Dangerous Legacy

by Valerie Hansen

  Instead of obeying, the boy stared at his reddened fingers and whimpered.

  Flint strode into the kitchen, pulled several paper towels from a roll, wet one and grabbed a dry dish towel. Operating as if back in combat, he returned to the living room and thrust the towel at Maggie before crouching beside her to wipe the child’s hands.

  He then shoved the used paper towels at Maggie, edged her aside, took a firm hold of the dog’s paw and said, “Go call your vet. And tell him to hurry. I’m not staying any longer than I have to.”

  Given his uneasiness, Flint figured his best option was to concentrate on the task at hand and put everything else out of his mind. For now at any rate.

  He’d almost succeeded when the little sandy-haired boy trained big green eyes on him and said, “Thank you for saving my dog, mister.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  That would have been the end of Flint’s communication if Mark had not gotten up and wrapped his little arms tightly around Flint’s neck.

  Long seconds passed. Flint was astounded when his vision misted. He shifted his hold on the dog enough to free one arm and wrap it gently around his son.

  Then he laid his face against Mark’s shoulder, mirroring the child’s stance, and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  Maggie could hardly function, let alone speak coherently, when the veterinarian’s answering machine picked up her call. She knew she was babbling instead of giving her usual concise report of conditions, but she couldn’t help herself.

  A voice came on the line halfway through her first convoluted sentence. “Is this Maggie Morgan?”

  “Yes!”

  “I can hardly understand you. Calm down. Tell me what’s wrong.”

  “Wolfie’s hurt. His paw is bleeding something awful.”

  “You know how vascular extremities are. Have you applied pressure?”

  She glanced over at the tableau on the hearth rug. It was so touching, so tender, she could barely speak until she looked away. “Yes. But every time we let go it starts bleeding again.”

  “I can’t stitch a dog’s pad. It won’t hold. Besides, it needs to heal from the inside out. How did it happen?”

  “He jumped through a window.”

  “A closed window? Again?”

  Realizing she was nodding instead of answering verbally, Maggie gave a delayed “Yes.”

  “All right. I’ll be right over. He may have other injuries as well as the foot. In the meantime, keep him quiet and keep putting pressure on the cut you can see.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  As she ended the call, she refocused on Flint. He had parted from Mark and was encouraging the boy to help him comfort Wolfie. Both father and son had their heads bowed. Mark’s open hands rested on the dog’s head while Flint continued to grip the paw.

  Maggie heard her son’s “Amen” before he went on to inform Flint that he was the answer to an earlier prayer. “Mama didn’t want to pray for Wolfie, but I did.” Mark beamed at the man. “And you found him.”

  “It’s my job to help hurt animals and protect the forest and lakes,” Flint explained.

  “That’s what I wanna do when I grow up.”

  In other words, they had only just met and already Mark wanted to be exactly like his daddy. Maggie tried to swallow the dry lump in her throat and failed. She coughed. Flint glanced up. Any fondness vanished as soon as he focused on her and asked, “Vet’s on his way?”

  “Yes. Greg said he’d be here ASAP.”

  “Greg Gogerty? I remember hearing that he was practicing around here. He’s Miss Inez’s grandson, right?”

  “Yes. He treats both large and small animals.”

  A sardonic chuckle from Flint surprised her until he explained, “I hope he has some hefty assistants. As I recall, Greg was a scrawny little guy.”

  She wanted to snap back with So were you but refrained. No use antagonizing Flint, particularly since he seemed to be handling his meeting with his son far better than expected. Maggie was intensely grateful. She’d much rather take the brunt of the man’s understandable anger than have it foisted on her innocent child.

  “I’m sure Greg can handle Wolfie,” she said. “They know each other. This isn’t the first time that dog has sailed through glass.”

  “I sure hope it’s the last,” Flint said. “I’d expect him to be smarter than that.”

  “He’s just very protective. I guess he thought the wolves were sneaking up on me.”

  “You’re sticking with that story?”

  Her brow knitted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Look. I didn’t mind searching for your dog while I was off duty. But if you intend to send me on a wild-goose chase, you’re going to have to come up with something more believable than wolves.”

  “I heard them,” she insisted.

  “Uh-huh. Then why didn’t I see a single track?”

  Maggie didn’t have a ready answer. She certainly wasn’t going to suggest that perhaps he lacked skill. “How should I know? Wolfie was lost, just like I said, wasn’t he?”

  “In a manner of speaking. I told you somebody had already found him. What I don’t understand is why they didn’t bring him back to you then.”

  “Maybe they were afraid to let him walk.”

  “And maybe he was bait to lure me out there so they could take more potshots at me.”

  “That’s crazy!” She threw her hands up in frustration.

  “From where I stand, it seems plausible. It was your story and your dog.”

  “I’d never purposely hurt any animal, especially not one who’s like a member of my family.”

  “Maybe not. But I can see you taking advantage of an accident.”

  Astonished, she fisted her hands on her hips. “Why in the world would I do that?”

