Texas Heroes: Volume 1 (30 page)

“Mister,” the whisper tickled his ear.

Mitch opened his eyes to see frantic blue ones.

“I can’t find the bathroom.” Davey was bouncing on his toes, holding himself.

“Unh—” Mitch groaned and sat up. “Go out on the porch.”

“What?” Blue eyes goggled. “The bathroom’s on the porch?” He was shifting from one foot to the other.

“You ever pee outside?”

If he weren’t feeling the effects of the night’s frequent interruptions, he’d laugh at the kid’s expression. Heaving himself up from the bed, he stood.

“You don’t got any pajamas on.”

Mitch reached for his jeans and slipped them on over the briefs he didn’t usually wear to bed. “Nobody invited you in my room.”

“I was—I didn’t know—”

Mitch quelled his irritation. Shrugging on a shirt, he sat down to pull on socks, shaking out his boots in a habit that was years old. “Go on outside.”

“It’s dark out there.” Davey was rocking back and forth now.

Mitch jerked on his boots and sighed, picking Davey up under one arm like a sack of feed and heading for the front door. “Where’s your shoes?”

“In my room.”

“Watch where you’re standing, and don’t walk around barefoot anymore.”

“Something will bite me?”

“This isn’t the city, kid.” He set the boy down after checking the porch for undesirables. “Okay, go ahead. I’ll show you the outhouse later.”

Davey looked confused. “Here?”

Mitch sighed again. “Yeah, here. Unless you want to wait to get your shoes, then head around to the back of the cabin.”

“Mom wouldn’t like this.”

“Mom’s not watching.”

“Don’t look.”

“I’m not looking.” Mitch leaned against the support post with his back turned and listened to the aspens whisper. Very quickly, another sound joined the night.

“Wow, look how far I can hit.”

Mitch couldn’t help a grin at the boy’s delight. It brought back memories of boyhood competitions with his brother. Soon the sound stopped. “You ready?”

Davey walked back to his side. “It’s cold out here.”

“You got any warm clothes?”

“I guess. In the car.”

“We’ll have to make do, then.” He couldn’t leave Davey alone here while he retrieve them, not with her so sick. “Come back inside.”

Davey didn’t move. “What if I step on something bad? I can’t see where I’m going.”

Mitch swooped him up and settled the boy on his back.

“Wow, you’re really tall. My dad’s not so tall.”

“Where is your dad?”

The small body stiffened. “I don’t know.” The voice turned faint and confiding. “He doesn’t like me.”

A tiny corner of Mitch’s well-guarded heart opened.
Welcome to the club, kid. My dad hates me
. “Your mom loves you. That’s good enough.”
Be grateful you have one
.

“Yeah, I guess so.” Warm breath whistled across his ear. Sturdy little arms tightened around his neck. One foot brushed Mitch’s arm. It was ice-cold.

“Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Mister?”

“I said you can call me Mitch.”

“Okay.” A pregnant pause hovered.

“What?”

“I’m hungry.”

Babysitter… nurse… cook… what else would he have to become before he could get the woman out of his cabin? “Not sleepy?”

Soft hair brushed against his neck. “Uh-uh,” the boy whispered. “Is that okay?”

Poor kid. Not his fault his mother was heartless. Or that his dad didn’t care. Mitch had been alone since he was sixteen, except for Cyrus Blackburn. This little guy was alone in a strange place with a strange man and a sick mother.

“Yeah.” He squeezed one chilled foot in each hand. “That’s okay. Let me check on your mom and then we’ll fix some breakfast.”

Chapter Two

P
errie braced herself against the doorjamb, trying to decide how long she’d slept. The front door seemed miles away. Unless Grandpa had added on facilities she couldn’t see, she had a long walk after that.

Grandpa. A wave of grief threatened to drown her.

Not now, Perrie. You’ve got to find Davey. Got to figure this out. One step at a time. You can grieve later
.

First to the chair hewn from logs, its handmade cushions calling like a siren. She could make it that far, surely. Perrie concentrated as though life hung in the balance. When she touched the back, she clung to keep from collapsing.

Where was Davey? Had the hard-eyed stranger grown tired of him and left? Davey knew nothing about the forest, nothing about mountains. He could fall, there were bears, he could be—

The front door opened with a gust of cool air. Davey raced inside, vibrating with excitement.

“Keep it quiet. Your mom—” The golden-eyed stranger broke off in mid-sentence.

Davey looked up from the bucket of freshly-cleaned fish he was holding. “Mom!” He dropped the bucket and came running, plastering himself to her side.

