Page 78 of More than Words Can Say

Abigail straightened. Her gaze found Zach’s, and he swore he could feel the heaviness of her heart tug on his own.

“Ida Mae set off the firecrackers.”

CHAPTER

39

It had been niggling at Abigail all through dinner. Something familiar. Something she couldn’t put her finger on. Until Ida Mae shoved away from the table and glared at her in guilty defiance. Then everything clicked. Because the boy who had run her down making an escape from her kitchen had worn the exact same expression. And the exact same shoes, now that she thought about it.

Abigail peered at Ida Mae’s scuffed shoes peeking through the legs of Nate’s chair. Yes, that single button on the side was rather unique, and Abigail was certain she’d seen it before.

“I thought you said a boy set off the firecrackers.” Zach’s question sliced through the silence that had descended after her proclamation.

“She wore trousers and a cap to hide her hair. Probably some of her brother’s old clothes.” A rather ingenious disguise. No one would think to accuse a girl of a boy’s crime. Abigail wouldn’t have either if the girl hadn’t been sitting across the table from her for the last thirty minutes.

Nate took hold of his sister’s arms and pushed her away from him, shock and sorrow etched into his face as he handed her a napkin to stem her tears. “Why would you do such a thing, Ida Mae?” The words were barely more than a heartbroken croak. “Why?”

The little girl sniffed and hiccupped but managed to make a few words comprehensible. “She said . . . send me . . . orphanage. I’d . . . never . . . see you . . . again.”

“Who said?” Zach barked, making Abigail wince at the sharp tone.

Ida Mae cringed too. She tried to burrow closer to her brother, but Nate decided to imitate his new mentor. He pushed to his feet and took on a stern countenance. “Tell us, Ida Mae. Who told you to put the firecrackers in Mrs. Hamilton’s oven?”

The girl shook her head. “I . . . can’t. If I tell . . . she’ll . . . send me . . . away.”

Abigail nearly shook with outrage. To threaten a child in such a way—it was despicable. She’d never considered herself particularly maternal, but every ounce of her womanhood bristled at the cruelty Ida Mae had experienced, and compelled her to take action.

“Is this she Mrs. Longfellow?” Abby blurted. So help her, if Sophia had bullied this child into doing her dirty work . . .

Ida Mae’s round eyes and indrawn, hiccupping breath was all the proof Abigail needed.

“Well, this will not be borne. I’m going to corner Mr. Hackamore at church tomorrow and quiz him over family law. Surely she can’t strip a child away from her nearly grown sibling and send her to an orphanage without her consent.”

“She might . . .” her husband started to argue, but Abigail wouldn’t hear it.

“Then we’ll just find a way around it. Find a local family to sponsor the children, employ them both here at the bakery, or even become guardians to them ourselves. Whatever it takes. These two will not be separated!”

A strange look came over Zach’s face, and he blinked. Several times. Did he have something in his eye?

Ida Mae’s sobs died. She and Nate just stared at Abigail. Rosalind was probably staring at her too. The condition seemed to be going around.

Maybe she was acting a bit rash, but the situation called for a little audacity. Sophia Longfellow had been making this town—this family—dance to her tune for too long. Someone needed to stand up and put a stop to her manipulations. She wasn’t just spreading rumors and making innuendos anymore. She was destroying property and threatening children. A line had been crossed, and Abigail refused to cower. If she lost the bakery, she lost the bakery. She had a husband, a sister, two able hands, and a faithful God who’d promised never to leave them to fight their battles alone. Whatever the future held, they’d be fine.

Zach broke the silence by clearing his throat. “We’ll need to talk to the marshal. Ida Mae can tell him what she knows.”

Nate lurched to his feet, yanking his sister close. “But what will happen to Ida Mae if she admits her part in this?”

Feeling too militant to soothe his worries with a smile, Abigail opted to meet his gaze head-on. “I have no intention of pressing charges against your sister. You have my word.” She lifted her eyes and fastened them on her husband. “But I have every intention of bringing charges against Mrs. Longfellow. Tonight.”

Zach grinned. A rather piratey grin, one that brought flutters to her belly even as it promised trouble for whoever dared sail into his path.

Yes, they’d be fine, indeed.

Zach prowled the Longfellow parlor, senses on alert. Abby sat with the two kids on the sofa, holding one of Ida Mae’s hands while Nate held the other. The poor girl was whiter than fresh milk, but she wasn’t crying. She hadn’t cried a drop since Abby’s pronouncement that she wouldn’t allow anyone to separate the Miller children. Ida Mae had believed her, apparently, and it had changed everything. She’d managed to give her testimony to the marshal once they’d tracked him down across the square, and she even named Sophia Longfellow as the instigator. Now they sat in their enemy’s front parlor, waiting to confront the woman herself.

The marshal sat in an armchair near the hearth, the sack of soggy firecrackers Zach had provided as evidence draped in his lap. Zach paced past him and headed back toward the door where the servant had exited with promises to fetch her employers.

Feeling the warmth of his wife’s gaze on the back of his neck, Zach turned his attention her direction and met her eye. She smiled, just a hint of dimple winking at him. It was more of a we can do this smile than the intimate, teasing ones he preferred, but it melted his heart just the same. She was an incredible woman—willing to fight for a pair of orphans she barely knew, one of whom had vandalized her shop. Normal people didn’t do that. They minded their own business and turned a blind eye to what they didn’t want to see. But not his Abigail.