“We’re keeping him,” said Zeke. He knew this even before he took Steven in his arms. His voice broke as he said, “Ofcoursewe’re keeping him.”
Steven didn’t weigh very much, and his clothes, a dark t-shirt and dark cotton pants, had an odd, industrial smell, rather like a prison might have. His little feet were encased in slip-on sneakers that fell off pretty much right away to reveal thin cotton socks that might have been white at one point but which were now a gentle gray.
In Zeke’s arms, Steven clutched at Zeke only because he was the only thing to cling to. His fingers pulled at Zeke’s button-down shirt like the little boy meant to rip through the cloth, but couldn’t because he was so very small and thin and couldn’t do more than what he was doing. Which was, by his wobbly lower lip and wide, scared gray eyes, doing his best not to start crying again.
Steven needed a warm washcloth to wipe away his tears, and he needed warm milk laced with honey, and he needed some kind of stuffed lovey to cling to. All of these things, Zeke and Cal were going to give him, all of these things and more.
Zeke wanted Steven to come home with him and Cal, but first, they needed to make sure Steven wanted to come home with them.
“Hey there, Steven,” Zeke said in the voice he used with scared foals, and spooked mares, and wild stallions alike: low and slow and patient. “My name is Zeke, and that’s Cal.”
Zeke turned so Steven could see Cal standing mere inches behind him. Then he watched as Steven looked them over, his eyebrows dipping like he was an old man bent on making a very serious decision.
“We’ve got a trundle bed we made for you,” he said, and he wasn’t sure how much Steven understood, just as he wasn’t sure why he started by talking about a bed, of all things, when he should have been describing the box of toys they had, ready for the newest, youngest member of their family. “As you grow older, we’ll add an extra room to the farmhouse for your bedroom with a door and everything.”
This was nothing a small child would be interested in. Zeke was at a loss. In his dream of a family to call his own, there were four or five children already safe inside his house. He’d not counted on how hard the first transition would be.
“We should have brought a toy with us,” said Cal from behind him. “Though he might be too old for blocks.”
Among other items, they’d bought a set of bright plastic blocks for a baby, which might or might not be of interest to a twelve-month-old. Had they failed even before they’d begun, before Steven had even set foot in the old farm house?
“Show him pictures of your mules,” said Claire. “He seems to enjoy horses and cows when they come on the computer screenand the TV in the playroom. I believe his parents lived in the country, so, though there’s no indication they were farmers or ranchers, I think he’s familiar with farm animals.”
Before she’d even stopped speaking, Cal had reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone. With nimble fingers, faster than Zeke ever could, he’d pulled up pictures of Bailey, Candlewick, Dancer, and Clover, sturdy and brown and glossy and bright eyed.
Cal tapped the screen and held the phone to Steven so he could see one of the earliest pictures they’d taken after the mules had first arrived at the ranch. It had been late September, and the pine trees made a green contrast to the cottonwoods, with their bright orange and yellow leaves.
The sky beyond had been very blue, making the glossy brown mules stand out as though they had been posed by a professional photographer, rather than because a very excited Cal had kept hopping around as he did his best to make a record of the moment.
“See the mules?” asked Zeke. “The biggest one is Bailey, and that’s Candlewick, and Dancer and Clover. Do you think you like mules, Steven?”
After a long, still moment, Steven half-lurched out of Zeke’s arms to grab the phone from Cal. Cal flicked to a picture of Bailey alone, handsome, clever Bailey, and handed the phone to Steven, cupping his hands around Steven’s to make sure the phone didn’t get dropped.
“That’s Bailey,” said Zeke. “I think he’s Cal’s favorite.”
Steven’s eyes flicked to Cal, and then back to Bailey’s image again.
“Can you say Bailey?” asked Zeke. “Do you think you would like to pet him?”
Steven ducked his chin to his chest as if he wanted to hide the fact that he did want to pet Bailey, but didn’t want anyone toknow. Then he uncurled his hand from the phone and, slipping his hand out of Cal’s, he pointed at the screen. With a little gasp, he looked up at Zeke, as if horrified that his secret was out.
“You can have any mule for your own,” said Zeke, as solemn as if he’d just made a vow. “Maybe let Cal have Bailey, and you can have any one of the others.”
Behind him, he heard a snuffling sound and turned to see Cal scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm.
“Don’t care,” said Cal, his voice thick. “He can have any of them for his own that he wants, but can we just go home now before I break down in front of this nice lady?”
“Do you have a car seat?” asked Claire in response to this.
“Of course we do,” said Zeke. “Rear facing and everything.”
“I’ll get his things and you can take him with you now,” said Claire, looking much happier than she had when she’d first walked in the room. “Come in tomorrow for the rest of the paperwork, but take him with you now.”
“Go get the truck, Cal,” said Zeke.
He wasn’t worried that someone would march in and put a stop to them taking Steven home with them, but the sooner they were out of there and on the road home, the happier he’d be.
Cal grabbed the key fob from Zeke’s pants pocket and raced ahead while, in a more sedate fashion, Zeke, with Steven in his arms, walked to the main parking lot outside the front doors of the small government building.
