Barclay

by Charlene Raddon

  Oysters placed a cup of coffee in front of her. "Dig in, ma'am."

  Silence fell over the room as they ate.

  "Anybody leave the house last night by the back porch?" Oysters asked after a time.

  "Not me," Chase said.

  "Me neither." Jared drank his coffee.

  Oysters looked at Barclay who shook his head.

  "I coulda sworn I heard someone go past my room before I'd completely conked out." Oysters helped himself to coffee and sat down.

  Cynara gasped and set her fork down on her plate with a clank. "Oh, my."

  "What is it, Cynara?" Barclay asked.

  "I'd forgotten. Something woke me last night, and when I looked up, I saw a man go into the kitchen. I assumed it was one of you." Her hand went to her chest and she appeared shaken.

  Barclay didn't like what he heard. Who would sneak into the house and why?

  "You sure it was a man?" Chase asked. "Maybe Minnie came back to see her babies."

  "It certainly looked like a man. He wore pants and boots," Cynara said.

  Barclay rose. "Before anyone goes outside tromping up the ground, I'm going to look around and see if I can find any strange tracks."

  "I'll come with you." Jared put his napkin on the table and shoved back his chair.

  "Let's go out the front and come around," Barclay said. "I want to be sure what tracks we find weren't made by us this morning."

  Barclay took a long look at the spread before moving off the front porch. Everything appeared in place and as it should be.

  "What are you thinking?" Jared asked as they descended the stairs.

  "I'm not sure what to think. I suppose it could have been Minnie in men's pants. If it was, I'd sure like to know if she's still around."

  "Me too."

  They walked carefully in ever-widening circles, studying the ground.

  "I'm not seeing any fresh tracks, let alone from a strange horse or feet as small as a woman's," Jared said.

  "Same here." Barclay rose from crouching to study a print. "Let's go around back."

  The story remained the same as they checked the rear yard. No tracks made by man or beast that didn't belong there.

  Finished, they stood gazing toward the bunkhouse. "You think it could have been one of the men?" Jared asked.

  Barclay shook his head. "It would have to be Dirk. Can't imagine any of the others having any reason or the nerve to come into the house at night. I don't know Dirk well enough to guess what he might do."

  "Yeah. He seems a nice enough fellow." Jared picked up a pebble, tossed it down and wiped his hand on his pants. "That rock came from the creek, down where the men like to bathe. But there could be a hundred reasons for it to be here."

  "Got stuck on a man's boot and finally broke free," Barclay said. "Let's go eat."

  "Find anything?" Chase asked when they entered the kitchen.

  "Nothing helpful," Barclay said and sat down.

  They'd barely started to eat again when the sound of a horse trotting around to the rear yard reached them. Only one person ever brought her horse to the back like that.

  "Annabelle," Barclay muttered.

  "I don't care. She can watch me finish my meal," Jared said, scooping up some egg.

  The porch door slammed open.

  "Barclay?" a feminine voice called.

  The last thing he wanted was to talk to her, especially since she'd only had one topic. "In here, Annabelle."

  She swished into the kitchen in her split-skirt, quirt in hand and angry determination on her face. "Good morning."

  "What can we do for you, Annabelle?" Barclay said, keeping his seat. Not very gentlemanly, but then, Annabelle Hodson wasn't a lady.

  "You can marry me, Barclay Givens, like your daddy promised mine you'd do back when I was born."

  A series of gasps came from everyone at the table. Barclay's gaze went first to Cynara, and he noted her shock. "Good hell, Annabelle, what are you talking about?"

  He felt painfully aware of Cynara's gaze going from him to the girl and back again. Annabelle glowered at Cynara.

  "Papa told me yesterday about an arrangement our fathers made years ago for you to marry me when I was old enough," Annabelle said, hands planted on her hips. "So, you have to do it now."

  "If my father ever made any such arrangement with Beau Hodson, he never told me," Barclay said. "And I never agreed to such insanity."

  "Doesn't matter. You have to honor your father's word." Annabelle stepped between Jared and Chase and helped herself to a strip of bacon from Chase's plate.

  "Hey," Chase protested. "Nobody teach you any manners?"

