“Last night Tuck yelled for me to get my gun,” Abel said. “I got off a couple of shots at the man.”

  “It’s an important quality of leadership to be able to keep one’s mind clear in a time of trouble,” Ty commented.

  Tucker shot him a nasty glance. “Think I’m going to be a leader somewheres?”

  Abel remonstrated with the boy, telling him not to be disrespectful. “Tucker is already a good leader here with the littler boys,” he said to Ty.

  Ty was near enough that he caught Tucker whisper to himself in reply, “I tried that once and look what it got me.”

  Ty nearly asked Tucker what he meant, but stopped himself from commenting. He rolled the boy’s words around in his mind. What had Tucker tried to do that had gone badly for him? And where?

  Ty wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t going to ignore clues and hints about Tucker and the other orphans here. Someone had it in for them. And it was Ty’s job to keep them safe.

  Ty couldn’t blame the boy for being sarcastic in light of what most people believed of him. Again, Ty promised himself not to make the mistake of underestimating a child merely because he had no family and probably stole to survive. This prejudice against Tucker Stout and the other orphans was a shame to all of Altoona. And Miss Felicity Gabriel was a lesson to them all.

  The doctor approached them. “Tucker? Miss Gabriel wants me to ask if you were injured in the fight last night.”

  “I’m fine.” Tucker hunched up his shoulder. “I’ve had worse.”

  “You’re able to move all your joints then?” the doctor asked.

  “I’m fine,” Tucker said, sounding nettled.

  The doctor took the boy’s chin in his hand and looked over his bruised face. “Any ringing in your ears?”

  “No.”

  The doctor released Tucker’s chin. “If anything starts bothering you, do Miss Gabriel and me a favor and let us know before it gets so bad you can’t hide it. I like to get an occasional full night’s rest. I’ll be going now. Oh, Tucker, Miss Gabriel wants to see you in her room.”

  “I need to talk to her, too,” Ty said. “I’ll come along.”

  Tucker cast him an irritated glance, shoved his hands in his pockets and started off fast. Ty hurried to keep up.

  “Tucker!” Camie called.

  Ty watched his daughter run away from a game of tag and head toward the boy. She reached Tucker and walked alongside of him, chattering away. Envy instantly consumed Ty, who fell back so he wouldn’t spoil his daughter’s happy mood.

  Tucker pulled one of her braids. She laughed and ran back toward the game again. And then Tucker turned and sent him an accusing look.

  It hit Ty like a gavel in the face. The look told him loud and plain that Tucker thought he must be a cruel parent to have a daughter so frightened of him. Words of self-justification jumbled in his throat and mouth. He held them back.

  He had proved the old saying, “Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” true. He’d been so afraid that some other lucky young man would snap up Virginia Crandall. He recalled the few words of caution his mother and Mildred Barney, her good friend, had spoken—and which he had ignored. It was only right that he pay for his mistake, but why did his innocent child have to pay, too?

  Tucker had preceded him up the stairs to Felicity’s bedroom. Ty reached the doorway, but he hung back. Tucker had paused halfway between the door and the bed. The lady lay on her stomach. The silk party gown she had worn had evidently been put away. She now wore a light white gown with only two loose narrow straps to hold it up on her shoulders. Her skin was as red as before but the blisters had all shrunk. He hoped the ointment the doctor had administered was helping with the pain. He reached up and knocked at the door, hesitant to disturb her.

  “Is that thee, Tucker?” she asked, sounding as though she had very little energy. “Please come where I can see thee.” Tucker moved forward, nearer her face.

  Felicity held out a hand. “Tucker, what with my burns and everything else, I haven’t been able to express how thankful I am to thee for protecting our little Camie.”

  “You don’t need to thank me, miss.” Tucker squeezed her hand and let it go. “I owed you and besides, I wouldn’t let him take…any kid.” Tucker stiffened. “I mean, somebody breaks in, he can’t be up to any good, right?”

  Felicity studied Tucker’s bruised face, as Ty did.

  Ty’s pulse sped up. It was obvious that the boy had almost said something, revealed something he hadn’t wanted them to notice.

