To go from virtual serfdom to being landed gentry was the kind of rags to riches ideal that was only possible on Rhy'Din. The fact that Sam McAlister had done it and was succeeding where his predecessor had failed, spoke volumes not only about his character, but about the character of the people he had around him as his closest friends and family. From his fiery wife to the friends who had rallied around to build a working team to lead the day to day of Oakham Mount Ranch, what Sam had built around himself was more a family than a business.

The yard rang with the sound of hammers today; the promised new build that would house the hands and their families was beginning to go up now that spring had officially sprung. The ranchers were preparing for the cattle drive that would bring in the profits for the year; the staff at the main house were airing every bit of linen they could find. The whole place rang with noise and bustle, with the sound of people enjoying their work, something almost unheard of at the Mount.

And in the midst of all this, Bridget came walking, standing beneath the bare bones timber-work of the new build to cup her hands about her mouth and amplify what was an already impressive vocal volume. "Samuel!"

Sam McAlister wasn't the kind of man who stood on the sidelines and shouted orders. He was the kind of man who rolled up his sleeves and got his hands as dirty as anyone, unafraid of a little hard work. His men respected him more for it, and he felt more like one of them, rather than the man who had come before him and who had ruled the ranch with an iron hand. As it happened, he was in the middle of sawing a hunk of wood when his wife called, but it was one of the hands who pointed it out, as his attention was focused on the task at hand. He paused in his sawing to look over at his wife, who thankfully had not yet put her hands on her hips or glared at him scornfully.

"Yes, dear?" he asked, brushing sawdust from his hands as he made his approach.

Luckily for him, he'd married a woman who preferred to get her hands dirty than sit around watching other people do it for her. Bridget smiled as he approached her, hugging her arms about herself in her shawl to keep off the faint chill of the breeze. "You know you missed lunch?" she pointed out to him in amusement.

"Did I?" he asked, looking around as if it was someone else's fault, other than his own, or maybe waiting for someone to defend him. What had he been doing when everyone else had taken lunch' Still working probably or doing some chore or other. He still couldn't quite seem to get used to the idea that he was the boss now, not just a hired hand. "I'm sorry. No wonder I'm so hungry!" he added with an apologetic grin.

"Thought you might be," she laughed, seizing his hand to pull him away. As far as she knew, Austin had tried to get him to abandon his work when the lunch bell went, but had given up after three tries. Just as well she knew her man as well as she did. "Come away inside and feed yourself. Can't have you fainting away when I talk."

"Oh, are you planning on talking a lot?" he asked as she tugged him along back toward the house. "Too much talking puts me to sleep, you know," he teased, that grin not fading from his face. He didn't recall Austin trying to get him to stop working, but that didn't mean he hadn't tried. It wasn't that Sam had purposely ignored him, so much as the fact that he'd just been busy.

She paused to slap him soundly in the stomach for that tease, laughing at how bold he'd become to tease her like that in the months since they'd been wed. He'd treated her like glass to begin with; these days, he was more likely to give as good as he got. "Try and stay awake, what I've to say needs your attention, husband," she informed him, pulling him up over the porch.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied obediently, though the hint of a smirk remained on his face. "But where's lunch?" he asked, boots thumping against the stairs as he followed her onto the porch. Now that she'd mentioned food, he realized just how hungry he really was.

"In your study, you ridiculous sausage of a man," she informed him cheerfully. Mrs Prudey had been quite insistent about setting a healthy portion aside for Sam; their cook had become one of the most mothering woman Bridget had ever met since they'd taken over ownership of the place.

"Sausage?" he echoed with a grin. "Is that what?s for lunch or what you'd like to see later?" he teased further, waggling his brows at her, obviously in a good mood. And why shouldn't he be? He wasn't just in charge of the ranch; he owned it. He was surrounded by friends, some of whom he considered family, and he had the prettiest wife in all Rhy'Din. Sam McAlister certainly didn't have much to complain about these days, and every reason to be happy.

