a brass key to turn
the lock, then ushered them in. Amy entered first and Jesse followed. The
sheriff closed the cell door behind them.

Amy turned and pointedly stared at the sheriff, and the man
returned to the outer office.

She took a step toward the young boy, deliberately keeping her
distance so as not to frighten him. Beneath the belligerent scowl he wore, she
recognized his apprehension. "You know who we are?"

"Know I helped you catch your kid and then you done this to
me."

She didn't argue with him. Instead she asked, "How old are
you, Toby?"

"Old enough to know I don't want to live in no orphan
asylum."

"We don't want that for you, either. How about living with
us? Think you could tolerate that?"

The boy narrowed his gaze and scratched at his dirty neck. The
action made Amy cringe inside. "What're you fixin' to pull?"

"Nothing. You helped us, now we'd like to help you."

"What for?"

Jesse spoke up. "We can always use hands. We operate a stage
station. Cay helps us, too. Did he tell you anything about it?"

Toby nodded. "An' I told him he shoulda stayed long wise he
had a bed and food and stuff."

"We had a misunderstanding, the three of us," Jesse
explained. "But it's all settled now. He's comin' home. We just
thought—since you helped us and all—and since we could use the extra hands—that
you might want to come along too."

Amy appreciated Jesse's man-to-man approach and the way he spared
the child's pride.

The boy had a difficult time covering his surprise, but it was
obvious he wasn't convinced the offer was plain and simple. "You'd pay
me?"

Jesse nodded. "Cay earns wages. You would, too."

"Cay also works on his lessons each night," Amy added,
hoping that wouldn't scare him but needing him to understand what they would
expect. "We would want you to learn to read and write so you could help
Jesse with the lists and the ledgers and so forth. Have you been to
school?"

"No, ma'am. But before my ma died, she was teachin' me to
figure."

His polite address touched her. "Well, that's a good
start."

Jesse stood with one hand on the iron bars. "You understand,
Toby, that we'd be wantin' to make this legal? You would become part of our
family. It's more of a family position we're lookin' to fill than a job."

The boy glanced from one of them to the other. "Couldn't
nobody take me away after that? Make me go back to the orphan asylum?"

"No one could do that," Jesse assured him.

"What if you decide you don't like me? What if your boy don't
like me?"

Jesse shrugged. "What if you don't like us?"

After scratching his head, Toby stood up. "Guess we'll all be
takin' a chance, eh?"

"We will need your word that you won't run away," Amy
told him. "It's too fearful hard on parents when they don't know where
their young'uns are."

"Can I talk to Cay first? B'fore I give my word and say
yes?"

"Surely. A man's word shouldn't be given lightly."

Toby's proud posture conveyed that Jesse had spared his dignity.

Jesse stepped to the front of the cell and called for Cay. The
sheriff let him in.

"Toby would like to talk to you," Jesse said.

Jesse and Amy followed the sheriff out, leaving the two boys
alone. A few minutes later, Cay called, "It's okay. You can let us
out."

The sheriff opened the cell and Toby walked out beside Cay,
obviously with no intention of bolting. He was thinner and shorter than Jesse's
nephew, but Amy would almost have guessed him to be older. Perhaps it was just
the life he'd been living and the lack of decent food that had added years.

"I'm set to go with the Shelbys," Toby Richards told the
sheriff.

"All right, then, son. An agent will visit you before the
papers are finished. You tell the agent then if you want to stay for
good."

If the boy felt awkward leaving with them, he didn't show it. He
strolled along the boardwalk beside the Shelbys, big as you please, grinning at
anyone who gave them a second look or stopped to gawk.

"Let them look," Amy said. "If a one of them had a
shred of decency, they'd have taken you home with them."

Amy paused, and her three companions turned quizzical eyes on her.
She looked Toby over, then surveyed the street. Her attention lit on a painted
sign on the other side.

Jesse, Cay and Toby turned to see what had her so interested. Then
Jesse placed both hands on his hips and looked down at the boy. "Come with
me, lad. We have a stop to make."

Amy smiled encouragingly. "Cay and I will pick up a clean set
of clothes and Cay will run them over to you."

Toby accompanied Jesse into a narrow building boasting hot baths.

Amy and Cay exchanged a glance, then hurried to run their errand.

It was nearly an hour later that Jesse and his young companion
located them in the dry goods store. Amy widened her eyes and flattened her
palm over her breast. "Well, if you don't beat all! There was a handsome
lad under all that dirt and hair."

Jesse had even seen to getting Toby's hair cut. It was wet and
dark and parted on the side. The boy had a handsome forehead and dark brows.
His hazel eyes sparkled. Amy gave him an impulsive hug. He didn't return her
embrace, but he allowed it.

She proceeded to select shirts and dungarees, boots and union
suits for him. "And a coat," she told the proprietor. "He'll
need a warm coat and a pair of gloves."

That evening, they sat in the restaurant with the red-and-white
checkered curtains and tablecloths. If the grin on his face was any indication,
Toby relished sharing a place at the table more than the meal. Amy stared back
at a couple who were unnaturally interested in the Shelbys, and they looked
away.