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Seth nodded. “And to read. Where’s Little John?”
“Inside with Miss Brewster.” The two turned and darted around the corner of the house.
The screen door opened ten feet away, and Miss Brewster exited the house carrying a tray. Little John walked so closely beside her, Seth hoped he didn’t trip her.
“We heard you talking to the boys. Your mother sent your lunch.” She set the tray on an upended crate and moved it closer to him. “Do you want to sit up a little more?”
“I reckon one more cushion.”
She leaned across him to tuck the padding behind him, and her citrusy scent enveloped him. The unique zesty scent suited her—it wasn’t heavy or floral, but bright, like her hair and eyes. She wore a pale blue shirtwaist with lace trim down the front and an apron over a blue-and-white checkered skirt. The fabric rustled as she moved. Standing, she handed him a plate of food and smoothed her hand over her hip in an unconscious nervous gesture.
Looking at the bruise on her delicate jaw made him wince each time he saw it. Her face was flushed and her eyelids seemed pink. The day wasn’t uncomfortably warm, which made him wonder if she’d been crying. The thought disturbed him more than he’d have liked. “Have a seat.”
She glanced behind her and lowered herself onto a cushioned twig chair.
Little John immediately leaned against her knees, and she lifted him onto her lap. He stuck a thumb into his mouth and rested back against her. His untrusting gaze bore into Seth’s.
She smoothed the little boy’s hair from his forehead. The gesture made something in Seth’s chest shift uncomfortably, and he questioned his reaction. No female had ever affected him the way this one did. In her presence, he felt appreciative, protective, uncertain, wary...and enchanted. All at once. The tumble of emotions confused and worried him. He didn’t have time to think about perplexing feelings.
He said a silent blessing and ate the meat and potatoes his mother had prepared, his gaze moving across the landscape. Once spring had arrived, he’d inspected all the buildings and made repairs to stalls and corrals. He and old Dewey had ridden fence for weeks, mending and replacing. Dewey was most likely finishing that chore today. Seth’s mother hadn’t mentioned him, but she’d left for town early and probably set out a breakfast for their hand. Right now Seth should be checking wells and pumps, inspecting the troughs to make certain they’d hold rainwater. Once this rib quit hurting he’d be able to ride.
He glanced at Marigold, noting Little John had fallen asleep on her lap. “You can lay him at the foot of the cot here. I’ll sit up while he naps.”
She shifted the boy’s weight so he was in a manageable position, then rose to place him on the bed. The child curled up and stuck his thumb into his mouth. Seth watched the boy slumber, his long lashes against his pinkened cheek. Glancing up, he noticed that Marigold hadn’t moved away, but was studying Little John as well, her expression undecipherable.
“You’re good with the boys,” he said.
She came out of her reverie to glance at Seth. “Children fascinate me. I suppose that’s why I became a teacher. They’re impressionable and for the most part unspoiled. They don’t resist change or new information, and unless they have cause not to be, they’re accepting.”
She moved back to the chair and smoothed her skirts.
“He’s pretty wary of me.” Seth set aside his plate. “I confess I don’t much know what to do for youngins. I realize Tessa was desperate for someone to look out for them, but I don’t know that I was the best choice.”
“Apparently she trusted you.”
He took a deep breath that shot a stabbing pain to his side. “I reckon.” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable. “Aside from feeding them and giving them a place to sleep, what do I do with them?”
“They’re curious. They’re energetic. Give them room to play and discover. They need guidelines and routines, enforced with kindness. They need a sense of well-being and someone to listen to them.”
Still feeling inadequate, he thought over her words.
“Not all that different from adults in that respect,” she added and glanced away from his gaze.
Was she missing a sense of well-being? She’d come all this way on a train by herself. He’d heard talk about the hiring of a new teacher, but until now he hadn’t put any thought into what kind of person would accept the position. All of the other women who arrived in Cowboy Creek were either already married to businessmen or ranchers, or had come seeking husbands. Marigold Brewster had apparently come to teach, but it was a long way to travel for a position.
“What brought you to Kansas?” he asked.
She glanced at Little John and then aside. “I lived in Ohio with my sister. We worked and took care of each other. And then she died. It was lonely living in my parents’ home without them—without Daisy, I mean. I saw the advertisement for a teacher in a growing boomtown community, so I sent a telegram and once I heard back, I sold the house. I wanted to start over.”
