Harlequin Heartwarming March 21 Box Set

by Claire McEwen

  She nodded with her own smile. “Yes, I noticed. I meant what I said. I’ll take care of Sarge.”

  “Let me go in and sit with him for a bit and talk to him first.”

  “Okay, he’s had a snack, but I can get you some coffee and a sandwich.”

  “Great, and thanks again.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  QUINN FOUND A TRAY, put a mug of hot coffee on it along with a roast beef sandwich for Seth, then carried it into the west wing. She nudged the partially open bedroom door back with her foot and found Seth walking toward her.

  “I think he’s sleeping,” he said in a low voice as he took the tray and carried it over to a side table near the head of the bed.

  Quinn stepped inside and looked over at Sarge. He seemed smaller somehow than he had the day before, but he looked calm. When Seth came back over to her, a muffled sound of a phone chime stopped him a few feet from the door. He pulled his cell out of his jeans pocket and stepped past Quinn into the hallway.

  She heard him answer the call with one word. “What?”

  He was quietly listening, then turned and came back to her. “Could you stay with Sarge for a couple minutes?” he whispered, not looking particularly pleased with what he’d heard on the phone.

  “Of course.”

  While he headed toward the entry, Quinn quietly closed the door, then crossed to sit by the bed. Sarge was breathing easily; his color was good and there was no hint of tension in his face. When Seth didn’t come back in the promised few minutes, Quinn settled back in the chair and reached for the Zane Gray book sitting on the side table to her right.

  “Go ahead and read it,” Sarge said, startling her.

  Quinn looked at the man. His eyes were still closed, but he obviously hadn’t been asleep. She opened the book to where the bookmark was, at the end of the fourth chapter. “Of course.”

  He seemed happy for her to read to him, and she was enjoying the story and his comments about some of the characters. Seth was back fifteen minutes later, and Sarge must have heard him come in, because he opened his eyes and greeted him in a raspy voice, “What do you need, boy?”

  Seth didn’t look noticeably disconcerted by the man’s tone or question as he came over to sit by Quinn. “Just checking on you.” He looked at Quinn. “Sorry for being so long.”

  “Not a problem. I’ve come to love Zane Gray’s storytelling.”

  Sarge smiled. “Told you so. Riders of the Purple Sage. The best of all his books.”

  “I can take over now,” Seth said.

  Quinn looked up at him and couldn’t tell if things had gone well during his call or not. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish the last few pages of this chapter. But you’re welcome to stay and listen.”

  He pulled the other chair over beside hers, then looked at the tray. “Is that coffee still warm?”

  She put the book in her lap and turned to the side table to pick up the mug. “Warmish, but not hot,” she said as she shifted to hand it to Seth. “But the sandwich is pretty good.”

  “Thanks,” he said as she handed him a napkin and the sandwich. He settled with his food and drink. “Go ahead.”

  Quinn kept reading but was very aware of Seth beside her. When she chanced a look at him, he was watching Sarge, who seemed riveted by the story. After ending the next chapter, Quinn asked. “Another one?”

  “Thanks, Maggie, no,” Sarge murmured as his eyes slowly closed. “I need to get busy on the hay barn roof. Snow’s coming.”

  “You rest for a while, then we can talk about the hay barn,” Quinn said and waited until she was certain he was asleep before she turned to Seth. His attention was still on Sarge. “He’s good,” she said softly and took the now-empty mug from Seth’s hand. “You can go and take care of your business, if you need to.”

  Seth shook his head. “No. I’ll take over here,” he whispered.

  “I’m feeling brave. Do you think it would be okay if I go for a short walk near the house? It’s getting late, but there’s still enough light out.”

  “Sure, of course.”

  She had a thought. “If I run into an animal that isn’t a cat or dog, what do I do?”

  He leaned closer and said in a low voice, “On that off chance, just stay very still, and let them leave on their own. When you can, back away slowly. Take your cell, and call me if you see anything.”

  “Okay,” she said, a little less sure about the walk now. “I won’t be gone long.” Maybe she wasn’t all that brave after all and would just sit on the porch.

