Clint‘s strong arms.
Once Mabel had seen to the boys, and they were settled in another room, she returned and stood watching Clint, her hands on her hips. Well, I declare. You have a way with you, Mr. Darrow. You got children of your own?
No ma‘am, Clint said. But I‘m right partial to young uns. The baby had fallen asleep in his arms. He continued to rock her gently and the easy tenderness with which he held her moved something deep inside Tyler.
Mabel held up her hands as if in prayer. Would you mind terribly layin‘ her in her crib? I‘m afraid we might wake her if we switch hands. I haven‘t had a moment‘s peace all day.
Clint nodded, smiling. Lead the way.
He followed the woman out of the hall. Tyler stayed behind, twisting his hat in his hands as he waited. He could see into the sitting room beyond. The house reminded him of his parents‘ house, over-furnished in a country way, complete with an oxen yoke
over the doorway and braided rag rugs scattered on the floors. He saw that the chairs were black-and-white spotted armchairs, probably covered with actual cowhide, and there were reproductions of famous cowboy paintings on the walls. A sudden intense longing for home washed over him. He‘d left in the heat of anger, hounded by his own shame. Was there ever any going back?
Clint and Mabel returned a few minutes later. Thanks ever so much, she said, smiling at Clint. Thunder rumbled and then roared and they tensed, listening for the baby‘s cry, but all remained quiet, other than the sound of the TV in the next room, where Mr. Rogers was exhorting the children to be his neighbor.
The rain was falling hard with no signs of letting up. I do hope you didn‘t make the trip all the way out here in this weather just to see Lucky. I‘m really sorry he couldn‘t be here, but I do expect them back bright and early tomorrow morning.
No trouble at all, Clint replied. We‘re makin‘ a circuit of some of the ranches and farms affected in the area. We were headed this way in any event. Now we‘ll get out of your hair. Would you by chance know of a motel in town?
I wish I could offer you accommodations here, she answered, her face falling. But with the kids and all, there just isn‘t room.
It‘s no problem, Clint began, but she interrupted him, her face brightening.
I know! she cried. Y‘all can stay in the bunkhouse. That‘s where Pete and Jim, our live-in ranch hands, stay, but they‘ve gone with Lucky. There‘s a spare bunk with two beds. It‘s not luxury accommodations, but it‘s warm and dry, and Prancer and Gracie can keep you company.
Horses, Tyler said, understanding at once, though it seemed to take Clint a moment to catch her meaning.
That‘s right. Gracie gets a little spooked from thunder. You can give her a carrot if you want. There‘s a basket of them right inside the stable, which is just off the tack room from the bunkhouse.
That‘s mighty nice of you, Mabel, Clint said, ducking his head toward her in appreciation. That suit you, Tyler?
Tyler nodded, his heart jumping at the thought of spending another night alone with Clint.
It‘s right down the drive a ways, Mabel continued. I‘ll turn on the floodlights. You can drive your truck down since it‘s raining. Do you have dry things to change into?
They assured her they did, and, once she‘d pressed fresh sheets and blankets, ham sandwiches, apples, cookies and a thermos of coffee on them and they‘d offered their sincere thanks and good nights, they made their dash to the truck.
The bunkhouse was a long, rectangular room with whitewashed walls and wideplanked pinewood floors. There were two freestanding beds neatly made with patchwork quilts on them and a table set beneath a window against one wall. In one corner was a kitchen, complete with a stove, sink and small refrigerator. There was a screened-off area beside it that Tyler presumed was the bathroom. Along the far wall sat an unused bunk bed with narrow twin mattresses that
Once Mabel had seen to the boys, and they were settled in another room, she returned and stood watching Clint, her hands on her hips. Well, I declare. You have a way with you, Mr. Darrow. You got children of your own?
No ma‘am, Clint said. But I‘m right partial to young uns. The baby had fallen asleep in his arms. He continued to rock her gently and the easy tenderness with which he held her moved something deep inside Tyler.
Mabel held up her hands as if in prayer. Would you mind terribly layin‘ her in her crib? I‘m afraid we might wake her if we switch hands. I haven‘t had a moment‘s peace all day.
Clint nodded, smiling. Lead the way.
He followed the woman out of the hall. Tyler stayed behind, twisting his hat in his hands as he waited. He could see into the sitting room beyond. The house reminded him of his parents‘ house, over-furnished in a country way, complete with an oxen yoke
over the doorway and braided rag rugs scattered on the floors. He saw that the chairs were black-and-white spotted armchairs, probably covered with actual cowhide, and there were reproductions of famous cowboy paintings on the walls. A sudden intense longing for home washed over him. He‘d left in the heat of anger, hounded by his own shame. Was there ever any going back?
Clint and Mabel returned a few minutes later. Thanks ever so much, she said, smiling at Clint. Thunder rumbled and then roared and they tensed, listening for the baby‘s cry, but all remained quiet, other than the sound of the TV in the next room, where Mr. Rogers was exhorting the children to be his neighbor.
The rain was falling hard with no signs of letting up. I do hope you didn‘t make the trip all the way out here in this weather just to see Lucky. I‘m really sorry he couldn‘t be here, but I do expect them back bright and early tomorrow morning.
No trouble at all, Clint replied. We‘re makin‘ a circuit of some of the ranches and farms affected in the area. We were headed this way in any event. Now we‘ll get out of your hair. Would you by chance know of a motel in town?
I wish I could offer you accommodations here, she answered, her face falling. But with the kids and all, there just isn‘t room.
It‘s no problem, Clint began, but she interrupted him, her face brightening.
I know! she cried. Y‘all can stay in the bunkhouse. That‘s where Pete and Jim, our live-in ranch hands, stay, but they‘ve gone with Lucky. There‘s a spare bunk with two beds. It‘s not luxury accommodations, but it‘s warm and dry, and Prancer and Gracie can keep you company.
Horses, Tyler said, understanding at once, though it seemed to take Clint a moment to catch her meaning.
That‘s right. Gracie gets a little spooked from thunder. You can give her a carrot if you want. There‘s a basket of them right inside the stable, which is just off the tack room from the bunkhouse.
That‘s mighty nice of you, Mabel, Clint said, ducking his head toward her in appreciation. That suit you, Tyler?
Tyler nodded, his heart jumping at the thought of spending another night alone with Clint.
It‘s right down the drive a ways, Mabel continued. I‘ll turn on the floodlights. You can drive your truck down since it‘s raining. Do you have dry things to change into?
They assured her they did, and, once she‘d pressed fresh sheets and blankets, ham sandwiches, apples, cookies and a thermos of coffee on them and they‘d offered their sincere thanks and good nights, they made their dash to the truck.
The bunkhouse was a long, rectangular room with whitewashed walls and wideplanked pinewood floors. There were two freestanding beds neatly made with patchwork quilts on them and a table set beneath a window against one wall. In one corner was a kitchen, complete with a stove, sink and small refrigerator. There was a screened-off area beside it that Tyler presumed was the bathroom. Along the far wall sat an unused bunk bed with narrow twin mattresses that
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