almost men.”
Tara slung her knapsack over her shoulder, then adjusted the sleeve of the one and only dress she had to her name. She took a moment to appraise the gangly boys, who seemed to be in some all-fired rush to become men. Tara preferred they remain children, but she vowed Derek and Samuel would become honorable, law-abiding grown-ups who were nothing like the rowdy miners and cowboys that showed little respect for women. Unfortunately, the boys were straining at the bit, demanding to be viewed as adults, and they were giving her fits—daily!
“I realize you are nearly men,” she replied belatedly. “And being the responsible men you are, I’m sure you realize the irrigation channels running through our garden need reinforcement after last week’s rain. The weeds around the vegetables need to be hoed and the livestock must be fed.”
The boys—young men, pardon her mistake—groaned in dismay.
“All we do is work around here,” Samuel grumbled sourly.
Tara was running short on time so she played her trump card, as she was forced to do from time to time. “Would you prefer to be back in Texas? Or back in Boston? Hmm?”
The boys—young men—clamped their mouths shut and shifted uneasily from one oversize foot to the other.
“You know we don’t have the slightest hankering for those hellholes we’ve been in,” Derek muttered.
“Don’t say hell. You aren’t old enough,” she chastised.
“We’re nearly men,” Samuel reminded her—again.
“Right. What could I have been thinking? But please refrain from using obscenities in front of the other children.”
“Anyway,” Derek continued, undaunted, “we need a change of scenery. We want to protect you from those drunken bullies in that mining camp. I could accompany you and Samuel could stay here—”
“Oh no, I won’t!” Samuel objected strenuously. “I’m older and—”
“Both of you are going to stay here and that’s that,” Tara said in no uncertain terms, then surged toward the front door. “And positively, absolutely no fighting while I’m gone. Do you hear me? I don’t have time to tend to another round of black eyes and bloody noses when I return, either.”
Serenaded by adolescent grumbling, Tara hiked off to retrieve the roan mare from the barn. She wished she could take the children into town more often, but she preferred they didn’t know she cleaned house for two older couples, one of whom owned the general store and the other a restaurant. Plus Tara cleaned the church for the parson during her weekly jaunts to Rambler Springs. The extra money provided her with funds to support the five children in her charge.
Although their vegetables, chickens, milk cow and small flock of sheep kept the family fed, she needed money for clothes and provisions. Heaven knew those two boys—young men!—were growing by leaps and bounds. Keeping them in properly fitting boots put a sizable dent in the family budget.
Hurriedly, Tara gathered up fresh eggs from the hen-house to sell in town, then mounted her horse. She’d spend the day there, working fast and furiously to dust and sweep two homes and the church, and would return exhausted, as usual. She needed Derek and Samuel to hold the fort during her absence; hopefully, they’d honor her request not to engage in another fistfight.
What had come over those two young men? Lately, they left her questioning her ability to handle them. And to think they’d been such adorable children when she’d first met them!
John felt as if he’d awakened from the dead. Every body part objected when he shifted sideways on the bed. Groaning, he pried open one eye, to see a small waif hovering over him. He wondered what had become of the flame-haired, green-eyed guardian angel that had been drifting in and out of his fitful dreams. Although angel face was nowhere to be seen, several vaguely familiar faces appeared above him.
“You’re awake at last!” the dark-eyed child exclaimed happily. “Hallo, Zohn Whoof. My name is Flora.”
“Hallo to you, miss” he wheezed, amused by her mispronunciation of his name.
The waif giggled and her enormous brown eyes sparkled with pleasure. She edged closer to the bed to pat his uninjured shoulder. “Feeling better?” she asked.
He nodded slightly. “Where am I?”
“In Paradise Valley. I’m Maureen. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, John Wolfe,” the older girl said very politely.
John surveyed the adolescent girl standing to his left. With her sky-blue eyes, wavy strawberry-blond hair and sunny smile, she was destined to knock a passel of men off their feet in years to come, John decided.
“Nice to meet you, Miss Maureen,” he greeted her cordially.
The girl beamed in delight, opened her rosebud mouth to reply, then got nudged out of the way by a small boy with coal black hair, a gap-toothed smile and a scar on his chin. “I’m Calvin and I’m seven years old,” he introduced himself.
“A pleasure to meet you, Calvin,” John replied.
From the shadows, a tall, gangly adolescent boy with dark brown hair and gray eyes emerged. The boy drew himself up proudly, and John expected the kid to beat his chest like a warrior exploding into a war whoop. “I’m Samuel. I’m fifteen and I am in charge here—”
“No, you aren’t. We’re both in charge. Tara said so.”
John glanced toward the foot of the bed to appraise the offended boy, whose sandy-blond hair hung over one blue eye.
“I’m Derek. I’m fourteen and I’m half in charge.” He glared at Samuel, then returned his attention to John. “If you need anything, I’m the man you want to see.”
John swallowed a smile. He supposed at one time in his life he had struggled from adolescence to adulthood, but it had been so long ago he didn’t recall it. He felt a century old in the presence of these children. The nagging pain in his ribs and thigh drove home the point that the hellish experiences of his profession weren’t making him any younger. In fact, he’d come perilously close to dying in his thirtieth year, thanks to the desperation and treachery of his brother, Raven.
“Glad to make your acquaintance, Derek,” John said. “I do need something, as a matter of fact, but I prefer not to have these pretty young ladies in attendance.”
The boys realized his discomfort immediately and shooed the girls from the room. Moaning in misery, John levered onto one wobbly elbow—and received one helluva head rush. The brightly decorated room, which boasted mason jars filled with wildflower bouquets, and curtains made of feed sacks and ribbons, spun furiously, making him nauseous.
“Here, we’ll help you,” Samuel offered, grabbing John’s good arm.
“I’ll get the chamber pot,” Derek volunteered.
“Uh, you can take it from here, can’t you?” Samuel asked, his face coloring with embarrassment, as Derek placed the pot near the side of the bed. “Me and Derek and Calvin will be right outside the door if you need us.”
Five minutes later, the boys returned to ease John
