"I'll tell you what," Julia said. "As long as you keep in touch and I know where to write you, I'll let you know how they're doing."
"That would be lovely. Thank you."
"Of course," Julia added with a sigh, "I won't be here forever either, so you'll probably have to find out for yourself about weddings and new babies and such."
Cynara set down her tea and slid an arm around the older woman's shoulders. "You'll be here for many more years, Julia, long enough to attend weddings and bounce a couple of grandchildren on your knee."
"You're right." Julia reached up and patted Cynara's arm. "But we were talking about you. I don't know how we got onto me. What do you plan to do when the babies are weaned?"
Cynara sat back again, removing her arm from around Julia. "I don't know. I have a sister in Ohio. More than one if I tell the truth. And brothers as well. But one sister, Healy, the one born after me, has always been especially close to me. In fact, I'm surprised I haven't heard from her. Worried, actually. She always answers my letters promptly. I asked her to come here after Ward died. That was months ago. I was so alone and frightened then."
"I can well imagine you were," Julia said.
"Perhaps I'll go home to see Healy. And the rest of my family, of course. I’m worried, not hearing from her."
"That sounds like an excellent idea, though I'd rather see you settle in Cutthroat." Julia picked up a cookie from a plate on a table in front of the couch. "Healy is a pretty name. Is it English?"
"I think it's an Irish surname."
Doc let out a shout in the kitchen, accompanied by a groan from Oysters.
"I think Doc may have won a game," Julia said, smiling. She swallowed her bite of cookie.
Cynara felt Julia studying her. It discomfited her, and she wondered why Barclay's mother would look at her that way.
"Cynara, have you considered marrying my son?"
Chapter Fourteen
B y the time Barclay reached the marshal's office, it became clear that his ad declaring his innocence in the Annabelle matter had worked, but some folks either hadn't read it or didn't believe it.
Marshal Vining sat at the desk reading a dime novel. "Oops, you caught me." Grinning, he tucked the novel into a drawer. "What can I do for you, Barclay?"
"I wanted to find out if you've heard complaints of rustling from anyone." He perched on a corner of the desk.
Vining leaned back in his squeaky chair and folded his gnarled hands over his stomach. He was nearing fifty now and getting potbellied. "The only one I've heard anything from is Beau Hodson and he says you're stealing his cows."
Barclay might have worried after hearing that, if Vining hadn't smiled as he spoke. "He'll have a hard time proving it. We've been checking our hands every evening to make sure they're all where they belong. Frankly, I think it's the other way around. Maybe someone is helping himself to cows from both sides of the property line."
"Could be," the marshal said. "That's one of the problems with open range. Damn hard to keep track of your livestock. So, you've lost some cows too?"
"Yes. Another thing…" Barclay stood, took off his hat, and showed the marshal the hole in the felt. "Got this yesterday as I was riding home from the Lazy L Ranch."
"Lucky they weren't a better shot." Vining poked a finger through the hole, then handed back the hat. "Where exactly were you when it happened? I want to check it out."
"About half a mile north of the ranch turnoff. Don't reckon there's much you could do. Be impossible to find empty casings in all the tall grass along that road." Barclay slid the hat back onto his head. "Just wanted to let you know about it."
"I appreciate that. Too many people neglect informing me when things like this happen and then complain I ain't doing anything to protect them." Vining stood and offered his hand. "I still want to ride out there and look around."
"I'm heading home now." Barclay jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the ranch. "You want to ride with me?"
"Sounds like a good idea. I'll get my horse from the livery and meet you back here."
Barclay shook with him and went out to his gelding. He’d checked with the telegraph office for replies to the wires he’d sent requesting information about Dirk Shindler and received none. It had been a wasted trip, but he'd expected as much. On the way home, he'd pay more attention than usual to what was going on around him. Two holes in his hat would, for sure, force him to buy a new one.
Before he could climb into the saddle, he heard his name. "Barclay!"
Turning, he saw Annabelle running toward him. At once, he tensed. He didn't want any more trouble, especially in the middle of town.
"Barclay, I need to talk to you." Annabelle reached him and wrapped her arms around his waist like an octopus.
