A Child's Gift. Linda Warren

up crying at the top of his lungs. Mickey barked just as loud. Rico quickly gathered the howling boy into his arms and said, “Hey, hey, buddy. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

      Dusty buried his face into Rico’s chest. “I want my grandma. I want my grandma.”

      “You have to tell him,” Wyatt whispered, standing in the doorway.

      “I know.”

      “I can do it, if you’d rather.”

      “No, I just need a few minutes.”

      “I’m going to talk to CPS.”

      He held Dusty a little tighter and the boy drifted off to sleep again. Rico couldn’t do this alone. He needed help. There was only one person he wanted with him. He fished his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Anamarie:

      I need help telling Dusty his grandmother has died. Do you have time?

      In a second he got a text back: I’ll be right there.

      The weight on his shoulders lifted a little.

      Dusty stirred and looked up at Rico. “What’s your name?” he asked.

      “My real name is Jericho, but everyone calls me Rico.”

      Dustin touched the scar on Rico’s face. “How did you get that?”

      “In a fight.”

      “Did you win?”

      “Yeah.” Sort of.

      “Can you take me home now?”

      “We need to talk first, buddy.”

      “Why?”

      Rico heard the front door open and soon Anamarie was in the cell. Her face was slightly flushed, as if she’d run there.

      She sat beside them. “Hi, Dusty. Look what I brought you.” She handed him a sippy cup of milk.

      “Thank you. I have to pay you for it.”

      “No, no, you don’t. You’ve already paid me. Remember?”

      Dusty sipped at the milk. “’Kay,” he mumbled.

      Rico looked at Anamarie for guidance. He didn’t know how to start the conversation, but he knew he had to. Dusty took it out of his hands.

      “I want my grandma.”

      Rico’s arms wrapped around the boy and he struggled for words. The right words. “The sheriff checked on your grandmother and...she went home to Jesus.”

      Dusty sat up, his dark eyes wide. “Without me?” he cried.

      Clearly the boy misunderstood and Rico was going to have to say the words out loud. “Buddy, can you be brave for me?”

      Dusty nodded, taking another sip of milk, his eyes on Rico.

      He took a deep breath. “Your grandmother...died. That’s why you couldn’t wake her. She went to heaven to be with Jesus. Do you understand?”

      “No!” Dusty shouted and threw the milk on the floor. “No!” Pitiful sounds erupted from his throat and then he laid his head on Rico’s chest and sobbed until Rico thought his heart would break. At that moment he realized he had never had the chance to cry for his own mother when she had died. But he’d cried for his great-grandmother like Dusty was crying now. That pain he would never forget.

      Anamarie moved closer and stroked the boy’s hair. “It’s okay, sweetie. Cry all you want. Rico and I are here for you.”

      “Rico,” Wyatt called from his office. “Can we talk a minute?”

      “Sure.” With his thumb, he wiped a tear from Dusty’s cheek. “Stay with Anamarie. I’ll be right back.” He placed the boy in Anamarie’s lap and she cuddled him close. Dusty seemed content.

      “I just got off the phone with the CPS worker for this area. At the moment she doesn’t have a foster home for the boy, but she said she would have one shortly just as soon as she could talk someone into it. All the foster homes are full.”

      “And...” He was hoping the next part would be what he wanted to hear.

      “I told her there was someone here who would take the boy and give him a temporary home. She asked a lot of questions about you and I told her all she wanted to know.”

      “And...”

      “She agreed to let you keep him temporarily, but she will be here at ten o’clock in the morning to visit with you and the boy at your home.”

      “No problem.” The boulder on his chest eased. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

      “You might want to call Miss Kate. The caseworker will be calling her for a character reference.”

      “I don’t need to call Miss Kate. I trust her to tell the truth and I have nothing to hide.”

      Wyatt seemed unsure as he shuffled papers on his desk. “I didn’t mention anything about your prison record. I’ll catch flak for that, but I’m willing to do it so the boy won’t have to go into a foster home until they find a relative. And I think you’re right. He needs to be with someone who cares about him.” The sheriff looked at him. “And I believe you do.”

      “Yes, and I’ll do anything to keep a kid out of foster care.”

      The sheriff eased back in his chair. “Sometimes the only place a kid has to go is foster homes, and some are really good. I sense you’ve had a bad experience with them. Would you like to talk about it?”

      “No, but thanks for the offer.” Rico glanced toward the cell. “Can I take him home now?”

      “Sure. Let’s see how Dustin feels about it.”

      Before they could reach the cell, Stuart, the chief deputy, came through the front door. He had a duffel bag in his hand.

      Stuart was born and raised in Horseshoe and was a dedicated police officer. “I brought some of the boy’s things,” he said.

      “Good,” the sheriff replied. “Just leave it at my desk.” Then he whispered to Rico, “Don’t get too attached. They will find a home for him.”

      Rico tried to remember that as Dusty practically leapt into his arms. “Can we go to my house now?”

      Rico sat with Dusty on his lap and was glad Anamarie was there to give him support. “You can’t stay there by yourself, buddy.”

      The boy went limp against him. “Oh.”

      “Would you like to come home with me?”

      Dusty raised up, his eyes bright. “My mommy’s gonna come get me.”

      Rico was thrown for a moment. “What?”

      “My grandma said she was sick and when she got better she would come and get me. She’s probably better now.”

      Rico glanced at Wyatt, but he didn’t offer any advice. “Buddy, we’ll check on your mommy, but in the meantime you have to stay somewhere.”

      The boy’s dark eyes grew thoughtful. “’Kay. I stay with you. Where do you live?”

      “On a ranch.”

      “Can Mickey come, too?”

      “You bet.”

      The little boy’s eyes brightened. “You got a horse?”

      “Sure do.”

      “Can I ride it?”

      “You bet.”

      “Can Ann-a-ma... I can’t say her name.”

      Anamarie touched his cheek. “You can call me Ana.”

      “Can