"Oh, you ..." She didn't have another fond insult to hand for him, blushing crimson to the tips of her ears at the way he had twisted her words into something she had definitely not intended. She was very much a product of her time, after all, and even the working classes wouldn't have teased like this so openly in 1912. "If I don't see it later, I'll be wondering why you're wearing your shorts in the bath."

"Oh, are we planning on scrubbing each other's backs later?" he teased back, sliding his arms around her as they came to a halt upon the porch, in full view of anyone who might be watching. Now that they were married and the master and mistress of the ranch, he didn't much care who saw what or what they thought.

"Well, there's certain parts of you I wouldn't take a scrubbing brush to," she laughed, easing into his arms as he drew his own about her. They'd seemed so unlikely to succeed when he'd married her - indeed, he'd married her only because Jem had told him to, just to give her a little more protection against the lecherous designs of a man now dead. "Like there's parts of me you've to be mindful of for a while."

"Just for a while?" he asked, assuming she was teasing him again and thinking nothing strange about her comment. They'd become comfortable enough with each other in the past few months to tease one another without risking any hurt feelings. Even the hands had noticed how much things had changed at the ranch since Sam and Bridget had taken over.

Her smile grew to a grin. "Aye, for about seven or eight months," she told him, almost gleeful in the fact that he had either not noticed something quite important not happening last month, or that he wasn't paying attention to what she was saying. "O'course, you'll want to be gentle after that, too, but you'll likely be too tired to care."

Sam McAlister wasn't the brightest of men, nor was he the stupidest, but from the look on his face, the wheels in his head were turning as he tried to sort out what she was telling him. "Seven or eight months?" he echoed, trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Mmhmm." Bridget nodded, the sparkle in her eyes encouraging him to get there as he thought it over. "Remember a promise I made you when we were first wed, that we'd have a family within two years" Seems as though you're a little more virile than we thought."

For once, she didn't abandon him to his meal, following him inside to settle down in the rocking chair she'd insisted on setting up by the window. It said a lot about her background that she considered owning a rocking chair a luxury, when they owned the entire house, ranch, and the land surrounding it. "Did you decide whether you're goin' on the drive with the lads?" she asked mildly, reaching down to exhume her knitting from beneath the chair. "Or do you trust Austin to do it for you?"

"'Course I trust Austin. That ain't the problem," Sam said, hanging his hat on a hook before sinking into a chair and taking up his sandwich. It only took a few bites before he'd almost gobbled it all down. "Problem is ..." he started, pausing a moment to chew and swallow. "....they 'spect to see me there." But only because he'd always been there before. Now that he was no longer merely a hand, no one would blame him if he stayed behind.

"Who expects it?" she asked curiously. "Won't be the hands, they know you've more than the cattle on your mind these days. Are you talkin' about the buyers, love?" Click, click went the knitting needles, and if he was paying attention, he'd realize how the garment she was knitting - and had been for about a week - was definitely too small for anyone they knew.

His brows furrowed thoughtfully as he considered that. Now that he was the ranch's owner and not just a hand, it was his job to pay salaries and make sure things were running smoothly, and he couldn't very well do that if he was off on a cattle drive with the boys. No, it seemed those days were over, though unlike his predecessor, he wasn't afraid of getting his hands dirty. "I reckon Austin can handle things well enough," he told her. In a way, he was going to miss it, and yet, he had more than enough to do here and more than enough reason to stay.

"Aye, and there's no reason you can't be in town for the auctions," she pointed out in amusement. "You just don't have to be a part of the drive. Dani'd give you a ride in that honking contraption of hers if you asked her nicely, I reckon." They had yet to convince Bridget that Dani's van, gifted to her by Austin and Jem when she'd got a job near the city, was safe to travel in.

It wouldn't be the first or last time Sam had traveled in something with wheels and an engine, though he preferred to travel on horseback. Horses, he'd observed, weren't likely to break down, get a flat tire, or run out of gasoline, but he had to admit that automobiles had their uses. "Maybe," he said, noncommittally. "But I don't want Austin to think I don't trust him."

