Understand?” Jon said.
Both girls nodded.
“How’s Bo?” Jon asked, moving to the side of the crib against the wall.
“He’s better,” Rachel said. “The fever broke a few minutes ago.”
Kaycee looked into the crib. A beautiful, chubby little boy slept peacefully, his thumb stuck in his mouth. Kaycee gently laid her hand against his cool cheek. “He’s a sweetie.”
“He’s a handful,” Jon said.
Jon brought the empty tray as they returned to the kitchen. Kaycee took the liberty of opening the refrigerator to examine the almost bare shelves.
“Jon, I have to ask, as the children’s pretend mother, what do you intend to feed them?”
“Well, let’s see.” Jon came to stand directly behind her, his nearness making her appreciate the cold air. “Hmm, that could be a problem. I swear I’ve gotten behind the past couple of days. Yesterday would have been the day the housekeeper bought groceries, but she quit on Thursday.”
He reached around Kaycee and opened the meat drawer. Empty. A few eggs were stashed in the door compartment, along with a small chunk of cheese. Jon scratched his head. “Well, I have stew frozen that I can heat for tonight. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for tomorrow, until I can get to the store. And we can get eggs from the henhouse in the morning.”
“We finished the loaf of bread. And no milk, either.”
Jon pulled a face. “Guess we’ll have eggs and stew for breakfast, too. I’ll pick up groceries while they’re in Sunday school.”
“What about the cook in the bunkhouse? Maybe you could borrow some bread.”
Jon chuckled. “Obviously you’ve watched too many reruns of Bonanza. Not many ranches have bunkhouses and cooks these days. Two of my hands are married and live in houses on the ranch. The three single men are bunked in another house closer to the grazing land. My foreman, Clint, lives a few miles from here. Don’t worry, we’ll manage on stew for breakfast. Some people have worse.”
“How about this. I’ll treat y’ all to breakfast in the morning—Southern style at my place.”
“You’re kidding. All of us? You don’t know what you’re getting into.”
“I’ll take my chances. I have plenty of room and I scramble eggs like a pro. Then you can go on with your plans afterward.”
“Kaycee, you don’t have to—”
“No, but I want to. Look, you need help right now. And I’m offering.”
From the surprised look on Jon’s face, Kaycee wondered if she had insulted him. Men could be like that. Then he smiled and nodded.
“Okay, then. We’ll be there. What time?”
“Around eight.”
On the way back to town, Kaycee had time to think about Jon’s predicament. She could see the grandparents’ position in a way. Seven kids, no mother, a harried father with a ranch to run and now nobody to look after the children. Of course they would worry. It should be none of her concern, Kaycee knew, but she couldn’t get the family out of her mind…. She couldn’t shut out Jon Rider’s rugged face and deep, smooth voice, either, as much as she tried.
And that surprised her. Brett’s unfaithfulness had left her with a bitterness and distrust toward men. What a rude awakening she’d had on the day of their wedding. Five years loving Brett—and her heart had been obliterated in two seconds, two sentences: “I don’t love you anymore. I’m going to marry Marissa.”
Since then, although she worked almost exclusively with men, she maintained a wide emotional distance from them, especially the wild cowboys she’d come across since she’d been out west. But something about Jon touched her…the concern he showed for the newborn calf he resuscitated…the love and pride in his eyes when he looked at his children.
In spite of that—or maybe because of it—Kaycee knew she should stay away from him. Jon Rider was trouble on the hoof.
AFTER KAYCEE LEFT, Jon called all the children except the napping Bo to the long table in the dining room where they once held family meetings. This would be their first one since Alison died. Staring for a long minute at the chair at the end of the table where she used to sit, he wished he could conjure her spirit to help him out.
“Okay, kids, I’m going to lay it on the line. We’ve got a problem and you need to know about it.”
“That social worker?” Michele said.
“Yes. Do all of you know what a social worker is?”
The older girls nodded.
Tyler shook his head.
“Mean,” Zach offered.
“A social worker is somebody who makes sure children are safe from harm.”
“Then why was she here? We’re safe. You wouldn’t let anybody hurt us,” Sam said. “Did you tell her that?”
“I tried. But, honey, the problem is that somebody else has told her I might hurt you.” He saw their surprise register. “I’m sure she doesn’t believe I would hit you, not that kind of hurt. But by not having a housekeeper to watch over you all the time, she thinks I might not be able to take care of you.”
“But Rachel takes care of us when you can’t,” Tyler said.
“I know, and she does a wonderful job, but she’s not a grown-up and the social worker thinks we need a grown-up.”
“I don’t mind, Daddy,” Rachel said.
“I know you don’t. But you have school and you need time to do things you like to do, not just do chores and take care of your brothers and sisters every day.”
“It doesn’t have to be Rachel all the time,” Sam said. “I know perfectly well how to babysit.”
“Fact is, in a couple of years, when Bo and the twins are older, we’ll be able to make do without a housekeeper. But right now, we need an adult here when the boys are home. I’ll find another housekeeper soon.”
Zach pouted. “I like Rachel better than any old housekeeper.”
“And…” Jon’s tone silenced Zach, but the boy crossed his arms across his chest in protest “…this time we’re going to keep her. There’ll be no pranks played and no backtalk. Absolutely no locking her in the basement.” Jon leveled a severe look at the twins. “Understand?”
The twins squirmed and exchanged worried looks. Everybody nodded.
“Then will everything be okay? When we get a new housekeeper?” Wendy whispered, on the verge of tears.
“Don’t cry, sweetie,” Jon said, holding out his hand. Wendy ran into his arms. He pulled her into his lap then addressed the others watching him intently. “Everything will work out. But this lady, Mrs. Hawthorn, may show up at school wanting to talk to you. It’s all right if you talk to her. If she asks questions, tell her the truth.”
“I don’t want to talk to her,” Zach said.
“Me, neither,” echoed Tyler.
“Listen, guys,” Jon said. “If you don’t talk to her, she might think something really is wrong and we don’t want that. Don’t let her upset you. I’m not going to allow anybody to separate us.”
“But, Daddy,” Michele ventured, “I heard her tell you she can take us away from you and make us live somewhere else if we don’t have a mother. Is that true?”
Jon tried never to deceive his children. In fact, being caught up in the charade about marrying Kaycee pricked at him. He should have shot that down when Michele started it—but the look on