Rodeo Sheriff

“Ellen Clarkson.”

Rachel nodded along with Honey. “Another good possibility,” she said.

Cole sat near the window again, exhausted but with two more interviews still to conduct.

After sitting with her fingers splayed like frog digits until the polish dried, Madeline climbed out of the cave and ran to the window.

In the sunlight, her nails sparkled. He’d be surprised if they were any longer than a quarter of an inch from cuticle to tip.

Her fragility, her utter dependence on him, sent him trembling with insecurity. He glanced at Evan. Cole saw vulnerability there, too. Their losses were huge.

Give him a bunch of bad guys to round up and throw into jail. Give him a fistfight to resolve with his own fists if necessary, or a gun to face down, but not, not this.

Madeline held her hands out to Cole. He lifted her onto his lap with the care deserving of a glass ornament and admired the paint job before placing a soft kiss on her forehead and holding her close, his cheek on her tiny head. An aching tenderness swept through him.

When Vy and Chelsea left to head home, Cole hugged them goodbye.

Ellen arrived moments later.

Again, Cole stood through another hug. He loved his townspeople. He loved these women, but their sympathy ripped off countless bandages, tearing open his wounds.

When the time was decent enough, he set her away from him. He asked Honey to sit in on the interview.

Small and elfin, Ellen had a perky way about her that might appeal to the children.

“Hi,” she said to the kids inside the cave. “I’m Ellen.”

Madeline turned her face into a pillow, refusing to look at the woman, let alone acknowledge her.

Evan drummed his feet. “Hi!”

Cole sat down with Ellen while the children resumed their quiet play in the cave. Too quiet.

Again, as with Tanya, he covered the basics, then moved on to, “How would you fill your time with the children?”

“Play! We’d do lots of fun stuff.”

Yes! Fun stuff sounded good.

“Like what?”

“We’d get outside every day, rain or shine. Children shouldn’t be indoors. Ever. Unless they’re sleeping. They should be involved in physical activity. Tires them out.”

“But you’d have quiet time indoors, too, right?”

“Don’t see why I should. Raised all of my kids to enjoy the outdoors. You know Karen’s being considered for the Olympic ski team? Downhill racing. Richard’s studying to be a phys-ed teacher. Football’s his specialty. Likes to coach. Thinks all kids need to be physically active. I taught him that.”

But Evan loved to read comic books and do puzzles. Madeline liked to play with dolls and jigsaw puzzles with huge cardboard or wooden pieces. Cole knew that much about them.

“But—”

Ellen talked over him. “Kids need to be outdoors, Cole. You have to understand how important that is.”

He foresaw arguments. Yes, children needed to be outdoors, especially with summer so close, but even when it rained? He wanted them out swimming and playing at the splash pad the town had set up in the park.

But all the time?

He thanked Ellen for coming out and told her he’d be in touch.

“Think of what I said, Cole. Outdoors. Important. Necessary.”

She bent to give Madeline a kiss on her cheek, despite her cool reception on her arrival.

Madeline turned her back to Ellen. In other circumstances, the action would have been almost comical.

“I can fix that with plenty of play,” Ellen said, ignoring the fact that the child had just lost her parents.

He nodded and closed the door behind her, trudging back upstairs to face Honey and Rachel.

They watched him silently.

He shook his head.

“I agree, Cole,” Honey said. “She’s not right. Not for Evan and Madeline. Not at this time, at any rate.”

Cole exhaled. He hadn’t wanted Honey to fight him on this.

He’d been dropped into an alternate-reality version of Goldilocks.

Tanya was too hard. Studies. For a three-and-a-half-year-old. Well, maybe not according to Honey, but in Cole’s mind? Yeah. Give the child another year.

Or maybe not. It was only reading. God, he didn’t know!

But compared to Ellen’s stringent approach, maybe Tanya was too soft.

Would Maria Tripoli be just right? He’d know in—he checked his watch—twenty minutes.

Half an hour later, he watched Maria leave and knew she was pretty darn close to what he needed. Not too hard, not too soft. But perfect?

He couldn’t decide.

Was there such a thing where Evan and Madeline were concerned?

Madeline had resisted overtures from even affectionate, nonthreatening Maria. If Maria couldn’t physically touch her, how could she care for her?

Honey and Rachel watched him.

What could he say?