He grinned, feeling like he'd just won a prize, and followed her into the kitchen where Ma stirred cake batter.
"Ma, could you take care of the babies for a bit? I'd like to take Cynara for a ride."
"I'll feed them first," Cynara added.
Ma smiled and genuine pleasure showed in her eyes. "Of course, I will. Go do what you need to do, Cynara, and I'll be here when you're ready to leave."
Barclay knew she was hoping for a daughter-in-law and, for once, he didn't care if she got matchmaking notions. Nothing would likely come of it, since Cynara was in mourning.
He saddled a mare called Sunny because of her disposition. She wasn't a pussycat, but not wild either.
"You look happy," Chase said, entering the barn with Dirk behind him.
"I'm not suffering any. What are you two up to?"
"Slim told us to move that haystack in the south pasture. Discovered a seep under it." Chase tossed a hay rake to Dirk and grabbed one for himself. "Want to help?"
"No, thanks. Got better things to do than fork hay. I'm taking Cynara for a ride to see more of the ranch."
Chase let out a whistle. "Lucky man. Have fun."
Barclay noticed the intense look Dirk gave him. What did the man have on his mind? Did he have notions of courting Cynara himself? He'd have to get in line. Barclay had no free passes to give, even if he wanted to. Not that it mattered. She would make up her own mind.
"This is all your land?" Cynara asked as they rode through a broad, grassy meadow.
"Clear from half-way up that hill, across and half-way up the hill on the south. One thousand acres. Not much compared to some of the big ranches in Montana."
"It sounds like a lot to me." Cynara rode easily in her saddle, comfortable and in control. She wanted to show Barclay her skill as a rider, though she couldn't say why. She enjoyed his company. That seemed enough. "Ward and I had only twenty acres, but we were satisfied."
"That's all that matters," Barclay said, loping along beside her on his gelding. "Jared talks now and then about enlarging the ranch, but I see no point to it. We're doing well enough. Pa had paid it off so it's free and clear, except for a small bank loan for improvements that I took out when the ranch became mine."
"How many hands do you have?" she asked, admiring the way he sat in his saddle, loose and easy as if he were part of the gelding.
"Nine. We only have four in the bunkhouse right now. The others are out counting steers, so we have an idea how they're doing. Every year, after calving, there should be more than last year. We lose a few to lightning strikes, cougar, grizzly or coyote attacks and disease, but not many."
"Look. There are some riders across the way." She pointed at two mounted men riding the opposite direction.
Barclay took his rifle from its scabbard and fired a single shot in the air. The men hesitated then fired two shots.
"They're our men. That's our way of signaling each other." Barclay frowned, looking concerned. "We'd better stay here and wait to hear what they have to say. A two-shot signal means trouble."
"I hope it isn't anything serious," Cynara said.
It took the men almost ten minutes to reach them across the broad meadow. One resembled a buffalo with a long, bushy beard and a fringed leather coat. The other, a younger man, had shaved that morning and even looked like he'd bathed, something seen rarely when men were out on the range.
"Hou, Barclay," the bushy one said. "Got a minor problem. The head count in our section is low. Too low."
Barclay scratched the back of his neck, something she'd noticed he did when thinking something through. "Rustlers, do you think?"
"Could be." The men stared at Cynara.
"Oh, excuse me," Barclay said as if he'd forgotten her presence. "This is Mrs. Stratton. She's staying at the house for a bit. Long story. I'll tell it to you later or you can ask the boys when you get home. Cynara, this hairy bear of a man is Smoky and the other one is Cavell."
She nodded to them and they tipped their hats.
"You want to palaver private like?" The younger man asked quietly.
"You can speak in front of Mrs. Stratton," Barclay said. That he trusted her pleased Cynara.
"All right. The thing here is that the section the cattle are missing from is the one bordering the Double Z. That's a mite of a coincidence, if you ask me," Cavell said.
Barclay pinched his lips together, something else she'd see him do when he felt troubled. She let her mare drift a bit to nibble some grass and give the men a mite more privacy, but their voices carried easily on the breeze.
