Elin concentrated on preparing the meal. She peeled and chopped potatoes and carrots into the simmering pot of meat. Biscuits were easy and she soon had a tray of them in the oven. She couldn’t help but hear the way Sam’s stomach rumbled. Making a good, hearty meal would go a long ways toward convincing him to let her stay.

Poor Joey. It was bad enough to feel lost and alone in a big family. How much worse with no one around that he knew and trusted. She silently renewed her promise to him. She would make sure he was safe. She would not leave him here without someone to care for him. Nor would she be shuffled off to town. What future was there for her in a place where she knew no one and could offer nothing?

Gus pointed out the shelf holding the dishes and Elin set them out. The vegetables were cooked, the biscuits brown. “Supper is served.”

She waited until Gus sat at one end of the table. Sam sat at the other end. She and Joey sat side by side between them. She waited. At home, they always said a prayer before they ate, thanking a generous God for the provision. Did Sam and Gus do the same?

Gus cleared his throat. “Sam, it’s your turn to say grace.”

Sam nodded, glancing at Elin. “We pray before our meals.”

“Ja, and so do we.”

Sam turned to Joey. “We’re going to pray.”

Joey squeezed his eyes closed.

Sam grinned before he bowed his head and offered a quick prayer. “Amen.”

Sam spooned stew to his plate.

Elin watched, wondering if he would leave any left for the rest of them.

He lifted a spoonful to Joey. “How much would you like?”

Joey nodded as Sam put two spoonsful on the boy’s plate. Sam buttered a biscuit and handed it to the boy.

“What do you say?” Sam asked.

“Thank you,” Joey whispered around a mouthful of biscuit.

Sam chuckled. “Good lad.”

Elin and Gus took a portion of the stew. Elin buttered a biscuit. Gus buttered three. Sam took three more and ate them with his stew. Then he got up, brought a tin of syrup to the table, and spooned it on a split biscuit. In fact, on six of them. And she’d thought she’d have enough biscuits leftover for breakfast. Well, they were easy enough to make. One good thing about growing up in a big family, she knew how to cook in large quantities. Tomorrow she would make bread and a dessert. She had an English recipe book. What she could make from it would depend on what supplies she found in the cupboard.

Joey’s head tipped toward his plate.

“He is falling asleep. I will put him to bed,” Elin said.

Gus had shown her to one of the bedrooms. “Harry’s room.” Obviously he wouldn’t be using it. A big bed with rumpled covers, a crude chest of drawers, and some hooks along one wall.

“Come, little Joey. Time for bed.” She rose and held out her hand to him.

He jerked awake, dropped from his chair, and retreated to the corner. “I want G’ma. I go home now.” His bottom lip quivered and tears pooled in his eyes.

She didn’t move, afraid to frighten him. “I know we are all strangers, but we won’t hurt you.”

Gus struggled to his feet. “Where will he sleep?”

Elin kept her gaze on Joey. “He can sleep with me.”

“I have just the thing for him. Come on, Sam. Help me get the cot that Chester left here.”

Sam looked ready to protest but Gus was already out the door.

Elin doubted it was concern for either her or Joey’s comfort, but perhaps concern for Gus that had him push to his feet and follow.

She studied the tearful boy. “You are tired. We will make you a bed, ja?”

Joey shook his head. “I go home now.”

“Oh—” She searched for the English word she needed. “Sweetie, this is your home now.”

Joey sobbed, the sound wrenching tears from her heart.

Sam and Gus entered the house, carrying a cot. They paused at the sound of Joey crying and then hurried into the bedroom and deposited the bed and mattress. Both returned to look at the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked.

“He wants to go home,” Elin said. “I tell him this is now home.”

“I want G’ma,” the boy wailed, his volume building.

Elin approached Joey, her hand out to him. “Come, I help you get ready for bed.”

He shook his head, but she ignored it and, taking his hand, led him toward the bedroom. The man who had delivered Joey to the train had left a valise and she found a nightshirt there.

Despite his continued sobs, she eased him out of his clothes and helped him into the nightwear.

Someone knocked on the bedroom door.

“Ja. Yes, enter.”

Sam stepped into the room holding a stack of bedding. “Thought he might need some blankets.” He set them on the cot. “Is he going to be okay?”

Joey wailed louder to let everyone know he wasn’t okay with what was happening to him.

“He will adjust.” She raised her voice to be heard above Joey’s crying. “He will learn that this is home.”

Joey backed away. “Not home,” he yelled. “I want G’ma.”

Elin took the pile of bedding and made up the bed. “You can sleep here tonight.”

“No. No.” Joey raced for the door.

Sam blocked his way.

Joey went to the corner of the room, his fists curled and his face awash with tears. “I not stay. I go home.”

Elin looked from Joey to Sam. She had no idea how to handle the distraught child and hoped Sam would.

