by Jillian Hart
It reminded Winn of all the other breakfasts, so many, when he'd dolloped butter on pancakes or on fried potatoes or toast and they'd had an ordinary morning. Just father and son together, and the fact that those times were at an end beat like a battering ram on his sternum. The grief hit hard enough to destroy him, and he hadn't even left yet.
Saydee's careful quiet tap of the blueberry syrup bottle as she slipped it onto the table in front of him, drew his attention, dragging him from his thoughts, and brought his attention back to her. He felt unable to look away, his cracked heart thumping at the way she looked, the shadows in her caring gaze, the steaming coffee mug held in her slender hands.
The understanding on her sad face drew him in, forced him to see the shades of her, like dawn looked before the sun broke above the horizon, when the glow turned shyly gold along the edge of the sky. She was like that gentle light of pinks, peaches, lavenders and yellows before real light broke up the sky.
"Jack, you seem to like the pancakes. There is more in the oven, if you need seconds."
Winn watched his son's face grow more pale. Jack's sorrow hung on him like a coat, dragging down his shoulders. He was shy of strangers and dreaded being abandoned. Likely worried that by accepting Saydee's caring, then his pa would just leave all the sooner.
"He's got a fever." Winn poured maple syrup over his pancakes and then handed the bottle to Jack. "Will you admit you have a sore throat?"
"Nope." Jack bent his head, watching the syrup sluice from the bottle onto his pancake stack.
"That means yes, it does," Winn interpreted.
"I was a schoolteacher for four years before I got married. And then widowed," Saydee added as she pushed to her feet and brushed past him. Her skirts swished and rustled, her step quiet but steady, and he breathed in the lightest scent of lilac soap. "I know a remedy or two for the croup."
"The croup? Do you think it's that serious?" Winn set his coffee cup down on the table. "Will we need to fetch a doctor?"
"Not unless he gets worse, but I'll do my best to keep that from happening." Her sweet gaze arrowed over to Jack's flushed face. "Is your throat too sore to eat those pancakes, Jack?"
"No, Miss."
"Good, so you don't have to worry about gargling until after you eat. It's good to put that taste off for as long as possible."
"Is it bad?" His eyes widened. His eyebrows arched upward with pure concern.
"If you don't like peppermint, it is. Otherwise, it is okay tasting."
"Good, then. I like peppermint real well."
Winn stared down at his plate. He'd been the sole caregiver for most of the boy's life and it was a tough thing to force himself to stay to the side and leave his boy's care in Saydee's capable hands.
"Go ahead and dish up more bacon, if you would like," she encouraged, cutting a bite of pancakes from the small stack on her plate. "Eat up, and I will get you feeling better before you know it."
"I would like that," he rasped, nearly whispering, politely.
Saydee's face softened in absolute adoration. With Jack, it was easy to do. She gave out a sigh but not a troubled one. "How about I'll make you a big cup of hot chocolate after you've suffered through gargling and taking some medicine, okay?"
"Okay! I have never met a hot chocolate that I didn't like." He gave a little head bob, dipping his dimpled chin so like his father's. He blushed shyly. "I'm not so good at being sick."
"Neither am I, truth be told, I like to pretend I'm not sick at all and ignore it, and it never works." Saydee's understanding was gentle like the benevolence of the dawn's light she reminded him of, and she turned away. "I'll mix the solution right now."
"No, you go ahead and eat first." Winn pushed out of his chair, risking another touch to her hand to stop her. His fingertips brushed the silken, feminine warmth of her skin and the lace-edged cuff of her wool sleeve.
She felt so delicate that he felt bigger and more like a bull in a china shop. She was small as he towered over, dominating her unintentionally. So, he cleared his throat and softened his countenance, hoping that he looked less fierce.
"I understand. I'm taking over without meaning to. He's your son, and you probably have different home remedies in mind for him to mix." She lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze. "I'm sorry about that."
"Don't apologize, Saydee." A lump settled in his throat, making it painful to speak, making his emotions sound undisguised in his voice. "I'm sure your remedies are better than mine. I would appreciate your stepping in and helping us out."
