by Jillian Hart
"Hey, hold up. Where are you going?"
She paused in mid-step, and her tense shoulders relaxed. "To move a bed into the parlor for Jack, where it's warmer for him. That matters right now. He might have gotten a chill from the window sleeping on the sofa."
"Are you kidding me? Let me do the work. I don't want you to do any heavy lifting."
"No, you had best stay right there with your son. He needs you and I move things all the time. Don't worry about me." There was nothing but caring in Saydee's words as she swirled away, her skirts rustling, her light step tapping a cheerful rhythm in her wake.
He really did like the adult woman she'd grown up to be. With a grin he didn't bother to hide, he patted Jack on the shoulder and stood. He wasn't about to allow a woman to move anything around just for him or his son, at least not while he was conscious! He ignored the lash of pain through his side with each step across the room.
The shepherd trailed behind him, a silent guardian except for the slight tap of his nails against the hardwood. When Winn glanced over his shoulder, he watched the good dog settle down by Jack and close his eyes when the boy petted him.
Good boy, he thought as he followed the faint pad of a woman's shoe echoing from down the hallway. She'd disappeared on him. Where did she go? The soft thud gave her away and he gave the slightly open door a push. He looked into a spare room, where a guest bed was set up and tidily made. "I caught you red-handed."
"I guess that makes me guilty." Saydee looked up from tugging a twin-sized feather mattress away from its place leaning against the wall. "Maybe you've forgotten that you're injured."
"I'm tough, don't you worry about me. What about you? You're going to hurt yourself hauling that around. Give that to me." Winn knew that she'd managed to haul the mattress he'd slept on into the kitchen, but she wasn't strong enough nor should she be doing such a thing. "You're lucky I came along to save you from the trouble."
"Yes, I'm speechless and delighted." Her pearl-pink lips tugged up into an attractive, charming curve of a smile. She smelled like sweetness and he breathed her in as he gave the mattress an easy tug along the polished wood floor. She shook her head at him, scattering an angelic cloud of spun-gold curls. "You're going to hurt yourself."
"I'm tougher than I look."
"You look pretty tough. You also look wounded, and those stitches need to heal." She nudged a wild tangle of tendrils from her eyes. "You really need to let me do this. Go back to your son and lay down for a bit."
"Like I'm going to take the easy way out." He tugged the mattress past her with one simple pull and it slid on by and across the room to the door. "Don't you dare catch hold of that end. I've got this, pretty lady."
He ignored the pain, it was simple to do. His pride would sting more if he didn't. The mattress was light and skidded down the hallway with no problem. She kept up with him, her step tapping pleasantly. She was a surprise and she made the experience cheerful and added a warmth that somehow made the morning better. Her personality was really something, he realized as he shoved the feather mattress into the parlor. Jack's head popped up from beneath the dish towel, and he left the mattress leaning against the wall, out of the way.
"I'll make myself useful and grab some fresh sheets." Saydee turned with a swirl of her pretty skirts, leaving him alone with his son.
There were no words to describe how he felt, pulled by the heart in a direction he had not anticipated. He cared for Saydee deeper and more than she would ever know, and it troubled him. Not knowing what to do about it, he paced over to the front window to gaze out on the tumble of determined snow veiled from sky to earth. He was stuck here, trapped, and he disliked the burden of it. Responsibility weighed on him.
"What's gonna happen to us, Pa?" Jack whispered, wide-eyed and pale, hoping for reassurance when there was none. "Will it be real bad?"
"I hope not, son." He looked up as Saydee padded back into the room with the carefully folded bundle of sheets hugged in her arms, moving so elegant and sweet. Her loveliness was the single most attractive thing she'd ever seen, a thoroughly female movement that hooked him hard.
"Let me go set that on the floor." He caught hold of the edge of the mattress before she could. "Where do you want it?"
"Right there closer to the stove." Saydee dropped the folded sheets onto the cushion of the wingback chair for him. She bustled off, her skirts whispering.
