by Regina Scott
His father scowled at him. “Your Nancy isn’t that pretty.”
“I could argue that,” Hank countered, opening the door to his father’s room. The massive center bed was flanked by the heads of buffalo and antelope his father had shot in his youth.
“You’ve changed,” his father said.
Hank wasn’t sure whether his father thought that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was just glad the changes were evident.
“I’m the man I want to be, Pa. Nothing more.”
His father levered himself down onto a chest at the foot of his bed. “I want you to come home.”
Hank stepped back. “I have a home. It’s with Nancy in Little Horn.”
His father whacked his cane against the floor with all of his former energy, but Hank could see his knees shaking from the morning’s exertions. “Your place is here. Always has been. I can see the time away matured you, and I’m glad for that. But there’s a ranch to run.”
“Ernesto runs it,” Hank pointed out. He went to the bed and drew off one of the brightly-colored blankets.
“Ernesto’s running it into the ground, you mean,” his father complained, but he didn’t protest when Hank draped the blanket over his trembling legs. “He’s a hard worker, I’ll give him that. But he has no head for business.”
“So, hire someone else,” Hank said.
His father glowered. “I didn’t build this ranch to hand it over to a stranger. I built it for you.”
Hank leaned back. “I was under the impression you built it for you and Mother. The two of you had a place to uphold in the community, you always said, a reputation to maintain. I can’t be one more medal on your chest, Pa. That’s why I left the first time.”
His father looked up to meet his gaze. “I’m dying. The doctor figures I have six months.”
Hank felt as if the beams overhead had caved in on him. “He must be wrong.”
“I aim to prove him wrong,” his father declared. “But to do that, I need to concentrate, and I can’t do that worrying about the ranch.” He drew in a breath, and his voice softened. “I need you, Hank. More than that, I want you here beside me. I didn’t do well getting to know you as a boy. Maybe I pushed you too hard.”
“Maybe,” Hank allowed.
His father nodded as if accepting the criticism. “I want a chance to do better. I want to get to know the man you’ve become, to meet my newest grandson.”
“Nancy could be wrong,” Hank warned. “It could be a girl.”
“Then I’ll love her all the same,” his father insisted. “It would mean the world to me to have you run this ranch, to make it your own. What do you say, son?”
Chapter Twenty
Nancy could see the change in Hank when he came out to rejoin the family in the parlor. He looked a little unsteady on his feet again, but there was a new light about him, as if he was finally at peace with the things that had kept him from home. She met his gaze with raised brow, but he mouthed, “Later,” and she had to be content with that.
They didn’t have a chance to talk privately until they retired that night. Judith and Mira had returned with their families for Sunday dinner, an expansive affair that involved dozens of dishes that set the long table to groaning under the combined weight of good food and fine china. Hank’s sisters seemed to think their stratagems had worked because they kept grinning at Nancy and giggling at things Hank said. All the children were welcome at the table, and Nancy could only smile at the happy chatter.
Hank’s father joined them for a short time. Having all his family around him seemed to have done Henry Snowden good, for he encouraged all his grandchildren in one way or another. Though it seemed as if he had been a demanding father, he had a word for each of his grandchildren, for the most part kind, particularly to the littlest ones. Nancy could only hope he might have time to get to know Ben, as well.
Between the ladies’ coy glances and the children’s antics, it had been a delightful evening, but Nancy was glad to retire to the quiet of the little room. Once more, Hank walked her to the door.
“You and your father seemed to be getting on better,” she murmured as they paused in the hallway.
“We settled a few things,” he admitted. “He seems willing to accept who and what I am.”
Nancy smiled. “I’m so glad. Did you get a better sense of what’s really wrong with him?”
He was quiet a moment, and she felt her smile fading as she waited to hear the news.
“The doctor’s given him six months to live,” he said.
“Oh, Hank! I’m so sorry.” She wanted to enfold him in her arms, but she wasn’t sure that would bring him comfort.
“He asked me to stay,” he continued, and the amazement in his voice was mirrored on his face, “to take over the ranch from Ernesto. And I think Ernesto would be glad to see that happen. But I can’t run this ranch and the Windy Diamond too.”
“No, of course not.” She should have known this was coming. How could she and the baby compare to a whole family, a history of friends and past loves? He’d grown into a man in Little Horn, but a part of him would always belong to Waco. Much as she loved him, she couldn’t put herself between him and his family. She wanted what was best for him.
Even if that broke her heart.
“I’ll understand if you want to stay,” she made herself say. “I can go back on the train alone.”
“Nancy.” Her name sounded soft, murmured in the quiet. His face looked soft as well as he reached out to caress her cheek. “I’d never leave you. You and me and baby Ben are a family. We stick together.”
Emotions welled up inside her, and she nearly cried with the sweetness of his touch. But she had to be strong. She couldn’t let him sacrifice himself for her and the baby.
“But your family here needs you,” she insisted.
He pressed a finger to her lips, stilling them. “My family in Little Horn needs me too. Or am I mistaken in that?”