  Instead of answering in so many words, Flint turned to glance at his son and heard Mark whispering to the injured dog. Suddenly Maggie understood. He actually believed she’d abuse one of God’s creatures in order to preserve her secret. How dare he?

  The realization stunned her. “How can you think so little of me? I thought I knew you, Flint.”

  “Me? I trusted you, Maggie.” He lowered his voice and turned his head to keep what followed more private. “I loved you once. There was a time when I’d have decked the first person who’d suggested you weren’t perfect.”

  “You sure had a funny way of showing it.”

  “Meaning?”

  She heard an approaching vehicle and started across the room to answer the door. “I stayed right here in Serenity, waiting and hoping,” she shot back at him. “You knew exactly where to find me.”

  “You’d turned me down flat,” Flint replied. “How was I supposed to know you were in trouble?”

  “It wasn’t trouble,” Maggie said, pausing to smile fondly at her little boy. “It was a blessing in disguise. I didn’t realize that for a few months, but eventually it became very, very clear.”

  The knock was brisk and brief. Maggie opened the door with a smile and stood back. “Thanks for coming, Greg.” She gestured. “Wolfie’s over there with Mark.”

  The vet stopped midstride. “And who else?”

  “I’d get up and shake your hand,” Flint said, “but I’m a little busy here.”

  Maggie sensed an increase in tension that practically rattled the remaining windows. Greg and Flint were both scowling and facing each other like two rutting bucks. In Flint’s case that was probably due to his outdated impression of the veterinarian’s stature. Both men had filled out and matured. They were about the same build and while wearing padded jackets seemed equal in strength, although she would have given an edge to Flint in a fight.

  “That’s Warden Crawford,” M
aggie said. “Flint, this is Greg. You remember Miss Inez’s grandson.”

  The vet nodded at Flint. “I’d heard you were back in the area.”

  When Maggie noted Greg’s attention flitting between Mark and the warden, she was afraid one of them would say something to make things worse—if that was possible.

  “Flint located Wolfie for us and brought him home,” she interjected. “I hope he’s not badly hurt.”

  That lessened the pressure somewhat, particularly when Greg crossed the room, knelt next to the resting dog and began to examine him while Flint eased away.

  If the living room had been the size of a football stadium, it would still have felt too small to accommodate the four of them, Maggie realized. The only one who seemed oblivious of the crackling anxiety in the atmosphere was little Mark. All he cared about was seeing that his pet was well cared for.

  And all I care about is Mark, Maggie kept insisting. Who was she trying to convince? Herself? Well, she was failing. She cared about her son, yes, but seeing his father’s pain and watching him struggle to maintain self-control in the midst of this situation had hit her with a tsunami of emotion, which was now ebbing and flowing like a real tidal wave.

  Worst of all, Maggie recalled, Flint had insinuated she might be in cahoots with somebody who wanted to hurt him. She would never even consider causing him purposeful harm because... Because she still loved him.

  EIGHT

  By the time Flint reached his parked truck, he was at the end of his emotional rope and barely hanging on. It was too much to deal with all at once. Lost years. Lost opportunities. What was he going to do? What could he do?

  “Take one day at a time,” he told himself. “So far, this one has been plenty.” The irony of that thought stuck with him long enough to warrant a disgusted chuckle. Myriad questions were whirling through his mind so rapidly that none made much sense.

  He didn’t have to take a DNA test to prove he was Mark’s father. That much was certain. Getting to know the little guy better was going to be a pleasure.

  What if Maggie interfered, tried to keep them apart as she had done so far? That notion did not sit well, and he began to realize he’d be wise to get back into her good graces for his own sake, rather than simply to carry out the assignment to locate her kin.

  “And stop letting my temper rule my mouth,” he added, grimacing. “Accusing her of trying to hurt me was really stupid.” In his heart Flint knew better. The old Maggie had been kind and gentle. And in spite of the fact that her newly developed strength of character had them butting heads, deep down he still trusted her.

  After loading the ATV in the back of his truck, he slid behind the wheel and waited for the vet to leave. Repeated checks of the time made it seem as if the guy planned to spend the night. That thought tied Flint in a knot. It had been a long time since he’d courted Maggie, and he supposed it was possible that her morals had slipped. He didn’t want to think such a thing, but there it was, front and center in his unruly imagination.

  What was it the sheriff had said? Maggie had been engaged to several men after he’d left town? Flint’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. She couldn’t have been serious about anyone else, could she? Not when she was already carrying his baby.

  His baby. His son. Picturing the innocence and affection in the child’s eyes when they’d hugged turned Flint’s heart and mind to mush. Was it possible to love a child that quickly?

  “Apparently,” he murmured, aware of the strong pull to reenter the house regardless of the lack of welcome he anticipated. “I have to see him again. I have to know more. Maggie owes me at least that much.”

  Just as Flint was checking the time on his cell phone once more, the front door opened and Greg Gogerty stepped out. Bright light behind Maggie made her seem to glow, and although that threw the vet into shadow, Flint was certain the two shared a brief parting hug.