Bridget raised a brow as she smiled at him. "So talk to him about it," she suggested. "He's your manager or whatever he is. Either you go, or you don't, but if you don't go, then Jem'll have to visit the auctions. I don't know much about business, love, but even I know the manager or the owner shows up to see how the profits are goin'."

"Why would Jem have to go if Austin is there?" Sam asked, turning to face her and glancing at last at the piece of knitting in her hands. He'd never paid too much attention to her knitting, as that was, once again, women's business, but it seemed to him that whatever she was knitting was a little on the small side.

"She is your business partner, isn't she?" Bridget asked, confusion flaring on her face. "Or is she not equal in the business" I don't understand these things, love. I'm just a maid who got lucky."

"You're right," he said, frowning again as he wondered what he was supposed to do while most everyone else was off auctioning off the herd. "Reckon I'll just have to stay behind and make myself busy here." It had only been a few months since he'd become the so-called boss, after all, and he was still getting used to the idea.

She watched his expression change, trying to school her own expression as her heart sank. She'd been hoping for a few days of his time, just to be with him and not worry about giving orders or feeding all the hands or mediating the inevitable arguments. But it meant so much to him to go. "Love, if you want to go, then go," she told him softly. "There's nothin' holdin' you here. You are in charge, after all."

What she had been hoping for hadn't occurred to him yet. He was still trying to sort out what was expected of him in his new role, and it wasn't always easy for him to hand out orders, when he was used to doing things himself. He looked over at her a moment, his gaze sliding again to the knitting in her hands, feeling torn between his duty as a ranch owner and that of a husband and father-to-be. "What're you knitting?" he asked, changing the subject, if only momentarily.

The clicking of her needles paused as she glanced up, a soft smile on her face as she straightened out what she was working on and reached into the basket for the other completed parts. It was a very small cardigan, only the back on her needles at present, but the sleeves were finished already. "Our little one is coming to us in winter," she pointed out. "Best they don't get cold, don't you think?"

Sam felt his heart skip a beat at the thought of them having a child. A little one of their own - son or daughter, it didn't matter which. He smiled again at the thought of that and realized that this was what he'd longed for more than anything else. More than owning the ranch, certainly more than going to a cattle auction. There would be plenty of auctions in the future. "Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" he asked from where he sat at the table. There was far too much distance between them, but there was only one rocking chair.

"I don't know," she told him truthfully, bending down to tuck her knitting back into the basket as she smiled. "I'd like to give you a son, but there'll be others too. Could be we'll have a house filled with little ones in a few years' time."

"That's a nice thought," he said, that soft smile still in place on his face. A house full of children. He wondered what Jem and Mrs. Prudey would think about that. Before long, they'd make this house a real home. The only problem was that they might run out of room. "Come here, darlin'," he said, patting his lap, beckoning her to him. "You're too far away."

He still hadn't worked out that calling her "darlin'" was the most romantic thing he could do. There was just something about the way he said it - the fondness, the accent, knowing it was just for her. It was the one word guaranteed to melt his fierce wife, even in the middle of an argument. "How many d'you want?" she asked him teasingly, pushing onto her feet to go to him without a second thought, curling her arms about his neck as she brushed a kiss to his nose.

"One of each would be nice, but it don't matter so long as they're healthy," he replied, smiling at the way she kissed his nose. He didn't make any mention of the risk involved in having a child; after all, this was Rhy'Din, and there were plenty of ways to ensure her safety. "Yanno, I reckon Austin and Jem can handle the auction without me. What do you think?" he asked, his arms circling around her waist.

"Just one?" she teased, stroking one fingertip along the line of his jaw. "Where's that ambition that had you wantin' to buy a ranch of your own when we got wed?" Grinning, she nestled into the circle of his arms, nose to nose with him. "There won't be so many people left on the Mount while they're gone," she mused, feigning a need to consider it as her lips brushed his. "We might have to find a way to amuse ourselves all alone."