and images battered the inside of Bo’s head as he hurried away. Eating pie. All safe and homey. Like it had been with Ma. Watching Louisa jostle a baby on her hip. Were women born knowing how to comfort infants, how to carry them? How to dole out gentle touches? He looked at the hand she had drawn around little Theo.
She didn’t look like Ma. She didn’t sound like her and yet something about her reminded him of his mother. And not only because she knew how to bake a pie, though he had no reason to believe it so except her own words.
You’ll make a good father. If only he could believe it possible. Holding those babies had him wishing for things beyond his reach.
His long, hurried strides took him to the fairgrounds and he welcomed the diversion from his tangled thoughts.
He had but one goal in mind—make this fair as successful as possible. And thus raise enough funds to meet the needs. And with three babies to care for until they found their mother, the needs had grown.
What if they never found the mother? The sheriff didn’t seem to be overly optimistic that they would.
If they didn’t, then someone would have to take them on permanently. He smiled as he thought of how much fun it would be to see those three babies grow into little boys and then young men. But it wouldn’t be him doing that job.
He paused to speak to the gatekeeper. “How is attendance?”
“Beyond expectations, I’d say. Jeb took away a bag of cash an hour ago.”
“Great to hear.” The sheriff had been delegated to take the money to the bank to have it kept in the safe.
He continued on his way, and as he rounded the corner of a tent, stepping over the rope fastened to the tent peg, he noticed a young boy of six or seven huddled next to the canvas, sobbing his heart out. “What’s wrong?”
“I—I losted my mama and papa.”
Being careful not to make the boy feel threatened, he squatted down. “Do you want me to help you find them?”
The boy scrubbed away the tears and nodded.
Bo held out his hand and led him toward the office tent, expecting the parents would go there to report their missing child. Indeed, as he led the boy inside, a woman let out a cry and raced over to enfold her son. The father, although less demonstrative, wrapped his arms around them both. “Thank you,” he said to Bo.
“I was scared,” the boy sobbed. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
The man turned the boy to face him. “If you are ever lost I will find you. I promise.”
The boy leaned into his father’s shoulder.
Bo stepped outside the tent. That was how a child should feel with his father—safe and certain. Unfortunately, that was the ideal but not the reality for many.
He heard raucous laughter and hooting toward the livestock tents and hustled through the crowd toward the sound. He soon saw what amused everyone and stood back to watch a boy not yet man trying to control a goat. Seemed it would be easy to pull the lead rope and drag the animal back inside, but if the animal thought she was going to be dragged, she raced toward the young fella and he jumped out of the way to keep from being bunted.
Bo was about to step in and lend a hand when an older man emerged from the tent and strode toward the struggling pair. He grabbed the goat around the neck and led her bleating and protesting inside while the relieved younger man hurried after him.
Another example of a good father. Was God sending them as reminders that he hadn’t known that kind of fathering? That he had his father’s blood flowing through his veins and would most certainly fail to be the kind of father a child deserved?
“Thief. Thief. Stop that man.” He jerked around in time to see a figure dart out of sight and like many others, joined in the chase. Jeb came around the corner, alerted by the call. He reached out and caught the culprit.
It was but a young boy...maybe twelve or thirteen.
“Pa?” He looked around for his father.
Bo watched a man duck back, prepared to let his boy stand on his own. Perhaps even had sent the boy to snatch the money, knowing it would go easier with a youngster. In fact, Jeb dragged him back to the leathersmith display and had him return the money, then let him go with a warning.
If Bo needed any evidence to prove the evil of bad fathering, this was it and he strode away. The rest of the afternoon sped away quickly as he spoke to each vendor and visited with his friends and neighbors. It was especially heartening to see Molly and CJ Thorn with their baby son, Isaac. They had married recently, brought together by the matchmaking efforts of CJ’s twin nieces, who giggled as they chased after a bit of red bunting. He wished them nothing but happiness in their life together.
Several times young ladies came up to him and gave a dime in exchange for a dance with him on Saturday night. There was one woman who did not offer him a dime. Louisa. Of course, she was too busy, but still, he wished it otherwise.
He paused to order coffee and two cookies at a booth and deposit the required coins. “How are sales?” he asked Mrs. Carson, who was taking her turn running the booth.
“Brisk.” She seemed pleased.
Finished with his coffee, he returned his cup and turned in time to see eighteen-year-old Annie Hill and nineteen-year-old Jamie Coleman slip behind a tent. So that was the way it was. Perhaps it would be the means to ending the feud between their families. His jaw tightened. More than likely it would simply increase the tension in the feud.
The shadows lengthened and people began to drift away except for those who would stay and watch the animals. The fair was over for the first day.
Jeb called him over and together they went from booth to booth collecting the money that would go to the league. Bo’s grin widened with every stop. “We’ve done much better than I could have hoped and two more days to go.”
As they left the grounds with the heavy money bag, Bo noticed a man watching them from the protection of the trees and pointed him out to Jeb. “He’s the father of the lad you caught stealing.”
Jeb studied the man carefully. “I’ll be keeping an eye on him.”
“Let’s get this money into the safe.” They hurried to the bank, where George Henley waited to lock it up for the night.
Bo let out a relieved sigh when the safe closed and George locked it. His tension eased marginally as George double-checked the locks on the front door and the windows then let them out the back and locked it securely.
The worst thing Bo could imagine was having that money stolen.
“It’s safe,” George assured him.
“I’ll post a guard to make sure,” Jeb said.
“I’ll stay here until you get someone.” Bo had no intention of letting anyone try to get into the bank even if they weren’t able to crack the safe.
“You don’t have a gun.”
George pulled a derringer from his side pocket and handed it to Bo. “It’s not much but it’s all I have.”
“I’ll be back shortly.” Jeb trotted away.
George paused a moment then leisurely walked away...as if to communicate to anyone watching that he had no concerns.
Bo wished he felt half as confident. He palmed the little gun and remained alert to every sound and movement. There was no sign of the man he believed to be a danger, but still he did not relax until Jeb returned with two men carrying rifles and wearing sidearms. One stood at the front door, the other at the back. Even then Bo hesitated to leave them.
Jeb gave him a little push. “Trust us to do our job.”
“Put that way...” He made his way around to the front of the building and