He took her wrists and pulled them off him, then pushed her away. "Stop doing that, Annabelle. There's nothing between us and you know it. Never has been. Never will be."
"But I love you, and I need you." She put her hands on her stomach. "Our baby needs you."
Marshal Vining hadn’t gone far and returned. “Is there a problem here?”
"Sure is," Barclay said. "Can you arrest her for making false claims? It's impossible for me to be the father of her baby, if she's carrying one."
Anger flashed in her eyes. "Of course, I'm—"
"Annabelle!" Boots McKinney raced up. "You get away from him. Let her go, Barclay. You ain't got no claim on her."
"No, and I don't want any." He held up his hands to show he wasn't holding the girl in place. "You're welcome to her."
"How can you say that?" Tears glistened in her eyes as she caressed her flat stomach. "After all we've been to each other?"
Barclay wondered how she did that, produce tears on demand? The manipulative little minx had more tricks up her sleeves than he could anticipate. What could come next? "I barely know you, Annabelle, and there's never been anything between us."
"That's not true. I've always loved you, Barclay. You just never saw it. Why can't you love me back?" A tear trailed down her cheek. "I want to be your wife. I want to give you more children." Her hands returned to her stomach.
Boots yanked her around to face him. "What are you talking about, woman? You love me, and you know it. That's my baby you're carrying. No one's marrying you but me."
"No." She pushed him away, inadvertently exposing the real Annabelle. "You were fun to play with, Boots, but I love Barclay."
"Hold it there, Barclay!" Beau Hodson galloped up, raising dust as his horse skidded to a halt. In his hand he held a Colt .45 aimed right at Barclay. "Marshal, I'm suing this man for Breach of Promise. My little girl says he promised to marry her when he had his way with her, and I believe her. Arrest him."
"Now, Beau." Marshal Vining held up his hands.
Barclay shook his head at this unbelievable turn of events. The world had gone insane.
"Papa! Don't!" Annabelle threw herself at her father, attempting to seize the gun. "You can't shoot him. He's my husband. Almost."
"Get off me," Beau tried to yank the gun away from her, but she held on. "I'm sick of this. If the marshal won’t arrest him, I'll shoot him. And I’ll do it right this time."
“Hold on there, Beau,” Vining said. “Did you try to shoot Barclay once before?’
Beau succeeded in getting the six-gun free. “Yes, but the bastard dodged my bullet.” He aimed at Barclay again.
"No, Papa!" Using his stirrup, she climbed half-way onto her father's lap, grabbing his gun arm and trying to wrench the weapon from him. “You can’t shoot him.”
"This is enough!" Barclay muttered and stalked over to detach the girl from Beau. With his hands on her waist he tugged.
Annabelle’s grip loosened, causing her father's arm to jerk and his finger to squeeze the trigger.
The bullet missed the girl and drilled straight into Barclay's right shoulder.
He gasped at the severe pain, as though someone had stabbed him with a flame-hot p
oker. His arm lost its strength, seeming to go numb. He released his hold on Annabelle who plummeted to the ground a breath before Barclay crashed to the earth, partly on top of her.
Annabelle screamed and shoved at him. Barely conscious, he tried to move. It seemed as if he were struggling to stay upright in quicksand.
The next thing he knew, he lay in the dirt with Marshal Vining kneeling over him and Boots hanging onto the girl. Behind the lawman, Annabelle fought to get free of Boots' hold on her.
"Let me go to him," she cried.
Barclay caught one glimpse of Beau's shocked face before the man turned his horse and galloped out of town.
Shocked that Julia would ask her if she'd thought of marrying her son, Cynara gasped. "Which son?"
"Barclay, of course." Julia laughed. "He's very attracted to you. You know that, don't you?"
She had thought, hoped, Barclay felt fond of her. Perhaps a little more than fond, but she'd been afraid to think about it too much. "Is he?"
"Yes. How do you feel about him?"
Cynara stared at the older woman. The thought of loving Barclay, of loving any man, terrified her. She had barely begun to recover from losing her husband. Could she afford to risk her heart yet again?
