The Law and Miss Mary (17 page)

Despite her restlessness, excitement bubbled through her. So much had happened today. Jackson and Harmon had offered to renovate the boat at no cost to her—for only the privilege of sleeping on it—which would keep it safe from vandals! And the captain had paid for the supplies they needed. And now—she shook her head in pure amazement—now the Ladies’ Benevolent Society was going to provide all that was needed for the children’s bedrooms! Mrs. Lucas had proposed the idea that each lady provide the accoutrements—window curtains, bedsheets, pillow and quilt or coverlet—for one stateroom and they had agreed! Why, once Mrs. Lucas had finished with them, some of the ladies were even eager and excited about the project.

Mary laughed and pushed the swing faster. The woman was a genius. Wait until the captain heard—Her laughter died. The swing slowed, the creaking of the chains a lonely sound in the twilight. If only she knew the captain was well, the day would be perfect. Oh, of course he was! He was probably this minute sitting on Miss Stewart’s porch and—

“Good evening.”

“Oh!” She jammed her toes against the floor, to stop the swing.

“Excuse me. I guess you did not hear me approach on the grass.” The captain folded his arms on the porch railing and smiled up at her. “My patrol is over and I was on my way home when I heard you laughing. I couldn’t resist coming over. Care to share what has made you so happy?”

She looked at the captain’s blue eyes, his smiling lips, his strong arms. He was well. And he was here. She smiled and let the words come out, soft and full of joy. “A perfect day.”

Chapter Nineteen

M
ary glanced at the paper in her hand—fourth house on the right-hand side. This was the place. She nodded to James and squared her shoulders. They marched up the walk and knocked on the door—exchanged glances and stepped back as it was opened.

A gray-haired, plump woman peered out at them. “Yes?”

Mary smiled, waited for James to speak. “I should like to speak with Mr. Monroe, please. About the Spruce Street property he has for sale.”

“Come in.” The woman stepped aside. “Wait here, please.” She disappeared into the dim interior.

Mary closed her eyes.
Please, Lord, this is the last name on the list the captain gave me. Please, let this man be willing to sell the land to us.

A well-dressed, prosperous-looking man came striding into the hall. He looked them both over, addressing James. “You are interested in my Spruce Street property, young man?”

James smiled, held out his hand. “I am if you are Wilfred Monroe.”

“I am.” The man grasped James’s hand. “And you are…?”

“I am James Randolph, Mr. Monroe. And this is my sister—”

“Randolph!” A scowl darkened the man’s features. “I have heard about your sister. Making an
orphanage
out of a steamboat.” He gave a disdainful snort. “A ridiculous idea. And I have been warned you are now coming around to decent people and trying to buy land from them to hold that disgrace.” He pulled the door open. “You will get no land from me. No, nor from anyone I know, for I will tell them all of your scheme. You will devalue all the properties around your ridiculous steamboat orphanage. Good day to you!” He rattled the doorknob.

“And to you, sir.” James took Mary’s elbow and together they walked out the door. It slammed shut behind them.

“Is that the last of them?”

“Yes.” Mary looked up at him, tears in her eyes, though from anger or defeat she could not say. “What are we to do, James? The
Journey’s End
will soon be ready for the children, but we have no land to put it on. And none of these people will even talk to us.”

“There is more property for sale than this small list, Mary.” James smiled down at her. “The captain gave us a list of the best properties for our purpose. And the ones we might be able to afford. We shall simply have to expand our search, and extend ourselves more. I believe you should write Mother and Father of this problem. They are so proud of what you are doing for these children, I am sure Father will increase the amount he will pay for the land.”

The thought cheered her. She smiled up at him. “Perhaps you are right. I shall write Mother and Father this evening.” She sighed and glanced back at the house. “Sometimes it is very hard to maintain a Christian tongue.”

He laughed. “I saw you swallowing your words. The truth is, I swallowed a few of my own.” He sobered. “But I truly believe God has been blessing your efforts, and I am certain you will have your land when you need it.”

“You are right, of course.” She slanted a wry look at him. “I am new at trusting God, but I am learning. Thank you for coming with me today, James. I would not even have been received had I approached these people on my own.”

“My pleasure, Mary. With all that has happened at the steamer line, I have had little time to help with your endeavors. But I am happy to do all I can. And now, my dear sister, you may help me in return.”

“Oh? In what way? What do you wish?”

“Come with me to the office. Our new luxury steamboat is well under way and there are final decorating decisions to be made. I need your advice on carpet and paint and chandeliers.”

