done some research on the Hoffmans. From what she’d gathered, the couple had always dreamed of creating a place in the country where they could provide a safe, loving environment for abused and neglected city kids. After retiring from their county jobs in their mid-fifties, they set their plan in motion, a plan that was nearly two years in the making. Funding had been their biggest stumbling block—and apparently, at times, it still was. But thanks to the help of the community church, the Wexler Women’s Club and the Brighton Valley Rotary, they remodeled the two-story ranch house, got it up to code, painted the barn and set up a playground. Then they added the Old West buildings.
Julie followed the county road about five miles out of town and turned into the drive. When she reached a black wrought iron gate, she used an intercom/phone system to request entrance.
The man who answered her call sounded like Jim Hoffman. “Come on in,” he said. “The administration office is located in the Kidville Hotel.”
Once the wrought iron gate swung open, granting her access to the property, she drove to a graveled lot and parked. She took her purse from the empty passenger seat, then opened the trunk and withdrew her guitar and a case filled with her musical bag of tricks—colorful scarves, kazoos, maracas, miniature tambourines and other rhythm instruments.
Then she locked the car and walked through an arched entryway made of adobe brick. A wooden overhead sign announced: Welcome to Kidville, Texas. Population 134.
Up ahead, she spotted a red schoolhouse. Behind it was a playground with swings, slides and a colorful climbing structure. To the right and left were grassy areas that provided a volleyball court on one side and a baseball field on the other. Kidville was even more appealing than she’d thought it would be. It was a unique setting, and one Julie hoped to be a part of one day soon.
She made her way to the administration office. Once she opened the door, she spotted Mr. Hoffman. The balding, heavyset man might not be dressed as Santa today, but when he greeted her with an easy smile, he still maintained a jolly demeanor.
“Thanks for coming, Julie.” He paused. “It is Julie, isn’t it?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I’m usually pretty good with names, but I’m afraid things got a little hectic on Saturday night.”
Apparently so. The man and his wife had disappeared about the same time Zorro had, which prompted her to discreetly quiz him about it.
“I was surprised that you left so early,” she said. “I’d planned to introduce myself to your wife, too.”
“We had a little...” He glanced over his shoulder at a closed door, then lowered his voice. “One of our mentors who was attending the gala found a couple of runaways that night. And they were in desperate need of a safe place to live. So my wife and I brought them here. They were pretty frightened and uneasy, so we didn’t want to leave them with our evening staff. So Donna and I stayed with them and helped them get settled.”
Was Zorro the mentor who’d found the kids?
Julie was tempted to ask, but she thought better of getting too specific with her questions and hoped that the head of Kidville would provide her with more information on his own. “It sounds as if you, your wife and that mentor were at the right place and at the right time, Mr. Hoffman.”
“Please, call me Jim. And you’re right. Those kids had been through a lot. But Adam will get to the bottom of it.”
“Adam?” she asked.
Jim nodded. “Adam Santiago. He’s a police officer with Wexler PD. He found the children and realized they needed to be removed from their home.”
Zorro had indicated he was in law enforcement, but hadn’t the cowboy called him Pancho? From her college Spanish class, she’d learned that Pancho was a nickname for Francisco.
A bit confused, Julie said, “I’m glad to know those kids are here with you now. And that they’re safe.”
“So am I. In fact, my wife is talking to them now.” Jim led the way through the reception area, which looked like a cozy living room filled with overstuffed sofas and chairs upholstered in faux leather. “Have a seat.”
Julie placed her guitar case on the floor and, after sitting on the sofa, leaned the instrument against the arm rest.
Mr. Hoffman took a seat on one of the overstuffed chairs. He again glanced at the closed door, then lowered his voice. “The children seemed to connect with Adam on Saturday night. In fact, they didn’t want him to leave. He stayed with them until nearly ten o’clock, then he promised them he’d be back this morning.”
“Wasn’t he able to come Sunday?” she asked. It was what she would have promised them, had she been the one to find them.
“He wanted to investigate their prior living arrangement, and while he told me that he’d try to stop by then, Adam doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. At least, not to any of our children.”
“I can appreciate that.”
“Me, too. Adam was a foster kid himself, so he knows what many of our children have been through and how they feel. He’s been mentoring some of the older boys for the past six months.”
“How are the two new children doing now?” Julie asked. “Are they adjusting?”
“Cassie—she’s the younger one—hasn’t spoken a word since she arrived. And she won’t let go of her brother’s hand. Eddie’s pretty protective of her, but he’s a little skittish around adults.”
“Those poor kids.” Julie’s heart went out to them, and she hadn’t even met them yet.
The door squeaked open, and both Julie and Jim turned and watched a matronly woman walk out. She wore a conservative white blouse, black slacks and a pair of sensible walking shoes. A pair of small black barrettes held the sides of her salt-and-pepper hair in place.
Two children, a small boy with dark hair and a younger blonde girl who clung to his hand, trailed after her, followed by a tall, slender redhead in her late fifties.
She and Jim got to their feet, and he introduced Julie first to his wife Donna, the attractive redhead, then to Lyla Kincaid, the social worker assigned to the children’s case.
They shook hands, and Julie said, “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Same here.” Ms. Kincaid smiled, then turned to the children. “I’ll see you in a few days. In the meantime, I’m glad you feel safe and comfortable here.”
Jim walked the older woman to the door, while Donna introduced Julie to the children—six-year-old Eddie and his five-year-old sister, Cassie.
They looked thin and pale. Cassie bore a bruise on her forehead, as well as a split lip. No wonder Adam had rescued them. Whether he’d been the hottie dressed as Zorro or not, he’d turned out to be a real-life hero.
“Mr. Adam isn’t here yet,” Jim told the children. “But I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
Donna placed one hand on the boy’s shoulder and the other on his sister’s. “Eddie and Cassie are nervous about going to meet their teacher this morning. So I
