Promises Decide

by Sarah McCarty

  She nodded. “He gets in lots of troubles.”

  Jackson just bet he did. That one had attitude.

  Melinda Sue frowned at the remnant of potato on the fork before glaring at him accusingly. “You took a big bite.”

  “I’m sorry, but you baked a good potato.”

  She cocked her head, debated, and then sighed the truth. “Mimi cooked it.”

  “Well, thank you both.” Jackson gingerly tested his other arm to see if he could move it. He could, but he was stiff as hell. His back hurt as if he’d been dragged through a knothole backward and there was an evil leprechaun in his head banging on a drum. For this much misery, he hoped he was going to live.

  “Where’s Mimi now?”

  The potato waved toward the window. “She and Tony went hunting.”

  A woman and a boy out in the woods, greenhorns the both of them, trying to do a man’s work. Jackson just shook his head. “And Kevin?”

  “Kevin’s supposed to be digging a privy.”

  “But?”

  She sighed dramatically and polished off the potato. “He’s probably frogging. He likes to find frogs.”

  “Frogs are good eating.”

  Melinda Sue looked at him like he’d just sprouted a second head. Eyes rounded in horror, she gasped, “You can’t eat frogs!”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause what if they’re a prince?”

  “A prince?”

  She nodded. “I kiss them.”

  Shit. He suppressed a shudder. “For heaven’s sake, why?”

  “Mimi said to.”

  He highly doubted that. He might not know Mimi well, but he damned well knew she wasn’t the frog-kissing type. “I see.”

  Melinda Sue warmed to her story. “Just like the book, I’m going to find my prince and he’s going to take me away.”

  It was an odd thing for so young a child to say. “To where?”

  Again he got treated to that pitying look, as if he’d just come up short on brains. “To Princeland.”

  “And what will you do in Princeland?”

  Her whole face lit up like a sunrise and her arms spread wide, embracing the idea. “I’m going to dance and chase butterflies and eat apple pie forever and ever.”

  Apple pie forever was a worthy goal. “What about your prince? Is he going to be there, too?”

  “If he’s good.”

  So her paradise had conditions. “What if he turns ornery?”

  She shrugged. “Then I’ll kiss him again and he’ll go back to being a frog.”

  “And you’ll stay in Princeland.”

  “Yup.”

  “You’ve got it all figured out.”

  She nodded. Her left pigtail was coming loose. It dipped, giving her a lopsided charm. “Mimi says a woman always needs a plan.”

  Mimi was apparently an enchanting siren with a plan who tempted with the sweetest of kisses. Yet another reason to get off the floor. He tested rolling to his side. It was—surprisingly—difficult.

  Easing back, he concentrated on breathing steadily as his head threatened to explode from the inside out.

  As he lay there he realized he had another problem. He had to pee. Badly. A quick check under the blanket and a sigh of relief. He was still wearing his pants. He didn’t think he could manage the contortions it would have taken to get dressed before finding the privy, but he damn sure wasn’t wetting himself. Gritting his teeth, he strove for an even tone. “Well, Melinda Sue, I’ve got to see what Kevin’s doing out there with that privy.”

  Melinda Sue shook her head vehemently and scooped a bit of potato off the fork.

  The last of the last potato disappeared with a lick of her fingers. “Mimi says you’re not supposed to move.”

  “Tough. I’m moving.”

  He pushed up to his knees. The room spun in a crazy off-balance arc. Shit. That is, if he didn’t pass out first. Taking slow breaths, he waited it out. As he knelt there, his shoulder screamed, his head ached, and every single bruise along his back and legs tightened. Closing his eyes, he groaned beneath his breath. This was not going to be easy.

  “Are you deading?”

  The child was obsessed with death. “No. Just getting ready to find the privy.”

  Melinda Sue scrambled to her feet. Slitting his eyes, he saw her dress settle against her legs. The small sway set the spinning off again.

