She waited. When he didn’t say anything else, she tried to fill in the blanks. “Are you saying you’re here to pick up Libby? Mr. Watson didn’t leave me a message.”

“He’s . . . lame.”

Amy blinked. “What?”

The man cleared his throat and looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Horse. Lame.”

“Oh.” She studied him. “And you are . . . ?”

“Brother. Caleb.” He stuck out his hand, then blurted out, “Weather’s Christmas ain’t it.”

She took his hand gingerly and tried not to notice that it was sweaty. He was nervous, poor man. It was obvious from his actions and the way he stumbled over his words, then closed his eyes after he spoke, as if he were regretting every syllable that came out of his mouth. Her heart squeezed with sympathy.

“Well, Mr. Caleb, I appreciate you coming by, but I can’t release the students to anyone—even family—without one of the parents’ permission. If you’ll come inside and wait, I’ll call Mr. Watson or his wife and make sure it’s all right before I send Libby out with you.” She gestured at the door, indicating he should go inside her classroom. This was usually a test on its own. If it was a creep of any kind—not that she’d met any in their tiny town—calling the parents would normally make someone run. But this man simply ducked his head in a nod and followed her in, which meant he was likely legit.

She was still calling the parents anyhow.

As he walked inside, Libby jumped up from her seat. “Uncle Caleb,” she called, beaming at him. “I drew you a horse! Come see!”

The man’s face creased into a broad smile at the sight of the little girl. He glanced at Amy.

“Please, have a seat. This won’t take long.”

She watched as the big cowboy pulled out a child-sized red chair and perched on it, his long legs folded up against his thick, puffy cold-weather vest. Uncle Caleb—which meant he was Hank’s brother. She could see it. Hank was a massive, massive man with a grim face and a thick black beard. He was utterly terrifying looking at first, but the way he doted on his petite wife and his equally tiny daughter meant he was harmless. Caleb was obviously cut from the same cloth—he was as tall as his brother, if not as broad. His face wasn’t as hard, but maybe it was because he had dark, dark eyes framed by thick lashes that made him look soulful. He had the beard and the build that his brother did, though.