"Then I will." She tugged her wrist gently away from him. "When are you going to tell me why you're here and what's wrong?"
He read the uncertainty carved on her simply lovely face, her honest heart revealed. She cared but looked leery, and he didn't blame her. Also, he could see she had no children. Her brother had said as much. That was what he was bargaining on, that she would understand the importance of caring for a child and keeping him provided for, loved and happy.
So Winn followed her into the kitchen and stopped at the counter. "I'm in serious trouble, Saydee. A fugitive turned the tables on me and along with his right hand best buddies busted out of jail and tracked me down for retribution for putting him there. I had to grab Jack, leave everything behind and go on the run to keep us both safe. It's why I have outlaws tracking me through a Montana Territory storm. Well, one less, now. There may be two more out there, I don't know for sure. Maybe they froze in the storm."
She rocked back on her heels and grabbed the edge of the counter for support to keep her steady. Her big, brilliantly blue eyes, threaded with gold and green, widened with the importance of what he'd said. "That was not what I expected you to say."
"I liked being a deputy for a while, but that was long before Jack was born and his ma passed away. It was a hard sorrow I've never recovered from so I kept bounty hunting. It gave me more time at home with my son, in the end." He hadn't meant to tell her the truth all at once. He'd avoided telling her much of anything since the moment he'd opened his eyes in the storm, unable to go any farther, and saw her. "I didn't know that it would lead me here."
He glanced over for a moment to watch the boy eat. He eyed the woman busy at the counter. "What were you expecting?"
"Your explanation why you were on foot and he wasn't wearing a warmer coat." She gave a sweet shrug, concerned and no longer wondering. Caring, laced with understanding, glinted in her big blue eyes.
"It wasn't any way my idea to have him out in that cold. He and I were trying to make it to you and shelter before the storm hit, but we got slowed down when a bullet hit me out of nowhere and we had to get off the road. Now he's looking pretty flushed, pretty sick."
"The croup is powerful but an enemy we can defeat. It can sneak up on a child very fast. I saw it in my students often enough." Saydee did her best to hold back the sympathy for him threatening to well up and drown her heart. "We've caught it early, so that's good. Children get sick all the time and manage to recover so don't be so quick to blame yourself."
At least, she could concentrate on the positive, and he did not fault her for that. Why wasn't she upset at him or giving him a piece of her mind? Why wasn't she demanding that he leave? Could it be that she recognized him?
Instead of answering, her blue eyes warmed and her mouth curled up in the corners just a bit and in the stillness stretching between them her warmth was a small piece of comfort he hadn't had, not in a long time. Right now, for this moment, life didn't seem bitter and harsh, cruel and without mercy.
She turned away, steaming mug in hand, and swished right by him. His skin broke out in goose bumps, although he wasn't cold. He watched her golden tendrils gently sway, brushing her rose-soft face, and he couldn't help taking in the whole sight of her, from chignon to dainty shoes.
Her wool dress hugged her feminine form, emphasizing the narrow nip of her waist, the gentle line of her hips and the full sweep of her skirts, gently rustling with her gait, hinting at the curve
s of her legs and the length of them. His heart rate tripled, and his groin kicked. He couldn't help it.
And he should not be wondering if she felt as soft as she looked. The fire in his veins didn't ease as he forced his feet forward, where his gaze settled not on the woman but on his son. A cup of hot chocolate steamed on the table next to his half-eaten plate of pancakes. The dog has nosed in, misbehaving just to get a pet on the head from the boy. The dog's tongue darted out to kiss Jack's chin, and the child laughed. It was a welcome sound.
I don't ever want to leave. His heart broke, not knowing how he could walk away from his son. Jack's laughter died when their gazes met and the boy's moment of happiness died, fading into sorrow.
Don't go, Pa, his look said.
Winn clamped one hand on the boy's shoulder, so small compared to his own. He could say nothing more to his precious son, the child of his heart, and his entire life. He never wanted to let him go.