Sam held his hand palm upwards. “He clearly doesn’t want to stay.”

Elin made a sound of disgust. “This is your answer to his distress? Toss up your hands and say it’s over? What sort of men does this country have? One who breaks his promise to marry me and another who backs away from a child in need?”

* * *

Sam dropped his hands to his side. “Just because I don’t think I can give a child a home is no reason to see all men in the West as somehow flawed.”

The look she gave him made him feel like he had failed the entire male population of Dakota Territory. He would not allow her to think that. “Seems to me the best thing we can do for him is put him to bed. Things will look better in the morning.” Now he was sounding like Gus.

“You certainly have a lot of faith in the power of a night’s sleep.”

They stood side by side, studying Joey, whose cries had settled into shuddering sobs.

“He’s just tired,” Sam said.

“He’s frightened,” Elin countered. She faced him. “How did you feel when you lost your mama and papa?”

Sam wished she hadn’t asked. But he could not deny her an answer. “I was scared, but I had Pa and when he died, I had Morty—Harry’s pa. Even so, it was hard.”

“Yet you can think of denying this boy a home.” Her voice rang with accusation and then she uttered a word he guessed was an insult in Norwegian.

“He can have a home. In town. I’ll even pay for rent on a house. You can both live there.” He relaxed. It was the perfect solution.

She shook her head. “And what would I do in town? No. I will wait here for Harry. This is the home he promised me.”

“Are all Norwegians so stubborn?”

“Are all Americans so unkind?”

Sam sputtered. He never sputtered. That’s what happened to a man trying to reason with a Norwegian woman. “How is giving you a home in town unkind?”

“It is unkind to deny me the home Harry promised and Joey the home that is rightfully his.”

Joey stopped crying, his gaze going from Sam to Elin and back again, as they argued.

Elin noticed it and took his hand. “Time for bed, young Joey.” She ignored the quivering lips and shuddering that would soon lead to more sobs. She lifted him into bed and tucked the covers up to his neck. “You sleep now, little boy. This is your new home and you are safe.”

Sam made a protesting noise which she ignored. He waited at the door as she hummed a lullaby and stroked Joey’s hair from his forehead.

The boy fought sleep but lost the battle within minutes.

Elin kissed his forehead. “Sleep well,” she whispered, and tiptoed away.

Sam followed her from the room. “You oughtn’t be making the boy promises you can’t keep.”

She turned round to face him. “I’m not.” Her look challenged him to say otherwise.

He ground his teeth. “You are a stubborn Norwegian.”

Her smile was dismissive. “To the contrary. If you weren’t so stubborn, there wouldn’t be a problem.” Not giving him a chance to defend himself and point out that she was wrong, she went to the table and stacked the dishes.

Gus had fallen asleep in the easy chair.

Sam needed to get this matter resolved. He grabbed a pile of dirty dishes and carried them to the cupboard where he put them in a basin and filled it with hot water from the reservoir.

“You are going to wash the dishes?”

“You needn’t sound so surprised. Gus and I have been managing on our own.”

Gus snorted and wakened at his name. “Sure was a fine meal. Thanks.”

Sam felt Elin staring at him, waiting for him to say something about the supper. “It was good. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He guessed he sounded as begrudging as she did. Which wasn’t like him in the least. He was always polite and willing to give praise where praise was due. So why was he acting so strange?

Because Elin was being so bullheaded, as his pa would say.

He smiled as he thought of Pa and the comments he often made.

Gus had gone back to snoring and by the time Sam had three plates washed, Elin had wiped the table and begun to dry.

Sam didn’t bother to say that he usually let the dishes dry on their own. Might not hurt to have the kitchen clean for a change. He glanced about. Had she noticed the unwashed dishes and clothes scattered about? If so, she had been kind enough not to mention it.

She put a plate in the cupboard. “It is not fair to the boy that he is not important to anyone.”

“I never said he wasn’t important. Besides, he was important to his grandmother.”

“He needs someone now.”

“I can see you aren’t about to let this go.”

“Everyone deserves to have someone who cares.”

Sam scrubbed the pot the stew had cooked in. “I can’t give him what he needs.”

“You could marry. Surely there is someone.”

“No, I will not marry.”

She took the pot from his hand without looking at it. Her gaze held his. “Why not? I thought it was the dream of everyone.”

He wrung out the wash rag. “It’s not.” This was one subject he did not want to pursue.

“There is not a woman you might care for?”

“I cared once.” He let that soak in then added, “She died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Just like Ma and Pa and Uncle Morty. I’ve had quite enough of caring and then having death snatch people away.”

She put the pot in the cupboard. “I suppose everyone dies eventually.”

“It shouldn’t happen when a kid needs them.” He wanted to slap his hand over his mouth. She might not have intended to trap him by his words, but he was thoroughly ensnared.

And he could see no way out of it.