The sheriff looked startled for a minute. “You plan to stay? Don’t you want to go back home?”
Home.
Now there was a suggestion. Being the oldest of nine children, her parents had been only too happy to see her leave the nest and take a job in Lawrence, a small town outside of Boston, where she didn’t take up space in their crowded home or eat their meager food. In fact, she’d sent a good portion of her salary home to help out.
No, there was no home to return to.
“Not really. My last home was in Lawrence where I worked in a sewing factory. But the business burned down, so most of us girls signed up with the bride agency.” She moved her plate aside. As hard as she’d tried, she just couldn’t finish the sandwich. Her stomach was in knots, and she was having a hard time tamping down the rising panic at her situation.
“I don’t know of any job openings, but then I haven’t been looking for one either.” Fletcher pushed the brim of his hat back and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “I don’t suppose you have friends—other brides—in this town?”
She shook her head.
He cleared his throat. “Money?”
The tears standing in her eyes threatened to fall, so she blinked rapidly and shook her head again. Then drawing herself up, she pushed back from the table and stood. “I will be fine, Sheriff. There is no need for you to concern yourself with me.” She reached for the satchel and nodded. “Thank you for lunch. As soon as I find a job, I will reimburse you for the meal.” Turning on her heel, she stumbled for a second, then righted herself by gripping the back of her chair, then walked to the door.
“Wait!”
She ignored the sheriff and continued on, swiping her cheeks as she yanked the door of the café open and limped down the boardwalk. No matter what, she had no intention of sitting there any longer, watching the pity in the man’s eyes. She limped, true. But she was no cripple and she didn’t need anyone’s pity.
Despite her injury that had never healed correctly, she’d always been able to take care of herself, as well as her younger brothers and sisters when she was at home. No one need feel sorry for Julia Benson. No, indeed.
She had passed no more than three stores when she heard rapid footsteps behind her, then a strong hand grasping her elbow. “Wait just a minute, there, Miss Benson. You can’t just storm away from me and think I’ll let you go. For no other reason than I’m sheriff of this town, and every citizen here is my responsibility.”
She tugged her elbow free, then turned to him. “I am not your responsibility, Sheriff. While I am grateful for your assistance and sorry for the trouble Mr. Johnson dumped on you, I can take care of myself.”
“Oh, really? And what is it you plan to do since you have nowhere to go and no money?”
“I will find a job.”
“And at the end of the week they will hand your pay to a dead woman because you will have starved to death.”
With the blood pumping through her veins, she narrowed her eyes, wondering why in heaven’s name she was mad at him. The old “shoot the messenger” deal, no doubt. “Perhaps I will find a job that includes meals.”
“And a bed?”
She nodded.
“Don’t even think about taking that sort of a job,” he growled.
“Why? Because I’m a cripple? And no man would want me?” Good Lord, what had gotten into her? She had always been sweet, friendly, and kind. Right now she felt like a shrew, which is probably how Sheriff Adams viewed her. Most likely he was thinking how smart Mr. Johnson had been to walk away from her. She wished she could walk away from herself.
“No. You are not a cripple, you have a limp. And you are beautiful, and any man would want you.”
“Not Mr. Johnson.”
“He’s an idiot.”
They glared at each other, passersby on the boardwalk eyeing them curiously as they walked around them.
“If you have no place to go, then I will have to lock you up in the jail.”
Her jaw dropped. “What! I didn’t break any laws.”
“No. But vagrancy is on our law books, and without a home, job, or money, you are a vagrant.”
Oh, the man was despicable. And to think she had been grateful because he’d fed her a cheese sandwich. She fisted her hands at her side and leaned in. “You would lock a woman up in jail for vagrancy?”