Читать книгу A Rancher Of Convenience - Regina Scott - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Hank wandered back to the barn after dinner, steps still decidedly wobbly. Nancy had agreed to marry him. He was going to be a husband and a father. He wasn’t sure what to do, what to think.

Upkins caught his shoulder as Hank stepped into the bunk room.

“Whoa there, son,” he said, frowning into Hank’s face. “What happened?”

Jenks shifted away from his belongings. “Did Widder Bennett toss you out?”

Hank shook his head, more to clear it than to answer their questions. “She’s going to marry me.”

Upkins released him so fast, Hank nearly fell.

“What!” the veteran demanded, stepping back.

Jenks scrambled off his bunk, sending a cat dashing out the door beside Hank. “Why’d you go and do something so low-down?”

“Low-down?” Hank frowned at him. “I offered her my name, my protection. You know she can’t run this place by herself.”

“We can.” Upkins widened his stance, though his six-guns were safely in their holsters by his bunk. “And I thought we were doing a good job of it too. No reason for you to push yourself forward.”

“Taking advantage of a lady in her time of need,” Jenks agreed, coming to join the older cowhand.

“It’s not like that,” Hank told them. “I’ll be her husband in name only.”

Jenks looked from him to Upkins. “What’s that mean?”

Upkins shrugged, clearly as puzzled.

“It means I’m bunking with you and riding out like always,” Hank explained. “But as far as the Empire Bank is concerned, Mrs. Bennett has a man running the ranch.”

Jenks scratched his ear as if he couldn’t have heard right. “So what’s she calling you? Mr. Bennett number two?”

Not while he lived. “She’ll be Mrs. Snowden now.”

Upkins shook his grizzled head. “Makes no sense. Wives rely on husbands for more than the change of name, as far as I can see.”

Jenks nodded. “Spiritual leadership and genteel companionship as the years go by.”

Hank started laughing. “Well, guess I won’t make much of a husband, then. Seriously, boys, nothing’s going to change.”

Upkins still didn’t look convinced. “You really going to settle for my cooking when you have the right to sit at her table?”

Dinner hadn’t been all that comfortable tonight, but the food had been far tastier than the cowboy’s. Hank could imagine sitting next to Nancy after a long day, sharing stories, planning for the future. She’d smile, and he’d know that all was right with the world. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he wasn’t smiling just thinking about it. He put on a somber face.

“We didn’t agree on specifics,” he admitted.

“Then I reckon you ought to,” Upkins told him. “Are you obliged to drive her to services every Sunday? Is she going to expect you to take on chores around the house? Who’s giving the orders to ride, you or her?”

Hank shook his head. “Maybe you should have offered to marry her. Seems you have it all figured out.”

“I’ve got the questions, son,” Upkins retorted. “That don’t mean I got the answers.”

“Neither do I,” Hank said. “But there’s something you should know. She’s carrying Bennett’s child.”

Jenks’s brows rose so high they disappeared under his thatch of red hair. Upkins let out a low whistle, then narrowed his eyes at Hank.

“You aim to be its pa?”

“Yes,” Hank said. “You have a problem with that, best you ride on now.”

For a moment, Upkins held his gaze, and Jenks seemed to be holding his breath. Then Upkins nodded.

“We’ll all help,” he declared with a look to Jenks, who nodded so fast Hank thought the boy’s head might rattle.

“You’ll make the babe a good pa,” Jenks agreed.

Hank didn’t know how Jenks could be so sure. He wasn’t. He didn’t even have a good example to follow, unless it was to do what his father hadn’t.

“I intend to try,” he told them both.

Once more Jenks glanced between Hank and Upkins. “So, we’re going to have a wedding.”

Hank laughed. “I reckon we are, and as soon as possible. I guess I better talk to Pastor Stillwater.”

* * *

As it turned out, the local minister wasn’t the only one Hank had to talk to about his and Nancy’s wedding. Hoping for a word with the pastor, Hank took Nancy into Little Horn that Sunday for services in the old revival tent the town used while the first church building and parsonage were being constructed nearby.

He hadn’t had a chance to attend services very often in the past. Cattle didn’t know much about keeping the Lord’s day, so Hank had generally been working. Besides, back in Waco only the fine folk went to services, and he was no longer part of that company.

Now, as he escorted Nancy into the shelter of the tent, he couldn’t deny the peace that flowed over him. He’d grown up worshipping among polished wood pews to the bellow of a massive pipe organ. The little tent with its packed dirt floor, rough wood benches and rickety piano felt more like home. After all, it hadn’t been in the fancy church he’d come to know his God but in the simple cathedral of a cowboy’s saddle.

Still, sitting with Nancy, holding the hymnal for her, his spirits rose. How could he not feel proud to have her beside him, pretty and sweet as she was?

Easy now, cowboy. Pride goeth before a fall. He’d felt the same way about Mary Ellen, and his feelings had been built on nothing more substantial than air. Nancy wasn’t here vowing undying devotion. She stood with him because she needed his help to save the Windy Diamond. And he was here to atone.

