The rancher heard how insane the answer sounded.
He gave it anyway.
“All nine.”
Rain tapped against the courthouse roof.
The children remained completely still.
The county agent slowly closed the ledger.
“You're joking.”
“No.”
“You live alone.”
“Yes.”
“You have cattle.”
“Yes.”
“You've never raised a child.”
“Also yes.”
The county agent lowered his voice.
“That isn't the same thing as having room.”
The rancher looked at the twelve-year-old.
The boy was studying him suspiciously.
Good.
He should.
The rancher looked back at the county agent.
“I have six bedrooms upstairs that haven't been used in years.”
“There's the bunkroom beside the kitchen.”
“There's a cookstove.”
“Two milk cows.”
“Eggs.”
“Beef.”
“Enough flour to get through winter.”
The county agent blinked.
“That is not a parenting qualification.”
“No.”
“But it's more than separate wagons leaving town with nine scared children.”
The county agent stared.
The rancher knew the man was right to hesitate.
He himself would have hesitated if another bachelor cattleman suddenly announced an intention to bring nine orphaned children home.
The county agent asked:
“For how long?”
The rancher looked toward the children.
“Until you find something better.”
The twelve-year-old boy flinched.
The rancher saw it.
Wrong words.
He corrected himself.
“Or until we decide something else.”
The boy still looked wary.
The county agent rubbed his forehead.
“You understand this isn't taking in a stray calf?”
“I’m aware.”
“You need county approval.”
“Then approve it.”
“I can't simply—”
The courthouse door opened again.
An older clerk leaned outside.
“Agent?”
“What?”
“Judge wants the placement papers before he leaves.”
The county agent looked toward the children.
Then toward the rancher.
Then again at the ledger.
Something about the ledger seemed to catch his attention.
He frowned.
“What?”
The rancher asked.
The county agent did not respond.
He reopened the book.
Turned one page.
Then another.
The twelve-year-old boy immediately tensed.
“No.”
The county agent looked toward him.
“What?”
“Don't change anything else.”
“I’m not.”
The agent moved his finger down a page containing the smallest girl's information.