  “I’ll show you where it is.”

  There was entirely too much enthusiasm in her voice and too much bounce in her step for his liking as she skipped to the door. She was out it before he could even get straight, which was just as well, as it saved him the embarrassment of having her see a grown man on the verge of crying. Fuck, he hurt.

  A second later, Melinda Sue popped back through the door. Sunlight spilled in with her, assaulting his eyes. The flinch hurt as much as the light.

  “Are you coming?”

  “Yup. But a lot slower than you,” he muttered under his breath.

  With grim determination he started shuffling— shuffling!—toward the door. The afternoon breeze slid across his bare chest in a clammy caress. The morbid thought that he was halfway to his grave intruded on his determination as he looked around. His shirt and coat weren’t anywhere in sight. The blanket was on the floor. Right there at his feet. No way in hell was he bending down for it. “Do me a favor, Melinda Sue? Pass me that blanket.”

  She frowned from the doorway. “It’s right there.”

  “I know. Could you hand it to me?” After eyeing him a second, she went over and picked it up and handed it to him. He awkwardly tossed it over his shoulder. As his breath hissed out, she bit her lip and peered around his hip at his back. “The snake bitted you. I saw your boo-boo.”

  Wonderful. “Thank you. How’s it look?”

  “Awful bad.” She made a circle with her finger. “Like this with black all around.”

  Great. No wonder it hurt like a son of a bitch. He awkwardly inched the blanket over his shoulder. Without a word, Melinda Sue grabbed the corner and tugged it around to the front. He got it from her before she could pull it too tight. “Thank you.”

  She nodded solemnly and headed back out the door. He followed her a bit slower, wondering for the first couple steps if he was going to pitch face-first to the floor. By the fourth step the room wasn’t spinning so crazily. Catching his balance on the back of a chair, he paused as knives stabbed at his brain. Rubbing his bandaged forehead, he promptly winced. Then groaned. More damage. Probing revealed a ridge beneath the bandage. He must have hit his head twice.

  “Are you coming?” Melinda asked impatiently.

  “Yup.”

  Just as soon as he figured out up from down. As Jackson stood there struggling for equilibrium, he noticed how primitive the room looked. The planks on the floor were rough and unsanded. There were huge gaps between the boards, allowing anything to come up between. Sunshine filtered through everything except the windows, which were broken and covered with shutters that blocked out all light. It was all backward, right down to the wilted bunch of flowers in a cup on the table. As cheery notes went, it failed abysmally. The place was a dump. Not a place for a princess cherub and her family.

  The porch step creaked. He whipped around, instinct drowning caution. The reach for his gun was as reflexive as the repression of the agony. Grabbing Melinda Sue’s arm, he tugged her behind him as he swore under his breath. Where was his gun?

  “Hey!”

  A shadow loomed through the door.

  “Quiet.”

  “Just where do you think you’re going?”

  He relaxed instantly. He knew that voice. It’d haunted his dreams, pitching him between anger and intrigue without a care for what he wanted. He’d thought it an illusion, but now he knew. Mimi had kept him alive after the snake
bite. The woman was full of surprises. She stood in the doorway, backlit by the sun, leaving nothing of her curves to the imagination. The woman had a body to make a man drool, but it wasn’t her body that he wanted to see. He wanted to put a face with that voice, because the angel he remembered from the well could not be the same siren who’d poked and prodded him through hell for the last— Shit. He didn’t even know how long he’d been unconscious.

  “Well?” Mimi prompted.

  He blinked through the lingering haze. Oh, yes. She’d asked him where he was going. “I’m going to help Kevin with the privy.”

  Her skirts rustled as she rushed into the room. “Oh, no, you’re not.”

  His head came up as she approached. He might be sick. He might be hurting. He might be a far pace from his normal self, but it’d be a cold day in hell before he took orders from anyone.

  He straightened. “I’m sorry you feel that strongly about it.”

