"I love you—" she whispered against his mouth, surging upward to meet him with fierce urgency, cradling his hard body with the softness of her own as he made love to her.
He knew what she wanted to hear, but it was foreign to him to speak those words she said so easily. She'd just stripped away the last vestige of the armor that shielded his heart. Telling her he loved her would bind him to her forever, a selfish act he knew he could never undo.
Yet, as he looked down into her face, her lips swollen from his kiss, her eyes filled with love for him along with a dash of uncertainty, he answered her. The words that had been unsaid between them suddenly could not be stopped.
"I love you, too, Allie," he whispered.
She pulled him down to her again for a long, slow kiss. "Brandon…" she whispered after a moment, a teasing smile curving her lips. "That blue ribbon is yours forever."
Chapter 15
By the time the stage pulled into Hobart a half-hour late, the boys had all eaten and most of them had been bathed and outfitted.
Doc had set Sam and another of the older boys, Ben Summers, in charge of the others. As soon as a small group of the younger boys was bathed and dressed in new sets of clothes and boots, Ben walked them to the livery stable where Sam took charge. Then, back he trudged for the next group.
At last, the baths and fittings were completed, and Doc was just settling up with the mercantile owner who had been so kind as to provide a clerk to bring several sizes of clothing to the bathhouse for the boys. After paying for meals, baths, boots and clothing, Doc found that the eighty-five dollars he'd gotten from Buell had not quite covered everything. He reached into his own pocket for the difference – five dollars and fifty cents.
The mercantile owner gave him a quick smile. "Thank you, Doc. We appreciate your business."
Doc nodded. "Your clerk was very helpful."
"Not often we get an order this big. I'm just glad we could oblige." He peered over Doc's shoulder. "There's the stage. Finished just in time. Tell that new doc to come see me." He winked. "He'll be needing a new pair of boots, most likely, bein' from back East."
Doc turned and headed for the door, weary to his bones. Right now, he was feeling every bit of his sixty-four years. As he stepped into the June sunlight, the heat was like an oven. He took out his handkerchief and mopped his brow.
He reached the stage just as Dr. Owen Morris stepped to the ground.
"Owen!" Doc called, and the younger man turned to face him.
"Marcus." He put out his hand. "Good to see a familiar face."
"How was the trip?"
Doctor Morris reached up for his suitcase and medical bag as the shotgun rider handed them down to him. He thanked him, then looked at Doc again. "Long. Hot. Dusty." He brushed at his clothes. "But, I'm here." A slow grin spread across his face. "And I feel gloriously alive."
Doc grinned. "How do you get along with youngsters?"
Owen looked at him askance. "Are you trying to say it's a damn good thing I'm feeling so 'gloriously alive,' Marcus?"
Doc nodded. "Come on. I'll tell you about it on the way."
****
As the story unfolded, Owen had listened in silence, the wagon rumbling along behind the small buggy Doc had rented for himself and Owen to ride in. Surprisingly, Owen said very little, letting Doc tell the story of why the orphans were in Hobart in the first place, and how Doc eventually had to threaten Mr. Buell with going to the sheriff to make him see reason.
The happy laughter and talk coming from the wagon behind them let Doc know that he had done right all around. Now, he could only hope that Allie had come clean with Brandon by the time he, Owen, and the boys got back to Allie's place again.
He told Owen about the showdown between Allie and Arnold Smith, the danger she'd placed herself in to save Brandon. "I understand it. Hell, I applaud it myself! Odd as it seems, I find myself on Brandon's side of the fence rather than some of the 'upstanding' townsfolk I've known for years."
Owen nodded and grunted a noncommittal assent, not asking questions or offering comments. When Doc finished, Owen drew a deep breath, blowing it out on a long sigh.
"Sorry you came?" Doc asked, turning keen blue eyes on his younger partner.
"No. Not at all." Owen cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the boys, riding contentedly in the wagon. "I admire Mrs. Taylor. She sounds like a woman of strong convictions. And from what you say, Gabriel's appearance is both a blessing – and a curse." He shook his head. "Still, it sounds like she'd have done what she did whether she knew him or not. A woman of her strong moral fiber wouldn't countenance letting those men beat him to death."
"No. You're right about that. But the question is, what now? With a ranch to run, all these boys coming there to live and a herd of cattle on the way, I just don't know…"
"You're worried Smith might hurt these boys?"
Doc looked up into Owen Morris' somber hazel eyes. "I just don't know what Arnie Smith's capable of anymore," he muttered. "Or, maybe I do."