The Rancher Inherits A Family. Cheryl St.John
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turned in the direction Seth studied. Dust rose in the air as a rider approached. He reached the dooryard and slid from his sleek black horse. Dressed in a black waistcoat, black trousers and shiny boots, he approached the porch and removed his hat. He was as tall as Seth, but leaner. A neatly trimmed goatee made his face appear all the more angular.
The stranger turned his attention on Seth. “I just returned from Lawrence this morning and heard you got banged up yesterday.”
“I didn’t know you were gone.”
“Last-minute trip.” The man turned to Marigold. “You must be Miss Brewster, our new schoolteacher. Russell Halloway, miss.”
“A pleasure,” she said.
His gaze slid to the sleeping boy. “And this is one of Tessa’s children?”
“That’s Little John,” Seth answered. “Did you look over the letter?”
“I did. She had it witnessed, and I sent a telegram to the witness who confirmed being present and that Tessa was of sound mind when she wrote it. If someone contested your custody of the children, the letter would be enough to sway a judge that you should have them. It’s not a legal document, however, so no court could force you to take the boys if you were set against it.”
“What other options would there be?” Marigold asked with concern.
“The records of disposition of desperate orphans have increased by thousands in the past five years,” Russ explained. “There are orphan asylums across the country that take children from infancy to age thirteen.”
“Desperate orphans,” she repeated, glancing from his brother to Seth. A slice of panic rose in her chest. “An asylum sounds dreadful.”
“I’m not refusing to take them,” Seth assured them both. “Tessa wanted them in my care, so that’s where they’ll stay. I just want to make sure everything is legal. There can’t be any question about the authenticity of Tessa’s will.”
She took a deep breath and thanked the Lord for Seth’s magnanimous compassion.
The brothers looked at each other, and Marigold sensed the tension barely below the surface.
“I wouldn’t want ’em to settle in and then find there’s a problem,” Seth insisted.
“You can petition a judge and sign papers to adopt them if it’s what you want,” Russ told him. “Just remember if they carry your name that upon your death they will legally inherit your land and holdings—shared with any other children you might have, so you’ll need to have a will in order.”
The thought of leaving these children a share of his land didn’t seem to bother Seth, because he replied immediately. “Get those papers ready to sign then.”
Russell rested his hat on a small table. “It will take me a few days to put the papers in order, so you’ll have time to think about it.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Russ!” Evelyn pushed open the screen door and hurried to give her son an energetic hug. “I was expecting to see you yesterday.”
“Just returned this morning,” he explained.
“Miss Brewster, you’ve met my second-born son? He’s a lawyer and has his very own practice in town—the one you saw on Eden Street. Daniel Gardner and Will Canfield contacted him and suggested he come to Kansas. Russ is the reason we’re here, too. He told Seth about this ranch when it came available.”
Russ appeared uncomfortable with her lengthy introduction. “We’ve met, Mother.”
Undeterred, Evelyn continued. “Russ is expecting a lovely young woman to arrive by train very soon. We’re all looking forward to her arrival.” She turned to her middle son. “Would you like some dinner? It’s still hot.”
“I am hungry,” he said.
“I’ll get it.” Marigold stood quickly. “You sit and visit with your sons, Mrs. Halloway.”
Marigold entered the house and busied herself making another tray, giving the Halloways time to talk. When she carried out the tray minutes later, Evelyn had moved the table near Russ’s chair.
“Thank you, Miss Brewster.” Russ picked up his napkin and settled it on his lap.
Evelyn gave her son an affectionate look. “After my husband died, we got into hard times back in Missouri. Russ was at university out East. He had to take a job and earn scholarships to finish his law degree. It took him a few years, but even with him going off to fight, he did it.”
Marigold found a narrow space on the opposite side of the sleeping Little John and squeezed herself in. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”
“After the war, he earned himself a reputation fighting for veterans’ rights,” she went on, with pride in her voice. “That’s how he came in contact with Daniel and Will.”
Russ’s harsh features showed his displeasure. Marigold imagined he was a force to be reckoned with in a judge’s chambers. “I’m sure Miss Brewster doesn’t want to hear about me.”
“I’m captivated,” Marigold said with a smile.
“I have another son, too,” Evelyn added, lifting her chin. “Adam is my youngest. After the army, he joined the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.”
“And that’s the last we’ve heard of him,” Seth commented.
“He’s written a few letters,” Evelyn said quickly. “I’m sure he’s very busy bringing criminals to justice.”
Marigold had noted the vague information in Seth and his mother’s stories about his father’s death. Seth had mentioned he was killed. Marigold barely knew them. She didn’t want to ask personal questions that would surely bring up a painful subject. After all, she had her own hurts she didn’t want to talk about.
As they talked, an older man approached on foot from the direction of the barns. He was tall and slender, wearing bibbed overalls and a shirt with the sleeves rolled back. As he approached the house, he removed his hat and held it against his chest.
“Hello, Mr. Dewey,” Evelyn called out. “Our morning was so busy, I didn’t see you. Are you ready for some dinner?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I fixed myself something. Didn’t wanna be no bother. I just wanted to see how Seth was doin’.”
“Well, come join us and meet Miss Brewster, the new schoolteacher we’ve been hearing about.”
“How do, miss,” the fellow said and stopped at the foot of the stairs.
“Come up here and sit with us. I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Evelyn said. “Marigold, this is Mr. Dewey. He’s Seth’s friend and works here.” Evelyn hurried into the house.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dewey.”
“Just plain Dewey, miss.”
“Dewey and I drove cattle from Texas to Colorado and have more than a few scars to show for it,” Seth said.
Dewey brought a chair from the far end of the porch and settled onto it. He was a lanky fellow, his body all sharp angles. He had a full head of silver-gray hair, but his big mustache was still shot with patches of black. “And a whole passel o’ stories.”
Tate and Harper came around the side of the house and set dusty lanterns inside the porch rail.
“How many did you find?” Seth asked.
“Four, sir,” Tate replied.
“Fine work. Come close.”
The boys glanced at the two strangers and moved beside Seth.
Seth introduced them to his brother and the ranch hand, and Evelyn returned