Emma crossed the dirt yard and stood in front of him. She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. "Mr. Jenkins, please--"
He scowled down at her. Mercy, his eyes were dark. They glistened, as if tears lurked, waiting to fall. Ridiculous. Men don't cry. Do they?
Was it possible that he wasn't the ogre she thought he was? That perhaps this wasn't what he wanted?
If there was even a chance he really did want to keep the children, she had to keep trying.
The sound of the train whistle interrupted her thoughts. She glanced up. The black dot on the horizon had taken shape, growing larger and larger every second.
She didn't have much time.
"Fred," she called. "Would you mind keeping the children for a few minutes while I speak to Mr. Jenkins?"
"Sure enough, Emma," he replied with a smile. Taking Becky's hand from Sam's grip, he walked away, calling the boys to follow him.
"I have nothing to say to you," Sam said once the children were out of earshot.
"Good. Because there isn't time for both of us to talk, and I have plenty to say to you," Emma countered.
Sam frowned. "What--?"
"I've come to realize that perhaps I was wrong about you."
Sam's eyes widened in surprise.
Well, she was surprised, too. She never thought she'd admit that.
"However," she went on, "I still believe you are making a terrible mistake if you send those children away."
"Look, Miss Witherspoon--"
"Mr. Jenkins, please . Those children need you."
"Like I said the other day, this is none of your concern. Surely there's plenty of other problems in this town for you to butt your nose into."
At any other time, Emma would have been insulted by his rudeness. Now, however, she didn't have the luxury of telling him what she thought of his lack of manners. She had to hold on to her temper. She had to think of the children. Nothing else.
The train whistle blew as it chugged into the station. Steam billowed from beneath the engine, forming into a cloud as the train squealed to a stop.
Taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze steadily, she forced herself to speak calmly. "Regardless of your opinion of me, the children are what's important right now."
"Look, ma'am," he said, "I'll tell you this for the last time, and I'll do it real slow so you understand. I can't look after three children and a ranch. They need a family.”
"They need their father--"
"They don't need a man who's too busy trying to run a ranch that he hardly has time to even fix them a decent meal. They don't need a man who can't mend their clothes, and make sure they wash behind their ears--"
"You're right. They do need a woman's care."
"Their grandmother will raise them the way their mother would want them raised."
Emma's eyebrows lifted. "Really? I doubt that."
"What do you know about it?"
"I didn't know Catherine personally, but I assume she loved her children."
"Of course she did. She loved them more than anything."