Sawyer (Bachelors And Babies Book 6)
Sawyer
Copyright © 2019 Winnie Griggs
Cover © Charlene Raddon, https://silversagebookcovers.com
Edited by: Anne Victory of Victory Editing, http://victoryediting.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or transmit this book, or a portion thereof, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This ebook may not be resold or uploaded for distribution to others.
SAWYER is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Published by WinOver LLC
ISBN 978-1-949423-02-0
Version 2019.11
When Sawyer Flynn's brother was murdered by a bank robber, Sawyer vows to see the man hunted down and brought to justice. But becoming sole caretaker of an orphaned infant sidetracks him on his mission. He can't do it all - run his mercantile, care for the baby, and find justice for his brother. Whether he wants it or not, he needs help.
When Emma Jean Gilley's father robbed the bank and killed Sawyer Flynn's brother, he fled, leaving Emma Jean to take care of herself and her kid brother. But how can she provide for the two of them when her father’s crime has made her a pariah in her hometown?
Learning of Sawyer’s need, Emma Jean makes her case to step in as nanny. Reluctant as first, Sawyer hires her on a temporary basis. But as things heat up between them, the specter of her father’s crimes continue to complicate matters.
Can Emma Jean get past Sawyer's distrust enough to have him see she is more than just a wretched Gilley?
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Books in the Bachelors and Babies Series
About the Author
Chapter 1
Dewberry, Texas, April 1877
Emma Jean Gilley stood on the station platform with her younger brother, watching the passengers stepping out of the newly arrived train. Hopefully today she’d find a customer among them. She ignored the returning Dewberry residents with their disapproving looks, knowing from experience they wouldn’t be interested in anything she had to offer.
Her life hadn’t ever been easy—after all, she was one of those wretched Gilleys—but never in her twenty-four years had she found herself in such desperate straits. The peddler who purchased her saddle blankets whenever he passed through town hadn’t been around in months. And ever since her pa had committed the unforgivable, even her laundry customers had abandoned her. So now she was forced to all but beg jobs from strangers.
“Just think about it, Henry,” she said, trying to distract the ten-year-old at her side. “If we find the right person today, we might earn enough to buy some meat to go with our collard greens tonight.”
“Can we get a few licorice whips too?”
Emma Jean mentally grimaced. She would so love to indulge her brother with a small treat—he hadn’t had much to smile about lately. But that would mean a trip to the mercantile, and she no longer felt welcome there. Not since the violent event back in July that had destroyed all their lives.
Before she could figure out how to tell Henry no, however, Emma Jean spied an elderly couple disembarking with two small children. She’d never seen any of them before, which meant they were likely newcomers to town.
She gave Henry a little nudge as she nodded toward the group. “Look, it seems like those folks might need our help. What do you think?”
Henry’s gaze followed hers, and they both studied the newcomers for a moment longer.
The grandmotherly woman had her arms full with a fussy infant. Her companion, a stern-looking man with a bushy gray beard, had a large wicker basket slung over his back by a strap, and used his free hand to hold the hand of the older child.
The porter dropped two bags at the man’s feet, and then the men had a short discussion. Finally the porter glanced at his watch, pointed toward the depot, and walked away. The man looked down at the little girl and then to the woman, and his shoulders slumped. They all seemed worn out and a bit frazzled.
Emma Jean smoothed her worn, faded skirt, wishing she had something more presentable to wear. Henry, who’d had a recent growing spurt, needed new clothing even more. Then she squared her shoulders. Those folks could obviously use some help. She was offering a service, she told herself, not asking for handouts.
Focusing on the positive—she at least had a chance at earning something today—Emma Jean tightened her hold on her brother’s hand. “Come on Henry. Let’s see if we can help these people and change our luck while we’re at it.”
She approached the small group with a determined smile on her face and a fervent prayer in her heart. “Good morning folks. Welcome to Dewberry. I’m Emma Jean Gilley, and this is my brother Henry.”
The man eyed her suspiciously but tipped his head. “Good day to you, Miss Gilley. Is there something I can do for you?”
He had a thick accent, one she wasn’t familiar with. Just how far had they traveled?
“Actually, I was wondering if there might be something I can do for you. I noticed you folks have your hands full with the children and all.” She smiled at the girl who seemed to be about the same age as Henry. “If you’d like, Henry and I can handle your luggage for you and show you to the hotel or wherever it is you’re going. It would only cost you ten cents a bag.”
Emma Jean kept her chin up and a polite smile on her face even though she wasn’t at all confident. She was painfully aware of the picture she and Henry made with their worn clothing and too-thin frames. But she took pride in the fact that they were clean and neatly groomed.
Her stomach did flip-flops as she waited for the man to respond. She so desperately needed the money.
