Free The Law and Miss Mary by Dorothy Clark

out of St. Louis often.
    He ducked under a low-hanging branch, rested his free hand on his thigh and glanced up at the cloud-dotted, blue expanse above. Too bad he could not have enjoyed this excursion more. But the trip’s purpose was not to his liking. Still, posting notice of the new law concerning emigrant children under the age of twelve was part of his job, and he had done it. Now, he would have to enforce it.
    His face tightened. So did his stomach. He blew out a breath easing the constraint and returned his attention to the trail ahead. The thick band of trees that hid the wagon train gathering site from the city was thinning. He would soon be back to town. He frowned and eased back on the reins, slowing Attila’s pace.
    At least it was late in the season. The wagon train forming now would probably be the last for this year. The influx of emigrants should stop soon. And perhaps by the time they began gathering again next spring, the situation concerning orphaned children would be different. Meanwhile, he would do what he must.
    Sam set his jaw, clamped a firm lid on his unease and directed his thoughts toward his goals. He had worked with a view to them since he was old enough to muck out stalls and help farmers plant and harvest crops. He was not going to give them up now. He would do his job. And he would fulfill his plan.
    He closed his eyes and summoned the vision he carried in his heart. His house would be perfect. There would be no soot, no faded fabric, no chipped paint in the wood trim or gouges in the wood floors. He would have carpets in every room, fancy furniture and real paintings on the walls. And it was going to be big. Three stories high with lots of windows and tall white pillars holding up the high porch roof.
    He frowned and opened his eyes. He was close. Very close. The lead mine upriver he had invested in was proving very profitable. And his other interests were doing equally well. His finances were secure. What he needed now was the land.
    He knew the piece he wanted. It had a knoll, the highest spot around, where he would build his house to look out over the river. It would be the first place seen by people coming down the river to St. Louis. A real showplace. All he had to do was wait for Charlie and Harry Banks to come back to town so he could make the old mountain men a generous offer for their property. Maybe then they would stop mining for silver and live an easier life in town. And then, when his house was built, he would marry Levinia Stewart and they would become the young leaders of St. Louis society.
    Sam smiled, leaned forward and patted Attila’s neck. He had it all worked out. All he had to do was court Levinia and wait for Charlie and Harry. He closed his eyes again, pictured the way it would be. But for some reason he could not see Levinia in the house. He frowned and stopped trying to place her there. It was too early. That was the problem. He had only begun to court her. But he intended to marry her. The mayor’s daughter was everything he needed his wife to be. She was the most beautiful woman in St. Louis, a fitting mistress for his showplace house. And she was the key to his full acceptance into society.
    Sam shifted his weight in the saddle and let his mind drift back to the way Levinia had looked last night. She had been agleam with beauty, clearly outshining Miss Randolph.
    Miss Randolph.
    Sam stirred, jolted by the same sense of guilt that had hit him when he had met her gaze last evening. It was clear, from the look in her brown eyes, that she still felt he was wrong about arresting that young boy. But that was his job!
    Sam jerked his thoughts away from the condemnation in Miss Randolph’s eyes. He knew the desperate acts hunger drove one to, but he could not afford to feel guilty for performing his duty. His job was providing him with the means to accomplish his goals, and he would not give that up for anyone. Certainly not for a woman with a pair of accusing brown