The Law and Miss Mary. Dorothy Clark

      “Hmm…”

      “An astute comment.”

      James lowered the newspaper he was reading and gave her a sheepish look over the top of it. “Sorry, Mary. I did not mean to ignore you.” He set the paper aside. “I know what you are saying. I have thought of home a time or two myself today. I did not realize St. Louis was so much warmer than Philadelphia.” His lips curved in a rueful smile of commiseration. “Randolph Court stays cool because of its large size. I fear there is no hope of that in this small cottage.”

      “How cheering you are.”

      He chuckled.

      Mary stuck her tongue out at him like when they were children and rose from the settee. “Do you suppose one gets used to the heat?” She lifted the strands of hair stuck to her moist neck, tucked them back into the loose knot on the crown of her head and sighed. “I think I will go outside and see if there is at least a breath of a breeze.” She glanced his way. “Would you care to join me?”

      “I would be delighted.”

      “Delighted?” She drifted by his chair and tapped his shoulder. “I think not. Agreeable perhaps. You would be delighted if I were a certain blond young lady named Charlotte Colburn.” She threw him a smile over her shoulder and headed for the door. “But, alas, Charlotte is home in Philadelphia and you must content yourself with my company. At least for the nonce.”

      James grinned and shrugged into his jacket. “Charlotte is pleasant, but there was no understanding between us. And I am certain I shall meet equally pleasant girls here in St. Louis. And, while I do not deny I enjoy being with a young lady, my dear sister, I do not esteem their company more highly than yours. Only…differently.”

      “Indeed.”

      “Do I detect skepticism?” His grin widened. “For shame, Mary. I shall prove what I say is true.” He lifted her hat from the hook on the tree and held it out to her. “Shall we go explore our new town?”

      “What a lovely idea!” Mary took the wide-brimmed straw hat, knotted the filmy ties beneath her chin and moved out onto the porch. She waited until he closed the door, then stepped down onto the brick path and walked to the gate. “Which way shall we go?”

      James pushed opened the gate and motioned toward the cobblestone street forming the right border of their fenced-in corner lot. “I suggest we walk up Market Street, away from the river. It is coming on to evening, and I think it might be best to avoid the levee area.”

      “Yes. That might be wise. I have no desire to run into the ‘unsavory elements’ Captain Benton spoke of. Or the good captain, either, for that matter.”

      “Mary…”

      She shot him a look. “Do not use that reproving tone, James. I know we are to be forgiving. But Ben is a child. The captain could have shown him mercy.”

      “He is a police officer. It is his job to arrest those who break the law.”

      “Yes, that is what he told me. And if the captain had had his way, that is exactly what would have happened to Ben.” She stopped and faced her brother. “Do you think Ben belongs in jail?”

      “Of course not, but you cannot hold it against the man for performing his duty.”

      Mary stared at him a moment, then turned with a swish of her long skirts and resumed walking. “My head tells me you are right, James. But my heart refuses to be sensible about the matter.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Homeless children do not belong in a jail. They belong in an orphanage—like Aunt Laina’s. Alas, there is no orphanage in St. Louis. Nonetheless, the matter is well settled—despite the captain’s lack of compassion.”

      They reached the corner and veered right. A steamboat’s whistle blasted a strident note, then another. Mary glanced at James and laughed. “I believe I am becoming accustomed to the constant blare of those whistles. That time I only flinched instead of nearly jumping out of my skin.”

      He grinned down at her. “I am sure in a few more days we will not notice them at all. Or the Indians and mountain men. Though it is still something of a shock when one walks into the office and books passage on our ships. Particularly since they often pay their fare with pelts.”

      “Truly? I cannot imagine.” Mary stopped and looked up at him. “How do you know what a pelt is worth?”

      A frown creased his forehead. “I have no notion as to their value. I am learning to judge that. Meanwhile, I let Goodwin handle all such transactions while I watch. It is quite an art, bartering. The Indians are quite skilled at it.”

      Mary started walking again. “Have you found any information that points to whomever was skimming the profit from the line?”

      “Not yet. Everything is too new—such as this trade in pelts. But I shall. I am watching Goodwin. There is something about the man I do not trust. It would not be hard for him to take advantage of my ignorance, so I am secretly keeping a careful accounting of all transactions, apart from the company records he keeps.”

      “And if you discover he is stealing from the line?”

      “I shall have Captain Benton arrest him.”

      Mary snorted. “You mean if the good captain is not too busy arresting children.” She turned her head and looked forward. The sun rode low in the sky, the bottom of the blazing orange orb hidden by the leafy canopy of a tree atop the rise they were climbing. She lifted her hand to shade her eyes from the glare of light and looked across the street at an imposing two-story brick building with a clock tower, topped by a pillared dome, in the center of the roof. A large park surrounded the building. Mary gave James a sidelong look. “Shall we cross over and see what that building is?”

      He nodded and took hold of her elbow. They waited for a buggy to pass, then hurried across the street and walked up the wide brick pathway to climb the steps. The cooler air in the shade of the portico felt wonderful. Mary removed her hat, fanned herself with its wide brim and watched James stride over to a brass plaque on the wall beside the handsome double doors straight ahead.

      “This is the courthouse, Mary. Rather small, I should think, for all—”

      One of the doors opened and an elegantly dressed young woman stepped out onto the portico, almost running into James.

      “Oh!” Light brown, delicately arched brows lifted and big, blue eyes opened wide as beautifully shaped lips parted in surprise. “Forgive me, sir. I was not paying attention to my path.”

      James smiled and made a polite bow. “Not at all, miss. The fault was mine. I should not have crowded the doorway.”

      “You are too kind, sir.” Long lashes fluttered down over the blue eyes as the woman smiled, revealing dimples in cheeks tinged with a hint of pink.

      Mary’s chest tightened. The woman was petite, blond and beautiful. The same as Victoria. Everything she was not. She stopped fanning, raised her hat to her head and settled it a little forward to hide as much of her face as possible. The wide, gauzy ties she formed into a large bow to hide her small, square chin. There was nothing she could do about her height. Or her slenderness.