  "Manners, schmanners, we've known each other all our lives. What need do we have to stand on formality?" she countered, crunching on the crisp meat and staring at Cynara. "Who're you?"

  "This is Cynara Stratton," Barclay said. "She's our wet-nurse."

  "That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about," Annabelle spat. "Why didn't you ask me to take care of this baby you found somewhere?

  "Can you nurse them?" Chase asked.

  She glowered at him. "No, I can't do that. But I can change diapers and hold it when it cries."

  She obviously hadn't been told there was more than one infant.

  "We appreciate the offer, Annabelle." Barclay tried to keep his annoyance out of his voice. "But, as you can see, the job is filled. Doc knew Cynara here could nurse the babies and he brought her here. She'll be staying until we don't need her anymore."

  "Don't need her?" Annabelle sniffed. "That could take ages. What are you going to do with the baby? Wait a minute. Did you say babies? There's more than one? Where did they come from? Where's the mother?" Her eyes widened. "Are you the father?"

  "No." Barclay heaved a sigh. "The mother happened upon our place and had the babies here, then left. We don't know where she is or who she was."

  Annabelle laughed. "That's the silliest story I ever heard. No woman is going to show up out of nowhere, give birth and then leave."

  "Well," Chase said, "this one did." The boy usually referred to Annabelle as "the witch."

  "Huh!" Annabelle reached for another piece of bacon. Chase slapped her hand.

  Rubbing it, she said, "Why, you're just plain rude, Chase Givens. And that is the most outlandish tale I ever heard."

  "If you don't like it, go home." He gobbled down his bacon as if afraid she'd get it away from him.

  "That's enough," Barclay chided. "Look, Annabelle, I'm sorry, but we're short-handed and very busy right now. Go home and tell your father I'll talk to him about this later." In truth, he had no intention of discussing such nonsense with Beau Hodson.

  "All right, but you be figuring on a July wedding. I don't want to wait any longer than that. Where are these babies? I want to see them before I leave." Wheeling about, she marched into the great room.

  Cynara and Barclay both jumped up and hurried to protect the babies.

  "Good heavens,” Annabelle exclaimed, looking at Barclay. “There are babies everywhere in here."

  She stared down at them, mouth open, a shocked expression on her face. "I didn't really believe the story about you having a baby here, let alone… You didn't answer me before. Are you keeping them, Barclay? If you do, you'll have to hire a nurse."

  She glanced at Cynara. "Or keep her on. I can't take care of three babies."

  "It's not your concern, Annabelle." Barclay took her by the elbow and led her to the back porch. "You will never live in this house."

  "Then where will we live?" she asked as he hustled her outside.

  "I'll live here. You'll live with your father or whatever misguided man might be fool enough to marry you." He left her at her horse and returned to the porch.

  "You are so cruel, Barclay Givens."

  "Then stay away from me."

  "Ohhhhh, you!" Annabelle mounted her horse and galloped away.

  In the great room, Barclay found Cynara changing Connor's diaper. His brothers and Oyste
rs stared at him from the dining room.

  "What?" he demanded.

  "Kind of hard on her, weren't you?" Jared said.

  He sighed. "It will be worth it if she leaves me alone."

  "What was she talking about, Pa making a deal with Beauford Hodson for you two to marry?" Chase crossed his arms over his chest. "You been keeping something from us?"

  Barclay didn't respond. His gaze had snagged on Cynara's shaken expression. Hell. What a scene for her to have to witness. Jared was right; he'd been hard on Annabelle. Obviously, Cynara agreed and likely didn't approve. He felt like a heel and, yet, if he could play the scene over again, he didn't know what he'd change, except choose kinder words.

  Keeping his gaze on Cynara, he said, "I didn't make any arrangement with Annabelle's father and, near as I know, neither did Pa. I'm not going to marry her. She's been a pest her entire life."

  "You forgot a deceitful busybody and gossip." Jared flopped down on a chair, one leg over the arm. "He's not exaggerating, though. She's been a pain in the neck for years, always coming over here and asking us to do things for her, pulling tricks and spreading lies. Barclay's taken the worst of it."