His heart caught on the tenderness, disrupting the beat, and he wrestled down a father's love so strong it struck like a physical blow to his chest. He didn't think he could just walk away and risk never seeing his son again.
8
I wish I wasn't so attracted to her I can't think straight. Winn's blood burned long after Saydee had moved away clearing the table, shooed him out of her kitchen and refused to let him attempt to help her wash and dry the dishes.
As he tended to Jack, rubbing a menthol salve onto his chest, he listened to her step tap as lightly as a waltz on the varnished floors of her cozy home as she went about her early morning routine. The rustle of her petticoats beneath her lovely wool dress tugged at his attention and made his heart skip for a different reason. He clenched his teeth, doing his best to fight his reaction to her.
What he should be doing was focusing solely on his son and no one else, but the woman tugged at his senses, making him far too aware and raw-edged, unable to close himself up to her. His shaft heated, kicking with a beat of its own, simply from watching her walk from the table to the hallway. Heated desire spilled into his chest and spread through his veins because he kept wondering what her soft, slender womanly body would feel like pressed up against his.
He hadn't realized he'd been staring unblinkingly at her for so long. She sashayed back into sight with a small armload of clothes for the laundry hamper and disappeared into the lean-to. She riveted his full attention. In the space between one breath and the next, he'd imagined standing with her in that soft kitchen light, pulling her hard up against him, feeling the softness of her wrap around him like an unbidden dream.
Fire kicked through his bloodstream, hotter than molten lava. What on earth is wrong with you, Winn? He couldn't answer that. He knew darn well that he was wrong thinking of Saydee that way. A man with a price on his head, thanks to an outlaw gang, had no business looking twice at a woman like Saydee, much less desiring her, imagining her body pressed up hot and sexy against his.
That did it. He went iron hard and no way to hide it. Again, he had to ask himself, what was wrong with me? Have better self-control than that, McMurphy! Anger sliced through him, hot and swift but not strong enough to cut away the desire to have Saydee bare against his chest.
What kind of pa did that make him? He ripped his eyes away from her and focused on his son. He laid his hand on Jack's forehead. He felt more feverish. Not a good thing. He rasped in air, sounding like sandpaper against wood.
Frustration and anger mixed, spreading through him all the way down to his toes. Jack was sick because of being on the run, because of me, he thought, and hated the ways this now put his son in danger. All of this should never have happened, he thought, wishing his son had never gotten sick and cold or had been on the run with him.
Don't let this lead to grave illness. Winn had lost his wife that way, to influenza gone into bronchitis and then worsening. She'd been too ill and weak at the end to recover and had slipped away right after Jack was born. What if that happened to Jack?
He pushed to his feet, ignoring the pain streaking hot and steady in his side and racing down his left leg with every step he took across the gray daylight of the room. If only he had a better solution to give Jack.
With no easy answers, he listened to the renewed blizzard beat against the outside walls, scrubbing the window in front of him white. He'd heard worse, been in worse, that came from living in the Dakotas and Missouri before that. The only thing worse was the funnel of a raging Texas twister, which meant there was no leaving and no fetching a doc. And if the storm broke, could he spare the time to do it? It was a hard, tough call.
Any way he looked at it, he'd have trouble riding away. Any way, whether I go or stay, he thought, his stomach fisting hard. He couldn't leave Saydee and Jack defenseless to an outlaw as ruthless as Brant, and yet he couldn't leave to draw him away from wherever he was hiding out. Winn raked his fingers through his dark hair, his blood cold now, almost ice.
What choice did he have? He rubbed the heel of his hand against his aching brow. He couldn't send Saydee out in this dangerous storm, and he couldn't leave this house unprotected. Saydee swished out of the lean-to, her shoes tapping a light, spritely rhythm above the howl and batter of wind and snow outside.
