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 his gaze. “Not that I meant to compare you to a heifer, ma’am.”
It was her turn to laugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done so. “Certainly not, Mr. Snowden. I don’t have horns.”
He glanced down at her. “And your eyes are much prettier, and you don’t weigh nearly as much.”
“Why such compliments, Mr. Snowden,” she teased. “You’ll quite turn my head.”
Was that a tinge of red working its way into his firm cheeks? “Only speaking the truth, ma’am,” he murmured. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I should start out so I can be back by nightfall.”
She caught his arm. His muscles tensed under her hand, and she realized she was being too bold. Immediately she dropped her hold and stepped back.
“I’m willing to stay behind for the good of the baby,” she told him. “But you promised to teach me to run this ranch. How can I learn if you’re out on the range?”
He eyed her a moment, then blew out a breath. “You’re right. I’ll send Upkins and Jenks along and stay with you. If they spot any trouble, they can always ride back, and we can tackle it tomorrow.”
She couldn’t believe how buoyant she felt as she watched him send her other boys off. He returned to her side and walked her to the porch, insisting that she sit on one of the wicker chairs there and even handing her the padded cushion from another of the chairs to put behind her.
“You’re fussing,” she accused him.
Now she had no doubt his cheeks were reddening. As if to keep her from noticing it, he paced around the chairs and finally took one not too far from hers, setting his hat on the table between them. Even then, his knee bobbed up and down, as if he’d rather be out riding.
“Perhaps,” she said, hoping to put him at his ease, “we should agree on a few things. First, if you are going to be my teacher, I think it would be appropriate for you to call me Nancy. Shall I call you Henry?”
His knee froze. “No, ma’—Nancy. That’s my father’s name too, and I never cottoned to it. He had a way of saying it, all drawn out like it was three or four syllables, and I’d know I’d disappointed him again. Call me Hank.”
Hank. Though she’d known that was what Lucas called him, she hadn’t considered the name until now. It was strong, steady, not unlike the man sitting next to her. “Very well, Hank. I want you to know I’ll be a very attentive and eager learner.”
He shifted on the chair as if he wasn’t so sure about his own role as teacher. “What exactly did you want to know about ranching?”
What didn’t she want to know? She felt as if she’d lived in a cocoon of her husband’s making and hadn’t yet emerged as a butterfly. “Everything?” she suggested.
He took a deep breath. “That’s a tall order. Maybe we could start with what you know and work from there.”
Nancy waved toward the hills. “We have land. It supports cattle. And apparently rattlesnakes, mountain lions and coyotes. We sell those cattle and turn a profit.” She faced him fully. “What I want to know is how.”
He ran a hand back through his hair, spiking curls in its wake. “And I thought riding the line made for a long day.”
“I told you I knew nothing,” she reminded him.
He nodded. “All right, then. To start off with, cattle don’t just spring up like tumbleweeds. We generally bring in a bull or two around this time of year.”
Nancy frowned. “Don’t we have any bulls?”
“Not enough to service a herd this size.”
She made a face. “I don’t understand.”
He was turning red again, and his gaze refused to meet hers. “Maybe we should start with the other end of the story. This isn’t a conversation I’m prepared to have with a lady.”
She thought for a moment, going back over what he’d said, then brightened. “No need. I think I know what you’re talking about. Bulls plus cows equals babies.”
He sagged back against the
