Free True to the Law by Jo Goodman Page B

Tru’s open palm.
    Her fingers closed around it while the line of her mouth settled somewhere between disapproval and amusement. One of her eyebrows lifted. “How
old
are you, Mr. Bridger?”
    Before he answered, Cobb bit off the portion of the cookie between his lips and pushed it into his cheek. “Twenty nine, ma’am.”
    “There’s a wonder,” she said, turning away. “Have a mind you step back from the door before Finn knocks you over.”
    Her warning came just in time. Cobb had just sidled sideways when Finn barreled through.
    Finn spared a glance for Cobb as he passed. “You’re still here, Mr. Bridger. You in some kind of trouble?”
    Cobb answered the boy, but his eyes were fixed on Miss Morrow’s slender back as she walked away. He swallowed. “Sure feels like some kind of trouble, Finn.”
    Finn hefted the bucket onto his bench. “She makin’ you write something? She likes doing that.”
    Tru looked over her shoulder as she set the sack on her desk. She also spoke to Finn while her eyes remained steady on Cobb. “Mr. Bridger is leaving.”
    “I’m being banished, Finn.” He took another bite of his sand tart. “Like Napoleon to Elba.”
    Finn’s attention was all for making sure he didn’t slop water onto the floor. The looks exchanged between the adults in the room went literally and figuratively over his head. He pulled the cleaning rag from his pocket with the flourish of a magician. “Never heard of Napoleon,” he said. “Elba neither, but if you mean you’re goin’ back to the Pennyroyal, I guess I’ll see you later.”
    “I hope so. There’s that errand we talked about.”
    Finn stopped twisting the cleaning rag over the bucket and looked at Cobb. “Really? You got something for me to do?”
    “I do.”
    “What is it?”
    “Later.”
    “I’ll come directly after I’m done here.”
    Tru had started toward the broom closet, but now she paused. “You better go home first, Finn.”
    The boy sighed feelingly. “Miss Morrow’s right, Mr. Bridger. There’ll be hell to pay if I don’t, and you and me ain’t come to money terms yet.”
    “It doesn’t matter how much I pay you,” said Cobb. “The devil always charges a nickel more than a man’s got. Go see your granny before you come by the hotel.”
    Nodding, Finn turned back to his task.
    Over her shoulder, Tru mouthed a thank-you to Cobb.
    He shrugged. “I guess I’ll be going, then.” No one said he shouldn’t. Cobb saw that Finn’s concentration was all for the slate he was cleaning. When the boy was done there would be no evidence of what Delaware signed, and very likely no black left on the slate. He also noticed that Finn’s tongue was peeping out of the corner of his mouth. He looked back at Miss Morrow. Andrew Mackey’s alleged thief had a broom in her hand and was using the butt of it to push the closet door closed. When she turned around, he glimpsed surprise in her eyes.
    “Oh, Mr. Bridger. You’re still here.”
    “I thought I would finish my cookie first.” Although he only had a third of it left, he bit that part in two. Crumbs fell on the floor. He brushed more off the front of his duster. When he looked up and saw Miss Morrow was watching him, he stamped his slim smile with equal parts guilt and remorse.
    Tru saw right through to the guile. It was all she could do not to roll her eyes. She held out the broom. “You can sweep the floor,” she said. “Mind you get the mud under Sam Burnside’s desk.” She cast her eyes in the direction of Sam’s seat. “Every day he carries in clods of earth in his shoes. I believe he is moving a mountain.” She thrust the broom in Cobb’s hand when he came forward to collect it. “I’m going to pick up the slates for Finn.”
    Cobb put what remained of the sand tart in his mouth. He passed the broom from hand to hand while he shrugged out of his duster. He hung it on a hook next to Finn’s coat and then started sweeping.
    Tru began gathering slates at