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"When your father is finished his business, we'll stop at my house before we go back to the ranch."
"What for?" Joseph asked.
"To pick up some of my things. Clothes, a few books--"
"Pretty ribbon?" Becky grinned up at her. "You gots pretty ribbon like mine?"
Emma laughed. "Yes, Becky. I have some pretty ribbon, too. And some other things that are important to me."
"How come you can bring stuff? Pa says we don't got no room. That's why we can't have a dog," Joseph put in.
Emma's brows lifted. "A dog?" she asked. Where was the connection?
Nathan took the peppermint stick out of his mouth. "Mr. Deschamp's dog had puppies last summer, but Pa wouldn't let us have one. Said we didn't have room."
"He just said that." Joseph leaned closer to Emma. "I heard him and Ma fightin' when we was supposed to be sleepin'. She didn't want a dog in the house. Said they was too messy."
"You'd like a dog?"
"Yeah. A dog'd be real nice," Joseph said. "But Pa said--"
"What for, Joseph?" Nathan butted in. "It'll just die like Mr. Holloway's dog did."
"I don't care," Joseph said. "I'd like a dog. And Sally Cooper's dog just had puppies, so we could get one of hers. So can we, huh?"
"Of course you can," Emma blurted out, and regretted it the very next instant.
Oh, no! I've done it again ... opened my mouth without thinking. If Sam refuses, the children will never trust me again. Oh, when will I learn?
"Uh ... but don't mention it to your father just yet, okay?" she added quickly. She had no idea how she would do it, but somehow she'd have to convince Sam that a puppy was an essential part of a child's life.
Both boys agreed at once. "Okay."
Just then, Sam appeared in the doorway of the telegraph office across the street. Their gazes met, and he began to cross, pausing for a few moments to let a wagon pass. Emma couldn't help studying
him as he strolled towards them, feeling that now familiar warmth course through her. It was strange how he had that effect on her each time she really stopped to look at him.
He seemed tired. He'd been working hard, and each morning, he was up and dressed long before she even woke.
"You finished?" Sam asked, climbing the step to the boardwalk.
Emma nodded. "We were waiting for you. Did you conclude your business?"
"Yep," Sam replied. "But there was no telegram from Catherine's parents. I'm surprised. I figured they'd be real annoyed and they'd have plenty to say. Maybe they didn't want the kids after all."
"Perhaps. Then it worked out perfectly for everyone."
Sam gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah, everything's perfect."
Something in his eyes told Emma he didn't really believe that.
***
The house seemed different when Emma walked through the door. The furniture was in the same place as before, the sun still slanted through the dining room window, and the scent of polish still hung in the air. Yet something had changed.
Her. She had changed.
In only a few days, nothing was the same. This was no longer home. Home was the tiny log home outside of town, with the worn furniture, the dust, and the children. And with Sam.
