Montana Cowboy Family. Linda Ford
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more to it than that? Or less? Grandfather had warned Logan to be careful not to judge every woman based on his experience with two of them, but how was he to know what lay hidden beneath the prim appearance of Miss Sadie Young? He would not believe anything but his own heart, which wore a permanent warning—a stay-away sign.
Nor would he let the teacher go alone to confront Mr. or Mrs. Weiss or whomever they’d discovered. After all, the family had come from Wolf Hollow, and that alone was reason to be cautious, though he couldn’t help wondering at the mixed information he’d learned. There was something not right.
They drove past the tidy houses of Bella Creek and reached a slightly wooded area where squatters often used the ramshackle house standing there. “I believe this is the place.” He pointed to the right. He hadn’t been past in over a year and it had not improved one bit. The yard was littered with debris. Once it warmed up, the flies would be thick as syrup.
He pulled to a stop in front of the house. A window had been repaired with scraps of wood.
Logan helped Sadie down, “Careful where you step.” Poverty always bothered him. Being careless about taking care of one’s property bothered him even more, because the first couldn’t be helped but the latter could. However, if they’d only recently moved they likely hadn’t had time to clean up. Or if the parents were ill...or worse...there would be no one to do it apart from Sammy and, though the boy was a good little worker, he needed guidance and instruction.
Sadie grimaced. “I understand that some people are content to live like this. I’m not here to judge how Sammy lives, only to see if he’s safe.”
Logan nodded. “Let’s go find out.”
Someone must have surely heard their approach, but no one came to the door to welcome them.
Logan took Sadie’s hand and guided her across the littered yard. She clung to him. He told himself it was only to keep her footing and there was no need to feel all protective toward her. After all, she’d been prepared to come here on her own and would surely have managed fine without his help.
He was grateful she didn’t have to. They reached the door and he rapped his knuckles against the worn wood. From inside came a rustling and a muted voice, but no one came to the door or called out an invitation to enter.
Sadie gave him a questioning look and he shrugged. “Maybe they didn’t hear.” He knocked again, harder this time, and again they waited, knowing someone was inside. “We need to speak to you,” Logan called. “May we come in?”
Silence and then a shuffle of feet, and the door opened enough to allow Sammy to peek through. “Teacher? Mr. Marshall? What’re you doing here?”
Sadie squatted down to eye level with the boy. “I was worried about you and came to make sure you are okay.”
Logan leaned closer to peer through the narrow opening of the door. The interior showed little sign of life—a bare table and an equally bare cupboard. He’d never seen a kitchen with nothing to indicate food preparation. “Can we come in?” he asked when it became apparent Sammy didn’t mean to extend an invitation.
Sammy glanced behind him, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
Sadie straightened and turned to Logan. “This isn’t right,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“I’m okay,” Sammy said. “You don’t need to worry none about me.”
“But, Sammy, we are worried.” He knew he spoke for both of them. As he studied the boy, a pair of small feet entered his field of vision. “You have a little brother or sister? And a sick mother?”
Sadie gave him a look full of appeal, seeking his help, perhaps even his opinion. He tried not to let the notion make him feel that she might see him as a man worthy of her respect. Which, he thought with a degree of irony, he was. What he meant was he no longer cared if a woman thought so.
Nevertheless, he listened to her silent call for help and shouldered the door open, the squawk of its rusted hinges rending the silence.
Sammy stepped back. An older girl pulled him close while, in her other arm, she held a smaller girl. The older girl wore shoes with the toes cut out to accommodate her feet. Her dress had a tear in the skirt and was almost colorless from frequent washings. The little one was barefoot and her faded pink dress was equally worn, yet they were both surprisingly clean.
In a glance Logan took in the room—a bed with no mattress and only a scattering of blankets. A narrow wooden table sagged to one side, and nearby was a single chair with rungs missing in the back. Again he was struck by how empty the place was of belongings. Or any sign of domesticity. Not a curtain. Not a dish. Nothing.
“Where’s your mother? Your father?” Sadie’s words were surprisingly gentle considering the state of the place and the children.
Logan remained at her side, stifling an urge to put an arm about her shoulders and protect her from the glaring truth. “You kids are alone, aren’t you?”
Sadie pressed a hand to her throat. “Alone? Is that possible?” She studied the silent trio. “I think you better explain what is going on.”
Sammy looked up at his older sibling, a slender girl with hair lighter than Sammy’s and the same dark eyes. She shook her head in answer to Sammy’s unasked question.
“We got nothing to say,” Sammy said.
Logan pulled forward the only chair, two rungs missing in its back, and indicated Sadie should sit. Her glance at Logan informed him that the misery of the children’s situation brought her pain. Sadie placed a package on the table and unwrapped a cake. Three pairs of eyes lingered on it, then eased away. It didn’t take more than a glance around the place to know they were likely hungry.
He wished he could erase the pain for Sadie and the children. But things like this couldn’t be undone...only resolved, and he prayed for wisdom. Lord, help us unravel this mystery.
Slowly, softly, Sadie began to speak. “Sammy, are these your sisters?”
Sammy nodded.
The older girl tightened her arm about Sammy’s shoulders. If Sadie noticed the warning gesture, she ignored it. “What are their names?”
“She’s Beth.” Sammy indicated the older girl. “And this here is baby Jeannie.”
Jeannie, the blondest of the three, with the same dark eyes, wasn’t a baby anymore, but Logan understood that the youngest child often got called the baby for a long time.
“How old are your sisters?” Sadie continued in her gentle voice.
“I’m thirteen,” Beth said. “And Jeannie is three. Why?”
Sadie managed a slight smile as she met Beth’s eyes. “It’s just something teachers ask children. Let me introduce ourselves. I’m Sammy’s teacher, Miss Young, and this is Logan Marshall.”
Beth nodded. “I know who you are. But why are you here? I—Sammy took a note asking you not to visit.”
Logan noted the hesitation, as if Beth had been about to say she had sent the note. He glanced at Sadie, saw by the flash in her eyes that she had heard the same thing.
Her gaze returned to the older girl. “Yes, he did. But I couldn’t help but be worried. Especially when I saw that his back hurt him.”
Both Sammy and Beth adopted impassive expressions.
“Sammy, who has been hurting you?”
“Not Beth.”
“I wasn’t accusing Beth.” She looked to Logan, seeking his opinion.
He gave her a slight nod to indicate she should continue questioning the children.
“Where’s your mama?” she asked them.
“Mama?”