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Pa stood by his chair, looking as startled and confused as Becca.
She glanced about. “Where’s Colt?” Had he walked out on these children? If so, he wasn’t the man she’d judged him to be.
Her question made Little Joe scream louder. She closed her eyes and grimaced. “He’s so loud.”
Pa shook his head. “I can’t hear you.”
At least, that’s what she guessed he said. She moved closer to him and shouted, “Where’s Colt?”
“Said he had to take care of his horse. I told him to put the animal in our barn.”
“He’s coming back, isn’t he?”
Pa nodded. “Don’t think he has much choice. He wouldn’t get far in this weather.” He escaped into the living quarters where the din of Little Joe’s crying would be softer.
There must be a way to calm the boy. Before she could think what to do, the door swung open and shut again. A cold wind blasted through the room, carrying a generous dose of snow.
They all turned to look at Colt as he brushed himself off.
Little Joe let out a wail and ran to him as fast as his little legs allowed. He didn’t slow down when he reached the man, but crashed into his legs.
Colt swung the boy up in his arms. “Young man, you are going to have to learn to stop without using my legs as brakes.”
Little Joe buried his face against Colt’s chest and peeked out from the corners of his eyes.
No mistaking the gleam of victory.
Becca laughed. “You little scamp. You’re just pretending.”
Colt quirked a black eyebrow. “What’s he pretending?”
She fell into Colt’s gaze and had no idea how to answer him.
Colt shifted to consider Little Joe. “What have you been up to, young fella?”
At the grin on Little Joe’s face, Becca laughed and smoothed his hair. “You’re going to do just fine.” So long as he found somewhere he felt safe and loved.
Little Joe wriggled to be put down, and Colt released him. The boy darted from one thing to another in the store, touching gently but never pulling at anything.
Becca remained at Colt’s side, watching. “They seem like fine kids.”
“I think Zeke had been warning them to be good. If they misbehave, people will say it’s because they’re savages.” His voice deepened as he said the word.
“Well, those people would be wrong. They’re simply children learning how to operate in the world.”
Pa appeared in the doorway. “I moved the soup off the heat. Thought it might burn.”
“I forgot.” She dashed to the door, pausing to call over her shoulder, “Supper is ready. Come on in.”
Colt looked like she’d shot him rather than invited him to join them for the meal, but she didn’t have time to ask for an explanation if she meant to save the soup. And provide Colt and the children with a good meal. Plus something more from her heart—welcome and blessing.
Chapter Two
Colt stared after Becca. The idea of going into their private quarters sent a quake up his spine.
“Everything is ready,” Macpherson said. “Who’s hungry?”
“Me hungry.” Little Joe headed after Becca.
Marie hesitated, watching Colt. When she saw he wasn’t moving, she came to his side. “I’m not hungry.”
He knew it couldn’t be true. Except for some cold biscuits, they hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and his stomach growled as if to remind him of how long ago that was. He was at a loss to explain why Marie felt she had to side with him, but seems she did. If he refused the invitation, she would, too.
“I’m kind of hungry,” he said, and took a tentative step toward the door, and then another.
Marie followed hard on his heels.
Macpherson stepped back to usher them into their living quarters. Colt faltered. These were white people. He’d been taught in every way possible that he had no place with them. Sure, he could eat with the cowboys, or the servants, but not at the table with—
“Grab a chair.” Macpherson indicated where they should sit.
Colt swallowed hard and made his stiff legs carry him to the table. He sat gingerly on a chair.
“If you all bow your heads, I’ll say the blessing.” Macpherson waited for them to obey, and even Little Joe did so.
Colt closed his eyes, more to contain a thousand surprised and uneasy feelings than out of any reverence. Though his conscience reminded him of the times he’d sat in the back of a church and listened hungrily to the words of love from the preacher. Words that he guessed did not apply to him.
“Amen.”
Colt jerked up his head and looked directly into Becca’s flash-of-sky eyes.
“I hope everyone likes potato soup.”
He nodded, tried to force a word to his tongue, but couldn’t. In desperation he grabbed the glass of water before him and downed it.
“I like soup.” Marie’s eyes never left the ladle as Becca filled her bowl.
“Me like, too.” Little Joe reached for the bowl.
Becca grabbed his hands to keep him from sticking them into the hot soup as she filled his bowl. She ladled soup into Marie’s bowl, then filled Colt’s.
He murmured his thanks. “Smells good.” And it did.
She filled her pa’s bowl, and then her own before she sat down and checked the temperature of Little Joe’s soup. “Still too hot. Here, start with a slice of bread.”
“Okay.” Little Joe didn’t seem to have any problem with that and ate it heartily, then tackled the soup. He had a little trouble coordinating the spoon, but Becca didn’t appear to notice.
Colt would have been content to eat in silence, but it seemed a practice the Macphersons didn’t hold to.
Becca paused with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “I hope everyone is safe in this storm. I can’t help thinking of Russell Thomas.”
Macpherson spoke directly to Colt. “Old Russell lives out in the mountains all summer, but comes to town about this time of year to hole up in a rough cabin that has cracks so big between the logs, you could throw a cat through ’em. We haven’t seen him in town yet but he knows the country better than most. He can take care of himself.” He addressed the latter reassurance to his daughter.
Little Joe’s eyes widened. “Frow cat?”
Becca laughed. “It’s an expression. No one really throws a cat.”
Both kids looked relieved.
Colt forced his eyes not to shift in Becca’s direction. But he couldn’t stop his thoughts from going that way. When had he ever heard a woman laugh so often, so readily? And when had he ever heard such a joyful sound? Maybe in the woods on a sunny day, when every bird within twenty miles seemed determined to sing the loudest and cheeriest.