But the man frowned. “I would think a service like that would be closer to five cents a bag.”
Just her luck, a penny-pincher. But he hadn’t given her an outright no, so she kept her smile firmly in place. “Why don’t we split the difference and agree on fifteen cents for the pair?”
The man looked as if he’d continue to haggle with her, but then the woman spoke up. “Come now, Papa, it is a fair price. And I am tired of standing here.” Her accent was as thick as her husband’s. She jiggled the fussy infant, patting it with soothing motions as she turned to Emma Jean. “We are Mr. and Mrs. Shultz. This is our granddaughter Katherine. And this fussy little one is Aaron.”
Before Emma Jean could do more than smile in response, Mr. Shultz sighed. “Very well, fifteen cents. I assume you know the way to the hotel.”
Emma Jean’s spirits lifted. “Yes sir.” She tested th
e weight of the two bags and gave Henry the lighter of the pair. Then she turned back to Mr. Shultz and nodded at the basket. “May I take that as well?” She saw his hesitation and added, “For only two pennies extra.” She would take any bit of money she could get.
With a nod, the man handed the basket over. Emma Jean saw the hood on it and realized it was likely used as a bed for the baby.
“Is this everything?” she asked as she slung the basket strap over her shoulder.
“We have a trunk, but it is being stored here at the depot.”
Thank goodness he didn’t expect her to carry that as well. “Then if you’ll follow me.” Emma Jean took the lead as they started down the sidewalk. She was careful to set a pace that wouldn’t tax any of the members of the party.
After a moment, Mr. Shultz spoke up. “Miss Gilley, may I ask if you know a Mr. Peter Flynn?”
Emma Jean almost missed a step at the sound of that name. These folks were looking for the Flynns? It was a good thing she’d met them before they found their way to the Flynn Mercantile.
She cleared her throat. “I’m afraid Mr. Peter Flynn passed on about seven years ago, sir.”
She heard a small exclamation of dismay from Mrs. Shultz. Odd. Surely they hadn’t been close to the family or they would have known about Mr. Flynn’s passing.
“Did Mr. Flynn leave behind any family?”
She worded her response carefully. “The only remaining family member is his son, Mr. Sawyer Flynn.”
“And does Mr. Flynn have a wife?”
This question came from Mrs. Shultz, and the hopeful note in her voice again struck Emma Jean as odd. So she phrased her answer even more carefully this time. “Mr. Flynn lives alone.” It wasn’t her place to reveal the man’s personal matters.
“Oh my.” There was disappointment and something else in the woman’s voice. What was going on here?
The baby started fussing again.
“Do not worry, little one,” the woman crooned. “I am sure your cousin will fall in love with you just as I have.”
Cousin? Was this baby related to the Flynns? Or was she reading something into those words that wasn’t there?
Mr. Shultz cut into her thoughts. “Can you tell us where we might find this Mr. Sawyer Flynn?”
“He owns the town’s mercantile, so that’s where he’ll be this time of day. It’s near the hotel. I can point it out to you when we get there.”
If they were bringing the baby to Sawyer, how would he react? It hadn’t been quite four months since he’d lost his brother—her mind shied away from the specifics. Would he welcome a new family member, or would he close himself off more than he already had?
It could be just what he needed to help him move on with his life. But how would he deal with an infant all on his own?
The thought of Sawyer with a babe in his arms set something soft and warm fluttering inside her. There was no doubt about it—she’d formed feelings for the mercantile owner, feelings she’d had the good sense to keep to herself.
Because if there’d ever been even the slightest chance Sawyer would reciprocate those feelings, that chance had died along with his brother last summer.
Chapter 2
Sawyer Flynn handed the preacher’s wife her change. “Here you go, Mrs. Martin.” He shut the cash drawer. “I’ll get that sack of flour delivered to you when I close this afternoon.”
The petite woman peered at him through her spectacles as she tucked the smaller items into her basket. “So you still haven’t hired a helper.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Not yet.” Sawyer deliberately kept his response and tone short. It wasn’t a topic he wanted to invite further conversation on.
But while Mrs. Martin’s eyes shone with understanding, she still pressed. “It’s been nearly four months, Sawyer. I know you’re still grieving, but you need to get on with your life.”
He was so tired of people telling him to move on. He’d lost his brother Lanny in a violent, unexpected manner. And he carried some part of the blame for it.
He’d promised his father to watch over Lanny, to keep him safe. And he’d failed miserably.
How was he supposed to simply get past that?
Sawyer pushed back from the counter. “Thank you for your concern, ma’am. Now, is there anything else you need?”
Mrs. Martin pursed her lips but took the hint this time and changed the subject. “I hope we’ll see you in church service on Sunday. We’ve missed you.”
