The Law and Miss Mary (7 page)

“Let me go!”

Mary snapped her gaze in the direction of the frightened wail. A young girl was crouched behind the rain barrel at the corner of Tanner’s Ladies Shoe Store, trying to tug her arm out of the grip of a policeman. The officer bent over the barrel, grabbed the girl by the shoulder and hauled her out onto the walkway.

“Please!”
The girl hung back, grabbing for the rim of the rain barrel. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.
Honest.
” Tears ran down her face, making tiny paths through the grime on her cheeks. Sobs shook her small, skinny body.

Mary’s heart swelled.

“Another of those filthy emigrant children!”

“Something should be done about them, Clara. Can you not speak to Robert about the situation?”

“Indeed, Clara, you must! It is disgraceful the way they are let to roam about the streets disturbing good folks!”

Mary whipped around. Three women, their faces pinched in distaste, were giving a wide berth to the child and the policeman. And no other person in the area seemed to be paying any attention to the small girl’s plight.

The unloved and unlovely of this world are often invisible to those of affluence.
Her aunt Laina’s words rang in her head. Anger stiffened her spine. Mary whirled back and marched forward. “What is the trouble, officer?”

The policeman looked up. “No trouble, miss. Takin’ this one off to jail.”

The girl seemed to shrink before her eyes. The poor little thing was shaking like leaves in a windstorm. Mary began to shake herself—with growing anger. She fought to keep her voice pleasant. “And what has she done to warrant such treatment?”

“Nothin’, miss. ’Tis the law now, is all.”

A shadow fell over her. Mary turned and looked up, straight into the eyes of Samuel Benton.

The captain gave a polite dip of his head. “Have you a problem with one of my men, Miss Randolph?”

“I do indeed.” Mary drew herself up to her full height. The man’s size was intimidating. “This officer says he is taking this little girl to jail, though he admits she has done nothing wrong.”

“I told her it was the law, Captain.”

“All right, Jenkins. Continue your patrol, I will take over here.”

“You want me to take this ’un to jail?”

Mary stepped closer.

“No. I will handle this.” The captain grasped the sobbing girl’s shoulder and the policeman strode down the walkway.

Mary lifted her chin and prepared to do battle.

“Have you ever been hungry, Miss Randolph?”

The question, posed in a conversational tone, stole the starch from her spine. She eyed him with suspicion. “Of course I have.”

The captain fastened his gaze on hers. “I am talking about starvation hunger, such as these street urchins suffer.”

Street urchins!
Her anger came surging back. She drew breath.

He raised his hand. “You need not answer. Because if you had known such hunger, you would know that being fed every day would be a blessing to them.”

“In jail, Captain?” Mary clenched her hands at her sides and looked him full in the eyes. “Is that what you tell yourself to soothe your conscience? That you are doing these
children
a favor by putting them in jail? Would
you
exchange
your
freedom for a meal?” His expression did not change one iota, but there was a tiny flicker in the depths of his blue eyes and she knew her words had stung him. She pressed her advantage. “There are other ways to feed a child, Captain Benton. And, as this child has done nothing wrong—by your own officer’s admission—you have no right to jail her.”

“You are wrong, Miss Randolph. Mayor Stewart and the town council have passed a new law that went into effect today. It is now illegal for any child under the age of twelve, who is not a citizen of St. Louis, to be on the streets of the city unless accompanied by an adult.”

She gaped up at him, held mute by astonishment. But only for a moment. “You are going to jail
children
because they are alone on the street?” Her voice was soft, lower and more husky than normal. “What of orphans like Ben? He is to be jailed, not for any wrongdoing, but because his parents had the bad fortune to
die?
That is absurd!” Her fingernails dug into her palms. “It is ludicrous.
Preposterous!
It is…it is…”

“The law, Miss Randolph.”

The captain calmly inserted the words when she sputtered to a halt. She glared at him.

“And I am sworn to uphold it. Good day.” He picked up the girl, eliciting a wail of terror.

“Wait!”

He tightened his grip on the struggling child and looked at her.

She cleared her throat. “You cannot take the girl to jail. She is with me.”

“Miss Randolph—”

“You said children under twelve who are not with an adult!” Mary lifted her chin and held out her hand. “I am an adult, and she is with me. Please put her down, Captain. I want to go home.”

A frown pulled Samuel Benton’s dark brown brows together. His blue eyes darkened. Mary squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a notch higher. Their gazes locked. And held. She refused to look away. She was right. And he knew it.

