The Cattleman Meets His Match. Sherri Shackelford
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Life for discarded children was ruthless and devoid of fairy-tale endings. At best they’d be neglected, at worst they’d be exploited. Driven into impossible choices.
The air sizzled with emotion and the girls crowded around her, speaking over each other, demanding her attention. She backed away from the onslaught and they crowded her against the stall door.
“I have a sister,” Sarah announced with a nod. “She’s older than me. She said she’d take care of me, but her husband didn’t want me. They put me on the train anyway.”
Moira swayed on her feet. The past came rushing back. She pictured her mother standing on the platform, her ever-present handkerchief pressed against her mouth as she coughed. Moira had held her brother’s hand clasped in her own.
“I’ll take care of you, Tommy.”
She knew better than anyone did the perils of survival. She’d been tested herself. Tested, and failed.
“Miss O’Mara,” John Elder’s voice interrupted her memories. “What’s going on here? Aren’t you together?” He circled his arms and touched his fingertips together. “Aren’t you a gang of little pickpockets?”
Her body stiffened in shock. “You’d believe a drunken kidnapper over a bunch of innocent children?”
She hadn’t stolen anything in the four years since she’d left the Giffords’. Not even when she’d been near starving. He didn’t know anything about her. He was making a blind guess, that’s all.
A horse stuck its head from the stall door and nuzzled her ear. Moira absently scratched its muzzle.
Hazel tugged on her skirts. “What’s a pickpocket?”
Guilt skittered across the cowboy’s face. “I’m sorry,” he spoke. “I’m not certain what’s going on here. It’s not that I don’t have sympathy for your predicament, but I’ve got a herd of cattle.” He motioned over his shoulder. “I can’t leave them for much longer.”
Moira ran her hand through her sweat-dampened hair. What was she going to do? She couldn’t hide them all. “I’m renting a room at the hotel. It’s the size of a water closet.”
She was tired and hungry and bruised. The entire trip had been a waste of time and she was penniless. Stuck in this corrupt town unless she could find a respectable job. As much as she wanted to help, there wasn’t much she could do. She could barely take care of herself.
The four girls cowered before her like penned animals who’d escaped their enclosure. They were wide-eyed and curious, frightened and hesitant. And lost. That was the thing about growing up in a caged environment, a person could always feel around the edges and find where the ground dropped off. Even being homeless was as much of a cage as anything else. When the basic needs of food and shelter consumed every waking moment, survival was a jail all its own. No time for dreams or hopes or plans of the future. The moment they’d found one another, the rules had altered. They were a team.
Moira vividly recalled her first year alone after leaving the Giffords—the fear, the uncertainty, the uneasy exhilaration of holding her own fate in her hands, unencumbered by the push and pull of others. A similar feeling was blossoming in the girls.
Having stretched beyond their solitary struggles, they showed the first trembling signs of hope. They’d discovered kindred spirits, and they were holding on tight, lashing together their brittle fellowship like a flimsy raft against troubled waters. Moira hadn’t the heart to tell them they were better off alone. Sooner or later, everyone wound up alone.
Sarah hung her head. “No one picked me at the last stop,” she spoke quietly. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. It’s like at recess when nobody picks you for a team. When the chaperones came for us at the hotel, I hid. I did what I had to do. I know I’ve done things wrong and I’ve prayed for forgiveness. After you helped us, I felt like my prayers were answered.”
The room swayed and Moira’s vision clouded. She knew the feeling of being passed around like a secondhand coat nobody wanted anymore. Though she feared the answer, she asked anyway, “Where have you been staying since then?”
“We all just sort of found each other and stuck together. There’s an abandoned building near the edge of town.” Sarah ducked her head. “That’s where that man found us.”
Darcy’s expression remained defiant. “You all knew it couldn’t last. You knew they’d catch us sooner or later. I was on my own for four years without getting caught.” She noticed Moira’s curious glance and her countenance faltered. “I was on my own for four years,” she repeated.
Though Moira didn’t want to hear any more, didn’t want to know any more, she’d set her questions into motion and there was no going back.
She knelt before Hazel, the youngest. The little girl wore a faded blue calico dress, the grayed rickrack trim ripped and drooping below her hem. “Do you have a home?” Moira asked gently.
The littlest girl shook her head. “A family picked me, but I was bad and they took me back.” Hazel sniffled. “I left the chicken coop open by accident and the dog got in. All the chickens died. Mrs. Vicky didn’t want me any more after that. Then tonight I only wanted an apple... I would have worked for it. I would have.”
Sarah rested a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to say any more.”
Moira gritted her teeth. They were just children and they’d been discarded like so much rubbish. She was sick of it. Sick of people thinking children didn’t have thoughts or feelings. “How did you wind up in Indian Territory?”
“Because this is the end of the line,” Darcy said.
There wasn’t much between the Indian Territories and California. Moira supposed No Man’s Land was as good a place as any to dump the unwanted children.
Ten years ago she’d been a rider on the orphan train. She and her brother, Tommy. She hadn’t kept the promise she’d made to her mother. She hadn’t taken care of Tommy.
Sometimes she felt as though she was being punished for her failure. She hadn’t felt peace since that fateful day when she’d slipped Mr. Gifford’s watch into her pocket. She’d known it was wrong. She’d known it was stealing. She couldn’t help herself. She often wondered what kind of person she’d become. She wondered if there was any going back. If she’d slipped once, how much temptation did she need before she slipped again?
Mr. Gifford had blamed Tommy for the missing watch and she’d been too terrified to admit the truth. Mr. Gifford had promised retribution, but Tommy hadn’t waited around for the punishment. By the following morning, he was gone. And he hadn’t even said goodbye.
Once she found him, once she confessed what she’d done, this pain would end. She’d waited another year at the Giffords’ even though staying had been near torture. She’d waited hoping Tommy would return so she could explain the truth and finally take the blame. Except he’d never come back.
After she’d left the Giffords’, she’d remained in St. Louis, hoping against hope she’d glimpse him. It was crazy, but it was all she had. She’d kept in touch with anyone she thought she could trust, but most of the servants were too scared for their jobs to return the favor. Then she’d received the charred bits of the telegram from the maid with Tommy’s name. Her prayers had finally been answered.
The girls stared at her, their faces expectant. Moira knew better than anyone what fate awaited the orphan girls, but there was nothing she could do. The system was too far broken for one lone person to fix. She glanced at the cowboy. He looked away. Mr. Elder wanted a crew, not a bunch of waifs.
Moira shook her head in denial. They didn’t know her. They didn’t know how she’d failed Tommy. How she’d fail them if they put their faith in her. They’d turn on her for certain if they knew how she’d betrayed her own brother.
Shame robbed the breath from her lungs. “I’m sorry, but I