She took up the pan of fried potatoes and drew the second pan of biscuits from the oven. There were not going to be enough plates. A sigh of exasperation escaped her lips.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Brandon's voice startled her. She jumped and turned to face him, putting her hand to her pounding heart. "Sorry." He gave her an apologetic smile and reached for one of the potatoes.
"Not enough plates."
"Those boys are already finished," Brandon said with a laugh. "I'll send 'em down to the creek to wash them, and—"
"Send Sam with them, will you?" She took the butter down and began to butter the biscuits.
Brandon was silent a moment. "I could, but he's had a pretty rough day. You expecting trouble still?"
"No, but you know— Boys and a creek. I – don't want to take any chances. They aren't familiar."
"They need to learn, Allie," he said gently. "It's too much to watch every one of them every second."
"I thought Sam—"
"No."
Allie looked up at him, surprised at the sharp edge in his voice.
"Allie – Sam's not responsible for the boys. He and Ben have had to be because of circumstances, but—" He raked a hand through his hair and drew a sleeve over his forehead. He felt something more for Sam; it was obvious. And it puzzled him, Allie could see.
"Brandon, I know it's not ideal, but things have happened so quickly – we'll sort it all out in the next couple of days." Either Sam would tell Brandon, or she would.
"I'll go with 'em." He turned and walked out of the kitchen.
Allie started to protest. He had already done too much. But when he got that look in his face, that tone in his voice – there was no stopping him, Allie knew. She reached for a couple of bars of lye soap and hurried after him.
"Wait—"
"Soap," he muttered, turning so abruptly that she walked into him. He put his hands out quickly, catching her, steadying her.
She held it up, a bar in each hand, laughing. A slow smile touched his lips, a hint of a tease in his eyes, but when he spoke he was serious.
"If I'd known I was missing the other half of my soul all these years, I would've moved heaven and earth to find you."
She sobered. "You don't think you did enough?"
"No. Not by half. I should've – followed through. Been more persistent, I guess, rather than waiting for Fate to bring us together."
Fate. This would be a perfect opportunity to let him know what else Fate had brought him, Allie thought. A brother he never even knew existed.
"Brandon—"
"Hey! Those potatoes and biscuits done yet?" a deep voice called from outside.
Brandon leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss. "This won't take long. The drovers'll have their own camp gear. You can dish them up while we're gone."
He turned and walked out onto the porch, and Allie could hear him telling the younger boys to follow him. Sam's questioning tones floated to her on the evening air, and Brandon's assuring response.
Allie put half the biscuits and potatoes on a large platter and carried it out to the fire where the drovers were lining up for their portions of the meat the cook was serving up. She went back inside for a platter of onions and some of the pickles she had canned last year.
When she stepped back outside with the platter, Owen excused himself from the other men and came to take it from her. "Everything okay?" he asked, concern high in his face. "I heard about what happened in town earlier." He hesitated a moment. "Wish I'd been there to lend a hand, but I'd already headed back here with supplies by that time. How's Brandon?"
They stepped down from the porch and started toward the group of men by the fire.
"You know Brandon," Allie said quietly. "He did what he had to do."
Owen shrugged. "That doesn't make it any easier…just because it has to be done."
"No." There was something about Owen's words that made Allie wonder – not for the first time – about his past. He seemed to have an understanding of someone like Brandon that went far beyond the surface down to the inner workings of his soul, his reasoning, and his thoughts.
Owen handed the platter of relish to the cook, who made a dour comment about 'fancy trimmins' as the other cowpunchers descended on the vegetables with calls of thanks.
As they started back toward the house, Allie turned to look up into Owen's face. "I wanted to say thank you for everything. You're been a good friend. We couldn't have done this – any of it – without you."
Owen shrugged and grinned. "Just in the right place at the right time to offer my help."
"If you're talking about bringing out the supplies earlier, yes. Everything else, I believe, you've done because—" she broke off, but Owen wouldn't allow it.
"Because?"
She shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me, Allie. I'm everything I claimed to be; a one-time preacher, a doctor—"
"A hired gun?"