“Oh, my God, and they'd even consider giving him back to her?”

“She's been rehabilitated now.” He said it with all the cynicism that went with his job. Sam had never been exposed to anything like it before.

“Has he had any psychiatric help?”

The social worker shook his head. “Our assessment of him is that he's normal, except for his legs of course. But mentally, he's all right. As all right as any of them are.” Sam wanted to scream at him, how all right could he be if his mother had been beating him with an umbrella? The child was terrified. She had already seen that much. “Anyway, she's been in for two weeks, and with time off for good behavior and credit for time served, she'll be out in two months. You got him for sixty days.” Like an animal, like a car, like a rental. Rent-a-Kid. Rent-a-Cripple. It made Sam feel sick.

“And after that?”

“She gets him back unless the court decides otherwise or she doesn't want him. I don't know, maybe you could keep him as a foster child, if you want to.”

“Can't he be adopted by decent people?”

“Not unless she gives up custody, and you can't force her to do that. Besides”-the social worker shrugged-“who's going to adopt a kid in a wheelchair? Any way you look at it, he's going to wind up in an institution.” “Jail,” as Timmie had already said himself. What a grim life for a six-year-old child.

Sam looked sorrowful as the social worker walked to the door. “We're happy to have him. And I'll keep him longer if necessary. Whether the court pays or not.” The social worker nodded.

“Let us know if you have any problems. We can always keep him in juvenile hall till she gets out.”

“Isn't that like jail?” Sam looked horrified and he shrugged again.

“More or less. What else do you think we can do with them while their parents are in jail? Send them to camp?” But the beauty of it was that they just had.

Sam turned the chair around and went back into her own office, where Timmie had torn a page out of the coloring book and scribbled across it relentlessly in brown.

“Okay, Timmie, all set?”

“Where's the cop?” He sounded like a little gangster and Sam laughed.

“He's gone. And he's not a cop, he's a social worker.”

“Same thing.”

“Well, anyway, let's get you to your room.” She attempted to get his chair going for him but it locked every few feet and one of the sides had fallen down. “How do you get anywhere in this thing, Timmie?”

He looked at her strangely. “I never go out.”

“Never?” She looked shocked again. “Not even with your mother?”

“She never takes me out. She sleeps a lot. She's very tired.” I'll bet, Sam thought. If she was a heroin addict, she must have slept a hell of a lot.

“I see. Well, it seems to me that the first thing you're going to need is a new chair.” That was one commodity they didn't have. They didn't have any spare chairs, but she kept a narrow extra one in the back of her station wagon, in case anything ever happened to her own. “I've got one you can use for now. It'll be a little big, but we'll get you a new one by tomorrow. Jeff”-she smiled at the young redhead-“can you get me my spare chair? It's in the back of my car.”

“Sure.” He was back five minutes later and Timmie was ensconced in the big gray chair, as Sam wheeled along beside him, helping him with the wheels.

As they wheeled past the other buildings, she explained to him what everything was, and they stopped at the corral for a few minutes so he could look at the horses, and as he did he stared at one of the horses and then at Sam's hair. “That one looks like you.”

“I know. Some of the other kids call me Palomino. That kind of horse is a palomino.”

“Is that what you are?” For a minute he looked amused.

“Sometimes I like to pretend that I am. Do you ever pretend stuff like that?” Sadly he shook his head and they drove on to his room. Now she was especially grateful that she had reserved him this particular room. It was big and sunny and all done in blue and yellow. There was a big cheerful bedspread and there were drawings of horses in frames on the walls.

“Whose is this?” He looked frightened again as she wheeled him into the room.

“Yours. While you're here.”

“Mine?” The eyes were as big as saucers. “You mean it?”

“I mean it.” There was a desk, without a chair, a chest of drawers, and a little table where he could play games. He had his own bathroom, and there was a special speaker in case he got in trouble and needed help from one of the counselors nearby. “Do you like it?”

All he could say was “Wow!”

She showed him the chest of drawers and then told him that that was where he could put his things.

“What things?” He looked blank. “I don't have any things.”

“Didn't you bring a suitcase with some clothes?” She suddenly realized that she hadn't seen one.