“Did you have friends there? Other family?”
She shook her head. “We had friends once. The war changed everything.”
He nodded. “Indeed.”
A moment passed and the cry of a hawk echoed in the distance.
“Where were you during the war?” she asked.
“We ranched in Missouri, so I guess that tells you something. We were battling over statehood from the start. Towns and families split over joining the Confederacy. My father had built up stock and my brothers and I helped out. The ranch was thriving, but when the war broke out, most of the ranchers had to set their cattle loose while they went to fight. We thought it would only be for a few months and we’d come back and round ’em up, sort ’em out and go on. We lost at Wilson’s Creek early on, won at Pea Ridge, but the battles went on and on, and there was no law to be had.”
“I followed the newspaper reports,” she said. “What about your parents?”
He collected himself before speaking. “My father was killed in sixty. Before the war. Then between Quantrill, the James brothers, Bill Anderson and the like, it was too dangerous to leave my mother alone, so we sent her to her brother’s family in Philadelphia, and she waited out the war with my aunts. I ended up fighting in Arkansas, was with General Steele during the Red River Campaign.”
“You said ‘we’?”
“I have two younger brothers.” He spotted a trail of dust in the distance. “Looks like you’ll be meeting one real soon.”
* * *
Marigold turned in the direction Seth studied. Dust rose in the air as a rider approached. He reached the dooryard and slid from his sleek black horse. Dressed in a black waistcoat, black trousers and shiny boots, he approached the porch and removed his hat. He was as tall as Seth, but leaner. A neatly trimmed goatee made his face appear all the more angular.
The stranger turned his attention on Seth. “I just returned from Lawrence this morning and heard you got banged up yesterday.”
“I didn’t know you were gone.”
“Last-minute trip.” The man turned to Marigold. “You must be Miss Brewster, our new schoolteacher. Russell Halloway, miss.”
“A pleasure,” she said.
His gaze slid to the sleeping boy. “And this is one of Tessa’s children?”
“That’s Little John,” Seth answered. “Did you look over the letter?”
“I did. She had it witnessed, and I sent a telegram to the witness who confirmed being present and that Tessa was of sound mind when she wrote it. If someone contested your custody of the children, the letter would be enough to sway a judge that you should have them. It’s not a legal document, however, so no court could force you to take the boys if you were set against it.”
“What other options would there be?” Marigold asked with concern.
“The records of disposition of desperate orphans have increased by thousands in the past five years,” Russ explained. “There are orphan asylums across the country that take children from infancy to age thirteen.”
“Desperate orphans,” she repeated, glancing from his brother to Seth. A slice of panic rose in her chest. “An asylum sounds dreadful.”
“I’m not refusing to take them,” Seth assured them both. “Tessa wanted them in my care, so that’s where they’ll stay. I just want to make sure everything is legal. There can’t be any question about the authenticity of Tessa’s will.”
She took a deep breath and thanked the Lord for Seth’s magnanimous compassion.
The brothers looked at each other, and Marigold sensed the tension barely below the surface.
“I wouldn’t want ’em to settle in and then find there’s a problem,” Seth insisted.
“You can petition a judge and sign papers to adopt them if it’s what you want,” Russ told him. “Just remember if they carry your name that upon your death they will legally inherit your land and holdings—shared with any other children you might have, so you’ll need to have a will in order.”
The thought of leaving these children a share of his land didn’t seem to bother Seth, because he replied immediately. “Get those papers ready to sign then.”
Russell rested his hat on a small table. “It will take me a few days to put the papers in order, so you’ll have time to think about it.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Russ!” Evelyn pushed open the screen door and hurried to give her son an energetic hug. “I was expecting to see you yesterday.”
“Just returned this morning,” he explained.
“Miss Brewster, you’ve met my second-born son? He’s a lawyer and has his very own practice in town—the one you saw on Eden Street. Daniel Gardner and Will Canfield contacted him and suggested he come to Kansas. Russ is the reason we’re here, too. He told Seth about this ranch when it came available.”
Russ appeared uncomfortable with her lengthy introduction. “We’ve met, Mother.”