“Goodness, Miss Mary!” Ivy stopped and shook her head. “I’ve been admiring the boat from afar, but it looks even better when you get near.”

Mary laughed and swept her gaze over the
Journey’s End.
The steamboat gleamed. The fresh white paint was so bright it hurt your eyes to look fully at it when the sun was high. The boat’s name, which she had kept, deeming it so appropriate for the orphanage, was emblazoned on the side in the dark blue paint that also graced the window frames, the two tall stacks and the paddle wheel at the stern. The deck glistened. The windows shone. The outside of the boat was finished.

Her heart swelled. She was so proud of the steamboat orphanage, and so grateful to everyone who had helped make the dream come true. Her mother was right. God truly did work through His children. Why had she resisted that truth so long? She smiled at Ivy. “I agree. I cannot simply go aboard. Every time I come, I stop here by the gangplank to admire the steamer. And to remember how many people have helped along the way.” She smiled at her cook. “You were the first, Ivy. You opened your heart and your home to help the children, and I am very grateful.”

Mary shook her head. “I always scorned my mother’s insistence that God watches over His children, and that the things that happen in our lives are not coincidences but God’s blessings. Now I know that is true. The way the steamboat orphanage has come about in the face of the city fathers’ opposition has proved that beyond any doubt. But there is more to be done. We need land.” She looked down at the children fidgeting with impatience. “And you must all help by praying every day. Now, go ahead.”

She laughed as the children rushed, sure-footed and fearless, up the bright red gangplank. But her heart ached for the children still in jail.
Almighty God, please, provide land so we may free those children.

“Katy, please stay back from the rail. And, all of you, do not pester Jackson and Harmon while they are working!” She watched the children run inside chattering about their new home and glanced at Ivy. Her cook was gazing at the steamboat and seemed undisturbed by the children’s remarks about their new home. Perhaps she hadn’t heard them.

“Shall we go inside, Ivy? I cannot wait to show you around.” She led the way up the gangplank and through the door in the new end wall. “The children’s quarters on the boiler deck are all completed. But work continues here on the main deck. However, the kitchen is finished.” She laughed at the sudden gleam in Ivy’s eyes. “I will show it to you first. Come this way.”

She swept her arm in an arc. “This large area will be the dining room. The tables and chairs are from the old dining room above. And here is a sitting room. Those rooms on either side will be for the headmistress—me—” she laughed and made a small curtsy “—and the cook. Who at present is unknown. And this is the kitchen.” She led them through the archway, now boasting cupboards where the open crates had been, and stopped.

“Oh, my…” Ivy moved into the room, running her hand over the scrubbed-clean table.

Mary watched her and laughed. “Your reaction is very different than mine when I first saw this room.” She looked around with a little thrill of pride. “It is much the same as it was, except now everything is repaired and clean and polished and in its proper place. And we have a new iron cookstove.”

Ivy nodded, then began exploring the kitchen—opening the pantry doors and peering inside, moved on to the cupboard full of dishes, the dry sink with a new wide shelf above it, then turned and fastened her gaze on her. “Miss Mary, I want to be the cook. That’s why I asked to come with you today and see the steamboat.”

Mary stared, taken aback by the sudden pronouncement.

“I’ve given it lots of thought. I like helping these kids. But my place isn’t any bigger than a mouse’s squeak, and I can’t take in any more. But here, I could be doing for all of them.”

“But—”

“And, it appears to me, Mister James will be marrying soon. His bride will want her own help and her own ways. And nothing makes me happier than baking up a batch of cookies and seeing those children’s happy grins.”

“Well…”

“Thank you, Miss Mary.”

Mary lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender and laughed. “You are welcome, Ivy. But
you
get the honor of telling James!”

“Come in, Captain Benton. Have a seat.” The mayor gestured to the chair at the end of the long table.

Sam removed his hat and moved toward the chair. Unease, that policeman’s instinct that warned him of danger, rose. Something was in the wind. And it wasn’t good. He could feel it. He took a quick scan of the aldermen seated around the table. They all looked tense but pleased. He gave a polite nod as a covering reason for his look and took his seat.

The mayor cleared his throat. “I have asked you to join this meeting, Captain, because I believe you are quite familiar with the person and the subject it concerns.”

Sam’s unease doubled. The mayor was seething under that polite mask he wore. Still, pleasure over what was to come lurked in the depth of his eyes, easy to read as an item in a newspaper. This was about Mary and the orphans. He placed his hat on his knee, leaned back in his chair and affected a guise of relaxed ease. No sense in giving the man the satisfaction of a response. He already looked too smug.

