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 boy shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “I found out he was a mean old coot, especially when he was drunk.” He lifted his chin. “But I never let him see me cry.”
Everything inside her cried out at that telling statement. Who would treat a child like this? She saw Mr. Dawson’s jaw tighten, indicating he shared her outrage.
But Leo hadn’t finished saying his piece. “I finally figured two years of my working sunup to sundown should have paid off any debt my pa owed him, if he actually owed him anything in the first place. So a few nights ago I just up and left while he was still sleeping.” He gave them all a tight-jawed look. “And I don’t aim to go back, no matter what.”
“And the watch?” the sheriff asked.
Leo drew himself up. “I ain’t no thief. I took it because it was rightfully mine.”
“Yours?” The sheriff retrieved the timepiece and examined it. “This is a mighty expensive-looking item for a kid to own.”
“It was my pa’s. His great-granddad brought it over from England before he sailed here. He saved the life of some kind of nobleman and the man gave him that watch out of gratitude. My pa told me the story lots of times. He also said it would be mine someday.” His face twisted into a dark glower. “But then Mr. Belcher