  In her borrowed boots and jacket and with her phone in her pocket, Quinn stepped out of the house five minutes later into the cold of the late afternoon. The sky was heavy and darkening. She flipped her hood up over her hair, pushed her hands in her pockets and stood on the top porch step to look around. She couldn’t see anything moving, so she cautiously went down the steps and decided she would go as far as the hay barn.

  She started off to the west on the gravel drive and kept going to a curve that swung slightly north and up. The hay barn was first, a large mostly log building with a high roof covered with green metal sheets. There were no sounds of any work being done now, and no vehicles were parked by it. But the double front doors had a gap of about two feet between them. Curious about what they were doing inside, she decided to take a quick look.

  She slipped through the opening and into a vast space with strings of work lights illuminating the central area. The smell of sawdust and hay hung in the cold air. A loft, maybe ten feet deep, ran around the wall halfway between the cement flooring and the massive trusses that supported the roof. Stacked lumber and an array of power tools partially obscured a wide area in the middle of it all.

  Silence echoed around her, but as Quinn turned to leave, that silence was broken by a shuffling noise. She jerked around, looking for anything that could have made the sound. Then it happened again, and she thought it came from ahead and to her right. Whatever was there was hidden by the stacked lumber and a huge circular table saw.

  A wild animal must have made its way inside while the doors had been left open, and Quinn did what Seth told her to do. She stayed very still, then ever so slowly started to back toward the exit as quietly as possible. She reached in her pocket to take out her cell and glanced at the screen to pull up Seth’s number. But she stopped when there was another sound that she knew no animal could make, a muffled sobbing.

  She pushed her phone back in her pocket, hesitated, then cautiously went to her right and over to the large saw. She leaned forward to look over it. There was no wild animal, but a small child was huddled in the corner where the log walls butted into each other. She couldn’t be sure if it was a boy or girl. Their face was hidden, pressed against bent knees, and they cried as if their heart would break.

  “Hello,” Quinn said, keeping her voice calm and low. “Can I help you?”

  The crying stopped on a sharp intake of air, then ever so slowly, the child looked up at her. Shaggy auburn hair with sawdust clinging to it framed a boy’s face that was pale and tear-streaked. He looked to be maybe six or seven years old. His blue eyes were slightly swollen from crying, and he stared up at her with both fear and defiance in his gaze.

  “I’m Quinn,” she said in a voice she’d used with troubled kids in her classroom. She didn’t go closer.

  He blinked rapidly, then finally spoke in a small unsteady voice. “I’m looking for a man called Sarge who lets kids live here and ride horses and stuff.”

  A runaway? How could a child so young get all the way out here? She cautiously took a single step, trying to ease around the saw. “Sarge is my friend. He lives up at the big house.”

  That made the boy sit up straighter as he scrubbed his face with the sleeve of a blue corduroy jack he wore with faded jeans. His clothes looked as if they were at least two sizes too big for him. “You k
now him for real?” he asked.

  “For real,” she said, slowly taking another step closer. “He’s a very nice man.” Only a few feet separated them now. “I could take you to meet him, if you’d like?”

  He eyed her skeptically. “You’re not lyin’, are ya?”

  “No, I’m not. I promise.”

  The touch of defiance grew in his expression. “Tell him to come here.”

  “He can’t do that. But I can take you up to him.”

  He took his time before he slowly stood, a small wiry kid maybe a few inches under four feet in height. “Okay, but you’d better not be lyin’.”

  She knew offering him her hand wouldn’t be welcome, so she didn’t. “I’m not. Follow me,” she said, and he did silently all the way back up to the house. He didn’t falter until Quinn stepped up onto the porch. That was when he stopped at the foot of the stairs.

  “I’ll be waitin’ right here.”

  “It’s cold out here, and it’s really warm inside.”

  “I’ll wait,” he said stubbornly.