  She reached for the boy’s hand again, but Tucker was looking away. “Tucker, after last night,” Felicity said, “thee doesn’t have to hang thy head anymore. Thee proved that thee are a fine boy and will become a fine man.”

  Tucker snorted with derision, looking away.

  “Take my hand again, Tucker,” Felicity prompted.

  He finally accepted it, but with a grimace.

  “Thee is a good person, Tucker. Never doubt that. Thee heard a sound and acted with great presence of mind. Many others might have given in to panic and hidden. Thee did not.”

  “I like Camie. She’s a good little kid.”

  The boy’s words took Ty by surprise. Ty ached physically, not from the fire last night, but from the emotions and energy he’d expended over the past twenty-four hours. The boy’s heartfelt words pierced his unusually vulnerable heart. My little girl. I could have lost her.

  Felicity smiled. “Yes, Camie is sweet. And thee is a fine boy.” Her eyelids tried to drift down. “Thee may go now. I am falling asleep. The good doctor says that I must stay abed and heal.”

  “The judge is here,” Tucker said, nodding toward the door.

  “Tyrone Hawkins?” She turned her head slightly.

  “Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry to bother you in your boudoir. But I have to tell you some important news.”

  Tucker passed him without a glance on his way out the door.

  Ty approached the bed. “I just wanted you to know that Jack Toomey and Eldon Partridge are setting up a night watch on your house, starting tonight.”

  “Does thee think that is necessary?” Her voice was thin and faint.

  Her unusual frailty worried him. “Yes, we all agreed that you and the children need added protection. Now go to sleep. Heal. You have nothing to worry about.” He began moving away from her.

  “Tucker,” she murmured, “I think…Tucker.” And she was asleep.

  He turned and saw Tucker, whom he’d thought had left, just disappearing from the doorway. What had she been about to tell him about the boy? And why did Ty have the distinct impression that Tucker knew more about last night than he was telling?

  Ty took one last glance at Felicity. Even as she lay there in agony, unadorned beauty still radiated from her. He was determined to do everything he could to protect her and the children. And he was becoming more and more convinced that Tucker held the key to Felicity’s safety and happiness.

  From the bushes in the alley, Dalton watched the judge walk over to the back porch of the house next to the Quaker’s place. It pleased him to see the damage that he’d brought to the house, the boarded-up window and the blackened side of the house. But it did not please him to see that Ty and the neighbor were talking with the black shoeshiner from down at the wharf. All three were glancing over at the burned house. Then Tucker came out of the back door.

  I should have wrung his neck last night. Dalton’s hands fisted. If he’d been able to snatch the judge’s kid, the Quaker would have been run out of town. And then everything would be back the way it should be. Lousy do-gooders, making it hard for a man to make a dishonest livin’. I’ll get you yet, Quaker. And Tuck. I got ideas. Plenty of them.

  Days later, Felicity woke in the night. She froze, her heart pounding. What had wakened her? She heard voices. She rose from her bed and went to the window. Parting the curtains, by moonlight she saw two men in her front yard.

  Both carried what looked to be rifles. They shook hands and one walked away. The other moved into the shadows around her house. She went back to her bed and sat. Her back still burned, but it was healing without infection. And except for the itching, this was a true boon.

  But she didn’t like the fact that her home and her children had to be guarded like this. Where would this all end? And how did God want it to end? Was she to be doing something more than she was?

  Felicity wondered about the poor man still in custody for the attempted kidnapping. The police chief wasn’t happy with her or Tucker since neither of them would say that the prisoner was the kidnapper.

  The man had no money for a lawyer and the police chief refused to release him, saying that the man was a material witness in an investigation. The chief was certain the man was the guilty party. The prisoner was the perfect scapegoat—a stranger and black.

  Felicity would send Midge with a basket of food for him and try to think of some way to help. She was afraid that if she merely paid his bail or had her lawyer defend him, he might be set free only to suffer abuse outside the jail. Until he could be cleared, he was safer where he was.

