the lumber. She carried them to the pile of lumber and stared helplessly. She had no idea how to begin.
God, I know there must be a way to do this. Surely you can help me.
But she heard no voice from the clouds, nor did she feel a sudden burst of inspiration. As usual she’d have to figure it out on her own.
* * *
Roper muttered to himself as he headed toward the ranch. Stupid woman. If he didn’t know better he would think she was crazy in the head. But he’d watched her all winter, seeing the pain and defiance behind her brown eyes and wanting to erase it.
From the beginning Cassie had been as prickly as a cactus. Over the winter she’d mellowed. Her black hair had gone from dull and stringy to glistening and full. Morose, even sour, at the start, she’d started to laugh more often.
He shook his head and grunted. But she’d changed in other ways, too. She’d grown downright stubborn and independent.
He adjusted his hat to suit him better and swatted away an ornery fly that wouldn’t leave him alone.
Growing up in an orphanage he’d learned if he helped people, made them laugh, life was more pleasant for everyone. He’d become adept at smoothing out problems in order to maintain peace.
He ached that Cassie refused to let him help in any way.
“Shoot. Best thing I can do is forget all about her.” Something else he’d grown good at—letting people go. He’d learned the hard way not to expect permanence. Still he’d be giving Eddie every excuse known to man to ride to town until he was certain she was well settled. In fact, he’d leave the job and stay in town if he could think of any reasonable excuse. After all, he had no particular ties to the ranch. To any place for that matter.
But he could think of no reason to hang about town other than to make sure Cassie was safe and happy. Seems she was only too happy to see him gone so maybe he’d accomplished one of his goals.
A dark shape on the trail ahead caught his eye and he blinked. He pulled the horse to a halt and stared. Rubbed his eyes and stared some more.
He’d seen mirages of trees and water but he’d never seen a mirage of kids. He squinted hard. Three kids. Four, if that squirming armload was another.
He called to them as he edged the wagon forward.
The huddle of young ’uns left the trail and ran toward the trees a distance away.
“Now hold up there.”
The kids picked up speed.
Roper quickly secured the reins and jumped to the ground, breaking into an awkward trot. His bowed legs weren’t made for running but he didn’t let that slow him much.
One of the kids hollered, “Hurry.”
Another started to cry.
He couldn’t bear to hear a kid crying and he slowed. But just for a moment. Kids didn’t belong out in the middle of nowhere all alone. It wasn’t a bit safe. He forced his legs to pump harder and closed the distance.
The biggest one turned and faced him, a scowl on her pretty little face. “Leave us alone!”
He skidded to a halt and took their measure. The girl looked about twelve, maybe a little older. She held a trembling younger girl maybe two years old. Roper couldn’t see anything of the little one but the fine golden hair and impossibly tiny shoulders. Then there was a boy a year or two younger than the older girl. And between them, face full of fear and defiance, a young lad of maybe six or seven. The look on each face held a familiar expression...one he had seen time and again in the orphanage that had been his only home. It spelled fear. And trouble.
He held up his hands knowing the bunch wasn’t ready to see the folly of their attitude. “I mean you no harm but I can’t help wondering what four young ’uns are doing out here halfway between nowhere and nothin’.”
The eldest two exchanged glances, and a silent message passed between them. The boy answered. “None of yer business.”
Roper backed off a step but rocked on the balls of his feet, ready to grab them if they tried to escape. “Long way from here to someplace.” They’d been headed away from Edendale so he guessed that wasn’t their destination of choice. “You might get a little hungry and thirsty.”
The girl glared at him. “We don’t need no help.”
He sighed. Where had he heard that before? And he didn’t like it any better from the lips of a young gal with nothing more than the company of three younger kids and a gut full of determination than he had hearing it from Cassie. “How about you let me give you a ride at least?”
Again that silent communication. The young lad signaled to the older girl and they lowered their heads to hold a confab.
He waited, letting them think they were in control but he had no intention of turning around and leaving them there.
They straightened, and the oldest answered, “We’ll accept a ride. For a little ways.”
“Best we introduce ourselves,” Roper said, and gave his name. “I work on a ranch over in the hills there.”
Three pairs of eyes followed the direction he indicated and he could see their interest. He turned to the kids. “Now tell me who you are.”
The big girl nodded. “I’m Daisy. This is Neil.” She indicated the older boy, then nudged the younger one. “Billy, and Pansy.”
“Suppose you got a last name.”
“Locke.”
“Well, howdy.” He held out a hand but they shrank back. He waited, wanting them to know he meant them nothing but kindness. Finally Neil grabbed his hand and gave a good-size squeeze. The boy had grit for sure. Guess they all did to be out here alone.
He led them to the wagon. They insisted on sitting together in the back. He climbed to the seat but didn’t move.
“Mister?” Daisy sounded scared.
He shifted to face them. “It might help if I had some idea where you want to go.”
Again a silent discussion then Daisy nodded. “We’re looking for our pa. He set out to get himself some land close to the mountains. Maybe you heard of him. Thaddeus Locke.”
He’d heard of the man. One of the only settlers in the area. Last time he’d been mentioned in Roper’s hearing was last fall. “Where’s your mother?”
“She died. Before she did, she made us promise to find our pa.” Daisy’s voice quivered but she held her head high.
“Well, let’s find him, then. Mr. Macpherson will know where his farm is.” Macpherson knew everything about everyone within a hundred miles. ’Course that didn’t mean more than a couple hundred people, not counting Indians. Roper turned the wagon about.
“You don’t know where our papa lives?” Neil asked.
“Can’t