  Unwilling to let their tender moment linger, Flint stepped from his truck and slammed the door to make his presence known.

  Greg stepped in front of Maggie, obviously shielding her. “Who is it? Who’s out there?”

  “Flint Crawford.”

  “I thought you left.” The man’s voice radiated animosity.

  “Changed my mind,” Flint said, approaching the porch as casually as possible. He knew Maggie wouldn’t be fooled, but perhaps he could allay the vet’s concerns. “I need to have a talk with Ms. Morgan.”

  Although Greg gave no ground at first, Flint heard Maggie quietly reassure him that she’d be okay before he replied, “If you say so. You have my number. If you need anything else, just give me a call. Night or day.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll be fine.”

  I would never have left her alone in a situation like this, Flint told himself, watching the other man leave. Then again, it was clear that Gogerty had made the familial connection between Flint and Mark, so perhaps that was why he’d given in so easily.

  As Flint climbed the porch steps, Maggie’s smile faded. Solemn, she stepped away from the doorway, leaving the path open for him to enter.

  Without turning she asked, “Coffee?”

  “Fine.” Flint figured holding a mug would give him something to do with his hands and help keep their conversation from escalating into an argument.

  They eased past the dog and boy. Both were sleeping on the throw rug, curled up like two tired pups.

  “No other injuries?” Flint asked softly.

  “No. Fatigue and blood loss, mostly. Any shards of glass that were stuck in his fur apparently fell out while he was running. It’s a good thing he has such a thick coat.”

  Flint entered the kitchen for the second time that evening, this time taking note of its old-fashioned quaintness. Clearly, the bulk of funds for the sanctuary had been spent on the animal quarters. At least so far. If Ms. Dodd intended to refurbish the house, too, perhaps that was why her niece and nephew thought she was delusional. Doing that job well was going to cost a small fortune.

  Instead of sitting, Flint leaned against the edge of the counter, arms crossed, and watched Maggie making coffee. Her hands were shaking, as before, but she was standing tall.

  “He seems like a good kid,” Flint said.

  “Most of the time. All little boys have their moments.”

  “Not me. I was perfect.” He smiled slightly, waiting for her reaction, and was not disappointed. When she whirled to stare at him, Maggie was wide-eyed.

  That made him chuckle. “Okay, so maybe not quite perfect, but I did the best I could under the circumstances.” He sobered. “I was a handful when Bess and Ira took me in.”

  “I remember. A lot of girls were fascinated by your bad-boy image.”

  “Not you?”

  Maggie sighed. “I suppose that may have had something to do with the attraction, at first. Once I got to know you I could tell you weren’t really such a terrible rebel.”

  “But I was a Crawford.” He grimaced. “The evil product of two generations of unwed women.” Realizing what he’d implied, he apologized. “Sorry.”

  “No need to be sorry. It is what it is. I never once considered getting rid of the baby. He’s a gift from God whether his parents were married or not. What happened between you and me is not Mark’s fault.”

  “I know that. Did you think I was blaming him?”

  She turned back to the bubbling coffeepot and filled two cups. “I don’t know what to think. I suppose you don’t, either, or you wouldn’t be here now.”

  Flint followed her to the small kitchen table and sat across from her, waiting until she’d sweetened her coffee before continuing. “I hardly know where to begin. It seems impossible.”

  Maggie nodded. “It did to me, too. When I began to suspect why I felt funny, my mother too
k me to the doctor. Even after testing I kept arguing that it had to be a mistake.”

  “Did your father try to force you to terminate?”

  “He probably would have if his health hadn’t been so poor.” She smiled wistfully. “In a way, Dad’s illness helped. He passed away before Mark was born and Mom was there for me, even though she’s a Witherspoon.”

  “You do see the idiocy of that old feud, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” Her voice was raised. “But apparently you don’t.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, you did leave town.”

  “Only after you refused to marry me.”

  Maggie pushed away from the table and jumped to her feet. “I did nothing of the kind.”

  “You refused to come away with me.”

  She was rolling her eyes. “Oh, please. I didn’t want to elope, that’s all. How was I supposed to know you’d up and take off the way you did?”

  “Because I told you so.”

  “Ha! You did nothing of the kind. I sat there in my prom dress for hours, waiting for you, and you never came.”

  Puzzled, Flint wondered how their communication had gotten so mixed up. He was positive he’d not only discussed his plans for joining the military, but he’d also sent Maggie a goodbye note.

  “I can see we’re not going to get our past ironed out in one sitting, so let’s talk about the future.”

  The look she sent him reminded him of a doe pinned by the headlights of a speeding car, unable to flee to save herself. When she said, “What future?” he knew he had his work cut out for him.

  “Mark’s future,” Flint said. “You know who he looks like as well as I do, so you may as well admit it.” He scowled at her.

  “No way. Leave me alone.”

  “Not until you and I figure out how to protect our son.”

  “I’m doing just fine, thank you. Mark is a happy, healthy child.”

  “With parents who have both been shot at and a mother who was run off the road and chased through the forest. What if he’d been with you that night?”