"Pa, why don't she come out and have dinner with us? She's been in there for hours."
Archie looked up from his plate to see his son's raised eyebrows, as if to question why the rules applied to himself but not the strange lady who had taken over their bedroom.
"'Won't,'" Archie corrected. "'Why won't she come out.' And she'll come out when she's ready. Right now she'd sad because she just lost her husband. It's called grieving."
"But I thought you were her husband," the boy countered as he swirled his peas on his plate—the only food left after he'd conveniently filled up on the more appetizing parts of his dinner.
"Yes, technically I am"—Archie paused to shoot a look of his own, daring the boy to continue with his plan to feed his peas to the dog who sat patiently beside him, and August returned his hands to the table—"but before that she was married to another man, but he died."
"Neal told me that she's going to be my new mama now, but I told him he doesn't know anything about mamas since his real mama ran away and he's just got a step-mama now."
"August!" Archie said sharply, and the boy winced. Archie let out a sigh before he said more calmly, "You know that's not true. Neal's mother died when he was young—like your parents—and now his father remarried. So Neal has a stepmother, but that doesn't make her any less of his mother, just like how I'm still your papa even though I'm not your birth father."
August frowned at his plate and Archie could see the wheels turning in the boy's head. Usually, Archie welcomed his questions and encouraged his inquisitive mind, but after the whirlwind that had been the last twenty-four hours…
August looked up, his mouth pursed before he asked, "So does this mean that Miss Ruby is my stepmother?"
Archie closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead before he met the boy's gaze once more. He really should have tried to explain things more fully. And yet, when he realized that August's expression had softened to genuine concern, he his heart rose in his throat.
"Miss Ruby is going to stay with us over the winter before she goes back home to her family in the spring," he said finally—though he conveniently left out his hopes that August would benefit from having a mother figure around. Knowing his son as he did, he figured August would have something to say about that, since her presence alone had already been met with resistance. Still, Archie had faith that the arrangement would work out for the best—with hopefully very little upset.
"But then, if she's going to leave, why did you get married?"
"Because it wouldn't be proper for her to stay here otherwise." Archie didn't know how to explain it all—the cruel nature of those that would take advantage of a young widow, alone and penniless, or how tongues would wag—at best—if a single man and woman lived together, however innocently. It was far from ideal, but it was the best protection he could offer. He also couldn't explain that the brevity of their union didn't make marriage any less important, but he'd given up hope of marrying for himself, and so it was an easy sacrifice to make to help this woman in such an unforeseen time of need.
Besides, the next few months could be beneficial for all of them—and perhaps could help her heal after her time of grieving. Plus, Archie couldn't deny it could be nice to have a woman around, even if August would vehemently disagree.
Archie realized the question might be leading to another talk that he was not ready to have that night, but fortunately, August's curiosity seemed to be satisfied—at least for the time being—and they passed the rest of the evening in relative quiet.
Before they retired for the night, Archie tapped on the bedroom door to check on Ruby. When no answer sounded, he opened the door a crack. The moonlight illuminated the space just enough so that he could make out her form huddled beneath the quilt, shaking with sobs. They were quiet, as if she was trying to hold back, but that made the sound of her sharp intake of breaths, her childlike whimpers, all the more heartbreaking.
Archie paused in the doorway, his chest tight, stuck between wanting to go in and comfort her and knowing that she needed some space—and time. Instead, he closed his eyes and shut the door. When he opened them again, he saw the worried eyes of a nine-year-old boy staring back at him. "Pa, is she okay?"
Archie shook his head. "No," he said softly, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "But she will be."
Archie and August made their way around the side of the house to the lean-to, which would become their home for the next several weeks. Normally, Pongo would sleep in the barn, or near the front door of the house on warmer nights, but Archie decided to let the dog stay with Ruby inside. She'd seemed to take comfort from the animal, and Archie would gladly give her that. It also made him feel better, to have her protected with Pongo standing guard while she was alone in the house.
The air was crisp and the sky was clear as father and son walked side-by-side with Archie's hand on the boy's shoulder. Then, he stopped. He could hear the chirp of the crickets as they sent their happy song up to the heavens, and he couldn't help but gaze upwards. The action didn't strike August as odd in the least, and he looked up as well, the mirror image of his father.
"Lord," Archie finally said quietly, his breath foggy in the cool air, "Please be with her. She's hurting in a deep way that only you can heal." He paused before adding, "And please show us how we can help her. Amen," and then looked down to August as he gave him a squeeze.
With a smile—perhaps sadder than he intended, his heart still heavy—they opened the door to their lodgings—their own little bunker, Archie insisted. They'd be like real cowboys. August rolled his eyes at that, complaining that he'd rather be in his own bed, but Archie thought he caught a smile on the boy's features as he rushed inside.