Finally, there were cattle and cowboys all around the station, the animals carrying on like souls bound for destruction, the men shouting dry-throated curses fit to land them in the devil’s front parlor. Jacob and Scully went out immediately to greet Big John and the other men, but Evangeline hung back, her knuckles white where she gripped the window sill.

“Do you see him?” she asked of June-bug, in a small and wretched voice.

Beside her, the other woman shook her head. “I reckon he might be bringin’ up the rear.” She squinted. “It’s real hard to see, ain’t it? Still, he’s mighty hard to miss, Big John is—seems like we’d have spotted him by now.”

The dust was unbelievable, rising so high that it dimmed the sunlight and made the men and animals look like statues, moving about in the midst of a tornado. Abigail was jumping up and down.

“I want to go out!” she cried. “I want to go out!”

Mindful of sharp hooves and cowboys who were not used to having little girls underfoot, or to minding their salty language, Evangeline spoke firmly. “Absolutely not,” she said.

Abigail stuck out her lip. “Scully’s there someplace,” she complained, in a whine that, fortunately, was not standard behavior for her. “I’d be safe with Scully.”

“No,” Evangeline said again. “You aren’t going and that’s final.” If there was going to be a match for stubbornness, she’d win it hands down; even Abigail was no competition.

“There he is!” June-bug cried out, all of the sudden, reaching back to untie her apron. “By jiggers, there he is.”

Evangeline peered through the chaos but could not follow June-bug’s line of vision. It was plain that she was talking about Big John, and he was her friend, like he was Scully’s and Jacob’s. She was understandably glad to see him.

Evangeline narrowed her eyes and concentrated, searching the mounted figures milling about amongst the cattle and other horses, and finally gave up. It didn’t matter, after all, who Mr. Keating was or what he looked like. He was going to be her husband, for better or for worse.

The jig was up. Big John was back.

CHAPTER

14

JOHN KEATING was indeed big, taller and broader than either Scully or Jacob, both of whom were men of significant size. His hair, salt and pepper in the likeness he’d sent, was thinning, and snow white. He wore the rough clothing of a drover, and held his battered, dusty hat in one hand. Standing face to face there in the dooryard of the Springwater station as they were, it seemed to Evangeline that he didn’t quite like meeting her eyes. Perhaps, she thought, resigned, he was disappointed in her.

June-bug, bless her heart, took up a place beside Evangeline, linking arms with her. There were cowboys milling all about, and horses, too, but one particular drover, tall and slender, clad in a long coat, stood very still and watchful at Big John’s side, there in the midst of chaos, taking in every word.