  "Maybe you should ask Ma about this so-called deal," Chase suggested, leaning over the back of Jared's chair.

  "Good idea. I suspect she'll be out to see the babies today. I'll ask her then."

  As if by signal, they all trooped back into the kitchen and resumed their meal, though the food had grown cold.

  Chase chuckled as he warmed up his coffee. "Better hope the witch doesn't go to town or this will be the day's gossip by noon."

  Jared jabbed fried potatoes with his fork. "I wouldn't worry about it. That girl tells so many windies, no one believes anything she says.

  "Windies?" Cynara queried.

  "Bunkhouse lingo for lies," Barclay explained, buttering a slice of bread. He felt her gaze on him. Maybe she thought he was the one telling the windies.

  "She's very pretty," Cynara said after a moment.

  Chase snorted. "On the outside."

  Barclay set down his knife. "I'm sorry you witnessed that, Cynara. Reckon I made an ugly scene of it."

  "Annabelle's been trying to hogtie Barclay ever since she was old enough to realize men differed from women," Chase said.

  "Before that," Jared put in, "I remember her trailing after him when she couldn't have been more than six."

  "Don’t feel sorry for her." Chase took a bite of steak and talked around it. "She hasn't let any grass grow under her skirt."

  "That's enough about Annabelle." Barclay swallowed the last of his coffee and set the cup down harder than intended. Everyone in town knew how Annabelle spread herself around, but he saw no need to talk about it in front of Cynara, who probably knew nothing about the girl. "When do you expect the boys back with the count, Jared?"

  "This afternoon. Tomorrow morning at the latest." Jared crossed his utensils over his plate and reached for his coffee.

  "Good." Barclay pushed back from the table. He carried his plate and utensils to the sink. His cup he simply rinsed and set on a shelf, his thumb rubbing lightly over the "B" painted on the side by a childish hand. When he noticed Cynara's interest in the cups, he told her each brother had his own cup and had decorated it himself. Chase's depicted a stick horse, Jared's a dog. Oysters’ had a barely recognizable yawning oyster.

  "I'll be in my office," Barclay said, leaving the kitchen. He stopped for a moment to check on Connor. All the babies were doing well, but Connor seemed to be thriving and already looked plumper.

  Voices came from the kitchen, new voices. Jared entered the great room followed by Chase, Cynara and three other hands.

  "The boys made us some cradles." Jared moved aside to reveal the men who each held a cradle in their arms.

  "Were you introduced to the boys, Cynara?" Barclay asked.

  When she shook her head, he hooked a big fellow with an arm around his neck. "This ruffian here is called Blade because of his expertise with a knife."

  The older man set his gift on the floor by the babies and nodded to her. His big hands displayed numerous nicks and scars.

  Barclay turned to a sandy-haired man with a shaggy, reddish beard and his hair tied behind his neck, who had already put his cradle down. “Canada here came from Alberta seeking a job. The boys tacked the nickname on him rather than using his given name, Arhambault.” He exaggerated the pronunciation, so it was impossible to understand. Grinning, Canada shook a hand at him in mock anger.

  "Aren't they lovely?" Cynara stroked her hand over the arched end of one of the small beds and the carefully carved spindles on the sides. "I'll make mattresses and pillows. You did a wonderful job."

  Blade preened, shoving a hank of tar-colored hair out of his eyes. "Thank you, ma'am."

  "We couldn't stand to think of these little 'uns sleeping in drawers," explained the third cowhand.

  "Oh, yeah," Barclay said. "This is Randy, the pretty boy of the bullpen."

  The men all laughed.

  Barclay wanted to thank them and tell them to get back to work. He truly appreciated their loyalty and thoughtfulness, but he didn't like the way their eyes practically swallowed Cynara. Could one of them have sneaked into the house last night? He wanted to ask but knew if one of them was guilty, he’d likely lie. It would be better to hide his suspicions until he had proof. "It was kind of you to do this. We're grateful. I'm sure the tykes will sleep better in their new beds."

  "Have you named them yet?" Blade asked.

  "Yes." Cynara pointed to each child as she gave their names. "This one is Connor. The other boy is Gage and the girl is Vella."