He looked down and lowered the child to the ground.

Mary released a shaky breath.
It has only been a moment. Surely it has only been a moment. It only felt like forever.
She leaned down and took the girl’s small trembling hands, rough with scratches and ground in dirt, in hers. “It is all right, now. You have nothing to fear. You are going home with me. And we are going to get you something to eat.” She glanced at the small, dirt-caked bare feet, then at the grimy little face and smiled. “You shall have a bath. And we shall get you a pretty new dress and some shoes to wear. Would you like that?”

The child stared up at her out of green eyes awash with tears. A sob broke from her throat and she threw herself against Mary’s legs, buried her face in the fabric of her skirt and nodded.

Mary rubbed the little girl’s bony back, blinked tears from her own eyes, then straightened and cleared the lump from her throat. “Come now, you cannot walk if you are crying. Take my hand.” She gave the small hand that slipped into hers a reassuring squeeze and turned toward Market Street.

“You cannot save them all, Miss Randolph. There are too many of them.”

The captain’s soft words brought her to a halt. She turned back and looked up at him. “I would not be able to sleep at night if I did not try, Captain. But if what you say is true, then I shall need help. Would you care to join me?”

She left the challenge hanging there and walked off, shortening her stride so the child pressing close against her could keep pace. At the corner, she could resist no longer—she glanced back. Captain Benton was still there on the walkway, looking after her. No doubt wishing she had never come to St. Louis.

Chapter Eight

S
he felt him looking at her.

Mary lifted her head. Her brother was standing in the doorway, a grin on his face. “I amuse you, James?”

“Yes, indeed.” The grin widened. “I never thought to see you mending clothes.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “I am not mending the dress. I am altering it. And it is about time all that instruction in fine needlework bore fruit.” She looked down and took another stitch along the seam. “Callie is so thin, there were no dresses in the store to fit her. And I refuse to burden Ivy with this extra work. She is already doing so much, taking Ben and Callie in as she has. What a blessing it is that she was the cook for—” She stopped midstitch and gave a wry laugh. “Gracious. I sound like Mother—seeing God’s hand in a
coincidence.
” She gave a little shake of her head, completed the stitch, then poised the needle for the next, using the thimble on her finger to push it through.

“Speaking of God…”

She slanted a look up at him. “Were we?”

“His name was mentioned.”

She did not return James’s smile, merely shrugged and worked the last few stitches of the seam as he walked to the chair opposite her.

“Do you realize tomorrow is Sunday, Mary?”

She did indeed. “And…” She jabbed the needle into the soft cotton fabric and tugged the thread through as she had countless times under Miss Spencer’s tutelage.

“And…” James lowered himself into the Windsor, stretched out his long legs and crossed his ankles. “I went to the levee today when the
Cincinnati
departed. Captain Benton was there.”

The needle stabbed into her finger.
Bother!
Mary yanked her pricked finger out from under the blue dress and stuck the tip of it in her mouth. “Captain Benton seems to be everywhere. Especially when innocent children are being arrested.”

“I asked him about a church. He told me of several and gave me directions to their locations…though I got the distinct impression he did not himself attend any of them.”

“That is not surprising. The man has no conscience!” She huffed, finished off the seam, then reached into the small sewing box her mother had insisted she bring along to the wilderness.

“I went to see the pastor of one of the churches. The service begins at nine o’ clock, the same as at home.”

She snipped off the thread and placed the scissors back into the box. “
There.
I am finished.” She stuck the needle into the pincushion and tossed it after the scissors.

“Mary?”

She shot him a look as she shook out the small dress. “I heard you, James. I will be dressed in my finery and ready to go by half after eight in the morning. But I shan’t like it.” She flicked the lid of the box closed and secured the small latch. The little blue dress dangled from her other hand. She brushed the five narrow bands of darker blue fabric that circled the bottom of the skirt into place and sighed. “James…do you remember what Aunt Laina says, that ‘the unloved and unlovely of this world are often invisible to those of affluence’?”

“Yes…”

She glanced at him, saw the question in his eyes. “I never truly believed that until these past few days.” She draped the dress over the arm of her chair, then rose and crossed to the window.

“Perhaps that is because you were never before confronted by situations that proved it to be true.”

Mary nodded. “Yes. That must be the reason. Mother and Father and, of course, Aunt Laina and Uncle Thad care about the downtrodden. And they befriend those who share their feelings. I have never before seen people who…who are so selfish and uncaring.”