"I can help, Pa." Jack pushed to his feet, the little man that he was, and grabbed hold of the back corner of the mattress and helped push it into place. His breathing rasped, but not quite as bad. At least, he liked to think the boy was improving.
He grabbed the bottom sheet and gave it a snap. Between him and his son, they had the sheets tucked into place by the time Saydee returned.
"If you want, I've got the rub ready for your chest." Saydee tossed the plump feather pillows she carried into place, looking pretty with their embroidered pillowcase, but not prettier than she was. "Go ahead and stretch out, Jack. It's nice and warm here by the stove, isn't it?"
"Yes, Miss Saydee, thank you." Jack tipped his head back to gaze up at her. A smile wreathed his button face adorably.
"It sounds like the steam has helped all ready."
"I think so, thank you, Miss." Jack bobbed his head, a dark cowlick of hair bobbing too as he returned to the floor in front of the coffee table and his dish towel.
"You're welcome, Jack. What about you, Mr. Bounty Hunter? Are you bleeding through your stitches yet?"
10
"So far so good, or at least I think so." Jack beat her to the table to grab the little pot she'd left to cool on the table. "I'll get him rubbed up with this and back to napping. This smells really pungent."
"It's a surefire cure nearly every time, in all but the worst cases."
"Then I'm very grateful for it and very glad we found your property in the storm."
Jack watched Saydee blush and dip her chin, making her even more lovely while the lamplight emphasized the soft angled line from her cheekbone to her dainty chin and the bright spark of caring in her gentle eyes.
"I'm glad you're here and safe." She nodded toward the pan he'd set on the coffee table. "Do you need some help?"
"I've done this before, thanks." It killed him to tear his gaze from hers and ignore the catch in his heart, the one where he wanted her and prevented himself from needing her. It was best to leave his heart uninvolved because she would just break it anyway. He would have to leave anyway.
Knowing what had to be done, he grabbed the little sauce pan from the table. Jack sat obediently on the edge of the mattress, the clean sheets around him smelling pleasantly like soap and vanilla. Jack unbuttoned his flannel plaid and also pulled off his woolen long john under shirt that, and when he was done Winn sat down beside him, dipped his fingers into the warm concoction of onion and mustard and spread it across his son's chest with care.
"Whew, this will clear out your nose and lungs," he commented while he worked.
Jack nodded, turning just a smidgeon to watch the women feeding the cook stove a few small sticks of wood. Winn couldn't help but watch, too. Was it wrong to notice and appreciate so much about her? Every curve and line of her arm while she worked drew his attention. Her movements were grace and elegance and made his heart beat faster. Why couldn't he stop it?
The lamplight brushed across her, drawing his gaze to her face where his pulse skipped a beat at the concerned purse of her pearl-pink mouth, the furrow of her forehead and the way she worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She gave a soft sigh as she straightened with a damp cloth in hand as she wiped the countertop. As if she felt his gaze, she glanced up and her look met his.
Those soft, deep eyes of hers turned tender, meaning to impart comfort and caring, the kind of softness that had been missing from his life for so long and it felt unbearable to have it wash through him right now. He did not break away but let his gaze linger, melding with hers, until he felt the bump of his own hear
t aching, as if it were trying to match her beat. This softness of hers that he felt was too keen and forced him to fully feel with a heart held frozen for too long.
She broke the moment, ripped her gaze from his and swept toward him with the soft cadence of her steps knelling on the hardwood then whispering on the area carpet. He felt as if she'd melted a small piece of his heart that was still ice.
She held out a heated hand towel. She smiled past him to where the boy was stretching out on the bed, with the comfortable looking pillow beneath his head. "I promise to try and keep it quiet enough for you to rest and sleep, Jack, but forgive me if I forget to watch Pete and he ends up in bed with you."
"I won't mind," Jack said in a shy, near-whisper.
"Can I help you with anything, Saydee?" Winn watched her, heart aching, as she smiled at the yawning boy and watched over him while he halved the towel and laid it across the thick poultice on the boy's chest. Jack sighed and his eyelids drifted shut, tired and sick enough that sleep snuck up and claimed him in the next few painful breaths.
