"I'll give you a hand," Dr. Morris said.
Doc shouldered the rifle. "Got a way with 'em, doesn't he?"
"He called this idea of mine crazy," she replied, frustration tingeing her words. Jay's laugh floated back to her as Brandon laid a hand on his shoulder.
Doc chuckled. "I'd say, then, you've got a way with him too, Allie." He followed her gaze to the disappearing band of boys surrounding Brandon, Owen bringing up the rear. "Guess it doesn't seem so crazy to him, now that they're here."
****
"Well, they're havin' a fine ol' party down there, ain't they?" Tom Carver slanted a look at Abe Johnson and spat a stream of tobacco juice across the boulder he squatted behind. The silver moonlight illuminated the scene below as if it were the broad light of day.
Johnson snorted softly. "Why, them's a buncha boys, Tom! Lookee down there – the oldest ones can't be more'n fifteen; the youngest is the same size as that little Injun the Taylor woman keeps. How're they gonna manage all the cattle she's got comin'?"
Carver didn't answer as he studied the scene below.
"Be easy pickin's," Johnson continued, "once Arnie's better and we can count on him to help some."
Carver gave him a narrow look. "Just how loyal are you, Abe? Hmm?" He glanced away and spat again. "Cause here's what I'm thinkin'. Why wait for Arnie to get better? The time's right. Waitin' for him might put a kink in the cow’s tail, for sure. But if we move soon, we can have us a whole herd of cattle, scatter them boys to the four winds, and pick us off a gunslinger too."
"A gunslinger with a thousand dollars of our money," Johnson mused sullenly.
Carver's lips curved. "And be a thousand dollars richer. I forgot to mention that."
Johnson nodded. "You're right, Tom. We can't wait on Arnie. Might be weeks—"
"Might be never."
"Shore 'nuff." Silence followed, then Johnson said, "I didn't think she'd do it, did you? Shoot Arnie like that, I mean."
Carver shook his head in disgust. "All over a half-breed gunslinger. Must be somethin' about all that we don't know."
"Think she's doin' 'im?"
"Hell, I don't know. How would she even know him? But they looked mighty cozy down there—" He nodded toward where Allie Taylor and Doc Wilkins were just going into the small house. "And she did take him home with her, to begin with. Mighty odd for a woman to take a strange man home with her…"
"She's different, Tom. Not like any other woman we know."
"Pretty, though. Beautiful."
Abe Johnson glanced at his cohort. "You got you some ideas about Allison Taylor?"
Tom gave a soft laugh. "Oh, yeah, Abe. I got me quite a few ideas about her. But first, I got to kill that gunslinger."
Johnson's eyes widened. "Tonight?"
Carver's voice was hard. "No. I've got other plans for tonight. Not tonight. But soon. I'll do it soon. And I ain't waitin' on Arnie Smith."
Chapter 16
Dinner was a haphazard affair. Allie threw together a huge pan of biscuits and scrambled every egg she could find, sending Jay to raid the henhouse in the darkness. The boys ate in grateful silence, the older ones seeing the young ones fed first, before they took a turn. Allie watched them, the relief on their faces enough to dispel the uncertainty in her own heart. They would make this work, as she'd said, somehow. Ten boys, she'd asked for. Actually, paid for. But she'd received nearly twice as many. The young ones were too small to put in a full day's work in the fields of farmers that might live close enough to the orphanage to adopt them. The older ones looked to be of mixed parentage. No Anglo family would claim them as a family member. And, she'd noted, two of the boys tried to hide deformities – one a club foot, the other, a withered left arm.
She turned back toward the kitchen to check on the second pan of biscuits, nearly colliding with Brandon. As their eyes met, he smiled, but she could see the strain and weariness grooved deeply into the lines of his face. It had been a very long day, even though he'd rested during the afternoon. He reached to steady her with his left hand, keeping the right out of harm's way.
"They seem like a good group," Brandon said.
She nodded, turning around to look over her shoulder once again. "Yes. I hope they like biscuits and eggs – there won't be much meat until we get the cattle sold."
Brandon followed her to the kitchen. "We can butcher a couple of the cows to hold us awhile."
Allie shook her head. "Not unless we just have to. That'll cut into the profits."
"Gotta eat. Gotta feed your…cattlemen." He leaned against the doorjamb carefully.
Allie bent and pulled the oven door open, removing the biscuits. "I know," she said quietly.
"You worried?"
She gave him a wry smile as she set the pan on the counter top. "Worried? What would make you think that?"
"You're not in this alone, you know."