There were soft footsteps on the carpet. James appeared beside her, leaned a shoulder against the window frame and looked at her. “We all played with the children at Aunt Laina’s orphanage. And you and Sarah helped there when you got older. But none of us ever witnessed Aunt Laina’s struggle to establish it. We only heard bits and pieces of the story as we were growing up.”

A buggy rolled into view. She watched until it was out of sight, then turned to face him. “I never realized how courageous Aunt Laina is. I shall never forget the disdainful disgust on the faces of the customers at Simpson’s market when they looked at Ben. Or the hard-heartedness of those three women on the street today. They looked at Callie as if she were some loathsome creature instead of a child. And everyone else on the walkway either glanced at her and the policeman and walked on or averted their gazes completely. They simply did not care about the child. And as for Captain Benton…” Her face tightened. “He does not bear speaking about.”

“Mary—”

“Do not tell me again that the captain is only doing his duty, James. He is
wrong
to take those children to jail and he knows it. I saw it in his eyes. I do not know how the man sleeps at night. I hope it is poorly!” She gave another huff, walked to the small piecrust-edged table stand and picked up her sewing box to put it away in the corner cupboard. She turned to pick up the dress, gasped and spun about to face him.

He straightened. “What is it?”

“I only know of Ben and Callie, James! How many children do you suppose are already in jail? And how am I to prevent the arrest of more of them? I cannot patrol every street and watch every policeman.” She stared at him, nibbling on the left inside corner of her upper lip while her mind circled the problem.

He pushed away from the window and gave a little shrug. “True enough. Of course, if the law was revoked—”

“
James.
The law—” She laughed, rushed forward and threw her arms about him in a fierce hug. “Thank you, James. You are so very,
very
clever. That is the answer. I shall have that ridiculous law revoked!”

He had selected the right woman to be his bride. There was no doubt about it. Sam leaned against a pillar and let his gaze travel over Levinia Stewart as she spread the long, silk-flower-trimmed skirt of her yellow gown and seated herself on the swing. Yes, she was the perfect choice for his wife. That was exactly the way she would look gracing his porch. He would be able to picture her there now.

Levinia glanced up at him from under lowered lashes, gave him a dimpled smile and pushed one small, silk-slipper-clad foot against the floor to set the swing in motion. “You must not look at me so intently, Captain Benton. It is not seemly.”

He rose to the coquettish cue. “Forgive me, Miss Stewart. But your beauty draws my eye as candlelight draws a moth. I find it impossible to resist looking at you. As, I believe, would any man.”

The quick flash in her blue eyes before she lowered her long lashes told him that she had been well pleased by his compliment.

“You flatter me excessively, Captain.”

Her tone told him that she wanted more. He took the hint and fed her another morsel. “That would be impossible, Miss Stewart. My tongue cannot find words adequate to describe your beauty.”

He was rewarded for his effort with another dimpled smile.

“I see you are not a man who accepts reproof, Captain Benton.” Levinia’s small foot peeked out from beneath her skirt to push against the porch floor again. The swing moved gently to and fro. “The evening is pleasant.”

So the flirting was over for now. It was time for small talk. “Yes. The cloud cover has cooled things a bit. It will most likely rain tonight—and tomorrow.”

“Oh, I hope not tomorrow. I have a lovely new dress to wear to church.” A flirtatious, coaxing look came his way. “Shall I see you in church, Captain?”

Sam’s face tightened. Church was the last place he wanted to be. But if he were to win Levinia and be accepted within the social elite of St. Louis, he would have to play the part.
Does this amuse You, God?
He pasted a smile on his face. “I will be there, Miss Stewart. Though with you seated in the congregation, it will be hard for me to concentrate on the sermon.”

Her small laugh rippled softly on the cool, evening air. “Gracious, Captain, you must desist from paying me so many compliments or you will quite turn my head!” She lifted her gloved hand and toyed with one of the blond curls dangling at her temples. “Mother is very pleased with this new law Father passed to clear our streets of those filthy urchins. She was quite undone the other day when one of them entered Simpson’s market. He almost
touched
her gown!”

A delicate shudder. Planned, not real. And another of those feigned coaxing looks.
Does she practice?
He couldn’t imagine Miss Randolph acting in such an affected way. He squelched a frown.

“I hope you will arrest them all soon and get them off our streets. They are a most unpleasant sight, and quite ruin a lovely day of shopping.”

You are going to jail children because they are alone on the street? Because their parents had the bad fortune to die?
Sam shook his head, studied Levinia’s face to rid himself of Mary Randolph’s voice in his head. “I shall uphold the law to the best of my ability, Miss Stewart.”

