After everyone took a sip of wine, food was passed around and the buzz of conversation filled the air as people began catching up with one another, their busy lives preventing them from getting together as often as they’d like.
“Rawley, I’m thinking of doing a series of articles on your travels,” Maggie said.
The intense manner with which Rawley cut into his beef told Faith he wasn’t at all comfortable with that notion. “Why would anyone care to read about my travels?”
“I think it would be interesting. ‘The Life of a Traveling Cowboy.’”
“It wasn’t as glamorous as you might think.”
“I don’t want glamour. I’m looking for stories of real-life adventures.”
Faith was just as interested in the details of his life during the time he was away. Neither his postcards nor his letters had revealed much about the particulars of his days and nights.
“It seems to me you ought to go on your own adventures and write about them,” he said.
“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Grant, Uncle Austin’s eldest, said. “I’m going to Europe next year. You could travel with me, Maggie. See the wonders, experience them firsthand, and write articles that will put people right there beside you.”
“It’s not the sights I’m interested in. We’re losing a way of life and need to get it recorded before it disappears altogether. There’s a fella going around taking photographs of ranch hands working because he believes a time will come when we won’t have cowboys.”
“As long as people want meat,” Pa said, “we’ll have cowboys. Maybe not as many, but the cattle aren’t going to walk themselves to the train.”
Faith met Rawley’s gaze, and she wondered if he recalled how Cole had questioned his relevance, how she had expected he’d run the ranch while she established an oil empire. Everything could change so quickly.
People broke off into their own separate conversations. Faith found it difficult not to keep her attention on Rawley, not to listen and glean information about his time away. His affection for those surrounding him was evident in the intensity with which he listened to them speaking—the same intent look that crossed his face when Callie spoke to him. He’d make a good father, but then he’d had a good example.
“Rawley, you got home just in time for the grand opening of the new theater,” Uncle Austin said.
“What was wrong with the old theater?”
“This one is for moving pictures,” Faith explained.
“We thought about simply converting the other theater,” her mother told him. “But I believe we still have a need for plays, opera, and culture. So I wanted to keep the stage. Laurel is going to manage the new one. She says moving pictures are becoming quite popular.” She looked down the length of the table. “Laurel, honey, do you want to tell Rawley about the theater?”
Uncle Houston’s second oldest daughter perked up. She loved talking about the moving pictures. She’d seen one a few years earlier when she’d taken a trip to Pittsburgh and afterward had returned home to regal them all with tales about it. “The Nickelodeon—that’s what we’re calling it—officially opens Thursday. Have you seen a moving picture?”
“I once peered through a Kinetoscope and watched a man sneeze.”
She laughed. “This is much better. It’s a story more than a single action. And it’s on a big screen, so you watch it with other people, sharing the experience, knowing those around you are just as enthralled. I’m excited we’re bringing something so modern to Leighton. The entire family is planning to be there. I hope you can join us.”
“I look forward to it,” Rawley said.
Laurel smiled as though he’d just handed her the moon. Faith didn’t blame her. He’d always been a favorite among the cousins.
He looked across the table at Faith. “I assume you’re planning to go.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” her mother asked after everyone had left. “Callie is asleep, and your room is ready for you.”
Faith considered it but figured she wouldn’t sleep a wink knowing Rawley was just down the hall from her. It had been difficult enough bathing in a room near his, imagining him lowering that long, lean body of his into steaming water. “I hate to wake Callie, so if you don’t mind I’ll let her stay. And Rufus, too, if that’s okay. In case she wakes up, she likes to have him near. It sounds awful, but I’d enjoy having the cabin to myself, experiencing a little quiet.”
“We love having Callie stay so that’s no problem.”
“I’ll escort you home,” Rawley said.
“That’s not—”
“It’s already dark, Faith.”
