Comfort Quince escort the woman to the bathing room, and he'd stepped into the alley and signaled for his friends who'd ridden to town with him.
He'd asked Dan, Rowdy, and Navajo to find out what had transpired. When Dan had knocked on the back door of the boarding house and told him about the babies the gambler had left at Ma Siler's place, he'd been sickened. To have even a brief association with a woman who would abandon her children to the care of the slattern was unpalatable.
But he'd sent the men riding to retrieve the children to get them away from the old harridan more than for Jewel Rossiter's sake. His cousin, Dan, brought a canvas sack of clothes found in the alley near where the gambler had been struck down and figured that they belonged to the gambler's wife.
Grady subdued his distaste, reminding himself that the fact of her children proved Jewel Rossiter was fertile. It should be enough for him. He didn't expect to see the pedigree of the mustangs he caught and bred, he just used them to strengthen his thoroughbred stock. It would be the same with the gambler's woman.
Whatever mischief had been planned for the two of them would be set back by their alliance. That irony didn't escape Grady as he heard her footsteps, hurrying to keep up with him.
When he stepped outside into the alley, she was one step behind. "My children," she managed to say to his back, before he raised the lantern in his hand, and she saw Rowdy with his arms full of sleeping babies.
"You got them back for me." Grady was jealous of the smile she sent Rowdy. It was the first of its kind he'd ever seen on her face. She would have pushed Grady out of her way had he not stepped aside.
But it pleased him to see her reach for the babies, settling each close in her arms. So Frank Rossiter had lied. This woman was a true mother. That was suddenly more important to him than it should have been.
He looked with interest as she settled the two bundles closer, oblivious and indifferent to the men who watched as she clucked and crooned and checked the babies, who both continued to sleep.
Half a minute later, he scooted her toward the mounts. Navajo Leonard and Dan Two-Horse waited silently, appreciating her beauty until Grady glared at them. Even thin as a rail, bruised from hard blows, and wearing torn, bloody clothes, the woman was a fragile picture of female perfection. It didn't surprise him that his friends admired her looks. It did surprise him that he cared.
Her canvas bag they'd found stashed in the alley lay across the withers of the horse Dan rode. She headed for that mount, but Grady stopped her and turned her to the gentle mare Dan led. "My satchel." She nodded at the tattered bag expectantly, and waited until he moved it to her mount.
When Grady lifted her to the saddle, he expected to have to fight her for one of the bundles, but she settled into the saddle, handing one of the babies to him while she arranged her blanket in a crisscross loop held tight by her belt.
Then, she snuggled the baby on her arm into the first pouch she'd created and reached to him for the other. He watched her arrange the second child in her improvised carrier, then take up her reins and nod.
She seemed oblivious to the men, and she hunched, crooning, over the babies as he led her mount into the plateaus that climbed toward Hawks Nest Ranch.
Chapter Six
Comfort Quince turned to her husband as the door closed behind the last of their visitors. Grady Hawks and his new wife had started the exodus home. Nothing in her graceful posture indicated anything but relief that they were alone. Comfort had spent a lifetime learning to mask her emotions—until she'd met Hamilton Quince and finally found a man she could love. He knew how much she wanted a baby and that she was devastated by this setback. She'd already assembled a layette of clothing and decorated one of the upstairs bedrooms. Her husband knew that her calm acceptance of the night's loss was a sham.
He'd asked Dan, Rowdy, and Navajo to find out what had transpired. When Dan had knocked on the back door of the boarding house and told him about the babies the gambler had left at Ma Siler's place, he'd been sickened. To have even a brief association with a woman who would abandon her children to the care of the slattern was unpalatable.
But he'd sent the men riding to retrieve the children to get them away from the old harridan more than for Jewel Rossiter's sake. His cousin, Dan, brought a canvas sack of clothes found in the alley near where the gambler had been struck down and figured that they belonged to the gambler's wife.
Grady subdued his distaste, reminding himself that the fact of her children proved Jewel Rossiter was fertile. It should be enough for him. He didn't expect to see the pedigree of the mustangs he caught and bred, he just used them to strengthen his thoroughbred stock. It would be the same with the gambler's woman.
Whatever mischief had been planned for the two of them would be set back by their alliance. That irony didn't escape Grady as he heard her footsteps, hurrying to keep up with him.
When he stepped outside into the alley, she was one step behind. "My children," she managed to say to his back, before he raised the lantern in his hand, and she saw Rowdy with his arms full of sleeping babies.
"You got them back for me." Grady was jealous of the smile she sent Rowdy. It was the first of its kind he'd ever seen on her face. She would have pushed Grady out of her way had he not stepped aside.
But it pleased him to see her reach for the babies, settling each close in her arms. So Frank Rossiter had lied. This woman was a true mother. That was suddenly more important to him than it should have been.
He looked with interest as she settled the two bundles closer, oblivious and indifferent to the men who watched as she clucked and crooned and checked the babies, who both continued to sleep.
Half a minute later, he scooted her toward the mounts. Navajo Leonard and Dan Two-Horse waited silently, appreciating her beauty until Grady glared at them. Even thin as a rail, bruised from hard blows, and wearing torn, bloody clothes, the woman was a fragile picture of female perfection. It didn't surprise him that his friends admired her looks. It did surprise him that he cared.
Her canvas bag they'd found stashed in the alley lay across the withers of the horse Dan rode. She headed for that mount, but Grady stopped her and turned her to the gentle mare Dan led. "My satchel." She nodded at the tattered bag expectantly, and waited until he moved it to her mount.
When Grady lifted her to the saddle, he expected to have to fight her for one of the bundles, but she settled into the saddle, handing one of the babies to him while she arranged her blanket in a crisscross loop held tight by her belt.
Then, she snuggled the baby on her arm into the first pouch she'd created and reached to him for the other. He watched her arrange the second child in her improvised carrier, then take up her reins and nod.
She seemed oblivious to the men, and she hunched, crooning, over the babies as he led her mount into the plateaus that climbed toward Hawks Nest Ranch.
Chapter Six
Comfort Quince turned to her husband as the door closed behind the last of their visitors. Grady Hawks and his new wife had started the exodus home. Nothing in her graceful posture indicated anything but relief that they were alone. Comfort had spent a lifetime learning to mask her emotions—until she'd met Hamilton Quince and finally found a man she could love. He knew how much she wanted a baby and that she was devastated by this setback. She'd already assembled a layette of clothing and decorated one of the upstairs bedrooms. Her husband knew that her calm acceptance of the night's loss was a sham.
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