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"And their mother is dead?"
"That's right. Emma and I got married a couple months ago."
"Uh-huh," he said absently. "How do the young'uns feel about you bringin' a new mother home?"
Sam grinned. "We had a few rough patches, but they seem to be coming around."
The lawyer nodded. "Good. Good. The judge will want to see that they're happy."
He studied the documents for a few more seconds, then straightened his chair.
"I won't kid you folks," he said, folding the papers back up and sliding them back into the envelope. "Ambrose is good. One of the best in the state."
"Damn!" Sam was afraid of that.
"Now your deceased wife's folks have money, so I understand."
Sam nodded.
"But the fact of the matter is, those are your children, and unless they can prove you aren't a fit father--" He paused and gave Emma a confident smile, "and you, Emma, aren't a fit mama, then I don't see any way a judge is going to hand those children over to a pair of socialites from Boston."
"You're sure?"
"Now before you think this is going to be easy, let me point out one thing you probably haven't thought about."
Sam's brows puckered. "What is it?"
"It all depends on the judge. With luck, we'll get a judge who doesn't have political leanings, and won't care what kind of backing and influence your in-laws have. But if we get one who's looking to make a name for himself, or is thinking about running for office--"
He didn't need to finish his thought. Sam knew exactly what he was getting at. His future, his children's future, would depend on someone else's ambition.
"What can we do?" he asked finally.
"Not a darned thing. We'll have to wait and see which judge is assigned your case, and then we'll think up something."
"We haven't told the children," Emma put in. "We thought it best to wait until it was necessary. Please tell us the truth, Jonas. What are our chances?"
Jonas rose and came around to the front of his desk. He leaned against it and folded his arms across his middle. "I wish I could tell you," he said softly. "But I honestly don't know."
***
Joseph tossed his hat onto the hook on the wall behind the door. "Bullseye!" he shouted when the hat clung precariously to the hook, but didn't fall off.
"Bullseye!" Becky cried out with a grin, tearing off her cotton bonnet and tossing it at the hook. The bonnet landed on the floor. Her face crumpled as she snatched it up.
"Here, Becky," Joseph said, crouching down and wrapping his arms around the tops of Becky's thighs. Heaving himself up, he lifted Becky as high as he could, then held her as she slid the bonnet on the hook. "Bullseye!"
"Bullseye!" Becky repeated, her eyes twinkling with excitement.
Nathan, who had been watching silently a few feet away, called out, "Hey, Joseph, watch this." With one deft motion, Nathan threw his hat in a high arc. He grinned when it landed squarely on an empty hook.
Laughter and loud voices filled the kitchen as the boys raced to retrieve their hats and stand further away, taking turns tossing their hats at the hooks. Becky squealed with delight each time one of them hit their target.
"Hush, now, all of you," Emma scolded. "You're making enough noise to raise the dead. Go and wash up for supper."
Sam came in and crossed to where Emma was taking a tray of biscuits from the oven. "Leave them a little while, Emma," Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper. "There may not be many more days like this."
Emma looked up at him, seeing the strain etched on his face, the sadness in his dark eyes. He was right. If Catherine's parents won custody ...
