“Best we ask for time to pay it off,” he advised.
“We had time,” she said. “Lucas had six months to repay the loan, but the bank is calling it in now. It seems they have no faith in my ability to run a ranch. See?”
Hank stepped up to her side then and took the note from her, fighting the urge to take her in his arms, as well. If ever a woman needed comforting, it was her. Come all this way to marry, try to make a life with a stranger, and then discover the fellow was a noaccount rustler. What had Lucas Bennett been thinking to jeopardize not only his spread but his marriage?
He glanced at the note. It was politely worded, expressing condolences on her loss, explaining the bank’s policy, the bankers’ need to be fiscally responsible. What about responsibility for neighbors, kindness to widows and orphans? With this sort of threat hanging over her head, what choice did she have?
He handed her back the letter, careful not to touch her fingers in the process. “Maybe it’s for the best, ma’am,” he said, throat unaccountably tight. “You weren’t always happy here.”
“I was becoming happy,” she said, gaze going off toward the hills. “I was trying. And then everything changed.”
She bit her lip again, to hold back harsh words or tears for the husband who had left her in such a bad way, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t help reaching out and touching her hand. It felt so small, so fragile. Yet when he’d been hurting, her hands had cradled his broken arm even as she’d taken away his pain.
“You could do what cowboys generally do,” he suggested. “Move on, start fresh. If you sell the place, you could pay the bank and still have money to live elsewhere.”
Her hand returned to her belly. “No, I need to stay here, keep the ranch, for...for the future.”
He stiffened, staring at her hand, at the gentle swell beneath it. The other cowpokes might tease him about his ability to read a heifer—when one was content, when one was yearning, when one was ailing. A feeling would come over him, and he’d know. Call it intuition, experience or the Lord’s leading. He’d only been wrong once.
And right now, a feeling was coming over him about Nancy Bennett. Unless his senses didn’t work as well when applied to females—and he had cause to know they’d failed spectacularly with a certain lady back in Waco—Nancy Bennett had a reason for wanting to keep the ranch.
She was pregnant. He’d not only cost her a husband, but he’d cost her unborn child a father.
She turned her gaze on him. “I thought if I could convince the bank I can care for this ranch, they might give me more time to pay. I need your help, Mr. Snowden. I want you to stay on as foreman. I won’t be able to pay you what you’re worth, not at first, but if we can get our cattle to market, that will change. And I need you to do something even more challenging, I need you to teach me everything you know.”
If he was any kind of smart he’d refuse. He could feel her expectations, her hope, hemming him in more surely than a barbed wire fence. And he wasn’t sure teaching her to run a ranch was such a good idea. Ranching was tough, hard work, work he’d just as soon spare this kind, gentle lady.
Yep, if Hank was smart, he’d thank her kindly for her faith in him, refuse her proposal, fetch his gear and his horse Belle and ride on out of here.
But he’d never claimed to be smart. And how could he turn away from an innocent woman and her babe who needed his help?
“Glad to be of assistance, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll stay as long as you need me, do whatever you want.”
And hope his efforts would finally put his conscience to rest.
He’d agreed to stay. Nancy felt as if she could draw a deep breath for the first time in weeks. She was ready to learn more about this ranch, about the gigantic cattle that roamed it and would provide a living for her and her baby. And she intended to start as soon as possible.
So, she rose even earlier than usual the next morning and dressed in her sturdiest outfit. The heavy brown twill was beginning to feel tight, though the cinnamon-colored jacket over the white cotton bodice was as comfortable as always. Sombrero covering her hair, she met her boys coming out of the barn just as the sun was breaking over the hills behind the house to the staccato serenade of a flock of warblers.
Mr. Snowden was the first to catch her gaze as she approached. Handing the reins of his horse to Mr. Upkins, he hurried to meet her. Those blue eyes looked darker in the golden light, and his face was tight. “Is everything all right, ma’am?”
His gaze roamed over her as if searching for injuries. Was it her imagination, or did it linger on her belly? Did he know? Lucas had decided not to tell anyone until she was further along.
“You can never be sure about babies out here,” he’d warned.
The thought of losing a child frightened most women, she knew. But her mother had taught her well. Since shortly after her father had died when Nancy was twelve, her mother had involved her in midwife duties. Nancy had helped dozens of mothers through pregnancy, had brought dozens of babies into the world. She could tell her baby was growing and healthy and strong. If she’d had any doubts, the nightly kicks would have been enough to prove it! But Lucas had insisted, and so she had remained silent.
“Everything’s fine, Mr. Snowden,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “I thought I might come with you this morning. See how the herd is doing.”
Mr. Upkins was frowning at her, and Billy froze in the act of mounting.
“Don’t see how that’s a good idea, ma’am,” Mr. Snowden said, pulling off his hat. His thick black hair was already beginning to curl with the heat, for the air was warm even overnight during the summers here. Her hand positively twitched with the urge to reach up and smooth down the waves.
Instead, she looked from one of her boys to the other, putting on her sweetest smile.
“But why not?” she asked. “Surely, I need to understand how the ranch works. You agreed to teach me, Mr. Snowden.”
Mr. Upkins shoved back his hat at that, and Billy shook his head. Mr. Snowden took her elbow and turned her toward the house.
“We’re riding the line today, Mrs. Bennett,” he explained. “That means we’ll leave now and won’t be back until sundown. No telling what we might run into—rattlers, mountain lions, coyotes. It’s no place for a lady.”
No place for a lady. She’d heard that claim often enough, first from the townsfolk in Missouri who had decided to entrust future babies to the new doctor rather than rely on an unmarried woman, then from Lucas when she’d asked questions about the ranch. She’d never appreciated such coddling, and she certainly couldn’t afford the indulgence now.
“Lula May Barlow tends to her ranch,” she reminded him, digging in her heels to keep from moving farther back.
To his credit, he released her arm. “Mrs. Barlow has two nearly grown stepsons to help. And you have us.” He lowered his voice and his head to meet her gaze straight on. “Besides, riding line wouldn’t be good for the baby.”
She felt as if he’d thrown a bucket of spring water over her head. “How did you know? Did Lucas...?”
He shook his head, straightening. “Mr. Bennett didn’t share much with the hired help. It was the glow about you, the way you move. About five months along, I reckon.”
He’d guessed something she’d had to explain to Lucas. “You should be a midwife, Mr. Snowden,” she told him.
He chuckled, a warm sound that beat back the chill she’d felt. “And here I thought I was one, for a whole herd of heifers.” He sobered suddenly, dropping