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“Ely hinted that he might be, and I thought Benteen might have said something to you,” Mary explained her reason for asking. “It’s because of a girl that he’s been going to Miles City once a month.”
“I knew he went there a lot,” Lorna admitted. “But a lot of the men do. I hadn’t realized he was seeing a girl.”
“Not just any girl,” Mary whispered. “She’s a harlot, but I understand they are madly in love with each other.”
Lorna searched herself but couldn’t find any shock or moral indignation. Her view of life had changed a great deal. If Bob Vernon wanted to marry the woman, knowing her past, and she wanted to marry him, then it was enough.
“I think I’ll suggest to Benteen that we let Bob have this cabin when we move into the house.” She voiced the thought as it occurred to her.
Mary started to speak, but she was interrupted by Webb, who came tearing into the cabin again. He flung himself at Lorna with his usual abandon. “Mommy! That man is here—only he didn’t bring the c’raige.”
The last word escaped her. When she glanced to the door Webb had left standing open, Benteen was walking to the opening. There was something about him that reminded her of a dog bristling at the sight of an intruder. It made her move just a little more quickly to see who it was.
When she reached the threshold, Benteen had stopped a foot outside the door, blocking the way. Over his shoulder she could see Bull Giles swinging off his horse, and she realized Webb had been trying to say the word “carriage.” Arthur was trotting out to greet him, then stopping shyly at the last minute and sticking a finger in his mouth.
Bull paused to smile down at him and rumple his hair. “How ya doin’, Artie?”
Arthur turned on his stubby legs and ran to Benteen, but he was smiling, not at all afraid of the big man following him. Lorna glanced at Benteen. His rigid jaw was thrust forward, showing aggression.
“What brings you here, Giles?” Benteen challenged, not bothering with a greeting.
Bull’s gaze flicked past him to Lorna, and she was conscious of a nerve twitching in Benteen’s cheek. “I have a message for your wife from Lady Crawford.”
Her lips parted in warm surprise and delight, but Benteen spoke before she had a chance. “Who’s Lady Crawford?”
“You remember me telling you about her,” she rushed to explain, moving to his side and touching his arm. An eagerness was in her eyes when she tipped her face up to him. “I met her in Dodge City and she gave me that jar of lotion.”
There was a flicker of recognition in his face; then his eyes narrowed. “What’s she doing here?”
“She’s with a party of English gentry that are touring the area. Mr. Giles is acting as guide for them,” Lorna explained. It seemed to silence Benteen, and she turned her glance to Bull. “You said she gave you a message for me? She remembered me?”
“Yes, she remembered meeting you,” Bull said, answering the last question first. “She’d like to call on you, and asked if it would be inconvenient if she came tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” Unconsciously her hand tightened on the sleeve of Benteen’s arm. “Tell her it’s not inconvenient at all. She’s more than welcome.”
“Around two o’clock,” Bull suggested.
“Yes, that will be fine,” Lorna assured him, still finding it hard to believe that the woman wanted to call on her.
It would be her first opportunity to socially entertain someone other than Mary and Ely. She felt the excitement and anticipation growing and struggled to quell it. Just because she hadn’t had any real social contact for several years, she wasn’t going to become pathetically eager the way the woman in Kansas had been.
“I’ll tell her that you’ll expect her tomorrow, then.” He nodded and turned to leave.
“Won’t you come in for coffee?” Lorna invited, despite Benteen’s unwelcoming attitude.
But it was Benteen who drew Bull’s glance before he shook his head to refuse. “No. Thank you, Mrs. Calder.” He walked to his horse and stepped into the stirrup, hefting his broad torso into the saddle.
As he trotted the horse away from the cabin, Webb tugged on her skirts. “How come he didn’t bring the c’raige?”
“Probably because it was faster to ride his horse,” Lorna reasoned, but she was conscious of the look Benteen sliced her.
“When did the boys meet him?” The question was fired low and quick.
“Yesterday,” she admitted evenly, “when we went to Mr. Fitzsimmons’ store. Mr. Giles was at the blacksmith shop getting a carriage repaired that belongs to the English party.”
“You didn’t mention it last night.”
“It must have slipped my mind.” There was a sweetness to her voice that said she was paying him back for all the things he hadn’t bothered to tell her. Actually she had failed to tell him because she had been bothered by the last comment Bull had made.
