She nodded, apparently waiting for him to continue.
“Mr. Johnson.” He ran his finger around the inside of his shirt collar. “Oh, hell.” He reached for her satchel and took her by the elbow. “Let’s take a walk to the café and get some coffee.”
He had to slow his steps to accommodate her, but she had no trouble keeping up with him. Whatever had caused her limp, it was apparently something she’d lived with for a long time.
As they walked, he took in her appearance. Curly brown hair with red highlights had been pulled back into a very sensible bun at her nape. A few curls had escaped and teased her forehead and neck. When she’d looked at him before, it was with sky-blue eyes, curious and intelligent. A slight sprinkling of freckles across her nose gave her a youthful appearance, although the girl couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. In all, a very pleasant looking woman, with nice curves that he shouldn’t be aware of.
Once they settled into their seats at the café, he said, “I imagine you might be hungry from you trip, so order whatever you want.”
“Sheriff whatever-your-name-is, I appreciate your offer to feed me, but I really would prefer to know about Mr.
Johnson.” She wiped her upper lip with a handkerchief crumpled in her hand.
Just then the waitress, Molly, approached their table. “Good afternoon, sheriff. What can I get you and the lady?”
Fletcher looked at the bride whose name he didn’t even know. She smiled at Molly and said, “Coffee and any type of sandwich you have.”
“How about cheese?”
“That’s fine.”
Molly scribbled in her pad. “Sheriff?”
“Give me the lunch special and coffee.”
Nodding, she hurried away from them, picking up dirty dishes from the table behind them.
“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself. I am Sheriff Fletcher Adams. And your name?”
“Miss Julia Benson.” After a slight pause, she asked, “What happened to Mr. Johnson? I believe I saw a man standing with you who fit his description, but he left in a hurry. Was that him? Did he have an emergency?”
It would be so easy to agree to that simple explanation and escort her to the mercantile and let Johnson deal with her, but he knew in his gut the shopkeeper would only hurt this girl, who seemed as fragile as a young bird.
“He didn’t want me, isn’t that right?” The flash of steel in her spine as she straightened in the chair changed his opinion. This girl was not fragile, despite her appearance.
He nodded, cringing at the hurt in her eyes. Somehow he knew Julia had been hurt before. Perhaps many times. He hated to be a witness to it now, and he cursed Johnson once again.
“I see.” She fiddled with the napkin at her place. “I guess he was upset at my limp.”
Although it hadn’t been a question, he felt compelled to answer. “Yes.”
She nodded. “I knew I should have told him, but…”
Fletcher reached over and placed his hand on hers. “I can’t help but think you are better off.”
You are better off.
It was easy for the sheriff to say. He had a warm place to lay his head tonight, and this was certainly not his last meal. But it could very well be hers. She had no money, knew no one in this town, and even if she wanted to go back to Boston—or had the means to do so—all the girls would be gone by now. She was alone in the world.
She attempted a smile and nodded. “Yes. Better off.”
The waitress arrived with her food as Julia fought the stinging behind her eyes. She would not break down and cry in front of this poor man. He’d been dealt a lousy hand himself since that snake Mr. Johnson had just taken himself off and left the sheriff to deal with her.
Although her stomach had shut down, she forced herself to eat the cheese sandwich and drink the coffee. Who knew when she would eat again?
She supposed she could ask around town for a job. Perhaps she could find one where she could even eat and sleep. The only position she could think of that included room and board was a whore in a brothel. She’d starve first.
“Do you know of any job openings in Wickerton?”