The Horseman's Frontier Family. Karen Kirst

      The boy’s tiny fingers pressed into his palm and tugged. Careful to blank his expression, Gideon reluctantly looked down. Walt was pointing to the horses again, his curious brown gaze fixed on Star.

      The boy is hurting and can clearly use some extra attention, a voice inside him prodded. Not only had his father been ripped from his life, but this dispute had separated him from his uncles. No matter Gideon’s opinion of the Chaucer men, he couldn’t deny they appeared to genuinely care for the boy. He’d witnessed the affection that had passed between the gruff men and Walt that first day.

      He cleared his throat. “Would you like to help me water the horses?”

      A shy grin curved his mouth, and his head bobbed up and down.

      “Let’s go get some pails and fill the trough.”

      Walt followed him to the stable and accepted his pail with a bounce of excitement. How that emotion didn’t spill over into speech he hadn’t a clue. A five-year-old boy who didn’t talk was downright unnatural. Pitiful, too.

      Gideon determined then to question Evelyn—his no-questions rule be hanged.

      They made several trips to the stream. Walt carried his half-filled pail with pride, and if most of the water landed in the dirt beneath the trough, Gideon pretended not to notice. Evelyn at last made her way over as he was introducing Walt to Peanut, a gentle mare he’d acquired from another settler the day before the land rush.