  She played her trump card. “I have some good spaghetti in the house along with cookies and milk. But if you aren’t hungry…”

  He looked torn between standing his ground in the freezing cold or getting food and warmth. It only took a moment for him to grudgingly agree. “Okay, I’ll come on in.” He trudged up the steps and followed her into the entry, stopping in his tracks when he spotted the stuffed mountain lion head on the wall to his left just inside the door. “Wow, that’s…that’s…”

  She closed the door behind them. “Scary, huh?”

  “No, it’s awesome,” he said almost reverentially.

  “Awesome,” she echoed, then motioned to him. “Take off your jacket.” She shrugged out of hers and laid it on the cowhide bench, then the little boy put his down by it without her telling him to. The T-shirt he was wearing was so faded that she could barely make out a picture of some cartoon character on it, and his running shoes had probably been white at one point but had turned a stained gray. “Come on, and we’ll get that food for you first. Then we can check on Sarge.”

  They’d barely stepped down into the great room when Seth unexpectedly spoke from behind them. “Hello, there.” Quinn turned toward him, but the boy stood absolutely motionless before he cautiously turned away from her and toward Seth.

  “I thought I heard you coming back,” he said to Quinn. “Who do you have with you?”

  “We haven’t been introduced,” Quinn said.

  “What’s your name?” Seth asked. When the child kept silent, Seth came closer to crouch down to get nearer the boy’s eye level. “I’ll just call you Kid, okay?”

  “No,” the little boy said quickly and firmly.

  “Then how about Buster or Bubba?” Seth sounded serious. “Your choice.”

  “I’m not Buster or Bubba. I’m Tripp.”

  “I’m Seth. Welcome to my home.” He looked past Tripp and up at Quinn. “So, am I supposed to guess how you went for a walk and came back with your friend?”

  “I found him in the hay barn, and he’s hungry, and I promised him spaghetti. He was asking about Sarge and wants to meet him.”

  “You do, do you?” Seth asked Tripp as he stood up.

  “I want to see him real bad,” the boy said.

  “While Quinn gets the food for you, I have to go and check on Sarge. If you want to come with me, you can.”

  The boy turned to Quinn, looking small and vulnerable next to Seth. “Can I?” he asked her uncertainly.

  “Sure.”

  Seth turned and headed to the west wing with the boy following two paces behind him. She went to quickly heat up leftover spaghetti and pour a glass of milk. She was just setting cutlery on the table by the food when the boy and man came back side by side. The two weren’t exactly buddies, but they seemed more easy with each other now.

  Tripp spotted Quinn by the table. “Sarge is real tired, so he’s gonna sleep now, but he called me boy and said he has horses.”

  “He does have horses,” Quinn agreed as she headed for the pantry. “Sit down and start eating while I go to get the cookies.”

  By the time she was back from the pantry with the pink box and paper napkins, Tripp had a good share of his spaghetti eaten. She glanced at Seth standing near the boy, then she took a seat across the table from Tripp. “Is there a problem with Sarge?” she asked Seth.

  “No. The problem is Tripp won’t tell me how he got here and why he came. He said he’ll only tell you.”

  Tripp stopped eating while Seth was speaking and stared silently down at the remaining food on his plate. “Oh, okay,” Quinn said. “Tripp, you can finish eating, then we can talk.”

  “Thank you,” he said politely, never looking at either of them before he started eating again.

  Seth took the seat next to Tripp, and Quinn watched both of them. Seth sat silently as Tripp ate quickly, as if he were afraid that the food would be snatched away from him. When he was down to his last bite, Quinn handed him some napkins. While he wiped his face and hands, she nudged the milk closer to him. He dropped the used napkins on the table by his plate, then reached for his drink.

  “So, you saw Sarge?” Quinn asked after giving the boy a chance to take a drink and put his glass down.

  “I sure did. He was real nice. Can I have a cookie now?”

  “Sure.” Quinn opened the box by her and handed him one.

  After dunking it in his milk, he ate it in two bites. Then he drained his glass. “That was real good. Thanks, Ma’am.”

  “Please, you can call me Quinn.”

