do is talk to Mr. Law, answer his questions the best that you can, and then do what he says. You can do that, canât you?â
She nodded. âWill I see you again?â
âI donât know, sweetie. The Lord knows.â
Samuel walked away from us to the truck. I knew he felt bad. But it wasnât his fault. He was right. She might have worried kin someplace. And if she did, we had to find a way to get them together.
âMaybe Daddy could decide to be her daddy too,â Sarah whispered. âI wouldnât mind to have a sister.â
I shouldnât have been surprised. Sarah liked everybody. But we couldnât just claim Katie. Something like that wouldnât be as easy as Sarah made it sound.
I took Katieâs hand and gently led her away from the porch. âRight now, itâs time to get to town and get business taken care of. Sarah, run and get Katieâs clothes off the line. Theyâll dry quick enough in the truck if theyâre not already.â
Katie was sitting on the truck seat, clutching those yarn dolls and staring back at me when they drove away. I felt cold and cruel inside. Sheâd come all the way from Albany, New York, thinking she had a new home. But now she had nothing at all except Sarahâs jumper and the âreal familyâ of yarn dolls she was holding in her hand. Maybe I should have told Samuel to bring her back if they couldnât find her someone like the grandma Iâd had to make everything all right again.
SIX
Samuel
Katie didnât cry, didnât move at all. For the whole ride to town, she sat and stared straight ahead, not saying a word. A couple of times I tried to assure her that the sheriff was a nice man and she didnât need to be scared. But I knew that wasnât her worry. What would happen after we talked to the sheriff? Even I didnât know that.
In Dearing, we stopped in front of what had been the dry goods store a few months ago. Now it was boarded up like so many other businesses in town. Ben Law kept his office across the street, right next to the bank, which was also closed. On the rest of the block, only Blumeâs Milk Station and the Feed and Seed were still open.
Down the street I could see Herman Meyerâs car in front of his aunt Hazel Sharpeâs house. I hoped she was napping.It had never been particularly pleasant to encounter her on a trip to town.
I helped Katie out of the truck. She was still holding those yarn dolls so tightly that her knuckles were white. But she didnât say anything. I held her other hand as we crossed the street.
Sheriff Law had a cowbell tied to his doorknob, but he didnât look up despite its clank. He was reading the Mt. Vernon newspaper, and after several minutes, he finally glanced our way over a headline saying something about candidate Roosevelt.
âWell, good morning,â he smiled. âYouâre Wortham, arenât you?â
âYes, sir,â I answered, not surprised that he would know me. Hazel Sharpe had approached him when we first came here, telling him we were trying to trick Emma Graham out of her possessions. Emma herself had set all that straight.
âWhat can I do for you today?â He set the paper down, and before I could answer, he was asking another question. âThis your little girl?â
âNo, sir. Thatâs why Iâve come.â
I did my best to relate the whole story to him. Everything Edward had said, and everything Katie had told us. The sheriff just sat, eyeing the girl and nodding.
When I finished and asked him if there wasnât a way he could find her relatives, he leaned back in his chair and smiled. âI never heard you deny beinâ from Pennsylvania.â
âI am. At least we lived there a while. Harrisburg. Butââ
He rocked forward. âNow, if your own brother was convinced, and the mother of the childââ
âSheriff Law, if she was telling