Brandon's thoughts ran at breakneck speed. This explained everything. "He's my brother, Owen, but I can't overlook the fact that he was going to let you shoulder the blame for that killing."
Owen waved a negligent, long-fingered hand. "Didn't you ever make a mistake when you were sixteen?"
"Not that kind."
"What kind would that be, Brandon?"
"Deliberate deception."
"Ah, Brandon, it wasn't deliberate; not really. Didn't you notice how he couldn't look me in the eye today? He would've told you, eventually. And after what Doc said, about protecting my reputation—" he put his hands in the air, "I'm sure Sam thought there was no harm done to anyone. The 'blame' was all yours. Not mine. Not his. He and I knew the truth."
"And Doc."
Owen shook his head. "No, Doc was with Arnie on the other side of the room. There was a curtain that separated the rooms, part of the way. Doc must not have seen it all. He truly believes I killed Carver."
"I believe you…were capable."
Owen grinned at Brandon's phrasing. "A story for another time." He stood up slowly. "You can trust me, Brandon. I am on your side in all of this."
"You wouldn't be here, otherwise."
Owen laughed. "Don't I know it!" He shook his head. "Let this all settle some, my friend. You've gained a whole new world in a week's span. Home, wife, son, brother – and a passel of boys. Which brings me to my next reason for being here."
Brandon sighed. "I know. I've been tryin' to bring it up slow with Allie. I think she's comin' around. She told 'em she could only take ten, but they sent eighteen." He stood, too, looking toward where most of the boys worked in groups. "Who would I turn away? How would I sleep at night, if I did?"
"Some of them were talking a couple of days ago when I brought out the supplies. I know two of the little guys want to be doctors. I've mentioned it to Marcus, and he's amenable to the idea. We need someone to deliver messages and such." He hesitated a moment, then said, "There's a sleeping room at the back of the house that they can have. It's just off the clinic offices, and roomy."
Brandon rubbed the back of his neck.
"The Mayfields have asked for a boy," Owen went on. "And the Thompsons have expressed an interest. The Mayfield couple lost a baby last year. There'll be no more for them."
"I will not farm them out to people for laborers, Owen."
"That's not the case with either of these couples, I promise you. Good God, do you think I'd allow that? Do you think Marcus would ask that of you?" He ran his hand through his sun-shot hair, a lock of it falling across his forehead.
Brandon recognized the gesture. Owen was frustrated, and peeved that Brandon would entertain those thoughts. He smiled, grasping Owen's shoulder as they stood near one another. "No. And I'm sorry. But they're my responsibility now. I have to be certain, if the boys want to go to a new place, that it'll be what they're expecting. A loving home, with decent parents – not a work farm with a burlap bag to sleep on. Can you understand?"
"Of course!"
"Cool down, Doc. We'll figure out something. Allie's going to be the biggest obstacle. She already loves them all, each and every one."
"Sometimes," Owen murmured, "loving something means letting it go, to try its own wings."
Brandon nodded toward the cabin. "Let's go. I'll let you tell her that."
****
Allie stepped out the open front door with a basket of laundry. Big Mack lay nearby on the porch, watching, but not moving. "You're the only male not working today," she said. "How about giving me a hand with this basket?" He laid his head back on his paws, closing his eyes. "It's okay, Mack. You just get well. I've been worried about you."
And about Brandon. Her eyes immediately sought him, and she was surprised to see him coming toward the house with Owen, both of them looking decidedly somber.
She set the basket down beside Big Mack and called a greeting. "Owen, what brings you out this way? Come have a glass of tea."
"No, thanks, Allie. Just wanted to talk a minute, then I'll need to get on back to town. Promised Marcus I wouldn't be gone long."
Allie sat on the top step, Owen on the bottom, and Brandon leaned negligently against the porch railing.
"Owen has a proposition for us, concerning some of the boys."
Owen cleared his throat, and then said, "Allie, as you probably know by now, some of the boys are thinking about careers other than ranching."
"Yes, some have mentioned it." She felt a tight knot forming in her chest at the thought of losing some of them. "Mark and Lenny have even spoken of wanting to become doctors." She smiled, thinking of little Mark's serious nature.
"Well, Doc Wilkins and I would like to extend the offer to take them."
Allie couldn't speak for a moment. She couldn't bear to think of letting them go. They'd already become dear to her. She looked at Brandon, seeing in a glance that Owen had already broached the subject with him, and that he was in agreement.
She averted her eyes, looking at her hands in her lap. "I see."