“Nope.” He looked down at the spotted T-shirt that had once been blue. “This is all I've got. And Teddy.” He squeezed the bear tight.

“Tell you what.” Sam glanced at Jeff and then back at Timmie. “Right now we'll borrow you some stuff, and then I'll go into town later and get you some jeans and stuff. Okay?”

“Sure.” He didn't seem to care one way or the other, he was happy with his room.

“Now, about a bath.” She wheeled herself into the sunny bathroom and turned on the tap after flicking a special switch at a comfortable level that would close the drain. Everything had been specially installed. And the John had hand bars on each side. “And if you want to use the toilet, all you have to do is push this button and someone will come and help.”

He stared at her, not comprehending. “Why do I have to take a bath?”

“Because it's a nice thing to do.”

“You gonna do it?”

“I could have Jeff do it if you like.” She wasn't sure if at six he'd be modest; but he wasn't and now he vehemently shook his head.

“Uh-uh. You.”

“Okay.” For her this was a new adventure. It had only taken her ten months to learn how to bathe herself, but to bathe a child from a wheelchair, that was going to be something new.

She sent Jeff off to find clothes that would fit Timmie, rolled up her sleeves, and told him how to get himself in, but when he slipped and she tried to grab him, they both almost wound up on the floor. In the end she managed to get him into the bathtub, wound up soaked herself, and as she helped haul him out, she got him into the chair she had lent him just in time to lose her balance and fall out of her own. And for some reason she found herself on the floor, looking up at him and laughing as he laughed down at her too.

“Pretty silly, huh?”

“I thought you were supposed to teach me how to do it.”

“Well, there are other people here who do that.” She hoisted herself carefully off the wet floor and back into her chair.

“What do you do?”

“Teach riding.”

He nodded and she found herself wondering what he was thinking, but mostly she was grateful that he no longer seemed to be afraid of her, and when Jeff brought them the clothes he had borrowed from various cabins, Timmie almost looked like a new child. But she was soaking wet from his bath and she had to go back to her room to change. “Want to come see my house?” Hesitantly he nodded, and after she helped him dress, she led the way. There was an easily accessible ramp into the big house now, and he followed her into the living room and down the hall to her bedroom, while she pulled some fresh jeans and a shirt out of the closet, which had been entirely rebuilt for her. She kept Caroline's old room as her best guest room, but she almost never used it, and visited it as seldom as she had to. It still pained her to feel its emptiness without her old friend.

“You got a nice house.” Timmie was looking around with interest. The teddy bear had come with him too. “Who sleeps in the other rooms?”

“No one.”

“Don't you have kids?” He looked amazed.

“No. Except all the kids who live here on the ranch with me.”

“You got a husband?” It was a question a lot of the children asked her and she always smiled and said no, and it ended there.

“Nope.”

“Why not? You're pretty.”

“Thank you. I just don't.”

“Do you wanna get married?”

She sighed softly as she looked at the beautiful blond child. He was actually very pretty now that he was clean. “I don't think I do want to get married, Timmie. I lead kind of a special life.”

“So does my mom.” He nodded his understanding, and Sam was at first shocked and then laughed but she couldn't say “Not like that.”

She tried to explain her views to him. “I just think I wouldn't have enough time for a husband with the ranch and you kids here and stuff.”

But he was looking at her intently, and then waved at her chair. “Is it because of that?” What he had just asked her hit her like a punch in the stomach, because it was the truth, but she couldn't admit it, not to anyone, and barely to herself.

“No, it's not because of that.” But she wondered if he knew she was lying, and then, without giving him time to ask her more questions, she ushered him back outside. They visited the stables and the main hall, looked at two cows in a pen, and went to the swimming pool, where she took him for a quick swim before lunch. There were only a few younger children on the ranch at that hour of the day in October. The others were all in school, having been dropped off by the huge adjusted school bus that Sam had bought to get the kids there. But the children who were around greeted Timmie with warmth and interest, and when the others got back at three thirty, he was hardly even shy. He watched them have their riding lessons, swoop down on the pool in their wheelchairs, and chase each other down the wide well-paved walks. He met Josh and solemnly shook his hand, and watched Samantha during all her lessons, and when she was finished, he was still standing by.