Over breakfast the next morning the Lancer men planned out the day's work.
"First thing will be to send some men out to round up the horses," suggested Scott.
"Are all the hands back?" asked Murdoch.
"Most of them got back last night, except for Bobby and Miguel," Scott told him. "They celebrated a little too well, it seems, and ended up enjoying Gabe's official hospitality overnight. They'll be back later this morning, nursing bad heads and feeling sorry for themselves."
"And feelin' even sorrier when their bail comes out of their wages," Jelly put in.
Johnny grinned. "Just hope their night out was worth it. Jelly, you and I can start clearing off that burnt-out shed this morning. We'll see if there's anything we can salvage, not that it looks like there will be."
"Dougal and I will be goin' over to the Morgan ranch quick as we can," Jelly objected.
"No point going 'til later, Jelly," Johnny corrected him. "Toogie will be in school, remember? Best ride over after lunch; that'll give Dougal time to talk to the Barwells before Toogie gets home."
"I'll go along with you," Scott said to Dougal. Johnny looked at his brother, wondering why Scott wanted to go with Jelly and Dougal. He felt uneasy, remembering Scott's words the previous evening about overturning Toogie's adoption.
He hoped Scott wasn't going to urge Dougal into anything that surely could only be upsetting for Toogie. His first impulse was to go along as well but then he recalled Murdoch's bandaged eyes and the doctor's orders. One of the brothers would have to stay on the ranch to take care of things. All Johnny could do was to hope that Scott's good sense would keep him from interfering. And at least with Scott there Jelly might keep quiet long enough to let Dougal get a word in edgewise.
Dougal spent the morning working at clearing away the remains of the storage shed alongside Johnny and Jelly. It was straightforward labour that gave him plenty of time to think.
Jelly's words kept coming back to him: 'foreman of the Morgan ranch'; 'a good house that goes with the job'. What could he, Dougal, give to Dougie? All he owned was the few dollars in his pocket and no more belongings than his horse could carry. Not enough to vindicate taking a child out of a place where it was well provided for.
He'd have to start looking around, get a steady job himself, one that would let him make a home for Dougie. A proper home, not just a bachelor camp, a home with an aunt for Dougie as well as an uncle. He smiled as he realized where his thoughts were headed. He'd never given any thought to getting married before but then he'd never met any woman who had made an impact like Teresa. She was the kind of girl he wanted.
He could do it, he thought. Him and Teresa and Dougie, they could be a family. He'd find a place near Green River so Dougie could keep going to school and wouldn't have to leave the friends he'd made. Not far from the Lancers, either, and Jelly. The old man had looked after Dougie for close on three years, after all. He could be a sort of grandpa to Dougie. Everything a little boy needed, Dougal determined, he would give his nephew.
On the ride to Green River, it was Jelly who did most of the talking. Dougal had learned by now that that wasn't unusual and was quite content to listen as the old man chattered on about Dougie, or Toogie as he called him.
"Started school a month ago and just loves it. He's bright too, the brightest kid in his class. Why, he's readin' already, not the big words, mind you, but he soon will be. I reckon he's smart enough to go to Harvard one day, like Scott here."
"Jelly, you sound like a proud grandfather," Scott laughed.
"Well, Toogie was my kid for quite a while, remember, and him bein' the youngest, he was always kinda special," retorted Jelly.
"So you've kept in touch with all your boys, Jelly?" Dougal asked.
"I surely have. They're all good boys and none of them have forgotten old Jelly, nor me them neither," the wrangler declared proudly. "I took care of them while they were with me an' I made sure they were all going to good places when came the time for them to be adopted. Now, the Barwells, who Toogie's with," he went on, "they've got a real nice home. One of those houses the Spaniards built in their day. It's a little way off from the ranch house, a sort of a … what do you call it, Scott?"
"A dower house, I think you mean, Jelly," Scott supplied.
