The Gift Of Family. Linda Ford

build a shelter of branches. They’d survive.

      Except the children deserved more than he could offer them in an outdoor camp. They at least needed food and more warmth than a fire struggling in the wind would provide. But, he reminded himself, this pair must learn to survive the opinion of white folks, the uncertain welcome of the natives. They would need to be tough.

      The woman remained unaware of Colt’s troubled thoughts and tense waiting.

      “My name is Becca.” She stroked Marie’s head. “What’s yours?”

      Marie stared into the blue eyes, likely as mesmerized as Colt by the sweet voice and warm smile. “Marie,” she answered.

      “Marie. What a nice name. How old are you?”

      “Four.” Marie held up the correct number of fingers.

      “A big girl now. With a little brother. What’s his name?”

      “Little Joe. He’s two.” Marie held up two fingers.

      Little Joe, disturbed by his sister’s movement, jerked awake. He sat up, looked about, wrinkled his face—

      Colt balanced Marie on one knee as he pulled Little Joe to his shoulder, hoping to prevent what he knew would follow. But Little Joe turned as wriggly and uncooperative as a newborn calf and as loud as a pen of angry mountain cats. Colt’s ears rang from the boy’s cries. He had his hands full trying to make sure Little Joe didn’t launch himself headfirst to the floor.

      Miss Becca stood to her full height and stared at the boy, as amazed by the noise one small boy could make as Colt had been the first time he’d heard the racket.

      Little Joe squirmed away and stood on the floor, his mouth open wide as he bellowed his displeasure.

      “Shush.” Colt patted the boy’s back and tried to calm him. Being mixed race was already enough to see them turned out into the storm. This noise would make anyone with ears reconsider an offer of shelter.

      “Little Joe, it’s okay. Don’t cry.” But the kid merely sucked in air and released it in a louder scream.

      “Ouch.” Colt covered his ears. “That hurts.”

      Macpherson shuddered and backed away while his daughter stared.

      Marie giggled. “Mama said he was loud enough to call down rain from the sky.”

      Colt could barely make out her words in the din.

      “I’d have to agree,” Becca said. “But we don’t need rain, do we, Little Joe?”

      Little Joe paid her no mind. The volume didn’t diminish at all.

      Marie went to her brother and patted his back. She murmured Indian words Colt recognized from his past as speech meant to comfort. They were always spoken for another, but he remembered a time he’d allowed himself to pretend they were for him. He shook his head, driving away the useless memory.

      Little Joe stopped screaming and clutched Marie’s hand.

      Becca’s sigh filled the air. “That’s better. Thanks for calming him.”

      “He’s my brother.” Marie gave Colt, then Becca, a dark-eyed look of fierceness as she pulled Little Joe closer to her side.

      Becca smiled, which filled her eyes with beams of sunshine. “He’s a fortunate boy.” She turned her blue gaze to Colt. “I don’t know your name.”

      He gave it. Would she ask him to leave now?

      But she only smiled and said, “Nice to meet you.”

      Colt kept his face expressionless and slid a look at Macpherson. Would he ask Colt to leave? The man’s face showed a thousand things Colt could only guess at, but his gut informed him the man did not feel any welcome toward his guests.

      “We’ll be on our way as soon as the children are warm enough. I’ll get more supplies before we leave.” He hoped the promise of a sale would allow them to stay for a brief period. He’d never been one to pray. Didn’t seem to be any point in praying to a white man’s God. Truth was, he wasn’t sure whose God he should pray to, but at the moment, he petitioned the only God he’d heard much about...the white man’s.

      Please stop the storm and guide me to a shelter for these kids.

      “Nonsense,” Becca said. “No one will be going out in this weather. There’s plenty of room here, isn’t that right, Pa?”

      “I certainly wouldn’t expect man nor beast to venture out in this storm.” The words were spoken kindly enough, but Colt didn’t miss the slight hesitation before they came, any more than he missed the protective look Macpherson fixed on his daughter.

      Colt could assure the man he would not harm her in any way. He would only speak to her when necessary, and he’d stay a goodly distance away. He knew better than to ever look at a white woman in a way to invite the ire of a white man.

      Marie pulled Colt’s head down to whisper in his ear. “She’s nice.”

      Colt nodded, but kept his attention on the child. Nice white women did not associate with half-breeds.

      * * *

      Becca watched the black-haired man with his head bent over Marie, listening to her murmured comment. She couldn’t hear what the child said, but she ached for the gentle way he held her. Almost as much as she ached for the plight of the children. Orphaned, half-breed children didn’t face a happy future, from what she’d observed. If it was in her power, she would do something, but what could she do? She’d promised Ma on her deathbed that when she turned eighteen, she would return east to family back there. She was set to keep that promise. Her trunk stood packed and ready near the door, waiting for the stage-coach due tomorrow. The first leg of the journey would take her to Fort Macleod. From there she would go south to Fort Benton. Eventually a train would carry her to her destination, though it pained her to think of leaving Pa alone.

      Colt lifted his head, as if aware she watched him. His gaze collided with hers. A jolt raced through her veins at the intensity in his black, almost bottomless eyes. Except they weren’t. Looking into them, she felt her heart hit something solid. Something deep inside, almost hidden. She knew somehow, that he was a person one could trust through thick and thin. A heart could find perfect rest in his care.

      She shifted her attention to a display of hardware behind his shoulder and wondered when she had grown so silly.

      Marie turned to Colt. They studied each other, then she grabbed his hands, opened his arms and indicated he should lift her and Little Joe to his lap. He arranged one on each knee and pulled a blanket around them. Marie glanced up at Colt and smiled, as if being in his arms made her feel safe.

      Becca’s eyes stung at how tender he was with the children.

      Colt looked up and caught her watching. Again, she felt that unexpected jolt of surprise, and something more that she couldn’t name. Meeting his gaze, however, made her aware of an unfolding inside her. How unusual for her to take so much note of a customer. Or even a visitor.

      She must stop thinking about Colt and focus her attention on these orphaned children. Because of her promise to her mother, she could not offer them all the things she longed to—shelter, acceptance and love—but while the storm raged outside, she could give them a taste of what her heart longed to provide.

      Pa cleared his throat. She realized she’d been staring at the trio far too long, and turned toward her father. He went to the window to look out.

      “Good thing you got here when you did. The wind has picked up. Anyone out there now would be in danger of freezing.”

      “We was pretty cold,” Marie said.

      Colt grunted. “You mean to say you weren’t cozy and warm under my coat?”

      Marie quickly corrected herself. “Most of the time.”

      “It’s