“Dee shared those postcards you sent her,” Houston said. “You did a lot of traveling.”
“For a while. I was trying to figure out where to settle.”
“And in the end, you came back here. Just like Austin. He traveled the world playing his violin for folks, but when it came right down to it, he didn’t find anyplace he liked better.”
“Not quite true,” Austin said. “I didn’t find anypeopleI like better. There’s something comforting about being in the bosom of your family.” He looked around, motioned with his hand. “And I wanted my sons to grow up with this. You, Dallas, and I—we only had each other. Now look at us.”
The room was filled with conversation, laughter, hugs, and smiles.
“What are y’all jawing about?” Dallas asked as he joined them.
“Family,” Austin said. “And Rawley was about to tell us about cowboying in Wyoming.”
“Cowboying is cowboying,” Rawley said.
“Everything go all right out on the range today?” Dallas asked.
“Yep.” He grinned at the man who had raised him. “Although Faith told me if you asked, that was supposed to be my answer no matter what trouble we ran into.”
“Did you run into trouble?” His voice held worry and concern, and Rawley figured it was difficult to let go of something when you’d spent the better part of your life building it.
“Everything was fine. A bit of fence needed repairing, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“It drives me crazy to sit here all day not knowing exactly what’s going on,” he grumbled.
“It drives you crazy that you can’t beat Callie at checkers,” Faith said, slipping her arm through her father’s.
She wasn’t wearing the red dress, thank God. The pink froth tucked in at her waist, and the bodice wasn’t cut low enough to reveal much of anything. Her shoulders weren’t bare, but the sleeves were so small he wondered why the seamstress had bothered. Decked out as she was, she reminded him of a spun sugar concoction known as fairy floss that he’d tasted at the World’s Fair in St. Louis. It had melted in his mouth, and he wondered if he could make her melt. He was certainly tempted to try.
“That little darling beat me five times,” Dallas muttered.
Faith laughed. “She told me.” She held out her hand, fingers splayed. “Five times!”
So she had been delayed because she’d spent some time visiting with her daughter. She was a good mother, and he reckoned she’d give the same love and attention to all her children. Not that he was surprised. She excelled at anything she tried, which made her decision to give up on the oil a bit confounding. He’d have bet money she’d have ensured it was a success simply to spite Berringer.
“Uncle Houston,” she said, giving him a peck on the cheek. Then she released her hold on Dallas and moved around him to give Austin a kiss. “Uncle Austin.”
“Doesn’t Rawley get a kiss?” Austin asked, and her gaze slammed into Rawley’s. “It might ease the hurt of that bruise you gave him.”
Rawley was torn between laughing loudly, brushing it all off as a joke, and stepping nearer so she wouldn’t have far to travel and could get to him sooner.
Her eyes never leaving Rawley’s, she said, “I reckon since tonight is about welcoming him home, I ought to be a little forgiving and do it proper.”
His heart was pounding so hard it was as though she were issuing an invitation to her bed. What should have taken seconds seemed to take hours as she skirted around Austin and leaned in, a light-as-a-moonbeam brush of her lips glancing over his cheek. As brief and feathery as it was, it somehow seemed to have more power than the one they’d shared outside his cabin. Maybe because this time she wasn’t drunk and he wasn’t thinking she was too young or innocent for one such as he.
When she leaned back, she smiled, the type of smile one dear friend gave another when they were sharing something special. And in that smile, he saw the potential for happiness.
When he had the house built, her father had anticipated having a large family so the long, white-linen-covered table stretched the length of the room and provided ample room for everyone. Her father was seated at one end, her mother to his left, near his heart. Faith sat to his right. Rawley occupied the chair beside their mother.
Uncle Houston had taken the one at the other end, Aunt Amelia to his left, each flanked by two of their daughters. Uncle Austin and Aunt Loree sat on one side of the table with three of their sons, while the other two were across from them. Seeing all her cousins gathered in one spot was a bittersweet reminder that her parents had longed for more children, but an accident that caused her mother to lose her first child had made it difficult for her to conceive and had prevented their household from growing beyond Faith.
After the food was spread out and the wine was poured, Faith lifted her glass. “I’d like to make a toast.” She waited until she had everyone’s attention and then looked at the man who she had little doubt was well on his way to once again becoming her best friend. “It’s good to have you back, Rawley. I missed the sarsaparilla sticks.”
His grin was small, a little playful, but something else reflected within it hinted at secrets shared. “I missed having someone to steal them from me.”
Laughter echoed around the table, the loudest coming from her cousins, who had all at one time or another been the recipient of a portion of the sticks Rawley constantly carried around in his pocket.
She lifted her glass higher, and a rousing “Welcome home, Rawley” echoed through the room.
