Echoes of Mercy: A Novel (5 page)

She reached the corner, paused to allow two wagons to pass, then trotted to the opposite side of the street. As she stepped onto the boardwalk, the screened door to the general goods store banged open, and the very girl who’d stood next to her in Mr. Hightower’s office came flying out. An angry, apron-wearing man followed closely on her heels. Instinctively, Caroline dropped her bag and caught the girl by her sleeve. The girl jerked free, but her sudden movement ripped the faded fabric. She came to a stop and gasped, staring at the spot where her skinny, filthy arm peeked through.

“Gotcha!” The man collared the girl and shook her hard. “You no-good thief! I’m gonna give you what for. I’ll teach you to steal from my store!” He raised his hand high.

The girl drew up both arms to shield herself as his wide palm swung toward her cheek. Before his hand connected with her face, Caroline grabbed his elbow with both hands. He grunted and tugged, his red face reflecting fury.

“You will not strike that child!” She held tight, indignation giving her more strength than she knew she had. “Shame on you, attacking someone so much smaller and weaker!”

“Well, somebody’s gotta teach her!” The man wrenched his arm free and took a step back, releasing the girl’s neck. Instead of running, she hunched forward and sobbed into her hands. The man gave her a disgusted look. “Comes into my store, sticks her dirty hands in my cracker barrel, then starts eating right there next to the barrel! When I ask for money, she says she hasn’t got any. That makes her a thief in my book.”

In Caroline’s book it made the girl desperately hungry. “How many crackers did she eat?”

“Three—maybe four.”

Caroline withdrew her little money purse from her pocket and snapped it open. “I’ll pay for them.”

“Fine.” He held out his beefy palm. “That’ll be two bits.”

Caroline cocked one eyebrow. Did he take her for a fool? “Twenty-five cents for a few crackers?”

“Who knows how many I’ll hafta throw away? She touched half the barrel with her grimy hands.” He bounced his hand. “Two bits or I take her to the sheriff.”

Caroline ground her teeth. She didn’t have enough energy to argue with the stubborn coot. She removed a twenty-five-cent piece from her purse and placed it on the man’s palm. “There you are. Paid in full.”

“Humph.” He shot the girl another murderous glare. “You stay outta my shop, young lady, you hear?” Clenching Caroline’s coin in his fist, he stormed back inside without waiting for a response.

As soon as he’d slammed the door behind him, Caroline caught the girl’s wrists and pulled them away from her face. Everything within her wanted to offer sympathy, but the shopkeeper had been right about one thing. Someone had to teach this girl that stealing was wrong. So she swallowed any words of comfort and assumed her sternest voice. “Stop crying.”

“I-I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, and you will.”

With a few shuddering gulps, the sobs ceased. The girl stared at Caroline with wide, tear-wet eyes. A hint of belligerence glittered behind the sheen of moisture. “You gonna call the sheriff on me?”

Caroline released one of the girl’s wrists, snatched up her bag with her free hand, then pulled the girl into the alley, away from curious onlookers. “No. I don’t think the sheriff much cares about a few crackers.”

A smile trembled on the corners of the girl’s lips.

“But God does.”

The smile disappeared.

“And you should be more concerned about pleasing Him than anyone else. Haven’t you ever read the Bible?” As soon as the question left her mouth,
she realized her error. The girl couldn’t read. She’d said as much in Mr. Hightower’s office.

The girl folded her arms tightly over her skinny chest and looked away. “You’re makin’ fun of me.”

“No, I’m not.” Caroline gentled her voice. “Look at me.” She waited, but the girl kept her gaze aimed to the side. “Look at me, please.”

Very slowly the girl shifted her head until she looked directly into Caroline’s eyes. Caroline glimpsed her own reflection in the girl’s large pupils. She saw a reflection of herself in the girl’s hopeless state. What would have become of Caroline if Noble hadn’t stepped in, taught her, aimed her in a better direction? This girl needed a Noble in her life. But Noble wasn’t here.

Caroline sighed. “What’s your name?”

“Letta. Letta Holcomb.”

