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“Good guess. I can’t put them down.” He nudged the sugar bowl in her direction. “I was going to start The Last of the Mohicans last night, but—”
“But you were out looking for Toby.” She stirred sugar into her tea. “I could hardly sleep last night thinking about him out in the cold.”
“Me, either. I’ve already put in some time trying to track him down. Will do more when I leave here. We’ll see if I can’t bring in the little renegade.”
“He’s far too young to be on his own. You know he’s been that way for a while. His clothes, his hair. How skinny he is.” She thought of the past five months spent sleeping in the shelter of alleys or stables. Toby deserved better. “And what about the bruise on his head?”
“The doc said he looked fine—it was just a hard bump, but he needs to be looked after. I’ll find him...don’t worry. I won’t stop until I do.”
“What will happen to him then?” She already knew the answer, her stomach knotting as she took a bit of bacon.
“The orphanage.” Elijah shrugged, a helpless gesture. “That’s standard protocol. When there are no parents or guardians, a minor child is surrendered to the territory.”
“I know.” Dark, dim memories of a cold bed and bland food, of stern, overworked women taking care of too many children threatened to well up. Memories she’d thought she’d forgotten. She didn’t want that future for Toby. There was something about him, a sweetness, that grabbed at her heart. “Maybe you know of a family around here looking for a little boy?”
“Times are hard. Many folks are having a hard time providing for the kids they have, but I’ll ask the sheriff. He knows everyone in this town, so he might know of someone.”
“At least there’s a chance.” The boy’s round face and owlish eyes flashed into her mind, an image of him staring at the wall and refusing to talk, refusing to trust. She would pray hard for him, she decided as a familiar man caught her eyes. He made his way into the room, dressed in a shaggy fur coat.
“Tom!” She took a step without realizing she’d stood. She was halfway across the dining room without realizing she’d left the table. She spun around, laughing at herself. “Elijah, I’ll see you later. Thanks for the bacon.” She held up the strip clutched in her good hand.
“Anytime, Miss Eberlee.” He went to tip his hat to her, only to find he wasn’t wearing one. Embarrassment crept across his chiseled face in a pink sweep.
He was funny. Her heart thumped an extra beat, likely in anticipation of being with Tom. He’d come to take her to see her new home.
He stood framed by the doorway with his bulky coat unbuttoned, his blue flannel shirt and red suspenders showing. Tension bunched along his jaw. Fury darkened his face. He did not look glad to see her.
Tom didn’t look glad at all.
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