"So Miller and your friends can wait at the property line while you conduct your investigation, alone. Those are the terms." "I'll conduct this investigation however I see fit," Morrison started. "No, you won't." Bo's voice dropped to a dangerous quiet.
"You'll conduct it by the letter of that order, or you won't conduct it at all. I'm not some ignorant farmer you can bully, Morrison. I know the law, I know my rights, and I know that you're here because your cousin got his nose bloodied and wants revenge." Bo stared him down.
"So you can do this properly and professionally, or you can ride back to Laramie and explain to Sheriff Watson why you turned a legitimate investigation into a personal vendetta." Morrison's face flushed red, but he knew Bo was right. After a tense moment, he gestured for Miller and the others to fall back. "Fine."
"I'll conduct the investigation alone, but if I find anything, anything at all, that suggests these children are in danger or being neglected, I'm taking them into protective custody, sheriff's order or not." "You do what you think is right, Deputy," Kelly said from the doorway, her voice steady. "But you'll find no cause for concern here. My children are well cared for, and anyone with eyes can see it."
Morrison dismounted and approached the house, his expression a mix of official seriousness and personal satisfaction at having Kelly on the defensive. Bo wanted to punch that look right off his face, but he forced himself to step back and let Kelly handle this. She was right. The truth was on their side.
For the next hour, Morrison conducted his investigation. He examined the house, noting the cleanliness despite the obvious poverty, the beds where the children slept, the pantry stocked with food, not much food, but enough. He questioned each child separately, asking about their mother, their living conditions, whether they felt safe and cared for. Sarah answered with dignity beyond her years, her responses clear and articulate.
Thomas was more emotional, but equally firm in his defense of his mother. Even the twins, young as they were, managed to convey through their innocent answers that they were loved and happy. Bo watched Kelly's face throughout the ordeal and saw the toll it took on her. The fear carefully hidden beneath a calm exterior, the way her hands clenched whenever Morrison questioned one of her children, the rigid set of her shoulders as she endured this invasion of her family's privacy and dignity.
Finally, Morrison concluded his examination and stepped back onto the porch where Bo and Kelly waited. His expression was frustrated, almost disappointed, as if he'd hoped to find evidence of neglect or abuse. "The children appear to be adequately cared for," he admitted grudgingly. "The house is clean, there's food, they're clothed, and show no signs of mistreatment."
"Because there is no mistreatment," Kelly said quietly. "There never was. This entire investigation was built on gossip and spite, and you know it." "What I know," Morrison said sharply, "is that a woman in your position, a widow with five children and no visible means of support, married a wealthy man with suspicious speed."
"That raises questions about your judgment and your fitness as a mother." "My judgment?" Kelly's voice rose despite her efforts to stay calm. "My judgment kept five children fed and sheltered for two months after my husband died. My judgment turned a failing wheat crop into a successful harvest."
"My judgment recognized a good man when I met one, regardless of how quickly it happened. You want to question my judgment, Deputy? Question your own first." Kelly took a step toward him.
"You rode out here with armed men to intimidate a widow and her children because your cousin got his feelings hurt. Whose judgment should really be in question here?" Morrison's face darkened with anger. "You watch your tone." "Or what?"