  Would she ever get used to men patrolling around her house every night? I would much rather depend on thee, Lord. But sometimes Thee uses human hands to carry out Thy protection.

  Felicity attempted to lie back down and sleep, but she could not stop her mind, and her thoughts—of the fire, of Camie and of Ty—kept her up until dawn.

  On Saturday morning, ready for baseball practice, Felicity strolled out into the perfect early November, Indian-summer day. Indian summer, that last breath of summer before winter, had lasted for over a week. At least, that’s what Vista and Abel had been happily commenting on for days. Weeks had passed since the fire. Her shoulders had healed and she was feeling herself again. And Thanksgiving would soon be here.

  The days fit for baseball were drawing to a close. But today would be perfect for it. Ty and the others should be here soon. She tried to quell her anticipation of seeing Ty again.

  Thoughts of Ty brought thoughts of Camie. Felicity had prayed and thought and prayed, and knew no more about who had tried to kidnap Camie than she had the night Tucker had saved her. She didn’t know why God had not pointed out who the would-be kidnapper was yet. But she was certain justice would be done—as long as she prevented injustice from being done.

  Midge had visited the prisoner still in custody, taking extra food. The man had refused to give his name, much to the police chief’s irritation. And the man never said anything to Midge except for “Thank you, miss.” What was he hiding?

  The bright sun warmed her face, distracting her thoughts. Donnie and Johnny, who’d become best friends over the past few weeks, ran to catch up with her at the tree where they usually sat. Soon everyone had arrived and Felicity, with Donnie and Johnny, settled in to watch another ball practice.

  Baseball practice had attracted more and more children so that today, after a time of practice, they might have enough numbers to play a ball game. Eldon Partridge and Ty had the children in parallel lines and were having them practice catching and throwing the ball between the two lines. The sight filled Felicity with deep satisfaction.

  “Hi!” Donnie called out, “Hi, lady.”

  Felicity turned to see who Donnie was waving at. Eldon Partridge’s wife was approaching them. Felicity grimaced inwardly, dreading the woman’s arrival. “Good morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could manage.

  “Good morning. I wonder…may I watch the baseball practice with you?”

  Of all the words that might have come from this woman’s lips, Felicity could not have anticipated these. “Of course! Thee is always welcome here.”

  “I’m Martha Partridge. My husband says that you don’t use titles like ‘Mrs’.”

  “Friends do not.”

  Martha Partridge had brought a thin cushion, which she put on the grass. She sat, carefully arranging her skirts. She smiled. “I haven’t sat on grass for so long.”

  Felicity imagined that to be correct. The woman didn’t seem like the type to enjoy watching sporting events.

  Still, Martha watched the children tossing the balls back and forth. And Felicity did likewise. Finally, Martha cleared her throat. “Percy truly enjoys this new game.”

  “Baseball is a good game for teaching many skills and sportsmanship. How to win or lose like a gentleman or—” Felicity grinned “—a lady.”

  “I was never allowed to run and play with the boys.” Martha sounded wistful. “Mother didn’t want me to be what she called a hoyden.”

  “I’m sorry,” Felicity said sincerely and then covered her mouth with one hand in embarrassment.

  Martha chuckled. “I am sorry, too.”

  Felicity smiled. “My parents let me run and play. My best friend was a boy on the next farm. He was always getting us into trouble.” Memories of childhood days with Gus tugged at her heart. The limestone grave marker set for him in the Pennsylvania cemetery also pulled at her heart. If only she had been able to love him the way he’d wanted her to—romantically. When would thoughts of him not bring regret?

  “You were fortunate.” The lady looked down and plucked a blade of grass. “I was wrong to take such a negative attitude toward…”

  “My work here with children?”

  Martha nodded.

  “Would you mind if I asked thee why thee has had a change of heart?”

  The woman bent her head and plucked another blade of grass. The children playing ball were calling to each other with eager voices. “The night of the fire, I woke and all I could think of was the chance that the children might be hurt. Or die. It made me think. Children are children. I didn’t want anything to happen to Percy or to your children.”