  "Vella." Canada bent to better see the baby. "That's a right pretty name. They sure are tiny."

  "They were premature," Cynara said.

  Outside, a wagon pulled up to the house. Barclay went to look out the window. "It's Ma. We better go help her. I'm sure she's brought a bunch of food, plus gifts for the babies."

  "Oh." Cynara's hand went to her hair as she attempted to tidy it. "I can't wait to meet her."

  "We'll be going then." Blade backed toward the kitchen, pulling Canada and Randy with him.

  "Thank you again," Cynara said. "The cradles are lovely."

  The men nodded and skedaddled.

  Barclay hustled out to the wagon. "'Lo, Ma. Glad you made it."

  "I'll only be staying a day or two." She stood, and he helped her down. "I have a canasta game on Thursday."

  "Ma," Jared greeted her. "How could you let a card game take you away from us?"

  She laughed. "Don't try to bamboozle me. I know you boys will be glad to get me out of your hair."

  "Did you bring us any of your scones, Ma?" Chase asked.

  "I certainly did. They're in the hamper with the popcorn balls. You boys can bring in all the things in from the back and my bag." She indicated a valise on the floor of the driver's seat.

  They each grabbed something and followed her inside where Cynara waited.

  Julia didn't wait for introductions. "You must be Cynara." She marched right over and drew the younger woman into a quick hug. "Thank you for helping out my boys. They're a bunch of fiddleheads, but they mean well."

  "Now, Ma," Barclay chided. "You know you love us."

  "I'm glad to meet you, Mrs. Givens." Cynara stepped out of the embrace, seeming discomfited. Barclay wondered if perhaps she wasn't used to such intimacy from a stranger.

  "Call me Julia, please." Julia spied the babies. "Oh, here are our little darlings. My, so small. How are they doing?"

  "Fine, I believe," Cynara said. "Doc should be out today to check on them."

  "Good." Julia turned to her sons waiting by the door. "Put my satchel in the sewing room, Chase. You can put the other things on the dining table, except for the crate. That goes in the kitchen."

  Jared picked up the crate. "Mm, I smell scones in here."

  "Don't you be touching those until I say you can, young man." Julia followed the m
en to the table and began sorting through the packages. She singled one out and handed it to Cynara. "This is for you, just something I whipped up for chilly evenings."

  "Oh, thank you. That's so kind." Cynara opened the gift to find a pair of knitted house shoes. "Wonderful. I was wishing I had slippers."

  Julia handed out more parcels, new shirts and hand-knitted socks for each of her sons, a plain apron for Oysters and gowns for each of the triplets. "I whipped up some diapers too. Can't have too many of those. Here, Cynara, I brought yarn and fabric. We can do some sewing for the babies and knit them booties and hats."

  "How generous of you." Cynara hugged the wool yarn to her chest as if it were fine silk.

  "There are a couple other things I'll show you later," Julia told her as if sharing a secret.

  Cynara smiled. "I can't wait."

  Barclay watched the entire proceedings with a grin of his own. He'd never known anyone better organized or prepared than his mother. She was a wonder. And she'd gotten a smile from Cynara. That alone he considered a gift.

  "I see someone has made cradles for the babies." Julia examined them. "These are wonderful. Why aren't you using them?"

  "Some of our hands made them and brought them to us only a few minutes ago," Barclay explained.

  "Well, let's not allow them to go to waste." She lifted Vella from her drawer. "Cynara, switch this bedding over to the cradle."

  Cynara arranged the towels in the new beds, smelling the sweet scent of fresh-cut wood. When she finished, Julia nestled the baby into the make-shift bedding. "There, now. That's better."

  They had just moved the other two babies when Jared went to the door. "Sounds like we have more company."

  Moments later, Doc entered the great room.

  "Doc, good to see you." Barclay shook his hand. "Here to check the triplets, I presume."

  "You presume right." Doc hung up his coat and handed a satchel to Cynara. "Folks in town donated some clothes and things. They know you had nothing left after the fire, except for the few things that were given to you then."

  She took the bag and held it close. "Oh, I can't believe they did that. Please give them my thanks. Better yet, write down who donated, so I can send them each a note."