"How eager are you boys to get back to your bunks?" Barclay asked the men.
"Sleeping under the stars is plenty good enough for me," Smoky said.
Cavell spit tobacco juice to the side away from Cynara's view. "Me too."
"Good. You done counting?"
"Yep." Smoky took a small notebook from his pocket and handed it over.
Barclay glanced at the book before tucking it into a pocket. "All right. Let's play badger. Dig yourselves a hole or find one somewhere, lay low and watch. Give it a week. I'll have someone bring you some supplies. If you don't see anything by the end of that time, come back."
"You got it, boss."
The two men tipped their hats to Cynara again and rode back the way they'd come.
Barclay sat there several moments watching. Cynara could see the wheels turning in his mind, probably thinking about what might have happened to the steers or what he should do about it. It seemed evident the men thought someone at the Double Z had taken them.
Finally, she fell under his gaze, and he said, "What do you say we amble down to the creek and have a picnic. I had Oysters pack sandwiches for us."
"That sounds lovely." She raised the mare's head, putting a halt to her grazing, and directed her toward the creek.
Barclay spread a blanket on the grass. Cynara sat with her legs to the side, Barclay sat Indian fashion. The basket Oysters had packed included beef sandwiches, hardboiled eggs, apples, cookies, a jug of water, and two ceramic mugs. She recognized the one with Barclay’s name on it that usually sat on a kitchen shelf with others for the rest of the family. When she picked up the second one, she gasped.
“Barclay, this has my name on it.” She brushed her finger over it. Flowers enhanced it.
He grinned. “I thought you should have your own.”
A rock formed in her throat. He wanted her to feel like family. His family. Tears threatened. She blinked them away. “Thank you. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s done for me…Well, since you bought me that dresser set. I’m deeply touched, Barclay.”
He patted her hand. “I’m glad. Having you here has touched me.”
She wanted to kiss him. What a lovely man, so different from many she’d met. Her chest tightened, and she knew if she didn’t do something quick, she’d be in tears.
"Um, pass over that jug if you will," Cynara said. "I'm terribly thirsty."
When she finished, she wiped her arm across her mouth, and Barclay handed her a cloth napkin.
"Thank you." She gave him the water. "I can't tell you the last time I enjoyed a picnic like this."
Biting into his sandwich, Barclay stretched out, resting his head on his saddlebag and crossing his feet at the ankles. Seeing him like that, she marveled he fit on a bed, he appeared so long. What would it be like to wake up with him every morning?
Shocked at her own wandering thoughts, she dropped her egg in the grass. "Oh, no."
Barclay glanced over. "It's still edible."
"No, it's not. There's an ant on it already."
"Just consider it seasoning."
She gaped at him, and he broke into laughter.
"You are outrageous, Barclay Givens."
"Forgive me. I couldn't help it. The expression on your face…" His words trailed off as he laughed even harder.
Cynara smiled. His laugh seemed full of life and joy, the contagious type that caused other people to joi
n in. She loved it. It made her happy, something she hadn't felt for some time now. Thinking about it, she realized it went beyond the smallpox, Ward's death and the loss of her baby. Her smile faded. Why hadn't she known she wasn't truly happy? What had happened to her? She'd loved Ward when they married. Her altered emotions had to do, she suspected, with his constant complaints and pessimistic attitude.
"Is something wrong, Cynara?" Barclay sat up, eyes filled with concern.
"No." She couldn't tell him her thoughts about Ward. It wouldn't be right. "No, I'm fine, only thinking…"
"I understand. Would you like me to leave you alone for a moment?"
She realized he assumed her change of mood had to do with her recent loss. "Oh, I'm fine, really. A thought struck me is all, about life and the various roads it takes you on."
"It does do that, all right. Did you always want to come west?"
He'd accepted her slight prevarication. She'd leave it at that. "No. Ward's announcement that he wanted to depart from Ohio came as a surprise. It took a bit for me to accept the idea."