"I think you and my son make a beautiful couple, as if you were made for each other. Your looks and your quiet demeanor complement his. His strength and intelligence match yours. Inner strength, not physical. I think you're good for each other." Julia passed Cynara the cookie platter. Cynara shook her head.
"I don't know what to say, Julia. I find Barclay attractive. What woman wouldn't? But I would never presume to think he might want me."
"I don't know why not."
"I wouldn't be good for any man who wants children. I'm afraid to have babies. Terrified I'll lose them. I can't go through that again. It's been difficult enough taking care of Connor, Gage and Vella. Even though I've always known they would never be mine, it didn't stop me from falling in love with them. To lose another child that I carried inside my body for months would be worse. I can't risk it."
"You and Barclay could adopt the triplets. Perhaps that would be enough?"
Cynara rose and took the few steps necessary to reach the cradles by the fire. She cupped Vella's sweet face and brushed her fingers through Connor's hair. "We don't know… I mean, Barclay doesn't know if he'll be allowed to keep them. What if Minnie comes back?"
"She abandoned them. I don't believe she has any rights where they're concerned." Julia's voice held a firmness that matched the determined look on her face.
"A judge might feel differently," Cynara said softly. The notion of Barclay adopting Connor and asking her to marry him struck her as too good to be true. She didn't dare believe it could happen.
More laughter came from the kitchen.
Julia joined Cynara at the cradles. "That's a possibility, but not a strong one. Think about it. I'm sure Barclay cares for you. Search your heart for any possibility that you might love him. In time, at least."
Wanting to end the uncomfortable conversation, Cynara said, "I will. I promise."
Oysters and Doc came from the kitchen to peer out the front windows that faced the distant ranch gate.
"Someone's coming," Oysters said. "A wagon in a big hurry. Hope it ain't that Annabelle again."
"We all hope that," Julia said as she and Cynara joined the men at the windows.
Seconds later, a team pulling a buckboard galloped into the yard, driven by Jared. Chase sat in the wagon bed, his head visible above the seatback along with another man that Cynara didn't recognize. The horses of all three brothers had been tied to the tailgate.
"Something's wrong," Julia whispered, fear causing her voice to quaver.
Terror filled Cynara. Where was Barclay? His horse was with the others. Had he been hurt? Without consciously thinking about it, she raced to the door, with Julia right behind. Doc and Oysters came last.
The wagon ground to a halt close to the house, sending clouds of dust billowing up to envelop the women on the porch. Jared secured the reins and jumped down. Ranch hands came from everywhere to help and learn what happened.
"Now, Ma," Jared began, like a parent with an unruly child. "Barclay's been hurt, but he's going to be all right. No hysterics needed, all right?"
"What happened?" Julia hurtled questions at her son. "What do you mean he's been hurt? Hurt how?"
"He's been shot." Jared's gaze went to Doc. "Got a bullet in his shoulder."
Doc said nothing, simply hurried to the end of the wagon.
"Well, get him out of there and into bed," Julia demanded, more a sergeant now than a frightened mother. "Oysters, get that door that's leaning against the back of the house. We'll use that as a gurney."
"What can I do?" Cynara twisted her hands together, eager to go to Barclay but afraid she'd be in the way. She moved to a spot where she could see him. Spying her, he sent her a wan smile. She suspected he meant to reassure her. He failed.
"Go tell Barclay we're going to take good care of him," Julia said at her side. "I'll see that his bed is ready. Jared, when Oysters comes with the door, throw a blanket over it so it's more comfortable for Barclay."
"Yes, Ma."
Julia rushed off and Cynara edged closer to Chase who sat cradling his brother's head on his lap. "How bad is it?"
Barclay lifted his head. "Why not ask me? I'm not dead yet."
"I'm sorry. I—"
"I'm only teasing." Barclay sat up, grimacing in pain. Blood covered his shirt, from his right shoulder to his waist. With Chase's help, he scooted to the end of the wagon bed. Chase jumped to the ground, then reached for his brother.
"Here." Slim edged Cynara aside. "Let me help."
