"Hello the house! It's Doc Wilkins, Allie." The buggy halted a few feet from the door, the heavily-laden wagon rolling to a stop just behind it.
Allie stood up quickly from the table where she'd been listening to Jay practice his reading. They'd long since eaten supper and had the dishes washed and dried. Allie hadn't realized how tense she'd been – how she'd been depending on Doc's return, and wondering what was keeping him and his new partner. Her shoulders ached with the stiff way she'd been sitting.
Jay slid from his chair and hurried to the door, but Allie put a staying hand on his arm. "Wait." She took her Winchester from where it leaned beside the door and cocked it.
"Who's with you?"
There was laughter in Doc's voice when he responded. "A fine group of young men from the New Mexico Territory. They're a might anxious to meet you and see what's for supper."
"New Mexico Terr—" Jay began. "They're here! Our boys!"
Allie's chest constricted as she looked into Jay's excited face. Having been through an early childhood such as the one he'd suffered, she'd wondered if he'd be able to share her with the new arrivals. It had been on her mind constantly since this idea had come to her. But the joyful expression, the unconditional welcome in his voice, put all her doubts to rest.
"Yes. Our boys." Still, she held the rifle; uneasy and unwilling to put it away. Were Arnie Smith's men out there in the darkness as well? Were they waiting, watching, and biding their time? A shiver ran down her spine as she remembered the murderous look in Arnie's eyes when she'd forced him to back down. He wasn't used to losing. He would be back. Please God, not yet. Not tonight.
"Go ahead, Jay. Open the door."
****
Jay slid the bar back, unbolting the sturdy wood door, and swung it open. Allie took the lantern from the table and held it up as she stepped onto the porch into the rich velvet darkness of the warm summer evening.
Doc alighted stiffly from the buggy, the other man following suit with a bit more ease. Allie could only imagine the slow pace they'd set to accommodate the massive lumbering wagon, filled with boys. Allie hurried to Doc, but he waved her off.
"Just stiff from the ride. Here, let me take that lantern so you can properly meet my new partner, Doctor Owen Morris. Owen, this is Mrs. Allison Taylor."
Allie shifted the rifle to her left hand, putting her right hand out to shake with Dr. Morris. His grip was firm, and he gave her a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Taylor. I've heard a lot about you and your, ah – project."
Allie returned the smile, liking him instantly. "It's nice to meet you too, doctor. As for my—" She turned from him to look at the group of boys who were standing beside the wagon, uncertainty written across their faces.
A wary light entered the two oldest boys' eyes. They both stepped toward her, putting themselves between her and the rest of the boys. Not understanding for a moment, she looked down, realizing she still held the rifle.
"Here, Allie." Doc hastily thrust the lantern toward his new partner. "Let me hold that for you."
She handed him the gun, looking toward the boys again. There are so many of them. I said I needed ten. It looked like they'd sent all eighteen. Every one of them with the light of hope in their eyes, though the older ones were more jaded than their younger counterparts. They were all afraid and trying their best to hide it. She realized she was afraid too. Was this idea of hers crazy, as Brandon had said?
Her doubt must have shown in her expression, because one of the older boys started toward her once more, hesitantly, putting his hand out in a beseeching gesture.
"Mrs. Taylor? Please – the little ones – they're tired. If you'd let us stay, just for a few days, why, we can show you what we can do. You won't be sorry, I promise." His quicksilver eyes caught hers, snaring them and holding. It was as close to begging as this young man would ever come, and in that instant, Allie was reminded of Brandon. Asking for the others; not for himself.
"I know there are a few more of us than what you'd asked for. But, ma'am – if you only knew—"
Allie reached out and clasped his hand in hers, her throat tightening. No matter what, she couldn't turn any of them back. The memories of her childhood years at the orphanage flooded over her. She shook her head wordlessly, dispelling them. She wouldn't let those bad thoughts ruin this moment. "I do. I do know. You are all welcome here. We'll make this work. Somehow, we'll make it work."
Brandon stood beside her in the next moment; strong, solid and steady. The boy released her hand, reaching for Brandon's.
"You boys are welcome here," Brandon said, relieving the somber tension with an easy tease. "I bet you're hungry enough to eat the kitchen table aren't you?"
The boys responded heartily.
Brandon smiled, looking around the young earnest faces. "C'mon. Let's go get these animals bedded down while All – uh, Mrs. Taylor fixes you some grub."
The boys fell in around him, leading the horses and both rigs to the barn.