Big Sky Cowboy. Linda Ford
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you like working on the barn?” Lonnie asked.
Wyatt wasn’t sure what the boy wanted with his unexpected question. “I like building things. Always have.”
“Huh. What have you built?”
“Have you forgotten I built that rocker Ma had?”
“Pa broke it after you went to jail.”
Wyatt glanced both ways out of habit.
Lonnie jerked around and studied the surroundings. “Sooner or later they’re gonna find out.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t intend to tell them.” He turned the conversation back to building.
Lonnie looked interested for about thirty seconds, then his expression soured. “Suppose that’s why Pa broke it? ’Cause you built it?”
“Likely. But I still had the fun of making it and seeing her rock in it.”
Lonnie stared at the fire.
Wyatt waited, hoping he would say something more. When he didn’t, Wyatt returned to Lonnie’s original question. “The Bells have been hospitable to us. Mr. Bell is finding it hard to get around, and the womenfolk shouldn’t be trying to build a barn on their own. So maybe God brought us here to help them.”
“God don’t care where we go or what we do.” Those few words carried a whole world of misery that Wyatt would erase if it was possible, but he knew it wasn’t. He could only pray Lonnie would find his way to trust. Not only trust God but trust people.
“I guess I have to believe otherwise or life looks mighty uninviting.”
Lonnie’s only reply was to sag over his knees.
“Supper’s ready. Hold out your plate.”
Lonnie did so and ate in a distracted way.
Wyatt waited, hoping his brother would open up and say what he was thinking.
Lonnie finally spoke. “Did you see the pigs?”
“Uh-huh.”
“They sure are cute, aren’t they?” Lonnie’s eyes lit with joy in a way Wyatt hadn’t seen in a long time.
“How about we have pigs on our new farm?”
Lonnie nodded, a genuine smile on his face. “I’d like that.”
“Me, too.” If it made his brother smile like that he’d raise a hundred pigs. “I asked Cora to go for a walk with me this evening.”
Lonnie bolted to his feet. “You’re going to court her? What’s gonna happen to me? Nobody will want a young brother tagging along. You ever think of that?”
“You don’t need to worry. In the first place, I don’t think anyone is going to want a jailbird. But even if that wasn’t the case, you and I are brothers. We stick together no matter what.” As an afterthought, he added, “This isn’t courting. Just need to straighten up a few things with her.”
“Like what?”
Wyatt wasn’t about to tell him the whole reason—that Cora had grown curious about Lonnie’s odd behavior. Instead, he said, “What all she needs done so we can earn our keep.”
“Oh.” Lonnie sat down again and nodded, but the fearful look did not leave.
Wyatt squeezed the boy’s shoulder. “If it ever comes to choosing between you and someone else, I promise I’ll choose you.”
Lonnie nodded, but kept his eyes on the dying flames of the fire. “Want me to wash the dishes?”
“We’ll do them together.” He filled the basin with hot water from the fire and Lonnie grabbed a towel. The few dishes were soon done.
“What are you going to do while I see Cora?” Wyatt asked. He must talk to her but didn’t care for leaving Lonnie alone.
“Guess I’ll watch Fanny. Maybe she’ll have her foal tonight.” Worry lined his forehead. “What if she foals while you’re gone? Something might go wrong.”
“I expect she’ll be fine, so don’t worry.”
“But what if—”
“You go up and find Mr. Bell. He’ll know what to do.”
Lonnie rocked his head back and forth.
Wyatt grabbed his chin to stop the movement. “Would you let your choices hurt Fanny and her baby?” He waited as Lonnie considered the question.
“Guess I wouldn’t.”
He released Lonnie’s chin. “I knew you wouldn’t, but kind of figured you needed to know it, too.”
Lonnie snorted but a smile tugged at his lips and Wyatt knew he’d gained a small victory. He almost wished Fanny would foal while he was out walking with Cora so Lonnie would go to Mr. Bell for help. Wouldn’t that be a giant step forward for his brother?
“I’ll see you later.”
Wyatt climbed the hill and leaned against the corner post of the garden fence to wait for Cora. The scent of flowers wafted through the air on a gentle breeze. Birds sang and scolded from the trees and fence lines. Grub wandered over and flopped down at Wyatt’s feet. He scratched behind the dog’s ears and earned a moist lick of Grub’s tongue.
The dog equivalent of thanks.
Wyatt filled his lungs to capacity with the warm, sweet air. If only life could be like this always.
The screen door squawked open and Cora stepped out. She glanced around until she found him. The air between them shimmered with tension. She would demand answers. He must say only enough to satisfy her questions. At all costs, he must protect their secret.
She smiled, and the tightness in his chest eased.
He continued to lounge back as she crossed the yard toward him. All day, as they’d worked on the barn, she had worn a floppy straw hat. Now her head was bare. The sun shone on her hair, making it shine like gold. Each stride she took said she knew who she was. Moreover, she liked who she was and was confident of her place in the world.
He wished he could share that feeling.
As she approached, her smile never faltered. Her eyes said she had purpose.
He knew all too well what that purpose was. And he meant to delay the moment as long as he could. He pushed away from the fence post that had been his support for the past fifteen minutes and smiled at her. He was glad of her company despite the reason for it.
“Let’s walk,” she said.
His smile deepened. Maybe she wasn’t any more anxious for the moment of truth than he.
He fell in at her side and they made their way to the river and turned to the left to walk along the bank.
“The wildflowers are so bountiful this time of year. I love the summer flowers.” She pointed out a patch of brown-eyed Susans and bluebonnets. “There’s some balsamroot. Ma uses the root to make a tonic and cough medicine.”
Content to let her talk and simply enjoy the evening, he turned toward some flowers. “Does your ma use these for anything?”
She squatted by the patch of flowers, touching the blossoms gently. As she lifted her face to him, a smile filled her eyes. “Yes, she does.” Cora straightened. “Every year, when the brown-eyed Susans—or, as she prefers to call them, black-eyed Susans—are at their best, she fills a jug with the blossoms and puts it in the middle of the table.” She looked into the distance, the soft smile still on her lips. “And she repeats a poem about the black-eyed Susan who was a woman. Her sweet William was sailing away and she feared he would forget her. He said she would be present wherever he went. Her eyes would be seen in the diamonds they found, her breath would be sweeter than any spices and her skin prettier