Undeterred, Evelyn continued. “Russ is expecting a lovely young woman to arrive by train very soon. We’re all looking forward to her arrival.” She turned to her middle son. “Would you like some dinner? It’s still hot.”
“I am hungry,” he said.
“I’ll get it.” Marigold stood quickly. “You sit and visit with your sons, Mrs. Halloway.”
Marigold entered the house and busied herself making another tray, giving the Halloways time to talk. When she carried out the tray minutes later, Evelyn had moved the table near Russ’s chair.
“Thank you, Miss Brewster.” Russ picked up his napkin and settled it on his lap.
Evelyn gave her son an affectionate look. “After my husband died, we got into hard times back in Missouri. Russ was at university out East. He had to take a job and earn scholarships to finish his law degree. It took him a few years, but even with him going off to fight, he did it.”
Marigold found a narrow space on the opposite side of the sleeping Little John and squeezed herself in. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”
“After the war, he earned himself a reputation fighting for veterans’ rights,” she went on, with pride in her voice. “That’s how he came in contact with Daniel and Will.”
Russ’s harsh features showed his displeasure. Marigold imagined he was a force to be reckoned with in a judge’s chambers. “I’m sure Miss Brewster doesn’t want to hear about me.”
“I’m captivated,” Marigold said with a smile.
“I have another son, too,” Evelyn added, lifting her chin. “Adam is my youngest. After the army, he joined the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.”
“And that’s the last we’ve heard of him,” Seth commented.
“He’s written a few letters,” Evelyn said quickly. “I’m sure he’s very busy bringing criminals to justice.”
Marigold had noted the vague information in Seth and his mother’s stories about his father’s death. Seth had mentioned he was killed. Marigold barely knew them. She didn’t want to ask personal questions that would surely bring up a painful subject. After all, she had her own hurts she didn’t want to talk about.
As they talked, an older man approached on foot from the direction of the barns. He was tall and slender, wearing bibbed overalls and a shirt with the sleeves rolled back. As he approached the house, he removed his hat and held it against his chest.
“Hello, Mr. Dewey,” Evelyn called out. “Our morning was so busy, I didn’t see you. Are you ready for some dinner?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I fixed myself something. Didn’t wanna be no bother. I just wanted to see how Seth was doin’.”
“Well, come join us and meet Miss Brewster, the new schoolteacher we’ve been hearing about.”
“How do, miss,” the fellow said and stopped at the foot of the stairs.
“Come up here and sit with us. I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Evelyn said. “Marigold, this is Mr. Dewey. He’s Seth’s friend and works here.” Evelyn hurried into the house.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dewey.”
“Just plain Dewey, miss.”
“Dewey and I drove cattle from Texas to Colorado and have more than a few scars to show for it,” Seth said.
Dewey brought a chair from the far end of the porch and settled onto it. He was a lanky fellow, his body all sharp angles. He had a full head of silver-gray hair, but his big mustache was still shot with patches of black. “And a whole passel o’ stories.”
Tate and Harper came around the side of the house and set dusty lanterns inside the porch rail.
“How many did you find?” Seth asked.
“Four, sir,” Tate replied.
“Fine work. Come close.”
The boys glanced at the two strangers and moved beside Seth.
Seth introduced them to his brother and the ranch hand, and Evelyn returned with a tray of full coffee cups for the men.
“This is more people than we’ve had on this porch since we got here last fall,” she said with a smile.
“Reckon you should get busted up more often,” Dewey said to Seth, and Seth chuckled while holding his side.
It was the first time Marigold had seen a smile on his face, and she appreciated the relaxed expression. He and Dewey had obviously shared a long friendship.
“You rode the train all the way from Missouri?” Russ asked the boys.
Harper looked at Tate, and Tate responded. “Yes, sir. Part way we met Miss Brewster, an’ she helped look after us.”
“She has a cat,” Harper added.
“Where do you live?” Tate asked.
“I have a place in town,” Russ replied.
“A new house,” Evelyn said. “I helped him with rugs and furniture and the like. It will be a fine home for a family.”
Russ gave his mother a tolerant grin. “Someday.”
“Not long now.” She glanced at Marigold. “The young woman Russ has been corresponding with is coming to Cowboy Creek in only a few weeks.”