Perrie gripped him hard, stroking his hair and trying not to sink to the floor. Then she looked back at the man who filled the doorframe. Dark hair teased the collar of his red plaid flannel shirt, and his face was all hard planes and dark hollows. What little light had been in his eyes when he’d been looking at her son, vanished into stone when he looked at her.

“What are you doing out of bed?”

“I just need to—” She glanced toward the outside. The lack of amenities had been no big deal when she’d been a kid here with her grandfather. Explaining to a strange man was another matter.

He frowned, then understanding dawned. “Davey,” he ordered. “Go get your mom’s shoes and bring them here.”

“Okay, Mitch.” Davey obeyed instantly.

The man named Mitch set the fishing rod and tackle box by the door and crossed to her. Without a word, he scooped her up into his arms.

“I don’t need—”

“You’re about to pass out and you know it.” Over his shoulder, he spoke to her son. “Slip them on her feet. That’s right. Now stay here for a few minutes. I’m taking your mom around back.”

“Can’t she just go off the porch, too, Mitch?”

For a second so brief she could have imagined it, Perrie thought she saw laughter in the amber eyes. If only she weren’t so dizzy—

“No. Girls can’t go off the porch. Stay right here until we get back. You can help me cook the fish.”

“Okay!”

Relieved to hear only enthusiasm in her son’s voice, Perrie’s anxiety eased a little. He seemed good to Davey, firm but kind. She wished she knew how to thank him. She wished she weren’t so shaky.

She wished she knew why he hated her.

Then they were through the door and headed around the cabin.

Perrie tried to summon the energy to be embarrassed, but somehow he made it all matter-of-fact, setting her down and walking away until she emerged again. Then he scooped her back into his arms and headed around the cabin.

“Thank you,” she murmured, trying not to lean against his broad chest. It was a cruel taunt that she felt so safe in his arms. As her eyes drifted closed, against her cheek she felt hard muscle play beneath warm flannel. He smelled of forest and sunshine—and strong, healthy male. For a moment, Perrie wondered what it would be like to relax in this man’s care.

It didn’t matter. He despised her. Somehow, she had to find the strength to take charge, to make new plans.

They’d come so far, only to find everything lost. For so long, her only thought had been to make it to this place of safety, where Grandpa could help her figure out how to fight off Simon and his powerful family.

Maybe it had only been a nightmare. Perrie lifted a head that felt like it weighed ten tons. “I didn’t dream it? Grandpa Cy is really dead?”

The granite jaw tightened more. “What do you care?”

Perrie forgot about safety and comfort. She struggled to leave the arms of a man who could believe that she wouldn’t care about losing the finest man she’d ever known. Cyrus Blackburn had been rough as a cob and a man from the wrong century, but he’d had compassion and honor enough for a dozen men.

“Be still.” His arms tightened, trapping her. “We’re almost there.”

“Let me down. You don’t understand anything.” She wanted to explain about Simon, but she was too ashamed that she’d been so weak. She wanted answers from him about why he was here, about how Grandpa had died. About why he thought she wouldn’t care.

Her vision grayed as she struggled. She was so tired. So drained.
Be quiet, Perrie. You don’t know if you can trust him. The only man you knew you could trust is dead
. And she’d never had a chance to say goodbye.

“I understand that there’s a little boy in there who needs his mother to get well. Don’t be a fool.”

Perrie bit her lip hard. He was right. All that mattered was being able to take care of Davey. She would grieve in private. This man would not believe her tears, anyway.

Perrie stopped struggling. But she couldn’t seem to stop the ache inside her chest.

When he carried her inside, she reached down to stroke her son’s hair.

“Are you better, Mom? Can you stay in here with us? We’ll cook you some fish. I caught one of them. Mitch showed me how.”

Perrie tried to reassure him with a smile. “Sweetie, I…”

Before she could steady her voice, Mitch spoke up. “Your mom needs more sleep so she can get well. Maybe tomorrow.”

She was forced to be grateful for his intervention. At least he was kind to her son.

Arms stiff as though carrying an unwelcome burden, he walked back to the room that smelled of her grandfather’s pipe. He laid her down, then turned away.

“He was the best man I ever knew,” she whispered.

“Too bad you broke his heart.” With long strides, he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Perrie curled up in a ball and buried her face in the pillow so Davey wouldn’t hear her cry.

Davey stood on a chair beside him, tracing designs in the corn meal with his fish. “Mitch?”

Mitch watched the grease, waiting for the bubbles to signal that it was ready. “Yeah?”

“Why don’t you like my mom?”

Mitch glanced over to see the boy’s brow furrowed, his blue eyes dark and sad. The kid was too smart. How did you tell a child about betrayal? “What makes you think I don’t like her?”