Cole walked slowly forward.
His boots sounded heavy against the wooden floor.
Harold watched him suspiciously.
“What exactly are you doing here?”
Cole stopped beside the long table.
“I’ll take them.”
Walter blinked.
“What?”
“All seven.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Sarah stared at him.
Harold laughed once.
“You?”
Cole looked at him.
The laugh died.
Walter spoke carefully.
“Cole, seven children are not seven calves.”
“I’m aware.”
“You live eighteen miles outside town.”
“I’m also aware of that.”
“Your house isn’t exactly arranged for children.”
“It has eight bedrooms.”
“Most of them haven’t been opened in years.”
Cole’s face changed slightly.
“I know.”
Sarah finally found her voice.
“Mr. Blackwood.”
He turned.
She swallowed.
“I appreciate what you are trying to do.”
“I haven’t done anything yet.”
“My children are not going anywhere without me.”
Cole looked at her for several seconds.
“I know.”
Sarah frowned.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
Harold scoffed.
“Then what are you proposing?”
Cole ignored him.
He looked at Sarah.
“You come too.”
The room shifted again.
Sarah stared.
“All eight of us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Cole seemed almost irritated by the question.
“Because children generally belong with their mother.”
A tiny voice came from Ben’s arms.
“Mama too?”
Lily had awakened.
Her hair was flattened against one cheek.
She rubbed her eyes.
Ben whispered:
“Go back to sleep.”
But Lily looked at Cole.
“Mister?”
Cole slowly crouched.
It changed the room more than his entrance had.
Nobody in Dry Creek remembered seeing Cole Blackwood kneel for anyone.
Lily studied the scar on his face.
“You taking us?”
“If your mother says yes.”
“All of us?”
“Yes.”
She counted poorly with her fingers.
“Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Ben?”
“Yes.”
“Emma and Ella?”
“Yes.”
“Jacob?”
“Yes.”
“Grace?”
“Yes.”
Lily pointed to herself.
“Me?”
Cole’s mouth almost smiled.
“Even you.”
Then Lily pointed toward Sarah.
“Mama?”
Cole looked up at the widow.
Especially her, he nearly said.
Instead:
“Your mama goes wherever you go.”
Lily considered this.
“Okay.”
A few men laughed softly.
Cole stood.
Sarah looked embarrassed.
“She doesn’t make our decisions.”
Lily frowned.
“I help.”
Jack almost smiled.
For the first time all morning, Sarah felt something inside her chest loosen.
Then reality returned.
“Mr. Blackwood, seven children eat a great deal.”
“I have food.”
“They make noise.”
“My house could use some.”
“They break things.”
“So do horses.”
Jacob looked offended.
“We’re not horses.”
Cole looked at him.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Horses don’t wash dishes.”
Jacob’s mouth fell open.
Several men laughed.
Even Sarah smiled.
Harold Pierce did not.
“This is foolish.”
Cole turned.
Harold continued.
“You have no obligation to support Daniel Dawson’s family.”
“Neither do you.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“What is?”
“They need stability.”
Cole nodded toward Sarah.
“They have it.”
Harold scoffed.
“You call a widow with sixty dollars debt stable?”
Cole’s eyes hardened.
“No.”
“I call seven children with a mother who walked them through six weeks of hell without abandoning one of them stable.”
Sarah looked at him.
Harold’s face reddened.
“The debt remains.”
“How much?”
“Sixty dollars.”
Cole reached inside his coat.
Sarah stepped forward.
“No.”
He stopped.
She looked at him.
“I will not have you purchase us.”
The room went silent.
Cole slowly removed his hand from his coat.
“All right.”
Harold smiled faintly.
“Then the debt remains due.”
Cole looked at Sarah.
“Can you work?”
She bristled.
“Yes.”
“Cook?”
“Yes.”
“Sew?”
“Yes.”
“Keep household accounts?”
“I kept Daniel’s.”
“Read and write?”
“Of course.”
Cole nodded.
“My housekeeper is sixty-eight and threatens to murder me every time I ask her to climb stairs.”
Sarah blinked.
“What?”
“Martha needs help.”
“You’re offering me employment?”
“I’m offering wages.”
“How much?”
Cole considered.
“Twenty-five dollars a month, room and board for you and the children.”
Harold almost choked.
“That’s absurd.”
Cole looked at him.
“Your money?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll spend mine.”
Sarah’s mind raced.
Twenty-five dollars.
In three months, she could repay Harold.
She could save.
She could feed the children.
Still, suspicion remained.
“What do you expect in return?”
Cole looked at her.
“Work.”
“Nothing else?”
His expression sharpened.
“No.”
Sarah held his gaze.
Cole understood.
Something dark passed through his eyes, not at her, but at whatever experiences had made her ask.
“You and your children get rooms.”
He spoke deliberately.
“You lock your own doors.”
“You keep your own money.”
“And if you decide to leave, nobody stops you.”
Sarah’s throat tightened.
Jack whispered:
“Mama.”
She looked down.
All seven children watched her.
Not the mayor.
Not Harold.
Her.
She had promised Daniel.
Keep them together.
Sarah looked toward Cole.
“One winter.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“One winter.”
He nodded.
“Agreed.”
Walter stared at the papers in front of him.
Then slowly pushed them aside.
The Dawson children would not be divided that day.
By sunset, Sarah and her children were riding north in two Blackwood wagons.
Cole rode ahead.
Jack sat beside him.
The boy had insisted.
Sarah suspected Jack wanted to study the stranger before allowing his mother and siblings into the man’s home.
Cole seemed to understand.
For the first several miles, neither spoke.
Finally Jack asked:
“Why’d you do it?”
Cole kept his eyes ahead.
“Do what?”
“You know.”
“Stopped your family being separated.”
“Yes.”