He picked up her half-eaten egg and tossed it into a bush. "We'll let the birds and squirrels have it."
"Good idea." It pleased her that he cared about animals. Ward had considered them good only for what they provided—meat, skins, a ride to town, a means to pull a plow, a guard to warn of visitors. He would never be cruel. He simply didn't see the creatures as beings in their own right. God had put them on earth for men to use. That was that. His inability to see and treasure the beauty in nature saddened her.
"Are you glad now that you came to Montana?" Barclay asked.
"Yes. Ohio was lovely, but Montana…" She glanced at the green meadow, the gurgling creek and the immense sky overhead. "Montana is overwhelming. It's heavenly."
He smiled. "I'm glad you feel that way. That's how I see it too."
"You have a very positive attitude toward life, don't you?" she said, shielding her eyes with her hand so she could see him better in the late afternoon sunlight. Day was heading toward night, stretching long shadows over the land.
"I try to see the good in everything. My father, God love him, tended to see the dark side of life. It made him somber sometimes. He was always kind, though."
"I adore Julia. She's all goodness and light, so generous and giving." The kind of woman Cynara wanted to be.
Stretching her arms above her head, she gloried in the blissful afternoon they'd enjoyed. "This was a lovely idea, Barclay. Thank you. You're spoiling me, you know."
He lay back again, smiling. "You're very easy to spoil and I rather think I enjoy it."
Color flushed her cheeks and she glanced away. Her pulse grew erratic and she felt an insane urge to sing. What was going on with her? Barclay seemed to bring out hidden facets of her personality. Like impudence. "Will you marry Annabelle?"
He pushed himself up on his elbows, staring at her. "Would it bother you if I did?"
She dipped her chin to hide her expression. "It would be none of my business. I was merely curious. And nosey."
"Nevertheless," he persisted, "would it matter to you?"
Cynara didn't know what to say. Nothing honest, that was certain. She couldn't tell him how thoroughly he—or her emotions regarding him—confused her. Ward hadn't even been gone a year yet. She had no right to feel so drawn to Barclay Givens. She should feel shame but couldn't quite manage it.
Something had been happening to her the past day or so. Something she couldn't explain even to herself. It was as if life had opened up to her in a new way. She felt lighter, more energetic, curious and eager for adventure. She wanted to run through the bare grass, wade in the creek and dance in the moonlight.
She glanced at Barclay, trying not to smile at her crazy thoughts. What would he think of them? He'd probably run for the hills to get away from her.
Something landed in her lap. She fished it out of the folds in her skirt and found a small copper coin.
"Penny for your thoughts," Barclay said.
Cynara laughed. She couldn't help it. The afternoon had been marvelous and made for laughter, for pleasure. "I'm afraid I'd shock you. Perhaps another day."
"I'm not easy to shock." He leaned closer and took her hand in his. "Come on, tell me about yourself. What is your favorite food? What is your oldest memory? How far did you get in school? I made it to tenth grade. Pa wanted me to go to college, but it didn't interest me. I felt I knew all I needed to run the ranch I'd grown up on."
"Shame on you, Barclay." She shook a finger at him playfully. "Preacher Josephus told me once that college can open new worlds to you, ones you never knew existed. He only attended seminary, but he wanted to go to college. His family simply didn't have money for it."
"Josephus is one of the most intelligent men I've ever met," Barclay said. "If he believes what he says, then I'd have to give it some merit as well. But I'm too old for college now, and I'm needed at the ranch."
"You mean to tell me Jared and Chase together couldn't take your place for a couple of years?" she asked, her tone teasing.
Barclay chuckled. "Chase wouldn't know what to do with a ledger and Jared would go crazy if he had to stay indoors long enough to work on books and papers."
"He could do it on the porch."
"Yes. I've considered doing that from time to time. It simply doesn't seem the proper way to run a business."
"Is there a rulebook for how to run a business?" She plucked a clover leaf from the grass and counted the leaves. Three.
"If there is, I don't own a copy."
