![]() ![]() “None of Sophie’s family, the Davis’s, would take them in,” he interrupted. “How are the Butlers related to my brother’s wife?” Olive asked. “John and Mary are staying with Jacob Butler.” ![]() The sheriff sat back in his chair and tapped his pencil stub against his mouth. The note from my sister-in-law’s family is unclear,” Olive explained as she pulled the oft folded and unfolded letter from her bag. But I am not quite sure with whom they are staying. I am here to take his children back to my home in Philadelphia. ![]() “My name is Olive Wilkins and my brother, James Wilkins and his wife Sophie, lived here in Spencer. “What can I help you with, ma’am?’ he asked as he looked up from his papers and tilted back his hat. Olive waited dutifully as he wrote, letting her eyes wander from the cells in the corner of the room to the gun belt looped over the hook near the door to the sign proclaiming Sheriff Bentley as the law in this small Ohio town. A weary faced man with sun toughened skin sat behind the desk. The walls were thick stone and the bars at the windows cast striped patterns on the floor. Olive Wilkins found the sheriff’s office as promised, beside a busy general store. Wonderful women who were, are and will be. For Eileen, Susie, Linda, Sarah and Kate. ![]()
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