"That's it," acknowledged Jelly. "Not as big as the main house, o' course, but just as well built and furnished up real smart. And Pete gets a might good wage, bein' the foreman an' all, so there's no skimping in that house. Little Toogie's been well looked after, you needn't have any worries on that score."
Jelly meant to be reassuring but his words made the doubts start creeping back into Dougal's mind. A fine house and a foreman's wages – it would be a long time before he could do as well as that for Dougie. He was sombre as they rode onto the Morgan ranch.
Two men were standing beside the corral talking. They broke off and came over to meet the riders.
"Scott, Jelly, good to see you," the older of the two men welcomed them.
"Hello, Gene," Scott responded as he dismounted with cavalry briskness. "Pete, how are you?"
"Hey, Scott. Hey, Jelly," the second man added his greeting. Scott introduced Dougal.
"Gene, Pete, this is Dougal Renslo. Dougal, this is Gene Morgan, the owner of the ranch."
"How do you do, Mr Morgan," Dougal greeted the rancher.
"And this is Pete Barwell." Scott indicated the second man.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr Barwell." Dougal looked carefully at the man who was smiling a greeting in return. He liked what he saw. A little older than Dougal, Pete Barwell had the appearance of a man used to hard work but not roughened by it. More importantly, his expression was open and honest; a man whose word you would believe.
"Gene, we need to take up a little of your foreman's time, if that's alright with you," Scott addressed Gene Morgan. "There's something we need to talk over with him and Lydia."
"Fine, Scott. Nothing wrong, I hope?" Morgan queried.
"No, just something that's come up, to do with Toogie." Scott knew that Gene Morgan could be trusted.
"Well, come along and see Lydia," Pete Barwell invited them. He was frowning a little but still polite. Two vaqueros took the horses and Dougal, Scott and Jelly followed Pete to a house on the other side of the barns. Like the main ranch house, it was made of adobe, airy and spacious. Pete led the way into a large, well-furnished living room. The pretty woman seated in a chair by the window, sewing, looked up with a welcoming smile.
"Jelly!" she greeted the old man. "What a lovely surprise. And Scott. Sit down, I'll make some coffee. The girls are having their afternoon nap so we can have a grown-up visit before they wake up and Toogie gets home."
"Lydia, this is Dougal Renslo," Scott made the introduction.
"How do you do, Miz Barwell," Dougal smiled.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr Renslo," Lydia Barwell readily extended her welcome to include him. "Do sit down," she repeated the invitation, "I'll have coffee ready in a minute." With another smile she left the room, on hospitality intent.
"You said you needed to talk about Toogie," Pete addressed Scott when they were all seated and coffee had been poured. Lydia looked up, curious.
"Yes," Scott began but before he could say more, Jelly was speaking.
"It's real good news," the old wrangler rushed in. "Dougal here is Toogie's uncle. He's been lookin' for the little feller for more'n two years and he's finally found him. Now ain't that good news for Toogie, havin' blood kin of his own?" Jelly was beaming and Scott felt an urgent desire to strangle him. Lydia Barwell looked stunned, while her husband stiffened and seemed to be searching for words. Dougal stepped in.
"Jelly's been telling me how well you've looked after Dougie; how happy he is with you. And I can see what a good home he has." He glanced around the well-appointed room.
"Of course he's happy here, he's our little boy," Lydia declared, her voice half bewildered, half tinged with fear.
"Lydia," Pete put his hand on her shoulder. "Mr Renslo," he turned to Dougal, "you say Toogie is your nephew?"
"Yes, that's right, he's my brother's boy," Dougal told him.
"And his parents? Where are they?" Pete demanded.
"Well, it's this way, Pete," Jelly jumped in again but this time Scott was on the alert and snapped an order that even Jelly couldn't ignore.
"Jelly, shut up! Let Dougal explain. Pete and Lydia are entitled to hear the story from him. Dougal, go on."