The two men slid Barclay off the wagon bed and stood him on his feet, supporting him with their arms around his back.
"Shouldn't he be lying down?" Cynara asked.
Doc appeared at her side. "Let's see what we're dealing with here. Sit down, Barclay"
He sat on the tail of the wagon while Doc removed his bloody shirt and used it to make a makeshift bandage for the bullet-sized hole in Barclay's shoulder.
"Well, that's doesn't look too bad," Doc said. "Missed the vital organs. You want to walk in or be carried, son?"
"I can walk," he said, standing.
"No, you can't." His mother reappeared and steered Oysters to the wagon with the door she'd sent him for. Jared spread a blanket over it. "Here, lie down on this, Barclay. We'll have you in bed in no time."
Barclay glanced at Cynara, looking a little embarrassed at the fuss. "I can walk, Ma. I'm fine. Doc says so."
"You've lost a lot of blood, son," Doc said. "Save your strength for healing, and let them carry you in."
"Come on." Julia tugged on his arm, maneuvering him so he could stretch out on the door. "No sass, now, or I'll keep you on broth and bread for a week."
"Ma," Barclay complained. "Stop babying me. Go burp Connor or something."
Despite his words, he allowed them to lower him onto the door and carry him up the stairs and into his bedroom. They placed the door on the bed and Barclay edged off. "All right, you got me here. Now go away and leave me with some dignity," he groused.
The men went out, Slim and the other hands who'd helped haul the door in asking Chase and Jared question after question about what happened.
"Annabelle shot him?" Slim snarled. "That little…" With a glance at Cynara, he shut up.
Cynara snagged Jared as he tried to slide past her and descend the stairs. "Wait, Jared. Please, tell me what happened."
"Come on down to the kitchen and I'll tell everybody. Not going to repeat the story a hundred times."
Oysters set a platter of cookies on the table and began filling mugs with coffee as they all filed inside. Cynara relieved him of coffee duty and hovered on the sidelines while the men talked.
Jared explained how he'd run into George from the livery bringing Barclay home in a buckboard. Jared had taken o
ver, more confident of his driving skills than the fourteen-year-old’s. "You tell the rest, George. You were there. I wasn't."
George straightened his shoulders, looking proud of his important new role. "Well, Annabelle cornered Barclay, raising a big fuss about how she loved him, and he should marry her. Then Boots come storming up, called her a liar and swore the baby was his."
"Boots McKinney?" Oysters asked.
"Yep. Him and Annabelle were arguing 'bout it when her pa rode up and pulled a gun on Barclay. She screamed 'No’.” He paused to look the men in the eye as if their equal. “You know how girls are. Then she and her pa got into a tussle over the gun, and the durn thing went off. Bullet put a hole in Barclay’s shoulder. The girl didn’t get a scratch."
"Allus said that girl was trouble," Oysters said, nodding emphatically. "Did the marshal arrest Beau?"
Jared shook his head. "No. Beau turned tail and raced out of town. Probably went home."
"When I left," George said, "Marshal Vining was going after Beau. It's illegal to fire a gun within city limits."
“Barclay said it was an accident,” Jared said. “He asked Vining not to bring charges against Beau.”
"What an extraordinary story," Cynara said, her coffee grown cold in front of her. "It doesn't sound like Annabelle is quite right in her head. I feel sorry for her."
"Yeah," Chase said. "Reckon we all do now. She seems to really believe Barclay got her with child."
Doc entered the kitchen, and Oysters hustled to provide more chairs and coffee cups.
"He'll be asleep soon," Doc reported. "Stubborn man wanted to come down and join everyone in the kitchen. His mother put her foot down and made him take some laudanum."
"Barclay's strong," Jared said. "He'll heal up just fine."
Cynara hoped he was right. To think of Barclay upstairs hurting tore at her heart. It was all she could do not to go to him. She feared Julia would feel she was butting in. Besides, Barclay needed rest. She told herself she could see him later, though it would be difficult to wait.
"What's going on at the big house?" Dirk asked when Slim returned from helping out.
Barclay (Bachelors And Babies Book 4) Page 16
