"Nothing. I just wanted to tell you…the money…well, what I have is yours too."
He was endearingly awkward as he spoke. It was going to be just as hard for him to give up his independence as it was for her. But knowing they had one another also lifted a weight from her shoulders – one she hadn't realized she was carrying. She wondered if he carried a similar burden that she might be able to lighten.
"Thank you, Brandon," she whispered, laying a palm to his cheek.
"We got it all stored up!" Jay exclaimed from behind them. "Over here behind the cabin."
Allie turned to look at him. He stood with several of the younger boys at the bottom step. Beside them in their new clothes, he looked like the orphan. The hems of his overalls were frayed. He wore no shirt, due to the May heat. His skin gleamed dark and wet with sweat. She'd have to go into town herself – and soon. If for nothing more than some new overalls for him. A chill raced up her spine. Spring Branch was closer for supplies, but danger awaited them all there until this matter was settled. Yet, the road to Hobart was filled with well-hidden gullies and hills where an ambush could be planned.
Brandon released her and stepped down from the porch. "Jay, do you know the boundaries of our land?"
"Sure do," Jay responded, his chest swelling. "We gonna get started on the pens?"
They couldn't, she thought. Not yet. Brandon wasn't ready—
"Let's do it," Brandon said. "Let's start building this ranch."
"Brandon—"
But he shook his head, giving her the look of stubborn determination she'd come to recognize. "We have to get to it, Allie. Those cattle gotta have a pen when they get here. Every day counts."
She watched him walk away. As always, Brandon's inimitable logic was rock-solid. Inarguable. But that didn't keep her from worrying.
****
As Tom Carver approached Smith's cabin, he glanced around to be sure he was alone. Looking through the front window, he saw Arnie sprawled on the settee in the front room.
"Come on in," Arnie called, before he could knock.
Carver pushed the door open and came inside the small cabin. His nose wrinkled. "Stinks in here."
Arnie gave him a defensive look. "I'm wounded. Remember? Can't walk…can't hardly sit…and I sure as hell can't wash dishes and clean. My apologies."
Carver's lips curved in a mirthless smile. "I doubt Miss Allison Taylor's lost one night of sleep over what she done to you, Arnie." He ran a dirty finger over the layer of dust on the kitchen table, then took a step nearer to the settee. "I hear tell she's got her a bunch of orphan boys out at her place. You know anything about that?"
Arnie gave a snort of disgust. "Really went and did it, huh? She said she would, someday. That's why she didn't want to marry me. I told her I wasn't interested in runnin' a damn orphans' home."
Carver came on into the front room and sat down in a large overstuffed chair. What else did Arnie know about Allison Taylor?
"You ever sleep with her?" he blurted. He'd been near sick with thoughts of her – her tawny skin and lithe, supple body; her eyes – mysterious, and holding secrets he wanted to learn all about. A wildcat, she was! But one he would enjoy taming. A vision rose up of the way she'd held that rifle, forcing the end to the beating they'd dealt that hired gun… He'd seen that over and over in his mind a million times. She'd been so cool, so collected – and she'd blasted the hell out of Arnie's leg, just like she said she would.
"Hell, no," Arnie said with a scowl. He shifted, and let out a curse. "Never got close enough for that."
"Too good for you, huh?" Carver goaded.
Arnie gave him a murderous glare, then looked away. "Too good for me, but not too good for that dirty half-breed gunslinger. I still can't believe she saved his ass."
"And shot you. Her future husband." Carver gave a sarcastic chuckle. He paused a moment. "You know, Gabriel's still there with her."
"Figures. He wasn't in no shape to go anywheres else."
"What do you suppose they're doin', Arnie?" Carver leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. "Bet she's givin' that gunslick all kinds of extra special care, don't you? At night, I bet she lays right there with him in bed. Prob'ly touches him all over, trails that long hair of hers across his—"
"Shut up! Shut up, Tom!" Arnie started up off the couch, but fell back with a groan. "Don't'cha think I've thought of that? Huh?"
Carver leaned back. It surprised him to see Smith's eyes glisten with tears. Arnie was going to be more of a problem than he'd thought. Damnation! He actually was in love with her!
"Arnie," he said carefully, "you – you ain't in love with Allie Taylor, are you? Not really. You was just wantin' that place of hers, right?"