The Law and Miss Mary Read Online Free PDF

Tears filmed her eyes at the close sight of Ben’s grimy skin, the clumps of dirt and straw in his matted hair, his dirty and torn clothes. She guessed him to be nine, perhaps ten years old. So young. And so horribly thin. Had he no one to care for him?
    Thoughts of the homeless children brought to her aunt Laina’s orphanage in Philadelphia crowded into her head. The tears in her eyes threatened to overflow. Was Ben an orphan? She blinked the tears back, released her breath and focused on the situation. Ben needed help, not pity. And she needed information. It was possible he had parents—though his unkempt, half-starved condition made it seem unlikely.
    She stole another look at the silent boy. He was so easily frightened, so ready to run. How should she start? I always mask my questions with friendly conversation. Of course! How many times had she heard her aunt Laina say that? Mary smiled, looked down. “I like the name Benjamin.” She made her tone of voice light, friendly. “Is it a family name? Perhaps your father’s?”
    No answer.
    She tilted her head to get a better view of the boy’s face. His lips were pressed together and he was blinking rapidly. Her heart seized. “Ben—”
    “This is the store.” He shot across the walkway, stopped by a store’s open door and looked back at her.
    “Go away, you ragamuffin! ” A woman loomed out of the darkness of the store, pausing in the doorway. “Urchins like you are not welcome around decent people! Go away, I say!” She made shooing motions with her hands, then drew her long skirts close so they wouldn’t touch Ben before she started out of the store.
    Ben cringed away from the entrance.
    If that woman makes Ben run… Mary rushed forward, placed her hand on Ben’s shoulder and pulled him to her side. She could feel his bones through his shirt. And his shaking. She straightened to her full height and gave the shorter woman her haughtiest look. “Ben is with me, madam. And he is very welcome.” She ignored the older woman’s gasp and, holding tight to Ben, brushed by her into the store.
    The interior was cool and dark. Mary halted to allow her eyes to adjust to the loss of sunlight and to get her bearings. Silence fell. She swept her gaze around the room, met varying degrees of shock or disgust on the faces of the store’s patrons and lifted her chin. “Come along, Ben.” The click of the heels of her shoes against the wide plank floor echoed through the hush as they crossed the room. She stopped in front of the grocer cutting meat on a chopping block at the far end of a long counter in front of the back wall.
    “Good day, Mr. Simpson.” She gave him a cool nod. Gave another to the waiting customer who had backed away at their approach.
    A scowl drew the grocer’s thick, black brows together. “Get that thief outta here. I don’t—”
    “Ben is here to carry my purchases, Mr. Simpson.” There were startled gasps behind her. The grocer’s scowl deepened. She ignored a flurry of whispers and stared straight into the man’s angry eyes. “And I am here to open an account. My brother and I are new in town and must establish our trade somewhere.” She watched his scowl dissolve to the level of a frown. “My brother is the new manager of the Mississippi and Missouri steamer line. Of course, if you would prefer we take our custom elsewhere…” She turned away.
    “No need fer that. My wife’ll serve ya.”
    The words were low, reluctant. Mary turned back. The grocer inclined his head at a stout woman behind the middle of the counter and went back to his work.
    Mary headed toward the woman, another spate of whispers accompanying her as customers moved out of her path. She didn’t have to urge Ben to come with her, he matched her step for step, his head bowed, his gaze darting about the room like a trapped animal.
    “Come again, Mrs. Turner.”
    Mrs. Simpson’s customer glanced at Ben, snatched up her parcel and rushed away. Mary stepped