He watched her, wondering, is this a good idea? The cookstove's damper rattled, the teakettle whistled and abruptly changed tone, silencing when it was jerked off the burner. That cinched up feeling in his gut worsened. What was he thinking imposing such a responsibility on her? Especially after she'd lost a baby in a miscarriage when she'd been a newlywed. It wasn't right at all, he decided, remembering what her brother had told him once, but he had to ask her. He was in a heap load of trouble with no one to help.
No one except her.
"Pa?" Jack croaked, his dark curls clinging to his sweaty brow. "I'm very thirsty."
"Lucky for you, I bet Saydee left a pitcher of water right there on the table beside the clean glasses." He ignored the icy weakness shivering through him, clenched his teeth against his pain and focused on his sweet son's face. "I just have to go get it."
"Yes, please." Jack gulped, swallowing like it hurt. "I don't feel so good."
"I'm not surprised with that fever you have." His heart was beating like it was ready to break, but he didn't let it show as he poured a fresh glass of the water Saydee had left for them. She'd disappeared back down the hallway, so he handed the water over to his son.
"Thanks very much, Pa. My throat sure hurts." Jack sipped, set the glass on the nearby edge of the coffee table and collapsed back onto the plump pillows tucked against the arm and cushion of the sofa.
Pete groaned and nudged upward to bump Jack's dangling hand in sympathy and support. Jack's fingers feathered softly over the shepherd's head. There was never anything nicer than a boy and a dog. Well, that was one benefit to his plan, Winn thought as he leaned in to brush away the slightly damp bangs from Jack's forehead.
Unusually warm heat met his fingertips, and panic vise-gripped him. Jack was even hotter, and it had happened too fast. Not a good sign. He tugged a second afghan off the back of the sofa cushion and shook it over his son. You need a doctor, boy.
Jack's eyelids fluttered as he relaxed beneath the fuzzy knitted afghans and the raspy sound of his breathing filled the parlor. Sleep claimed him and he relaxed fully, sweet innocent boy tucked in all safe and warm, protected by the faithful companionship of the shepherd, untouched by the raging wind and snow outside the thick, stout walls. Helplessness wrapped around him and he shivered.
I can't run, I can't hide, and there is no quest for freedom by taking the small outlaw band down. The storm had stopped them cold, but it might have stopped the trail Henson had been following through the snow. That alone may have saved Jack. Then again, maybe not. And if Brant could track him, then he was close enough to strike when the blizzard stopped.
Winn frowned. He'd do anything for his son, including give up his life, his future as his father, if that's what it took. He would hunt down th
e men who threatened their way of life and likely die trying. Winn sorely wished he'd taken a desk job not too long ago, one he'd been offered with law enforcement, and he wished he could give a stable, good future to his son.
But he would do what it took to insure his child's survival and welfare. And Saydee was the key.
* * *
He's coming! Saydee froze in place so she could listen to the cadence of his gait, an understated confident clump-clump that rang above the storm's fury. The stranger who said he knew her was closer than he seemed. Goosebumps prickled her skin in both awareness and in the memory of how she'd felt tucked against his side, his fiery manly warmth hot like flame. Why couldn't she forget the feel of his body against hers?
His footfalls seemed to fill her up as he approached. She felt him, not just heard him, and he looked like a prowling wolf with the way the shadows seemed to cling to him as he stayed out of reach of the lamp. He seemed to stay in the shadows as if afraid of the light, and the dark tousled tangle of his almost too-long hair gave him a rakish charm, and the broad span of his chest made him seem intensely masculine.
He fisted his hands, hanging loosely at his sides. "Jack's worse."
"I could hear it in his breathing. He looks so flushed." Her pestle stilled, the air smelling of crushed herbs. "I'll brew more tea."
"Is that yarrow? I recognize that slightly bitter weed-like smell. That's real medicine, our hometown doc prescribes it."
"I can see I've impressed you. See? I know what I'm doing." Her chest ached at the sight of him, clinging in the shadows, at the edges of the light. The glow of the table lamp barely reached him, illuminating only the right half of his face. "You expected inexperience?"
"That isn't what I think about you. I just don't know this adult woman you've grown up to be, Saydee. Your brother spoke so well of you."