Chapter Nine
Bella Creek, Montana, 1890
Logan Marshall stared at the place where he’d left his lunch. The sack was gone. The second day in a row. Stolen. The muscles in his jaw bunched. Nothing bothered him worse than any form of dishonesty. His stomach rumbled. How could he work without food to fuel his strength? And Grandfather would expect Logan to be working. The school wasn’t finished. As a Marshall and grandson of the founder of Bella Creek, Logan had to do his share and had been assigned the task of rebuilding the schoolhouse. It, along with all the buildings in that block, had burned to the ground during the winter.
Following the fire, the doctor and teacher had left, requiring the town and the Marshalls to find replacements. The doctor’s residence and office had been rebuilt already and Logan glanced at the new building next door where Dr. Baker and his daughter, Kate, lived and worked. Kate had brought her friend, Isabelle Redfield, with her, and Isabelle had since married Logan’s brother, Dawson.
He shifted his attention across the street to his uncle’s mercantile store. The new teacher, Sadie Young, presently held classes in the back room of the store, but every day she crossed to her living quarters in the rear of the schoolhouse. Grandfather had decided her rooms should be finished before completing the classroom, saying it wasn’t suitable for her to continue living in the hotel.
Daily, as she made her way from the store, she stopped to see how much progress had been made on the rebuilding. He understood she was in a hurry to have her students moved into the school, but he couldn’t rush the work if he wanted it done right.
Besides those daily visits, he’d met her several times since she had come to Bella Creek with the others. Sadie Young was about his age with brown hair, a perfect oval face, hazel eyes like late-summer leaves, and healthy-looking skin. Not a bad-looking woman, but she was so shy he wondered how she managed to teach. Something about her shyness triggered a protective note in him, which he managed to quell.
He wasn’t interested in her for any reason. He might be only twenty-two, but he had learned enough lessons about women to last a lifetime and to make him completely wary of them. He rocked his head back and forth. Once he’d been enamored of a woman he considered to be ideal. She’d seemed so sweet and innocent. He’d been shocked to learn she had questionable morals. She’d teased him into following her to the nearby rough town of Wolf Hollow, where he’d thought he could protect her, but he ended up trapped by his shame and her continued deceit. Learning that his ma lay on her deathbed had brought him home, and he’d promised Ma he’d never fall into such a trap again. Later, after Ma’s death, when Logan was what he considered to be a mature eighteen-year-old, he met a woman and her daughter when they moved into the boardinghouse. The girl seemed like a gentle young lady. She went to church with him and attended the family dinners. But it turned out she was part of a gang and was setting up a robbery. Worse, even, she was married to one of the robbers.
He figured it would take a lot for him to ever again trust a woman. Even more for him to trust his own judgment.
His experience was enough to make him look at Miss Young with a certain guardedness. But never mind Miss Young. Logan had to find his lunch before the thief ate it all. He eased around the schoolhouse, eyes sweeping the area for clues. A flash of material behind the stack of lumber at the back of the lot caught his attention. He eased forward. What kind of robber stopped so close to the scene of his crime?
He edged around the corner of the lumber pile, his muscles tensed to spring forward, but at the sight of a little boy opening up Logan’s lunch sack, he ground to a halt, his anger completely gone. This was one of Miss Young’s students. What was the child doing over here when he should be in the classroom with the other children?
The boy looked up, saw that he was discovered and stuffed the sack behind his back. He considered Logan with wide brown eyes, doing his best to look innocent.
Logan took a moment studying the boy. He had on overalls so thin you could spit through them. There was a button missing on his shirt. His dark blond hair was in sore need of a cut. Logan didn’t recognize the child. There must be a new family in the area he hadn’t heard of.
“I think you have my lunch,” he said in a slow, lazy drawl.
The boy’s thin shoulders came forward. He twisted his hands palms upward as if to prove he had nothing.
Was there anything sadder than a hungry boy? His own hunger gnawed at his stomach. He lowered himself to the ground, his back to the lumber. The boy drew his legs closer to his body and watched Logan.
Logan saw how tense the boy was. “What’s your name?”
“Sammy.”
“Got a last name?”
“Sammy Weiss.”
“Howdy. I’m Logan Marshall.” He stretched his legs out. “Guess you’re as hungry as me. Think we could share the lunch?”
Sammy waited, and when he realized Logan wasn’t giving up, he pulled the sack from behind him and handed it to Logan, his eyes never leaving the promise of food.
Logan carefully divided the lunch into two portions. The boy’s eyes followed every move of Logan’s fingers. He passed one half of the food to Sammy.
“I like to thank God for my food before I eat.”
Sammy bowed his head, loudly swallowing saliva.
“Thanks for food and sunshine and fresh air and good work. Amen.”
Before Logan could lift his sandwich to his mouth, young Sammy had taken a large bite. He ate like a boy who wondered where he’d find