The mayor frowned. “I am, of course, speaking of Miss Randolph and this ludicrous steamboat orphanage she thinks she is creating.”

Stay in control, Sam. He wants you angry. Defensive.
He gave a short nod. “I know Miss Randolph. And I am familiar with the orphanage she
has
created out of a steamboat, yes.” He couldn’t resist the slight emphasis.

The mayor’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, I know of all the renovation that has taken place, Captain.
And
that the Ladies’ Benevolent Society has contributed generously to bring it about. Also that they intend to continue that philanthropy.”

There was a general muttering and nodding of heads around the table.

Ah, so that was it. These men’s pocketbooks were involved. No doubt Levinia—

“But all that has been accomplished is a useless, renovated steamboat, Captain. The orphans will stay in jail. And they will continue to work for their keep.” The mayor looked straight at him and smiled. “And, of course, more will join them as you and your men continue to arrest them. You see no one can
live
on that piece of folly. Miss Randolph has no land to situate it on. Though it has come to my attention that she is trying to purchase land for that purpose.” The mayor’s eyes glittered. “I intend to see that she will
never
do so.
That
is what this meeting is about. And that, as an officer of the law, is the message you will convey to Miss Randolph when we adjourn.”

Sam gripped the chair arms. It took all of his control to stay in his seat, to keep from rushing around the table to pummel the man more senseless than he already was. His jaw muscles twitched. His hands clenched and unclenched on the chair arms. The orphans did not deserve this.
Mary
did not deserve this. She was the most wonderful, the most beautiful, the most—

“And I assure you, Captain, that was
not
an idle threat.”

The words shot out like bullets from a gun—fast and deadly.

Sam jerked his attention back to the mayor. The man grabbed the gavel by his hand and crashed it down on the table.

“
Gentlemen,
I am proposing a new law. From this day forth, there will be no steamboats or other river vessels permitted to be permanently situated or used as a residence on land in St. Louis. No matter what changes or renovations have been made to them! All in favor, acknowledge by saying aye.”

One by one, clockwise around the table, each alderman spoke aye.

“Let the record show the new law was passed by unanimous vote.” The mayor leaned back in his chair and smiled. “And that, Captain, puts an end to your Miss Randolph’s steamboat orphanage.”

Sam wanted to rip the smirking lips off the man’s face. He took a breath, let it out slow and even. “
My
Miss Randolph?”

“Why, yes.” The mayor’s gaze bored into his. “Did I forget to mention I am also aware that you have been spending a great deal of time with the woman? Of course, that could change…”

So this was about Levinia, also. Spoiled Levinia who did not like to lose. Sam shoved back his chair and rose. “You are correct, Mr. Mayor. That could change.” He smiled inwardly at the flash of victory in the mayor’s eyes and drove home his killing thrust. “And I hope it does—to courtship and marriage.”

He swept his glance over the men around the table, letting his contempt for their high-handed, unjust tactics show. “Good day to you all. I will deliver your message to Miss Randolph.” He yanked his hat on his head, spun on his heel and strode from the room.

“Excuse me. Are you Miss Randolph?”

Mary turned at the soft query and looked over the pile of bedding in her arms at a young, thin woman with red hair and green eyes. “Yes, I’m Mary Randolph.” She lowered her burden to a game table and smoothed the front of her skirt. “How may I help you?”

The young woman stepped forward from her position at the top of the stairs, her eyes rounding as she glanced around. “My. This is…this is…lovely.”

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Oh. I am sorry.” A blush swept over the pale skin, making the freckles stand out even more. “Please forgive my rudeness. I was not prepared for such a…a wonderful place.” The blush deepened. “I am Jane Withers, and I—” She stopped and drew her shoulders back. “I have heard that you are making this steamboat into an orphanage. I wondered if, perhaps, you were looking for a teacher for the children who will live here?”

Mary smiled and shook her head. “I would very much like to have a teacher, Miss Withers. But at present, I will be teaching the children. I am afraid I do not have the funds to pay another.”

“Oh.” The young woman looked absolutely crestfallen. “I understand. Forgive me for interrupting your work, Miss Randolph.” She turned to leave.

Mary scanned her clothes. The gown was neat and clean, but not of rich fabric or style. And the heels of the shoes peeking out from under the long gingham skirt were worn. “Miss Withers?”

The young woman turned back.

“Who told you about
Journey’s End?
”

“A Captain Benton. He said he thought perhaps you would want a teacher when there are more children.”