  His determination didn’t falter but his strength took a tumble. The room spun. Clutching the back of a chair, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. The next instant, he felt an arm slide around his waist and a rather delicate, slightly bony shoulder poke into his side.

  “Bravado will only get you so far,” Mimi muttered.

  He looked down at the top of her head. The part was straight and centered. Her braid was just as neat. “You thinking of holding me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “I appreciate the thought, but if I go down, you’re going to get squashed like a bug.” And he was pretty sure he was going down.

  She didn’t move. “I’m not that little and you’re not that big.”

  He couldn’t help a twitch of his lips through the nausea. He remembered that about her. The woman had a lot of sass.

  “I think you think you’re a bit bigger than you really are.”

  “I’m big enough. Got you in the house, didn’t I?”

  He was careful not to lean on her. “With the help of my horse.”

  “How did you—” She huffed as realization dawned. “Melinda Sue has no sense of discretion.”

  “She’s what? Three?”

  “She’s four.”

  “Not many four-year-olds are big on discretion.”

  “So I’m learning.”

  Learning? He felt the twitch that went through her shoulder. Interesting.

  “Every child’s different.”

  He just bet. But not usually as different as her family. There was a story here, and when his brain stopped clawing at his head, he’d figure it out.

  Her shoulder pressed into his side and her palm pressed against his back. “What you need is to go back to bed.”

  “What I need is to help Kevin.”

  “Kevin probably isn’t even there.”

  “Then I’ll inspect his work.”

  “But—” There was a pause. She looked up and he had a clear view of her face. It was intriguing as always, with its compelling mix of feminine softness, strong angles, and complete composure, but her eyes were what he wanted to see, and it was her eyes that the dim light hid from him. As he watched, she blinked. Comprehension dawned with a blush and a slight hitch in her breath. “There’s a chamber pot in the other room.”

  He shook his head and took a step, stumbling forward, taking her with him. Her hand caught the doorjamb a split second before his hand slammed into the jamb above it. “I’m not using a damn chamber pot.”

  Melinda Sue gasped and immediately hopped up from the bench upon which she’d sat herself. “I’ll get the soap.”

  “Never mind the soap,” Mimi snapped at Melinda Sue, before tightening her grip on his waist. “Well, I’m not fighting to get you up those dratted steps again.”

  He resisted her tug. “Who asked you to?”

  “Your stubbornness is going to force me to force Lady again. Trust me, that’s not pretty.”

  “Lady doesn’t belong in the house.”

  “Well, heroes don’t belong in the dirt,” she snapped back.

  Hero. The term grated his nerves. He didn’t want to be a hero to this woman. Heroes were untouchable. “I’m not a damn hero.”

  “What are you, then?”

  “I’m a man.” He paused and then added significantly, “A man with a need to visit the privy.”

  Because everything was so out of control and he couldn’t afford misunderstanding, he added, “Badly.”

  He had to give it to her. Even though color flooded her cheeks, she stuck to her guns. With more pressure at his waist she tried to maneuver him to the pallet.

  “I know you’re a man, and I understand your problem, but I don’t think you understand how sick you are. You’ve been in and out of awareness since yesterday.”

  “I’m fine now.”

  “I’m not a doctor. I’m not even much of a nurse, but I know that’s a load of horse hockey.”

  Not to be outdone, Melinda Sue added her two cents. “Yeah. Horse hockey.”

  The laugh caught him by surprise. The pain not so much. But it was manageable now that he was used to it and could predict it better. He touched the wound on his head through the bandage. “Did you stitch me up?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ever done that before?”

  “No. Did I do it right?”

  The wound felt tender to the touch, the stitches even. “Feels like it.”

  “Good.”

  He looked down in time to catch her studying him, fine white teeth sunk into those full lips. Desire that he had no business feeling hit him like a punch in the gut. Along with understanding. She put up a good front, but if he looked closely, there was a tension at the corners of her eyes and mouth. He wanted to ease that stress with a brush of his fingers. His lips. Damn. “You really don’t know what the hell you’re doing, do you?”

