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“I can’t keep this food hot much longer, Benteen, or it will be ruined,” she finally interrupted him.
He was so engrossed in the map, he’d forgotten she was there. Then her words sank in, and Benteen leaned back in his chair and combed a hand through his hair.
“I’ve got it pretty well finished,” he said with a tired sigh, and began rolling it up.
She began setting the table, while Benteen walked over to wash his hands in the basin. “Why did you need to make the map?”
“For the future.”
Whatever plan he had in mind, it was plain that he wasn’t ready to tell her. Later that evening, Lorna took a look at the map he’d drawn. Three areas were marked with a dotted line. She mentally filled them in and realized they formed a long rectangle with their ranch, Barnie’s land, and Ely and Mary’s place.
After breakfast the next morning, Lorna carried the pan of dishwater outside to throw it into the tall grass by the river. She heard the horses coming out of the trees a little ways downstream as she emptied the pan. She paused to look when the trio of riders ap
peared.
When Bull Giles noticed her, he hesitated, then swung his horse away from the pair and rode over to speak to her. Lorna waited, regarding him as a friend despite the company he kept, and locked her hands around the circumference of the dishpan.
“Good morning, Mrs. Calder.” He tipped his hat to her, but it seemed there was a wounded look to his eyes. They lacked their usual boldness.
“Good morning, Mr. Giles,” she returned the greeting.
“You’re looking well,” he said. “I understand you have a son.”
“Yes. Webb Matthew Calder.” She beamed with a natural pride and love.
His gaze skimmed the slimness of her figure, nearly back to its previous proportions. “You don’t look like you have had a child,” he observed with a shade of his former candor.
“Thank you.” She nodded slightly at the compliment.
There was more that he seemed to want to say, but he finally tipped his hat again. “I’d best be goin’,” he said. “I’ll see you another time.”
When Bull Giles had separated from them, Loman Janes had halted his horse to watch the brief exchange. Something told him that this was information he needed to pass on to Judd Boston. It could be important.
20
That summer Benteen had Zeke, Bob, and Woolie file on the three pieces of land he’d marked out on the map with dotted lines. They provided buffers between his ranch and other outfits and protected his range as much as it could be. It was open and unfenced, which meant other cattle would drift onto his land, but hopefully he could keep that number down and prevent his range from being overstocked with cattle other than his own.
He filed on the three contiguous pieces of land with speculation in mind, too. First, it would already be under his control if he chose to expand his operation. If that wasn’t feasible, then he could sell the claims for a handy profit to outfits coming north. He tried to cover all angles and still leave himself a back door.
More outfits were moving into Montana. Last week he’d seen the dust of a trail drive and ridden south to see if it was Jessie. But the herd had belonged to another Texas outfit. The animals were in sorry condition. Benteen hoped Jessie brought their cattle up in better shape.
There was a slight movement in the bed beside him, distracting Benteen from his thoughts. He could tell by the way Lorna was breathing that she wasn’t asleep either.
“You’re very quiet,” he murmured. “What are you thinking about?”
“Range bulls.” It was an absent, almost musing response.
Benteen quirked an eyebrow as he turned to look at her in the darkness. “Range bulls?”
“I thought that would get your attention,” she said with a certain smugness.
He shifted partially onto his side and laid his arm across her waist to draw her closer. “Am I roaming too much to suit you?”
“You’re gone a lot of the time.” Her hand wandered over his tautly muscled arm. “It isn’t so bad during the daytime because there’s always so much work to do, but the nights become very long. I’ll be glad when Webb learns how to talk so I won’t have to carry on conversations with the stove or the trees.” Her mood changed to abandon the subject of loneliness. “With that canvas hanging there, doesn’t it remind you of sleeping in the wagon?”
“I guess it does,” Benteen supposed. “Maybe we’ll be able to build the house next year.”
“I hope so,” she murmured. “This roof leaks mud when it rains. Bugs and spiders are everywhere. When I got up the other morning, one had spun a web across Webb’s cradle.”
