Family Lessons. Allie Pleiter
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Lizzie in Holly’s arms, fussing with her shirt collar.
Tom, a thin, sickly-looking lad, coughed and wiped his forehead. “Why didn’t we get to ride the horses? Those robbers should’a been the ones that had to walk!”
“Sheriff Wright will be back with the wagons soon,” Holly replied. “The robbers can’t walk because we hurt them.”
“Bobbins isn’t hurt, but I am,” Lizzie offered, nodding toward the raggedy bunny doll in one hand while holding up her other hand to Holly. “I gots an ow right here.”
Holly dutifully offered a medicinal kiss to the pudgy pink thumb. “Which is exactly why I’m carrying both of you.” She caught Rebecca’s tight, drawn face out of the corner of her eye. All of us hurt today.
Liam stepped up to walk beside Heidi, taking her hand from Rebecca’s. He pointed toward town with his other hand. “One wagon will go back to the train and get our things. And the banker, and the safe, too. The other wagon’s comin’ to fetch us. We won’t have to walk much farther. I been there and back already, remember?”
As if on cue, two wagons pulled into view half a minute later. Ned Minor was driving the wagon from Gavin’s General Store while Mason Wright brought up one with crates lined up as seats along either side.
“If you’re the sheriff, why aren’t you with the robbers?” the boy named Patrick called as Ned’s wagon went on by toward the rail line, and Sheriff Wright pulled up to the weary band of travelers.
“Doc Simpson’s tending to their wounds while Bucky keeps watch. Besides, with wounds in their legs and their arms tied up, they’re not much trouble to anyone at the moment. I’m more worried about your lot than those sorry souls, anyhow.” He climbed down off the driver’s bench and motioned toward the wagon’s payload. “Nothing fancy, but it sure beats walking the rest of the way into town.”
“By a mile,” Tom wheezed, climbing in. He called out to Miss Sterling. “Here, ma’am, this corner seat oughta be for you.”
Holly frowned. “Surely Miss Sterling ought to sit up front.”
“In truth,” sighed Rebecca, “I think back here with all the children would be best.” As Sheriff Wright helped Rebecca into the wagon bed, Holly found she couldn’t argue the request, even knowing the ride was far bumpier in back. Having been through what they all witnessed, wouldn’t she want to surround herself with the hugs of children? As she handed little Lizzie and Bobbins up into the wagon, Holly’s thoughts cast back to so many of her own students. Fright made one crave the familiar.
Cargo in place, the sheriff swung into the driver’s seat and extended a hand to help Holly step up beside him. “My.” Her own sigh was almost as large as Rebecca’s. “What a blessing it is to be able to sit down and ride. I feel as if these boots have grown teeth.”
Sheriff Wright picked up the reins and gave them a snap. As the cart lurched into motion, he glanced down at Holly’s feet. “Fancy footwear there.”
Fancy? By Evans Grove standards, perhaps, but not compared to what she’d seen in Newfield. “I had hoped to make a fine impression on the bank.” She had, until she’d seen how her homespun look measured up to all those frocked ladies and brocade waistcoated bankers. Holly felt the top of her head, unsurprised to find her best hat gone. “I wasn’t planning on braving a gunfight in my Sunday best.” Holly’s “Sunday best” compared poorly to Rebecca’s finely cut traveling clothes. Why, even the children seemed in better clothes than she—though she knew that orphans on such trains were deliberately well-dressed in order to impress prospective families. Holly was neat and tidy, but certainly no sight to catch any eye.
Surely not Mason Wright’s eye, although a surprising smile did cross his serious face. “You did right fine, considering.” The smile quickly evaporated. “Although I’m never one for changing plans at the last minute like that. Too much risk.”
She’d wondered how long it would take his initial concern for her safety to yield to his annoyance that she’d been allowed to go at all. “And just how do you suppose I could refuse Mr. Brooks’s offer to get the funds so quickly? I did wire back word this morning. As I see it, arranging a stop in Evans Grove seemed far safer than going all the way to Greenville and taking the stage back.”
He gave her what Holly had come to call his “book look.” “That’s all fine,” he nearly muttered, “...in theory.” Truly, the only time Mason Wright ever seemed to give her any attention was to exercise his obvious opinion that “book learning” didn’t do one a whole heap of good in the real world. “Only that wire never came and I was saddling up to ride off toward Greenville.” Some days it felt like he viewed her as a dull, dry textbook best ignored. “Five more minutes and I’d have been gone when Liam came into town.” His brows furrowed. “I’d have been miles out of town with no way to help you all if...”
Today of all days she wasn’t going to let him get away with it. “If,” she finished for him, “I hadn’t found a clever way to send Liam off for help.” She stared at him until he lifted his gaze from the reins and returned her stare. “You did say I saved the day, did you not?”
That was a fool thing to say, for a look of regret washed across his features. She should have known he didn’t really mean it. “Perhaps I ought to deputize you.”
It was the first time he’d ever paid enough attention to her to tease her, and she felt that unwelcome girlish fluster return. “Don’t talk such nonsense.” Still, a tiny new spark of confidence refused to be extinguished. She had been brave, even though she felt more fear than she could ever remember. She’d made a difference today, hadn’t she? A real difference. “I prayed as hard as I ever have and, well, I had some very clever help.”
He tipped his hat. “Nice to be appreciated.”
“And what if I was talking about Liam?” She’d teased him right back. She’d never done that, never even had enough of a conversation to have the chance. All these clever words didn’t change the fact that she knew—deep down knew—Sheriff Wright had walked into the line of fire for her life. There were a million serious words to be said about that, but she could find none of them in this moment. Still, she couldn’t leave it at a joke, a levity over something so solemn as a life—lives—saved. Finding that same pool of courage that had shown itself on the train, Holly extended her hand to touch the sheriff’s arm for the briefest of moments. With all the solemnity she could muster, she said, “Thank you.”
They’d never touched before today. Not even to shake hands. Today, when he’d grabbed her at the railroad clearing and hauled her away from Mr. Arlington’s dying body, she’d felt his grasp for the first time. She’d noticed how he steered clear of her at church picnics and town meetings and such. He spoke to her only when necessary or when she sought him out. He’d never paid her much mind.
And she just touched him. Every sensible bone in her body told her to regret it, but she found she couldn’t.
To her delight—or her horror, she truthfully couldn’t say which—Sheriff Wright held her eyes for a long moment before guiding the horse around a turn. “I was doing my job.” He’d closed up the moment so neatly and completely, Holly wasn’t even sure it had happened at all.
But today has happened, her frayed spirit wanted to yell. We can’t go back from it. “Mr. Arlington was just doing his job, and now he’s...gone.” The memory of his blood seeping into the ground produced a shiver. We can’t go back.
“Best not to dwell on that.” He cocked his head toward the back of the wagon. “Not with all those little ones about.” After a short pause, he asked, “I think it was smart not to send them on, but have you got any ideas how we’re going to manage it?”
She did. The plan fell solid into her head as if God had sent it by telegraph. “I asked Ned to get Miss Ward to round up the ladies’ society and see to supper. When I get in, I can ask Reverend Turner to meet with them while they eat. He’ll know how to ease their