Cheryl St.John - The Rancher Inherits A Family

“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 with a tray of full coffee cups for the men.

“This is more people than we’ve had on this porch since we got here last fall,” she said with a smile.

“Reckon you should get busted up more often,” Dewey said to Seth, and Seth chuckled while holding his side.

It was the first time Marigold had seen a smile on his face, and she appreciated the relaxed expression. He and Dewey had obviously shared a long friendship.

“You rode the train all the way from Missouri?” Russ asked the boys.

Harper looked at Tate, and Tate responded. “Yes, sir. Part way we met Miss Brewster, an’ she helped look after us.”

“She has a cat,” Harper added.

“Where do you live?” Tate asked.

“I have a place in town,” Russ replied.

“A new house,” Evelyn said. “I helped him with rugs and furniture and the like. It will be a fine home for a family.”

Russ gave his mother a tolerant grin. “Someday.”

“Not long now.” She glanced at Marigold. “The young woman Russ has been corresponding with is coming to Cowboy Creek in only a few weeks.”

“Mother,” Russ said by way of shushing her.

“Where do you stay, Dewey?” Marigold asked, to change the subject.

“I have a place in the rear of the small barn.” He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb.

Evelyn tilted her head. “I’ve tried to get him into the house, but he won’t have it—not even over the winter.”

“Got ever’thing I need right out there, and I don’t bother nobody when I get up to look at the stars of a night,” he replied. “Ain’t slept in a house my whole life, an’ I don’t have a mind to now.”

It was clear they’d had the discussion more than once, and Evelyn wasn’t winning.

Little John woke up, and his disoriented gaze went from person to person, until he found his brothers. He sat up and scooted close to Marigold. She patted his leg. “This is Little John,” she told the newcomers.

The boy stuck his thumb into his mouth.

“Harper, will you please take him around back?”

“Yes’m.”

Tate followed his younger brothers.

“Three children are a big responsibility,” Russ commented.

“I know all about responsibility.” Seth’s voice held a depth of meaning.

Russ took a sip of his coffee.

“Miss Brewster is here to help us.” Evelyn gave Marigold a warm smile.

“I’ll see to those dishes now,” she said. She got up and made her way inside.

There was more to this family than anyone had shared, but it was none of her business. None of this was her business, when it came right down to it, but here she was, embroiled in the care and feeding of three children and a wounded rancher.

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