As the others listened to Pastor Stillwater’s message, Hank bowed his head.

I know You forgive easily, Lord. The Bible talks about a lost son being welcomed home and You eating with sinners. I know You won’t hold Lucas Bennett’s death against me. Help me help Nancy so I won’t hold it against myself.

Nancy shifted beside him, hand going to her back, and he stepped closer, offering his arm to lean on. Her smile was his reward.

After services, he left her with some of the other ladies and went to seek the pastor, who assured him of his support and willingness to perform the marriage ceremony. But Hank had no sooner stepped away from the minister than McKay and an older rancher in the area, Clyde Parker, closed in on him.

“We have everything under control,” Parker assured him, hitching up his gray trousers with self-importance. “The Lone Star Cowboy League is at your service.”

If the league came through with the money to save the ranch, Hank wouldn’t have to marry Nancy. For some reason, that made his spirits sink. “Then you found a way to pay the loan after all.”

“No,” McKay told him. “That’s not what he means.”

The dark clouds lifted. What was wrong with him? He ought to be disappointed they hadn’t been able to help Nancy.

Parker laughed, sounding a bit like the wheezy piano. “The story’s all over town, boy. You made the sacrifice to marry Nancy Bennett. Lula May says we should throw you a reception after the wedding. Think of it as a service to the community. We all need a reason to celebrate after the troubles this summer.”

Hank held up his hand. “Hold on. Marrying Mrs. Bennett is no sacrifice. I’m the one honored by her trust. And I’m not sure she’ll want a fuss.”

“Mrs. Bennett?” Parker teased with an elbow to Hank’s gut. “You should be calling her by her first name now.”

She’d given him leave to do so in private, but he found it difficult to use her first name in public. Funny how just being with Nancy made him remember the manners his mother had tried to instill in him. Ladies were to be treated with respect, helped into and out of any building or conveyance as if they were delicate flowers that might wither at a harsh word. Even with her quiet voice and shy smiles, he knew Nancy was made of stronger stuff. Look at the way she was trying to learn to run the ranch her husband had left her.

Excusing himself from the ranchers, he walked toward the piano, where Nancy was surrounded by the local ladies, looking a bit like spring wildflowers with their pretty dresses and bright-ribboned hats. Several of the group giggled behind their gloved hands as he approached. The only one who wasn’t watching him closely was John Carson’s girl, and Daisy had her head turned as if she was studying someone behind him.

“Ladies,” Hank said with a nod. “May I steal Mrs. Bennett away from you for a moment?”

“Only if you promise to bring her back as Mrs. Snowden,” the sheriff’s wife teased.

Nancy blushed and excused herself. Hank drew her toward a corner of the tent where the velvet bags that were passed for offering were stored. He could see Mrs. Hickey, the town gossip, craning her scrawny neck to get a view of the two of them, but he put his back to her to shelter Nancy.

“Seems like everyone knew before I ever told them,” he said, rubbing his chin.

“I know.” Nancy sighed. “I mentioned to Lula May at the quilting bee that you had proposed, and of course the other women encouraged me to accept.”

Of course? Who knew the ladies of the town thought that much of him? He couldn’t help grinning.

“They must have assumed I’d taken their advice,” Nancy continued. “I’m sorry, Hank.”

“No need to be sorry,” he assured her. “I didn’t call you away because of the rumors. Seems the league wants to throw a big reception for us after the wedding.”

She paled. “I can’t accept their kindness. We both know we wouldn’t be in this position if Lucas hadn’t broken the law.”

“True,” Hank said. “He caused heartache for a number of folks. But this reception may be a way to put all that behind us.”

She was chewing her lower lip again, a sure sign, he was coming to understand, of her concern. “Well, I suppose we could take them up on their offer. For Little Horn. Maybe Lula May can help me bake.”

Hank took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t fret. I’ll take care of everything.”

She raised her brows. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he insisted. After all, it was the least he could do.

* * *

Two weeks later, Nancy stood up with Hank and said her vows in front of a goodly portion of Little Horn’s finest. She couldn’t help contrasting her weddings. She and Lucas had been married in the big church in Burnet, because Lucas refused to be wed in a tent. He’d even had a blue satin dress made for her so she looked the part of an affluent rancher’s wife, and she’d felt a little awed to be standing up beside such a prosperous fellow, bouquet of white roses in her hands from the wife of the town mayor.

This time, she carried a bunch of yellow daisies Billy had picked from the ranch and handed her, red-faced, as he stammered his best wishes. Mr. Upkins, dressed in a black suit and bow tie she hadn’t known he possessed, had insisted on giving her away. Her green dress with the ruby roses embroidered down the front had been sewn by the ladies of the quilting bee and designed to be let out as the baby inside her grew. It was all quite lovely, and she felt like a complete fraud accepting the attentions.