Once Upon A Thanksgiving. Linda Ford

woman was Indian, the man appeared to be a white miner. I gave them a decent burial and marked the place with fragments of their wagon. There were no papers, no identification. Everything had been picked through and scattered.”

      “Man look for Papa’s money. Find it. Steal it.” As Joey listed the deeds he kept his attention on his bowl of soup, though he no longer lifted the spoon to his mouth.

      Buck squeezed the back of Joey’s neck and the boy relaxed visibly. “I knew from the things left that a child had been with them. I hated the thought the murderers had taken him. It was late in the day so I made camp, intending to resume my journey in the morning. During the night I heard something or someone, but the intruder was gone as fast as he came.”

      “I was hungry,” Joey explained.

      Buck chuckled. “When I got up I knew no critter had been in my camp. Only things missing were biscuits and beans. So I hunkered down over my breakfast and studied the tracks. Knew it was a child. Guessed it was the one who’d been on the wagon.”

      “I hide from bad man. Hide from Buck, too. I not know he not be a bad man.”

      “Took me a few days to prove it. Then I headed to the nearest town. No one knew the dead family. No one knew Joey. He didn’t know of any family but his ma and pa. The sheriff made inquiries. But nothing. I asked the preacher what I should do and he said, why not adopt him? So I did.”

      The way he grinned gave Kathleen an emptiness, as if her life lacked something. She tried valiantly to dismiss the feeling. After all, what could her life be lacking? Her parents provided her with everything she needed. She had been at finishing school getting a privileged education until her mother’s illness required she return home to help care for her. As soon as her mother felt better, she’d return to the Eastern college. She hadn’t been there long enough to make friends, but when she got back she would. God willing, she’d find a friend who would remain loyal throughout their years at college.

      Above and beyond that, she had a living relationship with God. Had never doubted His love and care. Still, had she ever done anything half as noble as Buck had? Had she ever loved anyone like Buck loved Joey? Had she ever been loved like that? Yes, her parents loved her, she had no doubt, but it seemed their love carried heavy expectations.

      Buck watched her. His eyes revealed understanding. Warmth.

      As if he read her thoughts.

      She ducked her head, amazed at how foolish she proved to be. Until this moment she considered herself a commonsense person who didn’t think or act rashly.

      “Buck my papa.” Joey sounded so proud, Kathleen’s throat tightened.

      She dare not look at Buck again, afraid of the way her emotions clogged her heart. Instead, she glanced at Rosie. When she saw the same glisten of tears in her eyes she felt in her own, she sniffed.

      “Yes, I am. And you’re my son. Forever and always.”

      Kathleen couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think beyond the stuffiness in her nose. Never before had she known such open affection between a man and his son … his adopted son, though she guessed he wouldn’t acknowledge any distinction. He seemed such a decent man.

      Rosie blew her nose on a hankie. “You’re a good man, Buck, but it doesn’t change anything.”

      Kathleen couldn’t imagine why Rosie was so fearful.

      “I’m well aware of it. I’m only here until Joey is better.”

      At that moment, Joey’s head nodded. Buck caught him before he planted his face in the bowl of soup. He lifted the boy, tossed his coat on the floor in the corner and was about to put Joey there.

      Kathleen gave Rosie a hard look. “Are you going to let him sleep on the floor? The boy is sick. Besides—” she lowered her voice “—don’t you think he’s been through enough?”

      Rosie lifted her hands in a sign of defeat. “I give up. Buck, use the room past the stove. It’s our bedroom, but I can’t bring myself to sleep there with Bill gone.”

      Buck jerked to full attention. “He’s gone? How long ago?” He shifted his gaze to the children who played in the doorway.

      “He left a few weeks ago to work in a logging camp. We came here expecting a job but it fell through. We can’t live in the camp so Bill left us here.” She glanced about. “This is a nice, solid little house.”

      Buck let out a noisy gust. “I thought you meant he was gone … gone for good, as in … well, you know.”

      Rosie grinned widely. “If you could see the look on your face …” She tipped her head back and looked pleased with herself. “I have to admit I enjoyed that. Sort of evens us up for you showing up at my door.”

      Kathleen couldn’t read the look the two exchanged. Sharing a secret. She felt she intruded into their lives without invitation. She envied them their obvious affection. She wondered if they realized how blessed they were to have each other and their children.

      “Consider us even, then. I’m happy to let you do so.” Buck shouldered his way into the room. A cold draft blasted through the kitchen.

      Junior waited until Buck was out of sight. “Mama, do we have to stay here forever?”

      Rosie crossed the room and took Lilly. “Come on over. It will soon be time for supper.”

      Kathleen glanced out the window. Long shadows slanted across the skiff of snow. She jumped to her feet. “I’ve stayed far too long. Mother will be worrying.” Her coat hung near the stove and she shrugged into it, pulled on her fur hat and mittens.

      Buck stood in the bedroom doorway, watching.

      She felt his measured consideration. Determined to ignore him, she turned to Rosie instead. “I could come back tomorrow.” Perhaps Rosie wouldn’t welcome her company as eagerly now that her brother was there. “If you want.”

      Rosie’s lips flattened. “Nobody’s forcing you to come.”

      Kathleen refused to be offended by the woman’s remarks. In the few weeks she’d been visiting, she’d learned Rosie didn’t expect any offers of friendship. But Kathleen didn’t intend to be a fair-weather friend. She patted Rosie’s shoulder. “I only asked because I thought you might enjoy spending time alone with your brother.” For some insane reason her cheeks warmed. She could well imagine such pleasure.

      Rosie nodded. “I’m sorry for being prickly. It’s just …” She darted a look toward Buck. The pair sent wordless messages to each other, then Rosie shrugged. “I’d be pleased if you’d come again.”

      Kathleen understood Rosie’s caution. She, too, had learned to wonder if a friend would visit again. “I’ll be back. After all, we have that quilt to work on.” She’d noticed a shortage of warm bedding and offered to help Rosie sew a quilt. Rosie had scraps of material and Kathleen intended to supply a woolen batt.

      Only when she reached the outer door did she allow herself to look directly at Buck. “It was nice meeting you, Mr.—” She realized he’d never given his surname.

      He grinned. “Buck is name enough for me.”

      “Nice meeting you, Buck.” She knew she blushed to speak so familiarly. Her parents would be shocked.

      “My pleasure, Miss Sanderson.”

      The way he said it made her cheeks grow even warmer.

      She scurried out and rushed toward home. When had she ever had such a reaction to any man? Never. But then she’d never before met such a cowboy, never seen such a kind smile. Her feet slowed. What was she thinking?

      Nothing. Nothing at all, except it would be nice for Rosie to have a man around to take care of filling the wood box and fetching water.

      It would be equally as nice for Buck to have a place to care