on, Eve glanced down at Leo and was shocked to see most of the color had drained from his face. A heartbeat later Leo bolted, running down a side street like a cat with a hound on its tail. But Mr. Dawson was faster. Almost before Eve could react, the man had overtaken Leo and pulled him up short.
Mr. Dawson marched him back, his smoky blue eyes meeting hers sympathetically, almost apologetically.
But she couldn’t deal with that right now. Instead she focused on Leo. “What’s wrong? Why did you run?”
The boy didn’t say anything, didn’t even raise his head.
Still trying to make sense of what was going on, Eve turned to the sheriff. “Why are you looking for Leo?”
Sheriff Gleason gave her a steady look. “I think we’d all better head over to my office so we can straighten this out.”
* * *
Chance kept a firm hold on Leo’s arm as the four of them marched to Sheriff Gleason’s office in silence. This was obviously about more than just the kid being a stowaway. Was it merely a matter of his parents, or whoever was responsible for him, having tracked him down? Or was the boy in more serious trouble?
And just how much deeper did he want to get personally involved in this? Being intrigued by Miss Pickering was one thing, but getting embroiled in the problems of a runaway kid he knew nothing about was something else altogether.
Besides, that letter he’d received earlier was starting to burn a hole in his pocket. He could feel the weight of it there, demanding his attention with the same no-refusal-tolerated attitude his father had always used.
He’d been caught completely off guard by the sight of that bold, flourishing handwriting that was unmistakably his father’s. Why, after nearly a year and a half, was the man writing to him now? He’d figured the two of them had said everything they had to say to each other in that heated discussion just before he left Philadelphia. There’d been harsh, biting words on both sides. His father was not one to apologize, so that couldn’t be it. And it wouldn’t be in character for him to be inquiring after his youngest son’s well-being. So what was it?
Then a sobering thought occurred to him.
Had something happened to one of his brothers? Perhaps he should go ahead and—
“Here we are.”
The sheriff’s words brought Chance back to the present. And logic told him that if the news was dire in nature his father would have sent a telegram, not a letter. If the news, whatever it was, had waited long enough to get here by mail, a little more time wouldn’t make a difference. Even under normal circumstances he wouldn’t attempt to read something under the scrutiny of anyone, friend or stranger. And this particular letter made that doubly true.
Chance escorted Leo inside and had just about decided to bow out and make his exit, when he made the mistake of glancing Miss Pickering’s way. She looked so worried and confused.
Then she met his gaze and for just a moment he saw a plea there that tugged at all his protective instincts. But it was when she turned to face the sheriff and schooled her features, bracing herself, as if she were David preparing to face Goliath, that he was well and truly snagged.
How could he turn his back on such selfless courage?
He watched as she drew herself up to her limited height and turned back into that prim but fierce mouse he’d seen face down the conductor on the platform earlier.
“Sheriff Gleason,” she said, “please explain to me what this is all about.” There was no wavering in her tone, no indication of the dismay he’d seen on her face earlier.
The sheriff studied her a moment. “Are you this boy’s guardian, Miss Pickering?”
Now that was an interesting question. Just how would the very proper Miss Pickering answer?
Chapter Three
The knots inside Eve tightened another turn. Surely he wouldn’t dismiss her if she had no official relationship with Leo. If he did, who would stand up for the boy and look out for his interests? Mr. Dawson had been kind in a neighborly sort of way, but she wasn’t at all certain she could count on him to go the extra mile for the boy.
She tilted her chin up a bit higher. “Not officially, but I consider myself his friend and temporary protector.”
To her relief, the lawman nodded. “I see.” He turned and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. “I received this telegram earlier today. Officials from Bent Oak sent similar ones to lawmen all along the train route asking us to be on the lookout for a boy named Leonard Haskins who stole a valuable pocket watch. There were indications he might have slipped on board the train at Texarkana.”
He eyed Leo. “The boy’s description is a pretty good match for your young friend here.”
Just what kind of trouble was Leo in? “That doesn’t mean Leo is the boy in question, or that the charges are true. He needs to have an opportunity to speak for himself.”
The sheriff folded his arms with a nod. “I’m listening.”
Eve turned to Leo, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to tell us your side of the story.” She put as much support and encouragement in her expression as she could, but Leo looked more angry and desperate than reassured.
She tried again, this time adding firmness to her tone. “It’s always best to tell the truth. I promise I’m going to help you no matter what. But you need to do your part, as well.”
“I am Leonard Haskins,” he finally said.
“And the watch?” the sheriff pressed.
Leo reached into his pocket and slowly pulled out an ornate gold watch. He stared at the timepiece for a long moment, then held it out to the sheriff without a word.
The lawman took it and set it down on his desk.
Eve tried to maintain her composure. She was determined to stand by Leo, but would she be allowed to? Almost involuntarily, she glanced Mr. Dawson’s way and found her spirits buoyed by the encouraging look he gave her.
As if he’d been waiting on a cue from her, Mr. Dawson turned to Sheriff Gleason. “What happens now?”
“I’ll contact the sheriff responsible for Bent Oak and let him know we’ve recovered the watch and have the boy in custody. I imagine both Leo and the watch will be sent back to Bent Oak and—”
“No!” The exclamation exploded out of Leo as if from a gun. He would have darted out the door if Mr. Dawson hadn’t grabbed him.
“Whoa now.” Mr. Dawson stood solidly in place as Leo struggled frantically to get free.
It was all Eve could do not to rush over and try to still his struggles with an embrace.
When Leo finally gave up, he glared defiantly at the sheriff. “Lock me up for what I done if you have to, but don’t send me back there. I won’t go back to Mr. Belcher, I just won’t.” He was shaking with the intensity of his feelings.
“Leo, who is Mr. Belcher?”
Leo looked Eve’s way but for a moment he didn’t seem to really see her. After a heartbeat, though, his tension eased and his gaze met hers. “He’s the neighbor who took me in when my folks died. Only he wasn’t doing it ’cause he was feeling particularly kindly toward me.” The bitter edge to his voice was jarring coming from one so young. “After the funeral he told me my pa owed him a lot of money and since he couldn’t collect from him anymore, he aimed to see that I worked it off.”
Eve’s stomach clinched as she studied the boy’s raggedy appearance and bony frame in light of what he’d just said. She resisted the urge to reach out to him, knowing instinctively he’d shy away from physical contact just now. “Leo, did he treat you badly?” she asked gently.
The