Make-Believe Mum. Elaine Grant

through his already disheveled hair. “How am I supposedly neglecting my children?”

      Mrs. Hawthorn consulted her notes. “According to the report I received you do not have proper supervision for your seven…?”

      Mrs. Hawthorn cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Jon. Kaycee automatically raised her eyebrows, too. Seven?

      Jon nodded and Mrs. Hawthorn went on, “Seven children. That the younger children may be suffering from neglect. That there is a scarcity of food in the house, that the kids are not being fed, clothed or tended properly.”

      “That’s not true. I have two freezers full of food in there. Who around here would say something like—” Jon’s eyes narrowed. “My in-laws! That’s who it is, isn’t it? The Arants from San Francisco.”

      “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

      “Yeah, I know, you can’t give me that information. You don’t have to. All right, ask your questions.”

      “Your children are Rachel, aged twelve, Samantha, eleven, Wendy, nine, Michele, eight, twins Tyler and Zachary, five, and Bowie, two. Is that correct?”

      “Yes.”

      “Your wife Alison passed away last year?”

      “Fourteen months, five days, three hours and I can give you the minutes if you need that, too,” Jon said, hiding whatever emotion he might be feeling.

      Kaycee’s lips parted slightly at the startling revelation and she looked at the motherless children through new eyes.

      Mrs. Hawthorn’s expression was a mix of sympathy and impatience as she jotted a note. “And you make your living by ranching alone?”

      “Yes.”

      “Who supervises your children when you’re busy?”

      “I keep a full-time housekeeper.”

      “It’s my understanding she quit.”

      “What makes you think that?”

      “A report was filed, as I said. Judging by the condition of your house and children—”

      “I’ve got seven kids, lady. It doesn’t take long for the house to get cluttered, even with a housekeeper.”

      “So you do have a housekeeper?”

      “I just said so, didn’t I?”

      “Good, that will help matters. May I meet her?”

      “She’s not here today.”

      “Why?”

      Kaycee watched Jon fidget. She’d bet her next year’s profit he did not have a housekeeper at the moment. Lying to a social worker was definitely a bad idea.

      “Everybody needs a day off, Mrs. Hawthorn. Even my housekeeper.”

      “Your son has a fever. I assume you know that.”

      “Yes, I know that.”

      “He’s had medical attention?” She looked at him for confirmation.

      Jon took a deep breath. “Children’s Tylenol every four to six hours,” he said patiently as if quoting from the back of the medicine bottle.

      “Why didn’t you take him to the doctor?”

      “He didn’t need to go. It’s just a low fever. Could be catching a cold.”

      Mrs. Hawthorn continued to stare at him expectantly.

      “Okay, okay. If he’s not better by tomorrow I’ll take him to the doctor, all right?”

      “As I understand this is not the first time you’ve been without proper supervision for the young children. Nor the first time you’ve failed to get medical attention when the children were ill. Can you defend these accusations?”

      “Look, I don’t take my children to the doctor for every sniffle. Neither did my wife. And yes, I’ve had housekeepers quit. I’ve also had ranch hands quit. People move on. It’s a fact of life. Have you checked up on any other ranch families in the area? How many of them have someone to watch their kids? Probably none. Rachel’s old enough—”

      “Frankly, Mr. Rider, I’m not convinced that you’re able to provide a stable environment for the children without a wife.”

      “Without a wife…?” Jon looked bewildered. “I can’t help it if my wife died. I’m taking care of my kids.”

      Listening to the heated exchange, Kaycee was hesitant to leave until she knew what was going on. Even though Jon’s personal matters were none of her business, she had a soft spot for children and wondered if a man who had doggedly brought a stillborn calf to life would neglect his family.

      “I don’t see evidence that you’re caring for the children today.”

      “It’s calving season. Life around here gets hectic. It’s got nothing to do with wife or no wife.”

      “Nonetheless, your children should be your first priority—”

      “They are my first priority!” Jon practically shouted. “I am taking care of them. How dare you—”

      “Do you have an anger management problem we need to address? I’m beginning to consider removing the children from your home until a hearing can be arranged.”

      The color drained from Jon’s face as he stared at the social worker.

      “Like hell you will.”

      “Mr. Rider, profanity and anger won’t help. Now, you can calm down or I’ll take measures to remove the children today.”

      In front of Kaycee, the children looked at one another with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

      “What’s she talking about, Wendy?” Michele asked in a low voice.

      “She said we need a mother or she’s going to take us away from Daddy,” the sister said in disbelief.

      “That’s what I thought.” Warily, Michele glanced up at Kaycee. She leaned and whispered in Wendy’s ear.

      Wendy shook her head fiercely, her straight blond hair whipping back and forth. “That won’t work,” she whispered back loud enough that Kaycee heard.

      “Well, it might. You got any better ideas?” Michele’s eyes locked on the arguing adults as Jon grew more upset with everything Mrs. Hawthorn said.

      Kaycee didn’t know Jon other than the few hours she’d spent with him, but she felt the urge to help him—she just didn’t know how. There was a lull in the argument, and Kaycee heardWendy’s agitated voice. Tears welled in the girl’s brown eyes as she clutched her sister’s arm.

      “You’re going to get in trouble, Michele. I just want Mama back.”

      “Get real, Wendy,” Michele said. “You know she’s not coming back.”

      “My children are not leaving this ranch!” Jon’s shout echoed off the walls, the effect of his words clear on the small, pale faces and eyes dark with fear.

      Mrs. Hawthorn took a step backward and pulled a cell phone out of her briefcase. “If I have to call the authorities and have you arrested, I will, Mr. Rider.” Her voice left no room for doubt that she would follow through on her threat.

      “Make ’em stop fighting,” sobbed one of the twin boys. “I don’t want to go away. Make ’em stop, Michele!”

      Michele looked boldly at Kaycee, her face determined despite the apprehension imprinted there. She grabbed Kaycee’s hand and pulled her down to eye level. “I’m Michele. What’s your name?”

      Startled, Kaycee replied, “Kaycee Calloway.”

      “Hurry!” Michele dragged