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When he finished conferring with his foreman, he dismissed the man and crossed to the fireplace where she was standing. There was a preoccupied look to his expression, his thoughts still focusing on the discussion with the quiet, angular cowboy. Elaine didn’t pretend she hadn’t been listening.
“I didn’t realize you were having trouble with the Indians. When did this start?” she asked.
“We’ve always had trouble with them, but this year seems to be worse,” he admitted with an absent frown. “A couple weeks back they shot up one of my men when he caught up with them.”
“You didn’t mention it to me.” An eyebrow was raised at this discovery. She thought he had been keeping her informed of all that went on. Obviously he still didn’t completely trust her.
“It didn’t concern you.”
“But it concerned you, so therefore it was of interest to me,” Elaine insisted. “So does this matter with the Indians. If you are suffering losses—”
“Every rancher expects to lose a certain number of cattle to the Indians. It’s part of doing business,” Benteen replied.
But he didn’t mention that he’d already lost more than the normal percentage, and the season was young. Ely had been checking with some of the other outfits, but they had hardly been bothered at all. It wasn’t logical for the Indians to pick on one ranch. There was always a chance, though, that it was just bad luck. Somehow it didn’t seem likely. Yet, if they were deliberately selecting Triple C cattle, the next question was: Why?
“How many cattle have they stolen?” Elaine questioned.
“I’ll know that when the roundup is finished.” He was sure the number was going to be high. “That’s where I’ll be for the next few days, so you won’t be able to contact me. Lorna and the boys are coming, too.”
“You’re taking your wife and children? I suspected that you didn’t trust her, but I didn’t realize you felt you had to watch her every minute,” she remarked with feigned surprise. “If that’s the case, you’re better off without her.”
“That isn’t the case,” Benteen replied evenly. “By the way, she knows we’re related.”
“You told her?” There was a pleased note in her voice because it marked progress.
“Yes, I told her.”
“I’m glad.” Elaine smiled and reached out to clasp his hand. “I think she was resenting the time you spent with me, and I don’t want anything to interfere with that. I have a great many plans for the two of us.”
Benteen studied the smooth hand that covered his. He wanted to believe the affection in her touch, but he was bothered by the possessive quality of it. That should have reassured him the gesture was genuine.
“I’ll walk you to the buggy.” He took her hand and slipped it inside the crook of his arm.
Slipping her hat off, Lorna let it hang by the throat strap down her back. Her gaze studied the shimmering aqua color of the pretwilight sky, pearlized by the downing sun. The smoke from the campfire drifted upward in the still air, a group of tired cowboys scattered around it. There were so many memories of the trail drive contained in the scene—the same smells, the same sounds, the same tired bodies.
A series of discordant notes was played on the harmonica, drawing her glance to Woolie sitting crosslegged on the ground with Webb on his knee. He was patiently attempting to teach Webb to play a song on the harmonica. One of the vaqueros had whittled a wooden horse, which little Arthur was galloping over the ground.
Her coffeecup was empty, so Lorna refilled it from the pot warming by the fire. She took a quick sip of the bitterly black coffee and wandered over by the chuck wagon, where Rusty was working. He glanced at her, taking in the cup in her hand.
“Thought you didn’t like my coffee,” he said.
“I guess I’ve acquired a taste for it.” She shrugged lightly and smiled.
“It seems like old times to see you struttin’ around in a man’s pair of pants.” His glance raked the lower half of her body, a twinkle lighting his eyes. “You filled ’em out a bit more. The shirt, too. There’s no mistakin’ you for a boy anymore.”
“I should hope not.” Her laughter was soft, not minding his teasing remarks.
“Speakin’ of boys, those two of yours are havin themselves a high time.”
“I know.” She cast a fond look at the two boys. “They’re convinced this roundup is being staged for their entertainment.”
“That’s fer sure.” Rusty seemed to test the air, distracted by a watchfulness that was wakened inside of him. “It sure is still.”
Lorna looked at the sky, clear except for some clouds on the far horizon. “I hope it doesn’t rain in the night. The boys want to sleep outside like the rest of you.” They’d brought along a tent, a small one erected on the edge of the camp circle.
“If it does, you can always throw ’em in the cooney,” Rusty said. “They’ll stay high and dry there. Slept in it myself on many a rainy night.”
“Don’t tell Webb that. He’ll insist on trying it out,” Lorna warned, then spied Benteen walking into camp with Ely Stanton. “I’ll talk to you later.”