"I'm fine, but you should rest just like your boy." Saydee turned on her heels and padded to the table. "I worry about you, too, you know. Heaven above knows that someone has to."
He could barely hear his own breathing over the rapid-fire thump of his heartbeat echoing in his ears at the sound of her voice, lullaby-sweet and as soft as dream.
"Don't think you can fool me, Mr, Tough Guy." She snatched a folded, heated wash cloth and another small towel and retraced her steps, with her skirts rustling and her sunshine so golden. "You are about ready to fall over. How well did you sleep last night?"
"Not very. I have a wanted outlaw hunting me. I'm keeping an eye on things, so I don't have the ease to shut my eyes much. But Jack does."
"Yes, he surely is a good boy and so very polite. Such fine manners." Her bell of a voice, dulcet and resonate, sounded quietly as she came to a stop beside the mattress. Winn watched her porcelain beautiful face turn tender as she watched the boy sigh in his sleep. "You must be raising him right."
"I had been. The future is hard to tell. It hasn't been decided yet, not set in stone."
"The future is like that."
He accepted the warm, damp washcloth she handed him. He looked down to wipe his hand on the cloth, glad for her thoughtfulness. The poultice was sticky and a bit strong-onion scented. He peered through his lashes at her, sneaking a look and she'd turned her attention again to the sleeping little boy, and her veiled adoration was not hidden enough. The loving, tenderness on her face looked like the kind that would never fail.
Being here isn't a mistake, he reassured himself. Coming here to find her wasn't wrong. He wiped his damp fingers on the dry hand towel and ignored the physical pull of exhaustion and stress that weighed on his body, pushing him to the edge of endurance, at the cliff's ledge of all that could go right. The right of life, at least for him, was only filled up with wrong. On the edge of desperate, he patiently let Saydee take the cloth and towel from him, watching her with care.
"I've got to go check on the horses." He moved away, embarrassed by his gruff but revealing tone. Warmth vibrated in his voice as he stepped away and he winced, wishing it didn't show quite so much. "I won't be gone long and thank you for letting Pete keep a close watch on Jack."
"It's his pleasure, and I don't mind a bit." Her warmth and sweet, alluring delight dazzled as she glanced down at the bed where his child lay and her dog had climbed up and curled down right next to him.
A pain too great to measure or endure seized him and he didn't stop until he'd bundled up, barreled out the door and plunged headlong into the snow, storm and snowdrifts. He kept going and did not trust himself to look back.
* * *
The handsome and somehow familiar bounty hunter had been gone for some time, and it was the third time for the day. Saydee dared to peer around the wingback chair to gaze at the boy. Jack slept silently, his breathing less raspy but still wheezy. Pete opened his eyes, lifted his head and gave her a thrilled doggy grin before she laid her chin back down and nudged the sleeping boy's arm. Little Jack sighed in his sleep, content.
Poor kid. Saydee took a step back and padded quietly from the parlor. The fire crackled and snapped, and the wind buffeted against the window, driving the less intensely falling snow in a scour of white against the frozen glass panes.
Twilight was threatening to set in and drive out the gray daylight. The heated kitchen held no comfort as she lit a second lamp against the encroaching darkness, and the wind moaned instead of howled as it blew outside. Would the bounty hunter take his son and leave as soon as the storm had stilled?
The possibility felt as cold as a blizzard's wind. Pete gave a soft ruff, just one, low and deep-noted, and turned his eyes toward the back door. Then she heard it too, the thump of snow-covered boots on the lean-to floor, the click of a door closing and the uneven staccato of his treads against the floor. It was him. The inside kitchen door squeaked once as it opened to reveal him, but he stuck to the shadows as if reluctant to step into the light and life.
"I was just steeping more tea." She peered into the dark. "You must be freezing. Come sit down and let me pour you a cup. Maybe this yarrow tea will help you get rid of your fever."
"I don't have a fever."
"That's what you think."