The perpetual knot in Sawyer’s gut tightened. He hadn’t felt very Christian lately, not when the message preached was to forgive your enemies. It just wasn’t in him to forgive Clyde Gilley for what he’d done.
He made a noncommittal response, then gave her a polite smile. “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
“No thank you.” And with a last nod she made her exit.
As she stepped through the door, Sawyer caught sight of Emma Jean and her brother Henry on the sidewalk. That knot tightened yet again. There had been a time when he’d foolishly thought Emma Jean was different from the other Gilleys, that she was more like her mother than her father. The simple but rare kindnesses she’d shown his brother had touched him, and he’d begun looking forward more and more to her visits to the mercantile.
That had all changed after Clyde Gilley robbed the hotel safe and shot Lanny down. Learning that she’d profited from her father’s crime, no matter how indirectly, was enough for him to realize she was a Gilley in more than just name.
Turning his back to the door, Sawyer rolled up the sleeves of his crisp white shirt and grabbed his shopkeeper’s apron from the nearby wall peg. He hefted the sack of flour the preacher’s wife had purchased and carried it past the heavy curtain that separated the store proper from the back room. His gaze automatically went to the trash bin by the door. The bin that mocked him, taunted him with reminders that he was the one who had sent Lanny out that day, the day Clyde Gilley shot him down in cold blood.
Lanny, his older brother who had the mind of a child, who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who always saw the good in everything. Only the vilest of low-down snakes would go out of his way to brutally cut down such an innocent soul.
No, there was no way he could ever forgive that sorry excuse for a human being. Somehow he’d see that Clyde Gilley paid for what he’d done. He owed Lanny that much at least.
The jangle of the shop bell pulled Sawyer from his dark reverie. Quickly placing the sack on the delivery cart, he moved back into the shop proper and then paused to study the little group approaching the counter as he removed his apron.
There were four of them, none of whom he recognized. Had they come in on the morning train? The two adults, a rather tired-looking older couple, were accompanied by a pigtailed girl who was probably ten or eleven years old and an infant snuggled in the woman’s arms. The man carried a cloth satchel that looked to have seen better days, and none of them appeared to be here to shop.
He pasted a smile on his face as he moved forward, unrolling his shirtsleeves. “Hello there. You folks looking for something in particular?”
The man, tall and with an imposing beard, stepped forward. “Are you Mr. Sawyer Flynn?” His accent was heavy—German, perhaps?
“I am.” What business did they have with him?
“I am Werner Shultz”—the man gestured toward the woman—“and this is my wife, Clara. We have just come here on the train from Sutton’s Corner in Colorado. We are on our way home to Ohio.”
Why did the name of that town sound so familiar? And Dewberry was hardly on the way from Colorado to Ohio, so there must be something important to have them making such a wide detour.
Sawyer tipped his head, including the woman in his acknowledgment. “Welcome to Dewberry and my mercantile. What can I do for you?”
Mr. Shultz stroked his beard. “I am sorry, but it is my sad duty to inform you that your cousin Josiah Flynn and his wife Reba are both deceased.”
Then he stared at the small group. Had they come all this way to deliver that bit of news in person? Surely it would have been easier to inform him in a letter.
Keeping his suspicions in check, he offered the couple a solemn smile. “I appreciate you folks taking the time to bring me word, sad as it is, but to be honest, I never knew my cousin or his wife.”
The woman spoke up. “Don’t you want to know what happened to them?” There was a soft, almost chiding note to her voice.
Sawyer felt a pinprick of guilt, realizing his words had sounded blunt. He strove to moderate his tone. “Of course.”
It was Mr. Shultz who related the story. “A fever spread through Sutton’s Corner several weeks ago. It came on all of a sudden. Our daughter telegraphed us when she realized how serious it was. We packed up and went out there as soon as we got word, but it was too late.”
The man’s voice wavered and he looked down. Then he straightened. “When we arrived, we found the sickness had wiped out nearly half the residents. Our daughter and her husband were among them.” He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Katherine’s parents.”
“My sympathies on your loss.” Sawyer grimaced as he realized he was mouthing the same platitudes folks had offered him over Lanny’s passing. Perhaps he owed his neighbors some apologies.
“Thank you. We are grateful Katherine was spared. She shall be a comfort to us, as we hope to be to her.”
Sawyer glanced toward the baby. “And the infant as well, no doubt.”
“Oh no, you misunderstand.” Mrs. Shultz smiled at him in an almost apologetic manner. “Little Aaron is not our grandchild. He is your cousin’s child.”
Sawyer’s gut clenched as he finally gained an inkling of why they were here. He frantically tried to come up with something to say, anything to delay what he feared was coming next.
But she pressed on. “You are the baby’s guardian now. We have brought him here so you may care for him.”