Orphan Train Sweetheart. Mollie Campbell
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fellas lining up to claim you.”
This time she couldn’t stop the shudder that racked her body. The farmer laughed again and leaned closer still. Her eyes burned with tears that she refused to let fall. “Come on, what do you say? You get a roof over your head and the boy for company. And I get a clean house and warm meals. If you’re smart, you’ll take me up on the offer—”
With a sudden whoosh of air, Mr. Hartley was gone, leaving her arm aching but free from his grip. Cecilia wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to stop her hands from trembling. When she stepped outside, Simon had Mr. Hartley by the front of his shirt, lifting the farmer until he was on tiptoes. “What’s the meaning of this? Are you threatening Miss Holbrook?”
The older man raised both hands, trying to shake his head. “We were having a little talk, that’s all, McKay. Get your hands off me.”
Simon shoved him up a fraction of an inch higher against the shed. “Next time you should think twice about putting your hands on a lady during a conversation.”
Abruptly letting go, Simon stepped back while Mr. Hartley dropped to his knees and took a few deep breaths. “We’ve seen enough for today. Patrick has assured me that he’s happy to be here. But, Hartley, I’ll have my eye on you. One misstep and I’ll take Patrick back. We don’t tolerate any sort of abuse.”
Without another word to the farmer, Simon turned and wrapped one arm around Cecilia’s shoulders, supporting her as they walked away. At the buggy, he helped her in then briefly spoke to Patrick, who stood by the house taking in every move with wide eyes. Their voices were too low for her to hear what they said, but it was only a moment before Simon jumped up into the buggy and they were finally leaving.
Her mind felt numb in the silence that hung between them until they drove over the first hill and out of sight of the Hartley farm. Simon stopped the buggy and turned to her, taking one of her hands in his. “Cecilia, please tell me you’re all right. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
She shook her head. “He held my arm rather tight, but I’m fine. Just shaken up.”
His jaw clenched and his eyes swung away from her. “I’m so sorry I left you with him. I never thought he would try to harm you.”
Hoping her voice wasn’t as shaky as the rest of her, Cecilia tried to act dismissive, like Cat would have. “It’s fine, Simon. Really. He was awful, but I’m fine. Were you able to talk to Patrick?”
Releasing her hand, he rubbed the back of his neck hard enough that the skin turned bright pink. “A little, but I didn’t get much out of him. He insisted Hartley treated him fine. But it’s only been one night. Something about the man gives me a bad feeling.”
Swallowing hard, she fought to keep her stomach from heaving. Poor Patrick, stuck out there with that terrible man. “Then there’s nothing we can do?”
Simon shook his head. “Only if he actually hurts Patrick. My instructions are to let families get to know each other unless there’s proof that the child is being neglected or abused. Sometimes it takes time for them to get settled into the arrangement. So for now, we’ll have to watch and wait.”
Cecilia dropped back against the buggy seat as Simon urged the horse into motion and they rumbled over the rough dirt path again. It was hard to accept that they had to wait and do nothing when Patrick was in the middle of such a mess. But Mr. Hartley hadn’t hurt Patrick yet and Cecilia prayed that he wouldn’t in the days ahead.
The return trip dragged on, giving her far too much time to relive Mr. Hartley’s revolting proposal. What on earth made him think that manhandling her would convince her to marry him? If that was the kind of male attention she was going to attract as the years went by, maybe she was better off committing to remain unmarried, after all.
Thinking about living the rest of her years alone was painful, but Cecilia had come to realize that it must be God’s purpose for her life. Yes, she got restless teaching. But God had placed her there and the opportunity to support herself independent of a husband was too important to throw away. After all, every man she’d been even a bit interested in had found Cat to be irresistible. Cecilia never got a second glance, unless it was from men old enough to be her father, like Mr. Hartley.
Simon’s voice broke into her thoughts. “You look tense. Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”
Compassion flickered in the depths of his eyes. Flustered by his concern, Cecilia rubbed one temple with her fingertips, hoping the mild pain wouldn’t turn into a full-blown headache. “Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking.” She tried to find something to say that would distract him from the episode with Mr. Hartley. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. “I’d love to hear more about New York City.”
To her surprise, Simon’s face hardened at her mention of his home. “There’s not much to say. It’s a big city. Lots of buildings, lots of people.”
Drawing back at his cold tone, she wondered why he didn’t want to talk about his hometown. “There must be something you love about it. Or something that’s vastly different from the frontier.”
“Nothing worth mentioning. Life in a big city isn’t as romantic as the papers make it seem.”
Cecilia’s head started pounding. Trying to draw him into conversation wasn’t worth enduring that gruff tone. But a second later his softened voice reached her ears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”
“You’ve mentioned how anxious you are to return to New York, so I thought you’d enjoy talking about it. But you don’t have to if it makes you uncomfortable.”
She glanced over in time to see his jaw clench. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, exactly. The city can be a rough place. And working with orphans, I often see more of the hardness than others might.”
Sobering, Cecilia’s heart constricted. “Is it terrible for the children, being on the streets there?”
His eyes fixed on a point in the distance. “It can be. Some of them come from wealthier families, left on the steps of a church or orphanage because the mother isn’t married and doesn’t want to shame her family. But many of them lose their parents in tragic ways and are left to fend for themselves. Sometimes there’s still a parent around, but they aren’t able to take care of the child, or they refuse to. No situation is good and there’s sadness in all of them.”
The pain in his expression made her throat tighten. Had he really seen that much horror in his time working with the orphans, or was there more to his story than he’d told her? “Don’t organizations like the Children’s Aid Society provide some help for them? It must make you feel good to know you can at least do something.”
He shook his head. “Maybe for a bit, but it’s never enough. As long as there are children wandering the streets, stealing and fighting for food or shelter, unloved and uncared for, it won’t be enough.”
She couldn’t resist trying to offer a small amount of comfort by resting her hand on his arm. “But people like you are champions for them, giving of yourselves to help. It may not seem like it, but I’m certain that makes a world of difference to the children.”
* * *
Simon didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to believe her words, to feel her certainty that he was somehow helping the children. But knowing that he was bringing some of them all this way only to leave them in unhappy situations made him feel helpless and surly. He wanted to do more. He needed to do more.
When he didn’t respond to her, Cecilia moved her hand from his arm, leaving behind a cold feeling. But he felt her eyes still on him and she sounded curious. “What drives you to push so hard? You’re one man, doing all you can for the sake of street children many people would walk past without a glance. Why isn’t that enough?”
The questions hammered at him like hail. As much as he hated talking about his past, maybe if she knew how much this meant to him, she would stop pushing to understand