  Felicity rested a hand on Martha’s, truly touched. “Yes, children are precious gifts from God.”

  Martha looked up, smiling. “And Percy, my son, is so much happier. He used to hate to go to school. I didn’t know that the other boys made fun of his clothes. Why didn’t he say something?”

  “Boys don’t like to talk about such things. They think they must handle it themselves. They don’t want to be thought…” Felicity’s voice faltered.

  “Tied to mama’s apron strings?” Martha finished for her and shook her head, grinning.

  The throwing practice ended. Both women turned toward the game. Ty was calling everyone to count off to form two teams. Some of the children were dancing up and down with excitement. This would be the first time they tried to play a game.

  There were many strikes, outs and foul balls chased. Sitting near Felicity, Johnny yelled encouragement. “Hey, Eugene, hit that ball!” Eugene missed and Johnny groaned.

  “Katy, hit ball! Hit ball!” Donnie’s face glowed with excitement. He hopped up. Felicity noticed that the child was no longer thin. His toothpick legs had filled out and were now sturdy. He jumped up and down like a healthy, happy boy. Tears of joy filled her eyes.

  “What’s wrong?” Martha asked.

  Felicity shook her head, unable to speak.

  Katy managed to hit the ball so that it bounced a few times. But she ran as fast as she could. And with all the fumbling by the other team, she made it to first base.

  Donnie screeched and jumped up and down. Johnny joined in. Felicity realized that she had risen, too. Martha stood beside her, grinning. Felicity suddenly thought that in some indefinable way, her best childhood friend Gus was there with her, jumping up and down, cheering her on. Tears flowed down her face. She turned her head to hide these.

  Gus had been her best friend. But now Ty was the one working beside her, helping these children. She wiped away her tears with her fingertips. Ty had become her champion.

  Breathing in the crisp autumn air the week before Thanksgiving, Ty walked from the courthouse to the Barney house. The cases against petty thieves and drunks had petered out early. At only a half hour after the luncheon break, he’d adjourned court. He drew in the clean, fresh air and lengthened his strides. As soon as he’d taken off his judge’s robe, he’d known whom he wanted to talk to—Felicity Gabriel.

  The two of them had been so busy with work, with baseball, with children, that they hadn’t had a moment to do anything concrete about her campaign to change Illinois law. He knew when he announced the purpose for his visit this afternoon, she would spend precious time with him—uninterrupted. The children were all still at school and the house would be quiet.

  He found himself smiling. Last night when he left, Camie had said good-night to him without being told to for the very first time. He had read about people who had their hearts warmed. Now he knew that sensation was real. He’d walked home last night, his heart no longer aching. Hope had taken root there. Someday his daughter would let him swing her up into his arms and squeal with happiness.

  Hearing the scrape of rakes dragging leaves into piles, he turned up the path to the Barney House. He was greeted by a sudden spate of industrious hammering. Then a sawing sounded. So much for a quiet house. Instead of just repairing what the fire had damaged, Felicity had decided to go ahead and enlarge the dining room. He grinned, waved at the carpenters at work and walked around them to the back door.

  “Come in!” Vista called when he knocked.

  Ty stepped into the warm kitchen. “I didn’t want to make you come to the front door. Is Miss Gabriel at home?”

  “She’s in her den. Midge has taken the little boys for a walk. And the new maid is busy cleaning.” Vista held up her hands, covered with bread dough and flour. “Would you mind showing yourself in, Judge?”

  “Not at all.” He passed Vista and walked down the freshly scrubbed and painted hall. The outside wall with the bow window had been replaced by a canvas partition, keeping out the wind and the sawdust as the carpenters worked, and muffling the sounds of hammers and saws.

  Ty sauntered to the den on the opposite side of the staircase. He halted at its open door. Felicity was bent over papers on her desk. In this rare private moment, he let himself gaze at her. Though she always dressed in modest gray without any lace or intricate tucking, she couldn’t hide the fact that she was a very pretty young woman. How had she stayed single? The answer of course was that she had probably turned down proposals. He liked that; he didn’t like that.

 

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