She pulled back enough to free her lips. “No. We need you, Hank. I need you. But I can’t be so selfish as to deprive you of your last moments with your father. I know I wouldn’t have wanted to miss one moment with my mother.”
She could see the smile on his face. “I reckon it’s more important to be there when Ben breathes his first than when Pa breathes his last. We’ll stay a couple more days, if you’re willing. Then we’ll head back to Little Horn.”
“I’m willing,” she said. “If that’s what you want.”
“It’s what’s best,” he said. He pressed a kiss to her forehead as if in pledge, then turned to go. And Nancy could only hope his decision was for the best, for all of them.
* * *
The next two days flew by. Hank’s sisters and their families came by when they could, sharing meals and taking rides about the ranch. Unlike the Windy Diamond, the Double H lay on good, flat grazing lands. When Hank took Nancy up in the wagon, she thought she could see forever.
“Does the sky ever end?” asked Daniel, who had insisted on driving with them. Missy’s five-year-old son had taken a liking to Hank and refused to let him go anywhere without his company.
Nancy smiled at him. “Not on your ranch, apparently.”
“We have a few more trees and rocks and a lot of draws and canyons on the Windy Diamond,” Hank agreed.
“Why?” Daniel asked as Hank guided the horses back toward the ranch house.
Hank grinned at Nancy. “You know, I ask myself that question every time I have to chase down a steer.”
Daniel wasn’t the only one who liked being around Hank. He and Ernesto spent several hours discussing plans for the ranch. Missy tried to get Nancy to come out with the children, but Nancy demurred. Because of what she’d learned at the Windy Diamond, she was able to contribute to the discussio
ns and delighted when the more experienced gentlemen listened to her suggestions.
“But we do not dare drive the cattle to the south pasture,” Ernesto protested one day as they stood overlooking the herd. “The water there does not last in the summer heat.”
“That’s why we need to put in a windmill,” Hank told him. “What rain we get may evaporate, but the grass tends to stay nice and green because of groundwater.”
“We just need to tap that water and bring it up for the cattle to drink,” Nancy promised.
“Señor Snowden will not like the expense, I think,” Ernesto said.
“Not at first,” Hank agreed. “But once he sees how fat the cattle grow with the extra food, he’ll come around.”
Nancy wasn’t sure whether any member of the family besides Hank knew that his father’s time might be short, but she liked the fact that Hank acted as if his father would be around for some time to come.
The biggest surprise for Nancy was the change in Hank’s mother. From the moment she and Nancy had met, it had seemed to Nancy that Mother Snowden had found her lacking. Hank’s mother wanted the best for her son, and a pregnant widow likely didn’t qualify. But one afternoon, she called Nancy aside.
“I am not the most demonstrative person,” she admitted, head high and back straight as she perched on her settee. “I see no reason to shout or cry when circumstances vary from what I’d hoped. But Henry, Hank, was always one to share his heart, with his sisters, with his friends, with me. It was one of his most endearing traits. I thought Mary Ellen Wannacre stole that from him. You gave it back, and for that I will always be grateful.”
She opened her arms and hugged Nancy close, and when they separated, Nancy could see tears sparkling in the matron’s eyes despite her brave words.
They also discovered they shared a love of quilting and spent several hours looking over Mother Snowden’s pattern books and fabric to choose a quilt she could make for Ben.
“I’ve made a birth quilt for each of my grandchildren,” she told Nancy. “I don’t intend to make an excuse for this one.”
But even with all that activity, it seemed only a few hours before Nancy and Hank were standing near the train in Waco, waiting to board.
John and Mira had driven them back from the ranch. As John took the baggage to be loaded, Hank’s sister kissed them both on the cheek. Then she braced her hands on Hank’s shoulders.
“You will write,” she said, sounding more like her father than her mother. “We don’t want to lose you again.”
“You won’t lose us,” Hank promised. “I’ll have to write to tell you when Ben is born.”
“Oh, no,” she said, dropping her hands and sharing a smile with Nancy. “Nancy told me when the baby is due. You’ll be meeting me at the train two weeks earlier. I may not be a midwife and I may not have Judith’s cooking skills, but I know how to take care of family.”
“We’ll be glad to see you,” Nancy assured her.
Just then the conductor called for everyone to board. Hank and Nancy said their goodbyes and hurried to find seats. She waved to John and Mira as the train pulled away from the station.
“I think my family likes you better than they like me,” Hank teased as she turned to face him.
Nancy laughed. “I think they love us both. I’m so glad that’s how it turned out, Hank.”
He reached over and took her hand. “It wouldn’t have turned out that way if you hadn’t insisted that we come together. I’ve never felt so blessed. Thank you.”
“Thank you for sharing them with me,” Nancy said. “I always wanted a big family.”
He released her to lean back with a grin. “Then we have a lot of work ahead of us, Mrs. Snowden.”
She blushed, afraid to believe his teasing. “We do, indeed. We have roundup coming.”
He groaned. “You had to remind me. We’ll need to staff up. Upkins and Jenks and I can’t do it alone, even if we team with the others.”