  He nodded.

  Quinn didn’t know if Seth had much to do with small kids in his life, but he was beyond patient with Tripp. “Quinn is an expert on anything made with sugar,” he told the boy.

  “Wow.” Tripp looked at Quinn, blue eyes wide with obvious admiration. “Awesome.”

  “Now that you’ve had some food, how about you tell Quinn how you got here and why you came?”

  Tripp shrugged, then started to speak quickly as if to get it over with. “Okay, I don’t have nowhere to go, so I wanted to stay here.”

  “How did you get here?” Quinn asked.

  He looked uncomfortable now. “I didn’t want to go with Mr. E in the van. Then this big truck was there, and some guy was talking about how come Sarge helped kids. He said Sarge was real kind and had horses. So I sneaked into his big truck with hay and stuff and hid. Then I got here.” If that was true, he had to have come in on the hay truck Seth had directed to the barn when they were going on their ride.

  “Did this Mr. E know you didn’t get back into the van, or did he leave you on purpose?” Seth asked.

  He shook his head. “He didn’t know nothing.”

  “How old are you?” Quinn asked.

  “Six.”

  Quinn didn’t miss the way his chin lifted slightly. But she couldn’t forget the sobs she’d heard when she found him. It still tugged at her, and she found herself hoping more and more she could really help him.

  Seth exhaled. “Who is Mr. E?”

  “A guy.”

  “Who?” Quinn nudged in a soft voice.

  “I’m Tripp Allan Martin, okay?” He was getting upset and his voice raised. “That’s me, Tripp Allan Martin.”

  “Okay, that’s good.” Seth stood, obviously aware a meltdown might be in the boy’s near future. “I need to go back and check on Sarge. You stay here with Quinn.”

  The boy looked at Seth as he left, then turned to Quinn. “Why’s Sarge in bed?” he asked in a half whisper.

  “He’s getting old and forgetful, and there’s a lot to remember in his life.”

  “I bet he’s a hundred and his head’s full of stuff, huh?”

  The boy seemed awful small to be out in the world
alone. “No, he’s not, but he is a lot older than you are.”

  “I’m not so young,” Tripp said with his chin lifting again. He’d learned passive defiance somewhere along the way—not getting in anyone’s face or yelling at them but making sure they knew what he meant.

  By the time Seth came back into the great room, Tripp had grown silent. Seth crossed to the table but didn’t sit down as he spoke to the boy. “So, is there anything else you want to tell Quinn?”

  Tripp looked down at his empty plate, then unexpectedly blurted out, “I came here ’cause I don’t have no one who wants me. Okay?”

  Quinn could see that Seth almost flinched at the boy’s words, but kept his voice low when he asked, “Where are your mom and dad?” The boy scrunched his eyes shut hard and didn’t answer. But Seth persisted. “Where are they, Tripp?” When he got no response, he glanced at Quinn.

  She reached across to lightly touch Tripp’s hand, which he’d clenched into a fist on the tabletop. “Tripp, we want to help but we have to know who you were with.”

  He started jiggling nervously in his chair, then she saw him swallow. “Mr. E,” he said without opening his eyes.

  “Who is Mr. E?”

  “Not my Dad” was all he said before he finally looked at her again.

  “Why did you run away from Mr. E?” She hated where her imagination was going as she tried to fill that blank in on her own.

  “I didn’t want to go. A new kid told me if I got out when he didn’t know, I could go find a place to be. I heard that man in the truck say Sarge lets orphans live here.” He stilled, then looked right at Quinn and announced, “I’m an orphan.”

  “You aren’t an orphan if you have a mom and dad. Where are they, Tripp?”

  She waited, then he finally whispered, “They’re in heaven.”

  She glanced at Seth who was staring at the boy, and the pain she saw in his expression tore at her. “They…they died?” she asked and had to bite her lip.

  “Yeah.”

  She got up and went around the table to get closer to Tripp. “Why were you with Mr. E?”

  “He says he’s my foster dad, but he lied. I’m an orphan, right?”