  “Not a clue.” She shrugged. “It’s all just one big experiment, mostly.”

  Wonderful. “Well, while you’re experimenting, experiment with the notion that you don’t tell me what to do, all right?”

  That got him a raised brow. “I prefer to think of it as making sensible suggestions.”

  He untangled her arm from around his waist. “Uh-huh. I bet.”

  Folding her arms across her chest, she asked, “Do you think by sheer force of will you’re going to be able to get back up the steps?”

  “Yup.”

  She threw up her hands. “Heaven save me from fools and idiots!”

  Gritting his teeth, he tottered through the door. “Wasn’t saving you from snakes enough?”

  “I’m finding I’m a woman of many needs.”

  “Wonderful.” Sunlight hitting his eyes just sent the banshee screaming in his head again, which increased his nausea, which increased his light-headedness, which increased his dizziness.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Two more steps and he made it to the edge of the porch. Grabbing the rail kept him from pitching face-first down the steps. He took three slow breaths, fighting nausea. This was definitely going to be a sheer-force-of-will trip. He stood there a second, gathering his determination.

  From the doorway Mimi fussed. “I’ll come with you.”

  He turned. “The hell you will.”

  “Me, too,” Melinda Sue chirped.

  “You get back inside the house, Mellie.”

  Melinda Sue pouted and stamped her foot. “I can help catched him.”

  Mimi pointed. “Inside.”

  Melinda Sue stomped her way into the house, her pout leading the way. When a chair rattled against the floor, signaling her flop into silent protest, Mimi put her hands on her hips. “Now you have no one to catch you if you fall.”

  Falling was more likely than not. He started down the steps. One. Two. And a very shaky three. “Then
I’ll get my ass back up.”

  Her skeptical “uh-huh” sounded remarkably like his.

  He cocked a brow at her as she followed him down the steps. “You realize that I won’t always be this weak?”

  She blew a strand of hair off her cheek. “You realize I’ll always be this sensible?”

  In the late-afternoon light, he could appreciate the fine porcelain texture of her skin, the soft brown of her hair tinted with just a touch of blond, the sweep of her brows, that damn kissable mouth, and those remarkably innocent blue eyes. And beneath all, that strength of character. When she tipped that chin up and arched her brows, it reminded him of the first time he’d seen Little Lady. All fire and fine stepping. Despite the pain, despite the nausea, despite the ignominy of being too dizzy to pull her close and taste the sass on her lips, he smiled. “‘Sensible’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe you.”

  “I’m not surprised. You don’t seem to have a strong acquaintance with the definition.”

  It wasn’t the first time he’d been told that. “I’m doing this. Unescorted,” he added, in case she didn’t think he meant it.

  “Fine.” Another puff of air and then she folded her arms across her chest. “But if you go splat halfway there, I’m not dragging you back in. It’s been a long day and I’m tired and I still have to make dinner, so suit yourself.”

  She spun on her heel and stomped up the steps. He appreciated the view. The woman did have a fine ass. When she reached the top of the steps, he asked, “What are we having?”

  “Make it back and find out.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Staying on his feet had never been so tough. He’d been knocked on the head enough to know how that felt, but this was more than that. And he wondered, as he eased his way across the yard, was this how snakebite took a man? Did the poison just seep through your body in a slow, gradual pass into nothingness?

  The outhouse was up ahead. Like everything else on Half-Assed Bentley’s place, it didn’t have a right angle so the door didn’t shut quite right, but that wasn’t a negative considering how badly it smelled. When he was done, he looked around. He didn’t see any fresh-dug hole and he didn’t see Kevin. The boy was playing hooky. He shook his head. Mimi needed to get on him for that. Young boys weren’t fond of work, but work at a young age taught a body responsibility that carried over to manhood.