"He ain't," Nathan interrupted. "In fact, we're savin' him a lot of money--"
Emma put down the spoon and took a step towards the boy. His eyes were bright, as if he was blinking back tears. "How?"
"Never mind," Nathan said gruffly, then slumped down in the chair.
"Joseph?" Emma asked softly. "How are you saving your father money? Please tell me."
"Should I?" Joseph asked Nathan. "Don't make no difference if she knows anyway."
Nathan shrugged, then took a sip of the warm cocoa. A brown mustache outlined his upper lip when he lowered the mug.
"If we're gone, he won't have to buy train tickets."
"Train tickets?"
"To send us away. He don't want us now that Ma's gone."
Emma couldn't think of any way to respond to this pronouncement. She found it difficult to believe the boys were right, yet they seemed convinced.
"You must be mistaken--"
"No," Nathan interrupted, setting his mug back on the table and licking his lips.. "He told us. Said he can't look after us no more. Said he can't afford it."
"I see."
"So we decided to go ourselves, and that way he won't have to spend no money. He can use it to buy feed and fence wire," Joseph added.
So the children lived on a ranch. Finally, a clue.
Emma blinked back the tears that welled up in her eyes. Those poor children. Heavens, they were just babies. First losing their mother, then being sent away from the only home they'd ever known.
Surely they were wrong. What kind of man could be so cruel to his own flesh and blood?
No matter how poor she was, no matter what she had to do to keep a roof over their heads and food in their stomachs, Emma would never give up her children. Never. She would steal if necessary. She flexed the fists her hands had formed. She would even sell herself if that's what she had to do. Not that she would ever face that problem, since having a child was out of the question.
Perhaps that was the reason she was drawn so to these children. They needed someone to care about them. Lord knows I need someone to care for.
"Look," she said softly, glancing towards the fireplace.
The boys followed her gaze. Becky had curled up in an armchair and had fallen asleep, her thumb in her mouth. Emma felt such a strong protective sensation, it took her breath away. What was it about these children that made her heart swell and bring a lump to her throat?
"Looks like you'll have to wait until morning to leave after all," she whispered.
Both boys muttered something in reply. Then Joseph added, "I guess we'll stay then. But only until morning."
"I'm glad. I'll enjoy the company."
For the first time, Joseph smiled.
***
Rain lashed against Sam's slicker, but he rode on relentlessly. Where could they be? He'd been searching most of the night, but they had disappeared into the wilderness. When he'd checked on them before turning in and found them missing, he'd figured they'd headed to Fred's homestead two miles north. He'd ridden directly there, not overly concerned until Fred told him the children hadn't been there.
Then the fear had set in, gnawing at his insides like a hungry rat. Fear, or guilt. This was his fault. He should never have agreed to send them to their grandparents. If anything happened to those children, he might as well die, too.
"Ain't no sign of them," Fred shouted, reining his horse to a stop beside Sam’s. The wind howled, and Fred had to yell to make himself heard. "I checked over by South Creek and east as far as the river."
Sam pulled his Stetson farther down. Rain dripped off the brim, and he ran his hand across the two-day stubble on his face. "If I had any idea what direction ... where they would go ..."