“Well, Letta, there’s a very important book called the Bible. God gave us the book to help us know the right way to live. One of the things He says in His book is that we shouldn’t steal. Stealing is wrong.”

The girl raised her dirt-smudged chin. “What does it matter if you take somethin’ from rich folks? They got more’n they need anyway.” She flapped one hand toward the general goods shop. “That man in there? He’s got shelves full o’ stuff. All I wanted was a couple o’ crackers. He could’ve let me have ’em.”

“Maybe he would have, if you’d asked.” Caroline stifled a yawn. My, she was tired. But she had to get through to this girl. “Taking something that doesn’t belong to you is wrong no matter what it is or how rich the person is who owns it. Stealing is wrong.”

“So if I asked you right now to gimme the money in your purse, you’d give it to me?”

Caroline gaped at the girl. “No!”

Letta pursed her lips. “That’s what the man would’ve said, too. So I hadta take them crackers if I wanted some.” She huffed. “My brothers’ve snagged crackers plenty o’ times without gettin’ caught. Guess I’m just not as good at bein’ sneaky. I’ll hafta be more careful next time.”

The girl’s aspirations were sorely lacking. Caroline swallowed a frustrated growl. “Letta, you’re going to get yourself in trouble taking things that don’t
belong to you. You cannot steal. Next time I might not be around to pay for what you nabbed. Next time the sheriff might be called, and you could end up being locked away. Is that what you want?”

The defiance faded. Defeat sagged the girl’s spine. “Probably be better than goin’ home.”

Caroline could no longer resist offering sympathy. “Is it that bad?”

The girl nodded. “I wanna go home, get some breakfast.” She clutched her stomach. “But soon as I do, Pa’ll take the strap to me ’cause I didn’t get that job. He says gatherin’ rags ain’t enough to earn my keep. I gotta bring in more. An’ if I can’t pay in money, I’ll pay with my hide. Dinsmore’s was my last hope.”

Caroline didn’t know how to respond. Her parents hadn’t loved her or they wouldn’t have sold her, but they’d never struck her. Letta’s father was far worse than her own. She fiddled with the well-filled little purse in her pocket. “Did he expect you to bring money home today?”

“No. Just the promise of it. But without a job I don’t got no promise to give.” Letta cringed, folding into herself. “But he’ll keep his promise. I can count on that.”

How could she send this girl home to a furious man bent on beating her? Noble had sent her to the Dinsmore factory to investigate a death, but in her heart she’d come to this town to help children. She’d be the worst kind of hypocrite if she simply walked away from Letta. Her fuzzy brain tried to think … 
Think …
She gasped. “Letta! I have an idea!”

As Caroline raised her hand to knock on the unpainted door of Letta’s home, she prayed the warped, rotting porch boards would support her weight long enough to have a talk with the girl’s father. She stood as still as possible, but even so, moans and creaks rose from beneath her feet.

Letta stood so close, her warm, rapid breaths stirred the fine hairs on the back of Caroline’s neck. The child crossed her arms over her middle and hugged herself, trembling from scruffy braids to scuffed toes. The girl’s obvious nervousness did nothing to offer Caroline confidence that Mr. Holcomb would approve her scheme. But she still had to try. So she tapped. Waited. No response.

Letta whispered, “Pa sleeps days since he works nights at the train yard. Might hafta bang a little harder if you wanna rouse him.”

Caroline considered this new piece of information. “Maybe I should speak to your mother instead.”

The girl squirmed. “Don’t rightly know where Ma is. She, uh, kinda took off about a year ago. We ain’t seen hide nor hair of her since. Pa’s been specially irascible since she left.”

A sleepy man would be grouchy and less likely to be reasonable. Perhaps she should visit this evening after both she and Mr. Holcomb had enjoyed a good rest. She started to ask Letta when would be a better time to speak to the man, but Letta reached past her and gave the door three solid thumps with her fist. Then she darted behind Caroline.

“Who’s out there?” The raspy voice came from somewhere deep inside the house.

Caroline leaned close to the door and hollered back. “My name is Carrie Lang, Mr. Holcomb. I’d like to speak to you, please.”

