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"And Becky," Florence went on. "She's filthy."
"She was playing outside with their new puppy," Emma put in. "Children are bound to get dirty when they play."
"Hmmph. She should be inside learning how to be a lady instead of rolling around in the mud." Florence took a sip of the lemonade.
Emma waited for her to criticize that, too, but she didn't.
"What about the gifts?" Winston asked, turning his attention to his wife. "I'll bring them in now." He got up and disappeared outside, returning a few seconds later with his arms filled with wrapped parcels.
"You shouldn't have--" Sam began as Winston began to dole out the presents. The children squealed with excitement as they ripped into the paper.
"And why not? Like it or not, these children are our family."
"Golly!" Joseph's eyes sparkled as he opened a small box and found inside an ornately carved pocket knife.
Nathan's fingers pawed at the wrapping paper, finally exposing a wooden train. "Joseph! Look at this! It's the one from the mercantile."
Florence pasted a condescending smile on her face. "We stopped at the store to buy a small gift for the children. There's really no selection to speak of, so we asked the proprietor if the children had expressed interest in any of the merchandise. She mentioned the knife and the train, and also she pointed out a doll Becky had admired."
Becky's squeal of delight confirmed they had made the right choice. "Mama! Mama!" she cried out, squeezing a doll to her chest.
Florence's smile disappeared, her eyes narrowing as she turned to Sam. "Mama? How can you make the children call her Mama when they know she isn't their mother?"
"Nobody forced them to call Emma that. They chose to."
"Oh, really." The tone of her voice showed she didn't believe that for one instant.
"I don't," Nathan chimed in.
The woman's lips curved in a smile at Nathan then, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Good boy."
"Now, children, run along and play while I speak to your father," Winston commanded in his booming voice.
The children looked at Sam for his approval. He nodded, and the three youngsters raced from the room, toys in hand, their chatter blending with the sounds of their footsteps on the porch and the door slamming behind them.
"Really, Sam. You're raising these children to be savages. Don't they know how to behave in a civilized home?"
Sam bristled. "They're far from savages, Florence. They're healthy and happy. That's what counts."
"They need proper guidance."
"They have proper guidance," Sam retorted.
Winston's gaze took in their surroundings. "I knew you wouldn't amount to much, but I had no idea you were so ... poor."
Sam had had enough. It was time to get down to the real reason they'd travelled all the way from Boston to Texas. "How long are you staying?"
Florence took out a lace-trimmed white handkerchief and dabbed at a dot of perspiration above her lip. Winston and his wife exchanged glances.
Suddenly, a sense of foreboding swept over Sam.
"It's rather uncertain. Hopefully not long," Winston replied.
"I'll be happy to return home as soon as possible."
"As you can see, we have no room to put you up here, but I can bring the children into town to visit with you."
"Oh, we aren't here to visit," Florence said, getting up.
