Brody's voice was gruff, his demeanor dark but sincere. "Thank you."
He turned immediately and left.
Outside, he hesitated, hat in hand, staring at the back of the ranch house, where beams had been laid across the stone foundation, and a second chimney took shape at what would one day be the eastern wall. The porch was empty. He wondered if anyone was in the kitchen looking this way, or if maybe Becky was in the children's room on the second floor, looking out at him while she tended to one of the children. It was almost bath-time.
Brody growled and turned right, mashing his hat down on his head and stomping through the moonlit orange grove to the swimming hole, where he sat on a boulder and brooded.
Wilson had said that trust wasn't easy for Becky.
Brody recalled all the times she'd trusted him—in the bunkhouse, the library, the stable—her glowing topaz eyes glued to his merely because he'd wanted it so. She'd trusted him here, at this pool, not to hurt her physically, though he'd felt the depth of her anxiety. She'd trusted him not to make her pregnant, and he was so far gone that the thought never even occurred to him! He'd told Becky that he was a murderer and a thief, and she'd trusted him still. She'd laid her body at his feet, trusting him with her life, and he'd lied to her about something as insignificant as money.
Money,
for Christ's sake. As a homeless child, it had meant everything: power and security and respect. As a man, he could see it was just a tool, and he'd give every damn dime away if having a fortune meant he couldn't have Becky Connor. He'd give anything if she'd just give him one more chance, but Brody was horribly afraid he wasn't going to get it.
—:—:—:—:— Chapter 36a —:—:—:—:—
Becky was as good as her word, which was more than you could say for some people, she thought, smiling graciously at Brody while she imagined peppering his behind with buckshot, or throwing him in Big Bob's paddock with a cat tied around his neck. Bob didn't like cats. Her eyes flickered. No, not Bob. That was too much; she'd seen what Bob had done to Clancy.
In the end, though, Clancy and Bob were what got Becky speaking cordially to Brody again.
Everyone was hanging around the ranch house one Sunday afternoon—and "everyone" meant quite a few people, that particular Sunday, since a steer had tumbled down an incline and broken a leg Friday evening when they'd already slaughtered two pigs earlier in the day. Rather than watch his wife spend any more time stuffing sausage, salting meat, and making jerky, Jem decreed they'd have a 'do' and invite some folks over after church.
The crowd included the entire household, including Louella, who was feeling better, Caleb, two out of the four stable lads, Captain Jackson, Mr. Perkins—Becky was doing her best to make eye contact while trying not think about his picture postcards—Margaret and her four children, and three other long-time hands with their wives or current lady-friends in tow.
It was during that lazy, quiet pause between making a glutton of oneself and cleaning up that Clancy rode in from the east, galloping much faster than he usually did—especially with Lily on the saddle in front of him. Lily, of course, had her hands in the air and her eyes closed, a giant smile of glee on her face as she enjoyed the breeze on her tiny round cheeks. Catherine jumped to her feet, ready to tear a strip off Clancy for riding that way with her daughter astride—and not holding the pommel as she should be!—when she saw that Clancy had Lily roped to his middle.
Brody was toward the back of the group as Jem and Colt ran to get them untied, and he hung back, missing parts of the old man's story.
Colt handed Lily off as most of the men present ran for the barn and stable. Brody would have followed, but Colt stopped him with a dart of the hard cobalt eyes. "Watch out for the women."
The dozen situational questions which had arisen in Brody's mind subsided instantly: those five words cemented Brody's position as part of the family.
Brody was elated, like he imagined a half-grown son would feel receiving a pat on the back from an adored father. He didn't remember his father, and Colt wasn't at all paternal toward him, but he'd earned the respect of a man whose ethics, work, and intelligence he respected in return—a man who, until fairly recently, had loathed him and wanted him gone forever. Possibly dead.
Carrying Lily as she passed him on her way into the house, Catherine met his eyes and smiled. She saw everything he was feeling; as usual, he thought.
He smiled down at her in return, and Lily acknowledged his presence with her usual serene, queenly smile. "Bwwwwody."
"Miss Lily." He bowed as she passed, making her mother chuckle. Lily wouldn't have understood the humor had she noted it: Brody's tribute was merely her due.
Brody hung around outside, keeping an eye on things as Clancy directed the stable lads in cleaning up the leftovers, moving tables, and carrying bowls and plates to the ladies in the kitchen. Clancy glanced his way every so often, with less antipathy than usual. Brody didn't mind. He didn't think he'd be pulling stable duty for the old man again, and after all, Clancy had been protecting his family, too.
On her way indoors with Kent—who had a coating of sawdust, gravy, and dirt cemented over the lower two-thirds of his face—Becky intercepted the tail end of one of Clancy's long looks. She couldn't help but smile at his drastic change of attitude, considering it was precipitated by just one clipped order from Colt. Brody was the recipient of that smile.
His heart jumped, but his only reply was a small, ironic smile of his own.
When she came out a while later without Kenny—but with damp hair and a fresh dress—she leaned against the other side of the column he stood against, closer to Brody than she'd chosen to be since Graham's arrival.
"I didn't catch the whole story, but I take it Bob's out?"
Becky nodded. "I guess the fence is down at the Dos Colinas enclosure."
Becky didn't bother explaining what that meant. Everybody on the ranch knew Bob was dangerous—he had a habit of goring mounted riders and wasn't crazy about other animals in general, on two feet or four.
"Did I hear Clancy say Lily saved his life? Again?"
Becky nodded, her face serious and her eyebrows high. "Yes. Hard to believe, isn't it?"
"Mmm." He waited, enduring the lengthy pause with ease because of the smile she'd given him. "Please?"
Becky laughed, because she had, in fact, been teasing him by withholding the information. She felt a flash of disgust but dismissed her temporary softening by telling herself it meant nothing. She could tell the story and go right back to ignoring him.
"Well, this isn't the first time Bob got loose. Early this year, just before you arrived, one of the lads pitched some hay over the fence for Bob when he was in from pasture for the veterinary doc. The boy knocked the paddock latch loose without noticing. Clancy left the stable on his way up to the house, and Bob butted the gate, like he always does when he sees Clancy—he hates him—but this time the gate swung open. Bob was twenty feet away—there was nowhere for Clancy to go—Bob would certainly have killed him if Lily hadn't run out of the barn right then. She saw what had happened and called Bob—she calls him 'Bob-Bob'—while Clancy was muttering desperately at Yan, telling her not to move. Bob followed Lily right back into his paddock like a big puppy, and Sammie, who'd started the whole mess, latched the gate behind them. Lily petted Bob for a minute and climbed back out, went right to Clancy, who was sweating and shaking and half-dead from fear, patted his hand and said Bob-Bob was safe now. Yan was crying, hysterical: my sister nearly sent for Doc Malone to come out and sedate her."
Brody was too stunned to speak, not sure if he completely believed the story, but if it was even half-true . . . .
Becky went on, "I guess the same thing happened today, more or less. Bob saw someone on a horse—maybe he even smelled Clancy—started pawing and snorting, getting ready to charge. Lily just sang out 'Bob-Bob' and he calmed right down. He couldn't manage to make himself walk over there when she was up on a horse with Clancy, but he dropped his head, started grazing, and ignored them as they trotted off. Clancy got out of sight, tied Lily on, and you know the rest."
Brody was speechless for a good long while before saying the first thing that came to mind. "Why does Bob hate Clancy? Don't get me wrong, I understand the sentiment . . . ."
