The Green Lace Corset, стр. 80

“Thank you kindly,” Sally Sue said, pulling Isaiah onto her lap and covering them both.

“The poor lad.” Mr. Bjork looked at Isaiah.

The boy coughed and began to cry. Sally Sue hummed a lullaby to him softly. He put his thumb in his mouth and quieted.

“You go home now, Elvira.” He gave her a blanket and said to Sally Sue, “Come on in, ma’am, before others descend on me.”

“Much obliged. I haven’t any money.”

“At times like this, money doesn’t matter. My workers will care for your horses.”

Sally Sue followed Mr. Bjork upstairs to a small room at the end of a hallway, carrying the boy in her arms, and laid him on the bed. She poured water from the pitcher into the bowl on the washstand.

Isaiah squirmed while she removed his soot-filled clothes and cleaned him as best she could. She tucked him in bed and hummed to him. He turned over and sighed, then stuck his thumb back in his mouth. Soon his eyes closed, and his breathing grew soft and shallow.

In a split second, both of their lives had changed forever. Her love for and with Cliff, which she hadn’t even known was there, was now gone. And what would become of Isaiah? Her heart shifted, and a yearning tugged on it. She didn’t want to part with him. Maybe she could take him with her back to Missouri, but without a husband or even a pretend one, she knew Flagstaff would probably never let her keep him.

She rinsed his clothes in the washbasin, squeezed them out, and hung them up to dry. Could she steal out of town with him? What would she do for money? She could tell Mack who Cliff was and collect the dead-or-alive bounty. He’d start asking questions, though, and she didn’t want to share details of their life together. It was too private.

Maybe it was best not to tell anyone and to let Cliff rest in peace. Memories of their time together would be precious to her forever. She would make certain he had a decent Christian burial. Even if he didn’t believe, his body needed to go back to the earth with dignity.

Outside in the hallway, voices chattered and doors slammed. Isaiah coughed and woke up teary-eyed. She sat on the bed’s edge and rocked him back and forth until he fell asleep again.

She pulled off her boots, and in her soot-covered dress, she curled up beside him. “Sweet boy,” she whispered. “Sweet, sweet boy.”

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, a loud knock woke her. “Sheriff’s downstairs and wants to see you.”

A hazy eastern sun shone through the lace curtains. Her throat ached, and her eyes still watered.

“I’ll be right down,” she called.

Isaiah coughed and rolled over, fast asleep. Sally Sue pulled her boots back on, picked up Isaiah, and descended the stairs.

Vittles filled the dining room table, where Mr. Bjork was serving folks biscuits, flapjacks, and eggs. Men in filthy clothes stood around, eating. The saloon girls, with flattened hair and smeared makeup, looked like any ordinary women fallen on hard times.

“What do you think started it?” the redhead from the saloon asked.

“I think lightning.” The livery owner spooned honey on a biscuit.

“Is this the end of Flagstaff? No one’s gonna want to move here now.” The redhead sighed.

“That’s not true. We’re resilient. I’m going to rebuild in brick starting next week.” His voice was firm. “I’m going to propose a law that every new building in town should only be stone or brick,” he continued.

Several people nodded in agreement. Sally Sue agreed.

The redhead smiled at her kindly, with sad eyes. “Sorry about Mr. Cliff, ma’am.”

“Thanks.” Sally Sue wondered again if he had frequented the saloon on any of those nights away.

“Step outside, please.” Sheriff Mack looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks. The redhead opened her arms, and Sally Sue put Isaiah in them.

The porch was covered in ash an inch thick. The smoke-laden air was stifling. Sally Sue coughed.

The sheriff held his hat in his hands. “I’m sorry about your husband.”

She lowered her eyes.

“Thanks for caring for the young one last night.”

“I was happy to. What’s to become of him?”

“No next of kin that I know of,” the sheriff whispered, and looked at the door.

“Won’t someone from the church take him in?”

“Everyone’s got troubles now. If a decent family doesn’t step up, we’ll have to take him to the orphanage in Prescott.”

Her stomach lurched. “I’ve heard they’re horrible: gruel for food, cramped dormitories, even beatings.” She just couldn’t let that happen. She’d find a way to care for him, even if she had to become a hootchy-cootchy girl.

“Can’t be helped.”

“How about if he stays with me?” Sally Sue offered.

“You know I can’t do that, ma’am. As much as I’d like to, you’re alone now, without a man to take care of even you.”

Sally Sue thought fast and swallowed. “He’s so distressed. How about if I take him out to the cabin for a good night’s rest and return him to you in the morning? I’ll make arrangements for my husband’s burial then.”

Mack handed her a fat envelope. “This is for you from Cliff. He had me hold it in the safe for you, in case anything happened, since a few months after you arrived.”

She slid the envelope into her pocket.

“I reckon the homestead is yours now.” He held up a piece of paper. “Here’s the deed. Want me to keep it safe for you?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“He was a good man. He sure loved you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“He said sometimes you could be ornery, but still you were the best little wife a man could ever have. This is also for you.” He handed her a heavy pouch that shook with metal. It must have been filled with coins. “Do you want me to hold the cash and these for you too?”

She paused. “No, sir. Thank you. I’ll take them.”

Isaiah ran out the door past her and stopped