stood poised for the watery attack, while seventeen children and three grown men—Beau included—pretended nothing was amiss.
Another succession of thunder rumbled closer, the sound reverberating through the backyard ball game.
And still the contest continued. For three more seconds. Two. One…
The rain let loose.
Fat drops of icy water pummeled man and child alike. Feet pounded. Shouts lifted in the air. Childish giggles and adult commands wrapped inside one another. Orders to get out of the mud and into the house were barked in a masculine, authoritative tone. A flash of lightning highlighted the urgency.
When the bedlam continued, the order came again.“Everybody inside the house,” Marc shouted. This time his tone brooked no argument.
A chorus of groans and complaints rose up.
“Now.”
One by one the children scrambled onto the back porch. Bringing up the rear, Beau hoisted one of the smaller boys into his arms and dashed up the stairs. By the time he commandeered the last step, he had to shuffle his way through a maze of arms and legs vying for space, as well.
Marc made quick work of gathering equipment in one pile and wet shoes in another before herding the motley group inside.
From his vantage point, Beau watched the giggling horde poke and pull and elbow one another en route to the house. The children managed to arouse his amusement and sympathy all at the same time. There was a reserved nature to their movements, something sad and self-preserving that kept the boys and girls from fully engaging in the fun. It was as if they were holding back a part of themselves.
Understandable. Given their histories.
There was a lot of God’s work to do at Charity House. The orphanage could use a full-time minister on staff. But it wouldn’t be Beau. Even if he didn’t have his own plans for the future, he was already committed to the church in Greeley. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t help Marc and Laney find a preacher who would fit in with the ministry already started here at the orphanage.
Despite his efforts to mentally organize a list of potential candidates, his mind shifted to another, more urgent subject. Beau owed it to Miss Southerland to get down to the business of finding her sister.
Shaking water out of his hair, he waited until the lastof the children banged inside the house behind Marc. Only then did he pull Trey aside. “I need a word with you, Marshal.”
Eyes never leaving Beau’s face, the lawman removed his hat and set it on a nearby rocking chair. “Trouble again?”
A cold ball of dread settled heavily in Beau’s belly. “You have no idea.”
Hitching his hip against the porch railing, Trey rubbed his jaw. The day-old stubble and grim twist of his lips made the man look as fierce as his reputation. With the nickname Beelzebub’s Cousin, it was no wonder Trey Scott was known as a ruthless lawman who hunted criminals with a vengeance.
However, when Beau looked into Trey’s eyes, he saw past the U.S. Marshal and found the loyalty and integrity that had won the heart of Charity House’s schoolteacher, Katherine Taylor, and her little sister, Molly.
“Another runaway husband?” Trey asked.
“Not precisely.” Beau shook his head. “This time, it’s personal.”
To his credit, Trey’s expression never changed. “I see. Tell me what I can do for you.”
The wind chose that moment to kick harder, pelting razor-sharp needles of rain straight into Beau’s eyes. He shifted slightly and set his shoulders against the storm. “I need you to help me find my brother.”
Frowning, Trey stared up at the ceiling. He stood in that contemplative pose so long that Beau looked up, as well. But then Trey shoved away from the railing and lowered his gaze back to Beau’s. “Let’s finish this conversation in Marc’s study.”
Beau nodded. “That’ll be fine.”
As he followed the marshal through the back of the house, Beau had to fight the urge to rush his steps. Even
Another succession of thunder rumbled closer, the sound reverberating through the backyard ball game.
And still the contest continued. For three more seconds. Two. One…
The rain let loose.
Fat drops of icy water pummeled man and child alike. Feet pounded. Shouts lifted in the air. Childish giggles and adult commands wrapped inside one another. Orders to get out of the mud and into the house were barked in a masculine, authoritative tone. A flash of lightning highlighted the urgency.
When the bedlam continued, the order came again.“Everybody inside the house,” Marc shouted. This time his tone brooked no argument.
A chorus of groans and complaints rose up.
“Now.”
One by one the children scrambled onto the back porch. Bringing up the rear, Beau hoisted one of the smaller boys into his arms and dashed up the stairs. By the time he commandeered the last step, he had to shuffle his way through a maze of arms and legs vying for space, as well.
Marc made quick work of gathering equipment in one pile and wet shoes in another before herding the motley group inside.
From his vantage point, Beau watched the giggling horde poke and pull and elbow one another en route to the house. The children managed to arouse his amusement and sympathy all at the same time. There was a reserved nature to their movements, something sad and self-preserving that kept the boys and girls from fully engaging in the fun. It was as if they were holding back a part of themselves.
Understandable. Given their histories.
There was a lot of God’s work to do at Charity House. The orphanage could use a full-time minister on staff. But it wouldn’t be Beau. Even if he didn’t have his own plans for the future, he was already committed to the church in Greeley. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t help Marc and Laney find a preacher who would fit in with the ministry already started here at the orphanage.
Despite his efforts to mentally organize a list of potential candidates, his mind shifted to another, more urgent subject. Beau owed it to Miss Southerland to get down to the business of finding her sister.
Shaking water out of his hair, he waited until the lastof the children banged inside the house behind Marc. Only then did he pull Trey aside. “I need a word with you, Marshal.”
Eyes never leaving Beau’s face, the lawman removed his hat and set it on a nearby rocking chair. “Trouble again?”
A cold ball of dread settled heavily in Beau’s belly. “You have no idea.”
Hitching his hip against the porch railing, Trey rubbed his jaw. The day-old stubble and grim twist of his lips made the man look as fierce as his reputation. With the nickname Beelzebub’s Cousin, it was no wonder Trey Scott was known as a ruthless lawman who hunted criminals with a vengeance.
However, when Beau looked into Trey’s eyes, he saw past the U.S. Marshal and found the loyalty and integrity that had won the heart of Charity House’s schoolteacher, Katherine Taylor, and her little sister, Molly.
“Another runaway husband?” Trey asked.
“Not precisely.” Beau shook his head. “This time, it’s personal.”
To his credit, Trey’s expression never changed. “I see. Tell me what I can do for you.”
The wind chose that moment to kick harder, pelting razor-sharp needles of rain straight into Beau’s eyes. He shifted slightly and set his shoulders against the storm. “I need you to help me find my brother.”
Frowning, Trey stared up at the ceiling. He stood in that contemplative pose so long that Beau looked up, as well. But then Trey shoved away from the railing and lowered his gaze back to Beau’s. “Let’s finish this conversation in Marc’s study.”
Beau nodded. “That’ll be fine.”
As he followed the marshal through the back of the house, Beau had to fight the urge to rush his steps. Even
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