Kelly took another step forward, and Bo saw the full force of her fury unleashed. "You'll take my children? On what grounds? Because I married a man who treats them kindly?"
"Because I chose security for my family over playing the tragic widow for the entertainment of small-minded gossips? Because I had the audacity to stop struggling and accept help when it was offered?" "Kelly," Bo said quietly, touching her arm. He could see Morrison looking for an excuse, any excuse to escalate this situation.
"Let me handle this." But Kelly shook off his hand. She'd been pushed too far, endured too much, and something in her had snapped. "No, Bo. I've spent my entire adult life letting men handle things."
"Samuel handled things right into debt and an early grave. Other men have tried to handle me with lies and propositions and judgment. I'm done letting men handle my life." She turned back to Morrison.
"You came here looking for evidence of neglect. You found well-fed, well-dressed, happy children living with two parents who love them. That's not neglect, Deputy. That's exactly what every child should have."
"So unless you have actual legal grounds to pursue this further, I suggest you get off my property and go find some real criminals to chase." The silence that followed was deafening. Morrison looked like he'd been slapped, his mouth opening and closing without sound. Bo felt a surge of pride and love so intense it nearly knocked him off his feet.
This woman, his wife, was magnificent. The standoff was broken by the sound of more horses approaching. Jack was returning, and with him rode a distinguished older gentleman with white hair and a bearing that spoke of authority and education. Judge Henderson, no doubt.
Behind them, to Bo's surprise, came Reverend Clayton and Martha Henderson, along with a dozen other townspeople, including Tom Pritchard from the grain elevator and Miss Emily Warren, the schoolteacher. Judge Henderson dismounted with the ease of a man who'd spent his life on horseback and approached the porch with measured steps. "Deputy Morrison, what's the meaning of this investigation?" Morrison straightened, suddenly uncertain.
"Judge Henderson, I didn't know—that is, I have authorization from Sheriff Watson to—" "To investigate allegations of child neglect," Henderson interrupted, pulling out his own copy of the order. "I've read it. I've also spoken with several citizens who have something to say about Mrs. Callahan's character and fitness as a mother."
"Perhaps we should hear from them before you make any decisions about these children's welfare." Morrison clearly didn't like it, but he couldn't refuse a request from Judge Henderson without appearing petty. "Of course, Your Honor." Henderson gestured to Martha, who stepped forward with the quiet confidence of a woman who'd been a frontier wife for 40 years and feared nothing except God and dirty dishes.
"I've known Kelly Bishop, Kelly Callahan now, for three years," Martha said clearly. "I've watched her struggle and sacrifice and work herself near to death for those children. When other women in town turned up their noses at her poverty, she held her head high." Martha's gaze hardened.
"When her husband drank away their money, she found ways to feed her babies anyway. When Samuel died, she didn't collapse or beg for charity. She rolled up her sleeves and got to work. If that's not a fit mother, Deputy Morrison, then you'd better come investigate me, too, because I raised seven children using the exact same approach."