"I see."
Nathan shrugged. Apparently he didn't care. And Sam didn't blame him. Normally, he didn't care what folks thought of him either. Especially Catherine's parents. But these weren't normal times, and this was too important for his own feelings to get in the way.
"Can I go now, Pa?" Nathan asked, clearly anxious to get away from the two men.
Sam nodded. "Don't get your suit dirty."
Moments later, the door slammed shut, and Sam heard Nathan's footsteps on the stairs.
"You sure you're doing the right thing?" Fred asked.
"Hell, no. But I don't see any other way."
"It isn't too late. I mean ... I'm sure Lou could manage to--"
"No." Sam held his hand up to stop Fred from going any further. "Not that I don't appreciate the offer, but you and Lou have done enough. I don't want to be beholden to you any more than I already am."
"Don't be a jackass," Fred sputtered. "You ain't beholden to us a-tall. Why, those young'uns is like our own."
"I know that. Lou's been like a mother to them since Catherine passed on. But right now there's nothing else I can do."
"That's what those young'uns need - a mama. You need to think about getting hitched again - give those babies of yours a mama."
A bitter laugh escaped from Sam's lips. "We've been all through that. No other woman could take Catherine's place."
"Maybe you should let one try. There's plenty of good-looking women in Charity. Maybe the widow Brown. She's used to looking after young'uns."
Fred had been arguing with Sam ever since he'd made the decision to send the children to Boston. Sam understood why Fred was so dead set against it, but he didn't have to worry about putting food in the their mouths, or trying to get his cattle moved to higher ground while a three-year-old was hanging on to his pant leg.
"Let it go, Fred."
The warning in Sam's voice went unheeded.
"Seems to me they'd be better off here than back with those prissy folks of Catherine's."
"That's what the Witherspoon woman said, too."
"She's got a point."
"She's a busybody."
"Now, Sam--"
"Don't you 'now, Sam' me. The woman doesn't have any idea what's going on out here, and she has the gall to stand there preaching to me about my responsibilities. Hell, does she think I don't know what I should be doing?"
"She probably jest figured--"
"Figured? All her figuring did was make matters worse. When I spoke to the children after we got home, all they kept saying was that she'd promised they didn't have to go away."
"She did, eh? Well, I'll be hornswoggled."
Sam nodded. "How the hell am I supposed to get them used to the idea of leaving when I have to deal with women who can't mind their own business?"
"But then, I'da thought Emma woulda had a whole passel of babies of her own by now."
"You know her?"
"Known her all her life. Course, she was gone for a spell when she went back east to finishing school, but she was always a mighty fine lady."