They spent the next little while talking through options and costs. Hank didn’t want to try looking for cowboys in Burnet after their reception there, but Nancy thought it might be the best spot for recruiting. Hank had launched into an impassioned argument, when he paused and cocked his head. “Why are you grinning like that?” he asked.
“Because of this,” she said, feeling as if she might burst with the joy of it. “Look at me. Trying to find the best way to get my cattle to market, just like a real rancher.”
“And look at me,” he countered, “a down-on-his-luck cowpoke who married the prettiest gal in Texas, trying to figure out how to convince you to see things my way.”
“Guess we both have things to grin about,” she said.
Hank’s smile faded as he glanced past her, toward the back of the train car. Turning, she saw a man standing near the door, six-gun in each hand.
“This is a robbery, folks,” he called. “Reach your hands up nice and easy, and no one gets hurt.”
* * *
Hank couldn’t help stiffening, one hand dipping toward the gun at his hip. Nancy jerked around to face him. Those wide hazel eyes all but begged him not to start something. He didn’t want to cause trouble, but he wasn’t about to let her get hurt.
Besides, he knew that man. It was the same rider from Burnet who’d tried to convince him to steal cattle. The sheriff must not have been able to make a case against him. The man had already lit into Hank once. Would he take it out on him now? Would he take it out on Nancy?
A chill went through Hank. He carefully relaxed his arm and tugged his hat down over his forehead, slumping in his seat to shadow his face.
“You there,” the robber ordered the nearest man, who was wearing a bowler. “Take off your hat and pass it around. I expect you all to donate handsomely.”
The passenger removed his hat and held it out to the people closest to him, who dropped in coins and jewelry. Hank waited for the robber to demand more, but he didn’t even seem to be watching as the hat progressed down the aisle.
Instead, he was watching Hank.
Hank turned his head away, but the robber started down the car. “You looking for trouble, mister?” he demanded.
Hank shook his head. “No.”
“No, eh?” The robber stalked closer, people cringing away from him as he passed. One man in a black Stetson caught Hank’s gaze and shook his head as if to warn him not to react.
“You getting smart with me again?” the thief asked, stopping between Hank’s and Nancy’s seats.
“Never claimed to be any kind of smart,” Hank said, trying to think of a way to convince the fellow to move on. A lady offered Hank the hat, and he reached in his pocket for a coin.
The robber stiffened, leveling his guns at Hank. “Now you think you can draw on me?”
Hank held up the coin, then made a show of dropping it in the hat. “Just donating, like you asked.”
The robber lowered his guns, even as he nodded. “Good. Glad to see you learned something after our time together in Burnet.” He looked to Nancy. “What about you, pretty lady? You have anything I might want?”
Hank tensed, but Nancy shook her head. “No. I’m sorry.”
“Well, now, aren’t you a peach?” He raised his voice. “See there, people? That’s how you answer a man, sweet and proper as you please.” He bent closer to Nancy, though his gaze darted to Hank’s for a moment. “How about a kiss for my trouble, sweetheart?”
Nancy blanched.
“Leave her alone,” Hank said.
The robber straightened. “Oh, so you do want trouble. Come on, then. Draw. Let’s see who’s faster.”
Another place, another time, he might have obliged the fellow. He’d drawn on Lucas Bennett without thinking through the consequences. Now all he could think about was Nancy.
<
br /> What if the bullet went astray and hit her? What if he lost the draw, leaving her alone again with a ranch facing roundup and a baby to raise? Much as he would have liked to put this fellow in his place and stop the robbery, his pride wasn’t worth her pain.
“I’m not going to draw on you,” Hank told him.
“I will,” said another voice.
Hank hadn’t seen him coming, but now the man in the black Stetson reared up behind the robber, putting his gun against the thief’s head. “Drop your weapons. Now.”
The robber hesitated a moment, and Hank’s hand went to his gun, ready to protect Nancy at all costs. But the thief released the triggers of his pistols and let his arms fall. Hank took one of the guns while the man in the black hat took the other.
“I noticed a cage in the baggage car,” the man said. “It was designed to hold hunting dogs, but I figure it will do for a cur like you. Move.”
The other passengers broke into applause as the man turned the robber back the way he had come.
“Don’t go anywhere,” their rescuer warned Hank and Nancy over his shoulder. “We need to talk.”
Hank felt as if he’d ridden the trail all day. He reached out and gathered Nancy against him on his seat, feeling her tremble.
“Easy, now,” he murmured. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
She pulled back to meet his gaze. “You nearly weren’t. I thought he was going to shoot you.”
“I thought he might at that.” He rubbed a hand against her shoulder, relieved to have her close. “That was the man I met in Burnet, Nancy, the one who tried to convince me to become a rustler.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “What was he doing here?”
Hank didn’t know either, but he couldn’t like it. Still, he didn’t want to worry her. “I don’t know, but at least that man stopped him before he could hurt anyone.” He tried for a smile. “Just think, this will be a story we can tell baby Ben.”
Nancy shuddered. “I’d rather not relive it, thank you very much.”
Another passenger came up then with the hat, and Hank rose to help him redistribute the belongings. Several of the others thanked him for his bravery. By the time he had returned to his seat, the man in the black Stetson was back.
