Wyoming Lawman by Victoria Bylin Page B

direction?”
    â€œHe went to church with my parents.”
    â€œI see.” Miss Marlowe sipped her tea. “You’re hoping he’ll respect Pearl’s refusal to lie.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œHe might.” She set down the cup. “Jasper’s quite determined to build moral character among our girls. Just last week he championed the purchase of McGuffey Readers for the entire school.”
    Pearl had fond memories of the textbook. The primerwas full of Bible stories, moral tales and lessons for life. If Jasper Kling believed in the principles of truth and honesty, he just might support her. “There’s always hope,” she said to Miss Marlowe. “I’ll have to persuade him at the interview.”
    Toby kicked and the women chuckled. Pearl saw envy in Carrie’s eyes and something deeper in Miss Marlowe’s. Maybe regret. The older woman offered the scones. “I’ll speak to the trustees myself. You won’t have to tell your story, but you might have to answer questions.”
    â€œOf course.”
    After Pearl took a scone, Miss Marlowe set down the plate. “You have two letters of reference. One from Carrie and one from Reverend Joshua Blue. Do you know anyone in Cheyenne?”
    Before Pearl could answer, Carrie told the story of Sarah’s rescue from the freight wagon and Matt’s offer to write a letter.
    â€œExcellent,” Miss Marlowe replied. “A letter from a parent will carry weight. He’s new to Cheyenne, but he’s respected.
    Carrie looked at Pearl. “It’s going to work out, cousin. You’ll see.”
    Pearl hoped so, but she felt like Sarah alone in the middle of the street staring at a team of mules. Needing to be brave, she thought of the ribbons. Matt belonged to Carrie, but Pearl valued his friendship. Hopefully, his letter would tip the scales in her favor.
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    Matt didn’t like cooking supper, but he did it for Sarah. He liked washing dishes even less, but it had to be done. As he dumped the scrub basin out the back door, he thought of his little girl tucked in bed, wrapped in the pink quilt she’d clutched all the way from Texas. The blanket no longerreached her toes, but the fabric still held the softness of a mother’s touch.
    As he shook the basin dry, he thought of his last chore for the evening. This morning he’d bought stationery and a bottle of ink. All day he’d composed the letter for Pearl in his head, but nothing sounded right. With her interview just two days away, he had to deliver the letter tomorrow. He didn’t regret his offer. He just wished he knew what to say.
    He looked at the sunset and thought of her cheeks, flushed pink as she weighed his offer to write the letter. He stared up at the sky, a medium blue that melted into dusk. He thought of the ribbons and felt good that he’d brightened her day. Inspired, he went back into the house, stowed the basin under the counter and fetched the stationery and ink from the shelf where he’d put them out of Sarah’s reach. He sat at the table, smoothed a sheet of paper, uncorked the bottle and lifted the pen. In bold strokes he wrote the date, then added, “To Whom It May Concern.”
    He wrinkled his brow.
    He scratched his neck.
    He’d have been more comfortable throwing a drunk in jail, but he’d made a promise and he’d keep it. He inked the pen and wrote, “It’s my pleasure to provide a letter of reference for Miss Pearl Oliver.”
    So far, so good. He dipped the pen again, wiped the excess and described how she’d run in front of the wagon to save Sarah. As the nib scratched against the paper, he relived the rattle of the wagon. He imagined his little girl lying in the mud and Pearl protecting her with her own body.
    He owed this woman far more than a letter. Not only had she saved Sarah, she’d restored a sliver of his faith in human beings, even in women with