Dougal nodded and, looking directly at Pete and Lydia, told his story in a steady voice that was only belied by the pain that crossed his face as he spoke of his brother's family. When he finished, there was silence for a moment, then Pete spoke.
"That was a terrible tragedy. I'm sorry. And so Toogie – Dougie, you call him? – is your only living relative now." He paused then asked, "Will you be taking him away?"
"I want to have him with me," Dougal replied. Pete closed his eyes for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was strained.
"You have first right to him, I suppose."
"No, how could he?" Lydia interjected. "We adopted Toogie. That means he's ours, doesn't it?" She looked over at Scott in appeal. Scott shook his head.
"Dougal was Toogie's legal guardian at the time, even though we didn't know it, and his consent wasn't given. I think that would make the adoption invalid."
"We have to do what's right, Lydia," Pete stated. His voice was steady but his grim expression betrayed what he was feeling.
"Lydia, you have to think about Toogie," Scott urged. "He has the right to know who he is and to know his uncle. And to know the name he was born with. That's something everyone ought to know."
"Yes, I suppose that's true," Lydia conceded. She looked over at Dougal. "It must have been terrible, all that time, not knowing if your nephew was dead or alive. Of course you want him now." She went on, speaking to Dougal but as if trying to convince herself. "Pete and I are so lucky. We have our little girls and you have no-one. Really it's only fair…" her voice choked. "Excuse me, I think the girls are awake." She hurried out of the room.
The silence hung heavy in the air for a moment then Jelly said,
"Now, Pete, you've got to understand…"
"I understand, Jelly," Pete interrupted him. He looked across at Dougal. "How could anyone not understand? If I was in your position I'd do exactly the same thing. It won't be easy, though, especially for Lydia." He paused, then went on. "She had a hard time when our twin girls were born," he explained. "The doc says most likely there won't be any more children. And we lost our own boy in that typhoid outbreak a couple of years ago. When Toogie came, it was like our family was complete again. But Scott's right, we have to think of Toogie first."
"He'll be home from school soon, won't he?" Jelly asked.
"Any minute now," confirmed Pete. "There a few kids on the ranch who go to the school," he explained to Dougal. "They ride there and back, two kids on each pony, a little one with an older one for safety. Toogie loves riding," he added. "He's going to be a fine horseman when he grows up…" the fatherly bragging stopped and a shadow flitted across his face. Just then Lydia came back, holding the hands of two little girls about four years old, evidently twins by their age, although not identical. When they caught sight of Jelly they let go their mother's hands and rushed across the room, chattering and giggling.
"Jelly, Toogie caught a rabbit and gave it to us to keep."
"It's brown and white and we call it Hops, 'cause it hops."
"And Mama's teaching us lots of sewing stitches and we're going to make you handkerchiefs."
"And we'll give them to you for Christmas but we won't tell you until then."
"Well, now, that'll be a fine surprise for me," Jelly beamed. "Dougal, this is Mamie and this is Eliza."
"How do you do, Miss Mamie, Miss Eliza," Dougal responded solemnly. He thought of his two nieces – they had clambered all over him just like these little girls were doing with Jelly. The girls gave him two pretty "Hellos" then their attention was distracted by something they spotted through the window.
"Toogie's home!" Mamie shrieked.
"Toogie!" Eliza echoed.
Dougal drew in a sharp breath. Now that the moment was here, he was almost frightened. Would this boy be like the tiny child he remembered? Would he be like Ewan? He realized his hands were clenched and forced himself to relax.
Pete Barwell stood up, as if bracing himself for an ordeal.
"Don't tell him who I am just yet," Dougal said. Pete looked at him sharply. "Ler's just take things steady," Dougal added, not even sure himself why he was hesitating. Scott frowned but said nothing as Toogie came into the room and like the two girls, dashed straight over to Jelly.
"Jelly, I learned four new reading words today. And a funny squiggle that goes at the end to make a question."
