My Heart Remembers by Kim Vogel Sawyer Page A

about six months ago. Caught him rummagin’ through my lean-to, lookin’ for food. He said his folks kicked him out—had too many mouths to feed and it was time for him to take care of himself.” Hanging the strap on a nail beside the door, he said, “I can see why they didn’t want him. Never met such a worthless boy.”
    The boy’s story made Matt’s heart ache. He followed the man back into the main part of the store. “Then why keep him?”
    The man huffed. “I need somebody to unload goods an’ clean up.” With a shrug, he added, “One of these days he’ll figure out I’m not gonna spare the strap until he does the jobs right. He’ll straighten up.”
    “You ain’t got no right to beat him,” Matt muttered.
    Dave glowered at him. “You come in here just to pester me, or did you need somethin’?”
    Although the last thing Matt wanted to do was give business to the man whose treatment of the hapless Petey had conjured too many painful reflections of his own childhood, he said, “I need supplies for a three-day journey.” If he kept the man occupied for a few minutes, Petey would get some peace.
    “Just for yourself?”
    Matt hesitated. A plan formed of its own accord in the back of his mind. “Me an’ my . . . partner.” He hoped the good Lord would forgive him for stretching the truth.
    “You travelin’ on horseback?”
    “That’s right.”
    Dave nodded. “I’ll set ya up. Give ya a good price, too—better than the big mercantile down the block.”
    “Fine.” Matt ambled toward the front door. “I’m gonna go check on my partner, make sure he’s finishin’ his dealings.”
    “Gimme ten minutes,” Dave said.
    “Ten minutes is just fine.” Matt hitched his collar around his jaw and stepped out the door. He took a moment to take a few calming breaths and let Russ nuzzle him before slipping behind the building. He located Petey easily—there was only one small boy in the alley.
    The sight of that miserable child—in tattered clothing, his nose red and eyes watery, moving very gingerly—was like looking into a mirror. It took great self-control not to rush forward, snatch the boy up in his arms, and run off with him. But if he did that, he’d only frighten the child. First he had to earn Petey’s trust. Then he could help him.
    Petey lifted a crate from the lowered hatch of a wagon. He stumbled backward with the weight, but surprisingly, he didn’t fall. Turning, he shuffled into a lean-to attached to the back of the store. A thud let Matt know the crate had been released. Then the boy stepped back into the alley. He came to a halt when he spotted Matt. His eyes grew wary, and he rubbed a finger along his nose.
    “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ wrong.” The words could have been an accusation.
    Matt twitched his lips into a grin. He rested his elbow on the side of the wagon. “Appears to me you’re doin’ fine, but I’ve got a few minutes to spare. Wondered if you could use a hand.”
    The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
    Matt raised one shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Why not?”
    Petey stared at him silently for several seconds before he imitated Matt’s one-shoulder shrug. “Suit yourself.”
    Matt and the boy worked in silence, unloading and stacking the last few crates. Then, without a thank-you, Petey brushed his chapped hands together and headed for the back door. Matt called, “Hold up there.”
    Petey turned around and folded his arms across his chest, shivering. “I gotta get back in. Got sweepin’ to do.”
    Matt crossed the hard ground to hunker on his haunches in front of the boy. “You like workin’ here?”
    The boy shook his head.
    “If you had the chance to live someplace else, would you take it?”
    Petey blinked several times. “Dave says I owe ’im.”
    Matt’s chest constricted. “I reckon Dave’s got his due from you.” He straightened. “I’m headin’ on to a place called Rocky Crest Ranch. I can’t take you there, but I know of a home