her until she showed up on his doorstep one morning. She’d paid an agency to find him because she wanted to ask him to take care of her kids while she got settled in a place. She was on the run from an abusive husband and had the court papers to prove it.
Judd had refused Barbara’s request at first. Sheer disbelief had cleared his mind of anything else. Judd had never known his mother, and the uncle who had raised him had been more interested in having a hired hand that he didn’t need to pay than in parenting an orphan. The stray dog Judd had taken in earlier in the summer probably knew more about family life than Judd did. Judd wasn’t someone anyone had ever thought to leave kids with before this. And one look at the kids showed him that they were still in the napping years.
“You must have taken care of little ones before—” Barbara had said.
“Not unless they had four feet and a tail,” Judd told her firmly. He’d nursed calves and stray dogs and even a pony or two. But kids? Never.
No, Judd wasn’t the one his cousin needed. “You’ll need to find someone else. Believe me, it’s best.”
“But—” Barbara said and then swallowed.
Judd didn’t like the look of desperation he saw in her eyes.
“You’re our only family,” she finally finished.
Judd figured she probably had that about right. The Bowman family tree had always been more of a stump than anything. Ever since his uncle had died, Judd had thought he was the last of the line.
Still, he hesitated.
He thought of suggesting she turn to the state for help, but he knew what kind of trouble that could get her into. Once children were in the state system, it wasn’t all that easy to get them out again, and he could see by the way she kept looking at the kids that she loved them.
He might not know much about a mother’s love himself, but he could at least recognize it when he saw it.
“Maybe you could get a babysitter,” Judd finally offered. “Some nice grandmother or something.”
“You know someone like that?”
Judd had to admit he didn’t. He’d only moved to Dry Creek this past spring. He’d been working long and hard plowing and then seeding the alfalfa and wheat crops. He hadn’t taken time to get to know any of his neighbors yet.
He wished now that he had accepted one of the invitations to church he’d received since he’d been here. An older woman, Mrs. Hargrove, had even driven out to the ranch one day and invited him. She’d looked so friendly he’d almost promised to go, but he didn’t.
What would a man like him do in church anyway? He wouldn’t know when to kneel or when to sing or when to bow his head. No, church wasn’t for him.
Now he wished he had gone to church anyway, even if he’d made a fool of himself doing so. Mrs. Hargrove would probably help someone who went to her church. She wasn’t likely to help a stranger though. Who would be?
“Maybe we could put an ad in the paper.”
Barbara just looked at him. “We don’t have time for that.”
Judd had to admit she was right.
“Besides, this is something big—the kind of thing family members do to help each other,” Barbara said with such conviction that Judd believed her.
Not that he was an expert on what family members did to help each other. He couldn’t remember his uncle ever doing him a kindness, and the man was the only family Judd had ever known. His uncle had lost all contact with his cousin who was Barbara’s father.
He had to admit he had been excited at first when Barbara had come to his doorstep. It was nice to think he had family somewhere in this world.
He looked over at the kids and saw that they were sitting still as stones. Kids shouldn’t be so quiet.
“Are they trained?” he asked.
Barbara looked at him blankly for a moment. “You mean potty-trained?”
He nodded.
“Of course! Amanda here is five years old. And Bobby is six. They practically take care of themselves.”
Barbara didn’t pause before she continued. “And it might only be for a few days. Just enough time for me to drive down to Denver and check out that women’s shelter. I want to be sure they’ll take us before I drag the kids all that way.”
Barbara had arrived in an old car that had seen better days, but it had gotten her here, so Judd figured it would get her to Denver.
Still, if she had car trouble, he knew it would be hard to take care of the kids while she saw to getting the thing fixed. He supposed—maybe—
“I guess things will be slow for the next few days,” Judd said. He’d finished putting up the hay, and he had enough of the fence built so his thirty head of cattle could graze in the pasture by the creek. He meant to spend the next few days working on the inside of the house anyway before he turned back to building the rest of the fence. He supposed two trained kids wouldn’t be too much trouble.
Judd didn’t exactly say he’d keep the kids, but he guessed Barbara could tell he’d lowered his resistance, because she turned her attention to the kids, telling them they were going to stay with Cousin Judd and she’d be back in a few days. That was at the end of August. It was mid-November now.
Judd still hadn’t finished all of the fencing, and it was already starting to snow some. If he waited any longer, the ground would be frozen too far down to dig fence holes. That’s why he was at the hardware store today getting nails and talking to the old men by the stove.
Judd watched the old men as they smiled at the kids now.
Jacob nodded slowly as he looked at Amanda. “I saw your mama when she brought you and your brother here. She stopped to ask directions. You’re right, she was pretty, too.”
“My mama’s going to come back and get us real soon,” Bobby said.
Jacob nodded. “I expect she will.”
Judd gave him a curt nod of thanks. Barbara had asked for a few days, but Judd had figured he’d give her a week. By now, she was at least two months overdue to pick up the kids.
Judd hadn’t told the kids he’d contacted the court that had issued the restraining order their mother had flashed in front of him and asked them to help find her. Fortunately Barbara had listed him as her next of kin on some paper they had. The court clerk had called every women’s shelter between here and Denver and hadn’t located Judd’s cousin.
Judd had had to do some persuasive talking to the clerk, because he didn’t want to mention the kids. He figured his cousin needed a chance to come back for them on her own.
“She’s just hurt her hand so she can’t write and tell us when,” Bobby added confidently.
“I expect that’s right. Mail sometimes takes a while,” Jacob agreed, and then added, “but then it only makes the letter more special when you do get it.”
The older men shifted in their seats. Judd knew they were all aware of the troubles Amanda and Bobby were having. They might not know the details, but he had told his landlady, Linda, back in the beginning of September that he was watching the children for his cousin for a couple of weeks. By now, everyone in Dry Creek probably knew there was something wrong.
Even if he was a newcomer, he would be foolish to think they hadn’t asked each other why the kids were still here. Of course, the old men were polite and wouldn’t ask a direct question, at least not in front of the kids, so they probably didn’t know how bad it all was. They probably thought Barbara had called and made arrangements for the kids to stay longer.
“Speaking of letters, maybe we could write a letter to the new woman and tell her we all want a bakery more than a