"That's real fine, Toogie," Jelly said proudly. He looked over at Dougal. "I told you he was bright, didn't I?" Toogie noticed the other visitors for the first time.
"Hello, Scott. Where's Johnny? I want to tell him about the rabbit I caught."
"Hello, Toogie," Scott smiled at the little boy. "Johnny's taking care of things at Lancer, but I'll let him know the rabbit trap is working. And Toogie," Scott looked over at the boy's uncle, "I want you to meet a friend of mine. His name's Dougal." Scott was startled as he heard himself say the words. He didn't know where they had come from but they touched a chord somehow. There was no time to think about it now, though. He watched anxiously as Toogie put out his hand with a polite, "How do you do?"
Dougal took his nephew's hand. "Hello, Toogie," he said. He didn't trust himself to say anything more. He looked into the little boy's face. Yes, he could see the child he remembered. He could see his brother as well, and such a strong resemblance to his older nephew, Dougie's own brother, that he almost called him Will. But no, Will had had Betsy's blue eyes; Dougie had brown eyes, like Ewan and like Dougal himself. This was his namesake; this was little Dougie.
Lydia Barwell saw an uncle and nephew side by side, the resemblance undeniable. No-one could doubt that those two were related. She looked across at her husband and knew that he had seen it, too. She bit her lip and wondered how long it would be before their son was taken away from them.
"Mama?" Eliza's voice brought Lydia back to moment and to the immediate needs of her children.
"Toogie, you go wash your hands," she directed. "You and the girls can have your milk in here today, as we have guests."
"Yes, Ma." Toogie scampered off obediently. A few minutes later the three children had glasses of milk in front of them and were demonstrating their healthy appetites in the devouring of a plateful of cookies.
Dougal sat and watched his nephew, listening as the little boy told Jelly and Scott of all his adventures in school and on the ranch that was his home now. He was still young enough for catching a rabbit to be an adventure and learning punctuation to be exciting. Dougal was content to simply listen, and learn about this boy who was all he had in the world. It was the happiest he'd been for more than three years.
When the cookies and milk had been properly disposed of, Pete shooed the kids outside.
"You go out and play for a while now," he ordered. Toogie took a hand of each of the little girls.
"Come on, we have to feed Hops," he told them. "He's our resper… respi…"
"Responsibility," Dougal supplied, saying the word slowly.
"Respons..ibil..ity," Toogie sounded out, a smile lighting up his face as he managed the word. "Thank you." He looked up at Dougal.
"You're welcome," smiled Dougal. For a moment the eyes of the uncle and nephew met, then Toogie turned and led his little sisters out.
"Well?" Pete asked Dougal. "I suppose you want to take him with you?" His rigid stance showed his tension as he waited for the answer. But Dougal only shook his head worriedly.
"I don't know. I want to do what's best for Dougie but I'm just not sure what that is."
"Being with his kin is best for him," Jelly asserted.
"I don't know, Jelly," Dougal repeated. "He's happy here and I don't have any home to give him yet."
"Dougal, you're his uncle, a blood relation. That's the thing that counts most," Scott put in.
"That's important, Scott, but maybe it's not everything. Anyhow, it's not a decision to rush." He turned to Pete Barwell. "I'll think it over tonight and let you know tomorrow what I decide." Pete nodded. "Alright," he agreed. Lydia moved to his side but didn't say a word.
As the three men retrieved their horses from the corral and mounted up, Toogie ran over to say goodbye, the little girls scampering behind.
"Keep back, away from the horses," he told them firmly. "Don't want you to get hurt."
"He looks after those little girls, doesn't he?" Dougal remarked to Jelly as they rode away.
"He sure does," Jelly affirmed. "He's mighty proud of bein' a big brother."
Dougal turned in the saddle and looked back. Dougie and his adopted sisters had gone back to their game. As Dougal watched the three happy children, he saw Pete Barwell standing with his arm around his wife's shoulders. They were watching the children too.