"Take a trip to Bozeman and look for one. I've never been to a city before. I imagine it's splendid but way too crowded for me. I prefer the countryside and people in small doses." She had enjoyed the occasions when the Givens house filled up, however. With Julia and her three sons, Oysters, Slim, the triplets and Cynara, she feared the sides of the house might burst.
"It would be too crowded for me too," Barclay said. "I'm happy where I am."
"Sitting by the creek with me?" she asked.
"Yes, I could sit here with you every day and be happy."
They fell quiet after that, as if they'd realized the hazardous waters their conversation threatened to dunk them into.
After a few moments, Cynara said, "I guess we'd better get back. I need to feed the babies." In truth, her breasts were aching, they were so full.
"Yes. Time to go." He shoved to his feet in one graceful movement and held out a hand to her.
She gazed into his blue eyes as she laid her hand on his palm, trusting him to take care with her. Was that what she wanted, for him to be cautious with her? Or would she rather he be daring enough to kiss her?
Cynara Stratton! Behave yourself.
She couldn't believe the direction her thoughts had taken. She must have gotten too much sun. Her behavior was outrageous and unlike her. Yes, it must be sunstroke.
Chapter Eleven
C ynara slept better that night than she had since Doc Willoughby first diagnosed Ward with smallpox. She felt more relaxed and at ease with herself. Although the guilt over her baby's death had eased its grip on her, its shadow lurked in the dark recesses of her mind.
"Good morning, you darlings," she said as she rose from the couch and bent over the babies. Vella yawned. Gage fussed. Connor—
Connor appeared yellow. Jaundiced. Doc had said that might happen, but it scared Cynara, nevertheless. Lifting the baby from his new cradle, she hurried to the sewing room where Julia slept on a daybed and knocked on the door.
"I'm up," Julia called. "Come on in."
Cynara threw open the door and rushed inside. "Julia, I think Connor is ill. He's yellow."
The older woman studied the child, his eyes, his tongue, his belly. "Yes, he's jaundiced, but babies get that way sometimes. I don't think it's anything to worry about, but I'll have one of the boys go for the doctor nevertheless."
They left the sewing room in time to catch Barclay coming down the stairs.
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"Morning, my two lovely ladies. How are you?" He frowned. "Ma, you look worried."
"It's Connor, Barclay." She showed him the baby. "He's more yellow than he should be. I think we need to send for Doc."
He took the baby from her and cradled him against his broad chest. "What is it, little guy? Don't feel well? We'll get you fixed up."
He handed the baby back. "I'll send someone to fetch Doc."
Cynara watched him hurrying out the door and prayed they were being overly cautious.
Morning, my two lovely ladies, he'd said. Had he meant it? It was a silly thing to think about when they might have an ill baby on their hands.
She took Connor, sat on the couch and proceeded to feed him. Julia went to help Oysters with breakfast. Within minutes, Barclay returned.
"Slim sent one of the hands to town. How is Connor?"
Aware that he couldn't tell which baby she had under the concealing blanket she used to cover herself, she said, "I'm feeding him. Maybe that will perk him up."
"What about the other two?"
"They seem fine," she said.
"Good. Would you like me to sit with you until Doc arrives?"
"That's not necessary." To take him away from his work would be unthinkable. "You go do whatever you need to do. Breakfast should be ready soon."
He glanced at the mantle clock. "Not enough time to bother getting into my ledgers. I'll wait with you."
The room held several chairs besides the settee. He settled in one and smiled. "I enjoyed our ride yesterday."
"So did I. Thank you."
"You don't need to thank me. I enjoyed it as much as you did."
That pleased and worried her. She couldn't let herself start thinking a relationship between them might be possible. To even think of him in a romantic sense would be wrong. Crazy. She had buried her husband over five months ago. Her baby daughter two months later.
Voices sounded from the kitchen. A moment later, Jared entered the great room. "I was looking for you, Barc. Two more men got back. They said the same thing as Smoky and Cavell told you—numbers are down."
"Damn." Barclay glanced at Cynara. "Excuse my language."
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