A small grin touched the corners of his mouth. Like a lone hunter he stalked the perimeter of lamplight, keeping to the dark. "What do you think you have the right to do, to attempt to take care of me or something?"
"That would be rather presumptuous of me to assume I could try. Then again, someone clearly needs to point you in the right direction."
"And what direction would that be?"
"Tea."
A smile was his answer. She reached for another cup in the cabinets as she watched him slightly and stiffly limp out of the realm of the lamplight and into the shadows of the parlor. He paused to gaze down at his sleeping son before kneeling in front of the fire, his iron-strong silhouette outlined by flickering orange flames as he added more cedar to the grate. The fire rose and grew, feeding hungrily on the moss and bark, all the while casting more bright light on the bounty hunter, who somehow seemed enormous now, greater in her view.
His head rolled forward and he remained, shoulders hunched, still and dark. "What's next to your woodbox?"
She had to go up on tiptoe to see over the arm of the wingback chair and then the hard curve of his shoulder. She smiled at the shadowed basket sitting on the floor. "Oh, that's for my job, I was planning on bringing it to work this morning, but with the weather I'm stuck where I am and that means no work today."
"Work?" He shook his head. "I hadn't realized you worked. I guess it is a necessary thing. Most folks have got to make a living somehow."
"And that includes me, too." Saydee watched, breath held, while he pushed to his feet, stretching all the way up to his towering six foot height and carefully brushed the bits of moss and bark from his hands back into the woodbox. She opened her mouth but words failed her. The shadows clung to him, as did the light, drawing him in shades of light and dark, of gold and charcoal-black.
"I've got your woodbox full, but if you need me to haul in a few buckets of snow, let me know." He strode closer, bringing the black and gold hues with him. "We are making extra work for you, and I don't like that."
"I don't mind."
"That's because you are a good woman, Saydee Carson." He faced her, towering over her, outlined by the bright lamplight beside him and limned by the dark behind him. All that light and yet his stony, inscrutable face remained lost in the shadows. "I noticed you've set some buckets out. Jack's fever is worse enough for that?"
"He needs icing up before the fever gets any worse."
"There's an oilcloth in the pantry closet, all ready to do on the middle shelf, right in front. You can't miss it."
"I appreciate you, Saydee. Thank you." He strode past her, moving as though in darkness. Her pu
lse skipped a beat, thudding hollowly in her ears and in the center of her chest. She grabbed the honey jar from the middle of the table, shivering, his heart whispering at the sorrow stark on his face. In his eyes, she saw the truth of a man who'd already lost too much, a kindred soul and someone so familiar to her she could not turn away.
But he did. His footstep whispered away from her on the braid rug in the kitchen. She looked up and saw the determination like iron in his jaw as he opened the pantry door and pulled the oilcloth off its shelf. "Go ahead and pour a cup for me. You might not be wrong."
Words failed her, with the recognition drumming inside her chest, in the depths of her heart, and she could only nod as he paced away, pounding through the house, an immeasurable presence, unable to be contained. His presence seemed to fill the entire house with his might and strength and unstoppable humane man's heart.
"Pa," Jack muttered when the dog hopped off the bed to earn a pat from the man. One big hand stroked the dog's ears and the rounded angle of his shepherd head with calm gentleness before he bent down to brush the same hand along the side of the child's button face.
"I'm here, my boy. You're still not feeling well?"
Jack shook his head while Pete whined with sympathy and padded over to stop, gaze down at the boy, and offer him an encouraging lick on the chin. The boy gave a soft laugh, just a light cheery sound like a ray of sunshine on a dark day, and Saydee's heart squeezed painfully, reminded of all she'd lost in life and the child of her own she did not have. And likely never would.
Her eyes watered, her heart crying in an old agony that would never fully fade, even if it had turned, over time, growing more distant but never to be forgotten. Not ever. Tears stung her eyes, and she pressed a hand to her heart, taking a moment to hold herself back, to keep from caring about the bounty hunter's little boy, before she cared too much, too easily and fell in love with him only to lose her heart when he left.