“Oh, I did not mean to suggest you would do less, Captain. Father says he can always depend on you. He says you will go far.” Levinia’s pink cheeks dimpled in another smile that did not quite disguise the appraising look in the widened blue eyes. “He says with his guidance and support you may even be mayor of St. Louis one day.”

Sam dipped his head to hide his elation. “I am pleased to hear your father thinks well of me.” He looked up and locked his gaze with hers. “And may I hope you feel the same, Miss Stewart?”

“Why, Captain—” Light flashed across the dark clouds on the horizon. Thunder rolled in the distance. “Oh!” Levinia placed a hand on her chest and rose from the swing. “I fear your prediction of inclement weather is coming true, Captain Benton.” There was another flash of light, a low rumble. “I dislike storms. Forgive me, but I must go inside before the rain begins.”

“I insist you do, Miss Stewart. I would not want you to take a chill. Please, allow me to assist you.” Sam stepped forward and opened the door for her.

“Thank you, Captain Benton. I shall look forward to seeing you at church tomorrow.” She gave him a quick smile and rushed inside. Sam tugged on his hat and trotted down the porch steps.

So the mayor thought he would go far. Maybe even be the mayor of St. Louis someday. Well…maybe he would. A smile split his lips. Levinia would be the perfect wife if he went into politics. And judging from her actions tonight, along with that measuring look she had given him, she was considering that possibility herself.

Rain pattered on his hat, splattered against his shoulders and danced on the hard, dry ground. Sam glanced up at the roiling clouds overhead and frowned. He was in for a good soaking before he reached home. But the courting call he had made on Levinia was worth it. He had found out his plan was going forward even better than he had anticipated.

The wind picked up. Rain pelted his back, plastering his shirt against his skin, but nothing could disturb the warm glow of satisfaction inside him. The only thing that could make this evening better was if he had ridden Attila. He smiled, pulled his hat brim lower and stretched his legs out into a ground-eating lope. Church tomorrow. It seemed God was going to help him achieve his goals after all.

Was that thunder? Mary laid her book aside and crossed to the open window. Black clouds were tumbling across the sky. The ends of the branches of the elm tree in the backyard dipped and swayed in a rising wind. Light glinted across the horizon and her thoughts darted to her sister. She leaned on the windowsill and looked toward the northeast. Sarah was terrified of thunderstorms since she had seen lightning strike her fiancé dead aboard a ship they were sailing.

Mary shuddered and wrapped her arms about herself. If two sailors in a dingy had not spotted the skirt of Sarah’s dress caught on a broken-off piece of the ship when she fell in the water, her sister would have drowned. Mary looked up, watched the black clouds filling the sky, shutting off the evening light.
Oh, Sarah, I hope the sun is shining on you in Cincinnati.

The wind gusted, blowing the skirt of her dressing gown against her legs. Rain slapped against the raised window, coursed down the small panes and flowed off in rivulets. The candle on the washstand beside her bed guttered and died.

Mary shivered and stared out into the dark. How many young children were out there in the storm? Where did they take shelter?
You cannot save them all, Miss Randolph. There are too many of them.
Captain Benton’s words flowed through her mind. They bore a frustrating truth. Doubt assailed her. She brushed the rainwater from the sill with her hand, closed the window and stared out into the stormy night.

Should she request an audience with Mayor Stewart? Or was Captain Benton right? If she was successful in presenting her petition to have this law removed from the city charter, what then? Who would feed, clothe and shelter these young, orphaned children? She had no room in this tiny cottage. And she could not ask Ivy to take in more of them.

The lightning flashed brighter. The thunder rumbled closer, and the rain drummed on the roof over her head. Mary sighed. It was too big a task for her alone. But she would do what she could. Tomorrow she would write and ask her father to increase her allowance. And to allow any more orphaned children she found to sleep in the warehouse. It was not enough, but it was a start. And she
would
call at Mayor Stewart’s office on Monday. She could not help a child who was in jail.

Jail.

Her thoughts returned to her confrontation that afternoon with Captain Benton.
If what you say is true, then I shall need help. Would you care to join me?
Mary frowned and unfastened her dressing gown as she crossed to her bed. Anger had pushed her into challenging Captain Benton—but why did she get so angry with him? She knew he was only doing his job. It
was
his duty to uphold the law. And he had been gentle when holding Callie this afternoon, unlike the other policeman. But—