Feet pounded on the floor inside the house, and the door wrenched open. Mr. Holcomb glowered from the other side of the doorjamb. Suspenders dangled at his knees, and the open neck of his long johns exposed a thick thatch of graying, coarse hair. “Whatever you’re sellin’, I ain’t buyin’.”

Caroline forced herself to look directly into his whisker-dotted face. “I’m not selling a thing, Mr. Holcomb. I’m here to purchase something from you.”

He snorted. “Whaddaya think I got worth sellin’?”

Caroline gathered the remainder of her spunk and stated boldly, “Letta’s time.”

His bushy eyebrows descended into a sharp V. “Letta?” He looked left and right. “Where is that girl?”

Letta eased from her hiding spot behind Caroline. “I’m here, Pa.”

Caroline ceased to exist as the father and daughter launched into a rapid exchange.

“You get that job like I told you?”

“N-no, Pa.”

“Why not?”

“Man said toters hafta have strength. Said I didn’t have enough.”

“An’ you just let him say it? Didn’t do nothin’ to prove him wrong?”

“He wouldn’t let me, Pa! Honest! He just told me to git on home an’ tell you to pay better attention to the qua … qualifications next time.”

Fury emanated from the man. Letta scuttled behind Caroline once more, and Caroline took advantage of the momentary lapse in the conversation to speak her piece. “Mr. Holcomb, if you’ll allow me one minute of your time, I’ll tell you how Letta can earn four dollars a week.”

The man’s attention shifted from his daughter to Caroline so quickly he nearly staggered. “Four dollars?” He barked out the amount, surprise lighting his face. But then he scowled. “You ain’t got nothin’ shady in mind, do ya? Burbank next-door might let his girls work the brothels durin’ the night, but no daughter o’ mine’s gonna—”

Caroline raised both palms, staving off his words. “I assure you, sir, my idea is far from shady.” Clasping her hands in a prayerful position, she hurried on. “Letta tells me she hasn’t had the opportunity to attend school. I believe receiving an education would be very beneficial to her, so I am offering to pay her four dollars a week to go to school and do the lessons.”

He cocked his head, disbelief breaking across his grizzled face. “Where you gonna get four dollars a week to give her?”

The Labor Commission paid her so she had no need for the money from the factory. But why tell him so? “Never mind that. Just know I’ll pay Letta four dollars a week to attend school.” She aimed one finger at the man. “But she’ll have to prove to me she’s learning. I’ll want to see her assignments each week, complete with markings from the teacher, and I will quiz her on the lessons. She’ll
earn
that money.”

The man scratched his head, his lips forming a sly smirk. “If she goes, my boys’ll probably think they can wile away their days sittin’ at a desk instead of goin’ out rat catchin’ an’ tin collectin’. That means losin’ their eight bits a week.”

A dollar was a small price to pay if the boys could attend school, too, but Caroline wouldn’t be manipulated into a bartering match. “Letta can share her lessons with her brothers. She’ll be their teacher.” A fanciful idea flooded Caroline’s mind. In spite of her weary state, she smiled. “Maybe she’ll grow up to teach a whole class full of youngsters someday. Wouldn’t that be a fine thing?”

Letta beamed at Caroline, then turned her eager face in her father’s direction.

The man snorted again. “Can’t imagine any kin o’ mine bein’ smart enough to be a teacher.”

The girl wilted.

Caroline’s parents would have said the same thing about her, but look at what she’d become, all because Noble had taught her to lean into God’s strength. She placed her arm around Letta’s thin shoulders, silently vowing to give this child the same encouragement she’d received from Noble. “You can’t know what Letta could achieve unless she’s given an opportunity to show you. So, Mr. Holcomb, will you accept my offer? Four dollars a week …” She dangled the carrot, watching his face for signs of softening.

He scratched his cheek, his dirty nails rasping over the coarse whiskers. Finally he blew out a breath and shook his head. “All right. She can go.”

Caroline held back a happy squeal.

“Leastways ’til somethin’ better comes along,” he added on a sour note. “Now lemme sleep.” He slammed the door in Caroline’s face, leaving her alone on the porch with an ecstatic girl.