“Won’t keep out much of this wind and snow, but it’s better than being without shelter.” She sounded so worried, Colt half decided to go find the old man right then and there and bring him to town, never mind the storm.
Macpherson chuckled. “He knows how to survive better’n most men. He’ll show up here in a day or two asking for more tobacco.”
Little Joe finished his soup and looked longingly at the empty bowl. Becca obligingly gave him more.
Colt cleaned his bowl and ate two thick slices of bread. He refused offers of more, even though his stomach craved it.
Becca gave a low-throated chuckle. “I wonder how Miss Oake likes her first taste of winter here.” She directed a sweet smile toward Colt. “Miss Oake came out to join her brother at the OK Ranch. She was a teacher back east but said she craved a little more excitement. I wonder if this is enough adventure for her.”
Her pa answered. A good thing because Colt could think of nothing but blue skies and cheerful birds.
“I expect she’s enjoying a cozy fire and a good read. She had a heavy case of books with her.”
Little Joe’s head rocked back and forth, and he tipped forward.
“Looks like it’s bedtime,” Colt observed.
“No.” Little Joe jerked up. “I not tired.”
But even Colt could see that he could no longer focus his eyes. “I’ll take them to the barn.”
Becca leapt to her feet. “You’ll do no such thing. Pa?”
Macpherson pushed his chair back. “You and the children can bunk here.” He sounded as if none of them had a choice.
Here? In their living quarters? Surely he didn’t mean that. “Thanks. I’ll throw down my bedroll in the storeroom.”
“Nonsense.” Becca sounded determined. “There’s no heat there. We’ve had people spend the night before. They don’t seem to mind sleeping on the floor.” She waved her hand to indicate the space in the living quarters between the kitchen table and the easy chairs, and gave him a challenging look as if to ask if it didn’t suit him.
“That will be fine,” he mumbled, his tongue thick and uncooperative. His skin would itch with nerves all night at sharing white people’s quarters.
“I’ll put Little Joe down right away.” She chuckled as the little guy’s head bobbed from side to side. But when she lifted him from the chair, he turned into a squirming, screaming ball of fury.
Colt sighed. “Sure does have a powerful set of lungs.” He grabbed the boy as he wriggled from Becca’s grasp.
Marie looked about ready to fall asleep in her chair as well, but with a deep sigh, she climbed down and went to Little Joe’s side. Again, she murmured Indian words to calm her brother, then led him to one of the chairs, climbed up and pulled Little Joe after her. The pair cuddled together.
“He’ll be okay. I will take care of him,” Marie said.
“That’s so sweet,” Becca murmured.
“Yup.” Colt hoped his voice revealed none of his churning feelings. Little Joe would likely never know how his sister buffeted the harshness of life for him. But understanding what lay ahead for both, he wished he could find a home where they would be admired as much as Becca admired them. Just listening to her laugh as she dealt with them caused cracks in the walls he’d built around his heart.
* * *
A shattering cry jerked Becca awake. It took two seconds to remember the source of such a piercing sound. Little Joe. She blinked away sleep and tried to guess the time of day...or was it night? Stumbling from her bed, she danced about on the cold floor.
The stove top rattled. Pa was up. She’d slept the night through.
She hopped to the window, scraped away the frost and peered into the gray light. Snow piled against the glass. The wind battered the side of the building. The snowstorm continued.
Shouldn’t she be disappointed?
But she wasn’t. Instead, she hurried into her clothes and fixed her hair, pausing to study her reflection in the misted mirror. The cold made it impossible to stand still long enough to assess her likeness. Not that she needed a mirror to tell her what she knew already. Skin that stayed porcelain white—a fact that had pleased her mother, but mattered not at all to Becca. Hair that refused to behave itself. She braided it tightly, then dashed from the room and huddled near the stove, stretching out her hands toward the growing heat.
Little Joe’s cries had settled into sobbing misery.
Becca glanced toward Colt and the children. The three of them were bleary eyed.
“You look like you never slept.”
“I tried.” Colt sounded resigned. “But have you ever tried sleeping with two kids kicking you in the ribs all night?”
“Can’t say as I have.” She grinned at him, enjoying the mental picture of him spending the night with the children. It wasn’t the kicking she imagined, but the way Marie leaned against him, as trusting as a kitten with its mother.
“I expect they’re hungry.” She pulled out griddles and sliced bacon to fry. She mixed up batter for griddle cakes, and to complete the meal, she opened a jar of applesauce she’d preserved a few weeks ago.
As Becca pulled out dishes to set the table, Marie jumped from the easy chair she shared with Colt and Little Joe. Her brother scrambled after her. “You stay with Colt,” she told him.
Little Joe hesitated, as if deciding whether or not he wanted to comply, then nodded. “Okay.” He gave Colt an expectant look and Colt stared at him.
“What do you want?”
“Up.”
Colt’s face registered surprise, then he lifted the boy and settled him on his knee.
Becca studied them a moment. He met her gaze, his eyes full of dark depths. She got the feeling Colt found every welcoming, accepting gesture unexpected and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She wondered about his parents and what sort of things he’d encountered to make him so wary. Though she’d seen enough of how people acted toward those who weren’t like them to guess at the way he’d been treated. It brought a stab of pain to her heart. She turned away to hide her reaction.
Marie stood at her side. “I will help you.”
She realized Marie meant she would like to set the table.
“How nice. Thank you.” Becca bent over to give the child a quick hug, then handed her the plates. The least she could do was prove to these children that not everyone would treat them poorly.
“Breakfast is ready.” The words were barely out of her mouth before Little Joe flung himself from Colt’s lap and grabbed his hand, tugging at him to hurry.
