Love on the Range (Brothers in Arms #3)(76)

Molly beat Cheyenne by a pace and claimed a turn holding the baby.

Kevin laughed but gave little Dorothy up with good grace.

Win was moving around the kitchen. She had a roast on and potatoes stewing. She’d known Molly and Wyatt were coming because they’d finally figured out how to train the pigeons, and they now carried messages between the three families. It was a very convenient system.

Adding Cheyenne and Falcon was no problem. The roast was large, the potatoes were plentiful.

Molly was a while working because she wanted to make a fine dessert and her special garlic biscuits, but at last they were settled in to eat. Baby Dorothy was down for a nap, and they could all eat together, like they had a year ago.

“We’re done with the new room on my pa’s old place.” Cheyenne smiled. “It’s been nice being there. It’s brought back fond memories of my parents that I’d lost track of.”

Cheyenne looked sideways at Falcon. “It’s not big, even with the new room. Do you want a nicer house? We could build one. I’d make Wyatt help.”

Wyatt snorted. “You wouldn’t make me. I’d be glad to help.” He slid his arm across the back of Molly’s chair. Wyatt was next to Falcon on his other side and straight across from his big sister.

Falcon took a break from his slice of tender roast beef and mashed potatoes to take Cheyenne’s hand. “It’s the biggest house I’ve ever lived in, not counting the few nights I’ve slept in the main house at the RHR. Nope, it’s plenty for me. If we want more room, I can add another room on.”

Cheyenne nodded, and their hands tightened, their eyes held. “I’m happy wherever and however I live as long as you’re with me.”

“And we get the RHR.” Wyatt settled back. He heard the wooden rungs creak and remembered his ma fussing at him not to lean back on his chair. It was a fond memory, too.

When the meal was finished, Win said, “I found something in the attic that I’d like you to see. And Wyatt and Falcon, I’m hoping you’ll help Kevin bring a few things down.”

“I could’ve gotten it, Win.” Kevin rolled his eyes at her, but he had a grin on his face.

“I’ve got a few chores to see to,” Andy said, rising. “Do you need another strong back or can these old men handle it?”

With good-natured teasing the men told him to get on back to work.

“Before you go, Andy . . .” Molly glanced shyly at Wyatt. She felt a blush pink her cheeks.

Wyatt took her hand and gave her an encouraging nod. They’d discussed it, and she’d asked if she could make the announcement, but now it was a bit hard to speak the words.

“I’ve got a little one on the way.”

Everyone around the table whooped. Kevin rose and pulled her into his arms. Win was next, then Andy. The men shook Wyatt’s hand, and everyone gave Molly a hug.

Win whispered to her, “I know you already love your baby, but you won’t believe what it feels like to be a ma. It’s like a mama grizzly wakes up inside you, ready to fight and die to protect your child. The love is so big, so beautiful.” Tears came to her eyes, and Kevin dragged her close with one arm and kissed her dark curls.

Andy gave Molly one last hug, his grin huge, then he headed for the barn.

The rest of them trooped upstairs.

“Leave all the doors open,” Kevin said. “Dorothy usually takes a good afternoon nap, but we need to be able to hear her if she wakes up early.”

When they reached the attic, Molly saw that everything had been moved around. Dust covers pulled off various crates and chests, including a row of paintings.

“Win, these are beautiful.” Molly walked over to the line of portraits, all of them over three feet high including their ornate gilt frames.

Four pictures in a perfect row.

“The first two are my grandmother and grandfather, next is my mother, and the last is my mother holding me.”

“Why isn’t there a portrait of your pa?” Wyatt asked quietly. Molly suspected if there had been a picture, Wyatt might’ve offered to haul it away to burn.

They didn’t talk about Win’s pa much. She’d wanted no part in attending the hanging of Oliver Hawkins and Randall Kingston. They’d both richly earned their punishment, especially as more and more came out about their criminal dealings.

But that didn’t make it easy for Win to talk about.

“I’m not sure why there’s no painting of him. My guess is, my grandparents . . . my ma, too, come to that, realized Ma had made a terrible mistake. No one wanted to add him to the family gallery. I’m surprised he didn’t burn these. He probably would have if he wasn’t such a lazy old beast.”

Molly studied the pictures. “You look more like your ma than your grandmother, though you have her eyes.”

Win’s bright blue eyes were a match for the grandmother and the child little older than a toddler.

“I believe I was four or so when this was painted, it was just before we came west. Once I found this, I remembered a few things about it being painted. Vague memories of being told by my ma to sit still.” Win smiled, the memories good ones. Molly was glad she had them.

“We’re closing up the attic and may close the second floor before winter. We are living in the rooms you used, Molly. There are two of them, and little Dorothy is in the second room. We’re right by the kitchen”—Kevin shrugged—“the rest of the house is just wasted space that takes a lot of hard work to heat.”