to her brother, but he tossed his arms about, refusing her efforts to comfort him.
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
