The older girl hurried down, lifted the toddler, and pressed her against her own wet dress.
The little girl rested her head against the older girl's shoulder.
Still no tears.
The rancher stood.
“You waiting for someone?”
The twelve-year-old nodded.
“County agent.”
“Why?”
The boy looked toward the courthouse door.
For the first time, his courage slipped.
“They're deciding where to send us.”
The rancher frowned.
“Send you where?”
No answer.
The older girl looked down.
One twin gripped the other twin’s hand.
The rancher asked:
“Where are your parents?”
The twelve-year-old boy swallowed.
“Don't have any.”
“All nine of you?”
The boy's eyes hardened again.
“We had the widow.”
The rancher knew immediately who he meant.
An older widow lived near the abandoned mill beyond the north edge of town.
Everybody called her eccentric because she filled a small house with children who arrived from places no one discussed politely.
Some had lost parents.
Some had parents who disappeared.
Some had families too poor to feed another mouth.
One child had supposedly been left at a church door.
The widow never explained.
She simply made room.
The rancher had delivered beef to her twice during difficult winters.
She had tried to pay him.
He refused.
She responded by leaving three jars of preserves and an apple pie inside his wagon when he was not looking.
He had not seen her in more than a year.
The rancher asked quietly:
“She die?”
The twelve-year-old nodded.
“Tuesday.”
The rancher removed his hat.
Rain immediately soaked his dark hair.
“How?”
“Got sick.”
The boy's voice cracked.
He forced it steady.
“She told us she'd get better.”
The rancher looked toward the other children.
Nobody cried.
That bothered him more than crying would have.
The courthouse door opened.
A gray-bearded county agent stepped outside carrying a leather-bound ledger beneath his coat.
The man looked exhausted.
He noticed the rancher.
“Didn't expect to see you standing there.”
“Didn't expect to be.”
The county agent looked toward the children.
Then his expression became heavier.
“We've got arrangements.”