Sam looped the horse's bridle strap, then hung it from a nail in the wall of the barn. Taking a bucket, he filled it with oats and dumped it in the trough against the wall.
"That's right, Joseph." Sam had made a stop at the telegraph office after he took Emma home and sent a telegram to the children's grandparents. As he wrote the words telling him of his decision to keep the children with him, his heart felt lighter than it had in months.
"Ever?" Joseph pressed.
"Ever."
"Whoopee!" Joseph cried, then grabbed Becky's hand and the two of them raced out of the barn towards the house.
Dust billowed up in their wake. More relaxed that he’d been in months, Sam smiled as he watched them cross the yard. His children were happy. And if they were happy, he was happy.
He'd made the right decision, he assured himself as he picked up a pitchfork and filled the horse's stall with straw.
He sure hadn't planned on marrying again, but Emma Witherspoon had offered him an opportunity he couldn't refuse. She'd given him his children back, asking for nothing in return. In fact, she'd made a point of telling him she had no intention of being a real wife, and she'd practically swooned when he mentioned sharing the same bed.
She'd seemed agreeable enough, too, those few times when she wasn't scolding him about the children. Their lunch had been pleasant, and he'd even found himself laughing once or twice. He couldn't deny he'd enjoy having someone to keep him company in the evenings after the children were asleep, and it would be nice to come home to a clean house and a hot meal cooking on the stove.
Sam looked up to find Nathan standing silently nearby. Nathan's face held a puzzled expression. "Something wrong?" Sam asked.
"That woman's gonna live here with us, though, ain't she," Nathan said.
Sam nodded. "Miz Witherspoon and I are going to have a wedding. Then she'll live here and be your mother."
Nathan's eyes narrowed. "But I don't need another ma. I already got a ma."
"Nathan--"
"When Ma comes back--"
Sam leaned the pitchfork against the gate of the stall, then crouched down so that he was on the same eye level as Nathan. He gently brushed back a stray lock of golden hair from the boy's forehead. "We've already talked about this. Ma's not coming back, Nathan. You know that."
"She will--"
Sam shook his head. "No."
"Ma said if I wish on the first star at night my wish will come true. I did that and I wished she'd come back. So she will."
If only that was possible ...
How could he get through to him? How could he make him understand the finality of his mother's death? How could he expect Nathan to put it behind him when he couldn't do that himself? With all the maturity he had, Sam still couldn't accept Catherine's death, so how could he expect a child to give another woman a chance?
"I need someone to look after you so I can work the land," Sam explained. "Miss Witherspoon will take care of the house and you. It'll be fine. You'll see."
"Miz Holloway can look after us."
"No, she can't."
"Why? She don't got nobody to look after 'cept Mr. Holloway."
Sam smiled. "Mr. Holloway takes a lot of looking after."
"I can look after me. I'm big enough."
"No, you aren't. Now I expect you to behave at the wedding, and when Miz Witherspoon moves in with us, you'll mind your manners and do what you're told. Do you understand?"
Nathan muttered something Sam couldn't hear, kicked his foot into the dirt, then turned and trudged across the yard and up the stairs into the house.
Watching Nathan go, Sam let out a tired sigh. He wished he didn't have to be so stern, but since the day Nathan was born, the boy had had a stubborn streak a mile wide. Once he got his mind set on something, there was no way to change it. Winning Nathan over would not be easy. Emma had her work cut out for her.