by Linda Ford
“Where can we look that we haven’t already?” She glanced toward the trees where she guessed he had spent the night.
“Looked there. I had Mutt sniff around, but of course her scent is everywhere.”
The brindle dog stood at attention at his side. He looked intelligent as he gazed at his master.
“I suggest we search every place again,” he said. “She might have gone one direction while we went another, and we simply missed each other.”
“But she should have heard us.” Birdie lifted her voice. “Megan, where are you? Answer me.”
The silence that greeted them was deafening. Birdie knew if Megan were lost in her thoughts she might not hear them.
“I’ll look in the trees,” Birdie said.
“Would she go to Cosette’s house?”
“I don’t think she’d go inside without permission.” Only one answer made sense. “Someone has taken her.”
“No one rode nearby. I’d have heard a horse, and Mutt would have, too. She has to be somewhere.” His voice hardened enough to cut glass. She didn’t envy him having to tell Harrison he’d lost Megan within hours of Harrison’s departure.
His eyes revealed far more than his posture or voice did. They showed a depth of pain that dried Birdie’s mouth. She didn’t know what caused it but, moved to compassion, she touched his arm. “It’s my fault for not watching her better.”
“I was guarding her.”
“Together, we’ll find her. We won’t stop looking until we do.” She held his gaze, offering her support, offering her partnership.
“Thank you for not blaming me.”
Maybe they could work together. Maybe no man would ever want her, but at least this one welcomed her help. Whether or not it was safe to search on her own, nothing mattered as much as finding Megan. While he went to tack up his horse, Mutt at his heels, she trotted to the trees, calling Megan’s name and praying she would jump out any moment to scare her, a little prank and nothing more.
No Megan made an appearance.
Birdie continued silent prayers she’d began an hour before. It was still out here, no voices but the birdsong.
The longer she searched, the more helpless she became.
She returned again to the clearing that was Megan’s favorite place to play and fell on her knees. She lifted her face toward heaven. “God, protect that child and help us find her.”
“Birdie.”
She jerked to her feet at Clay’s distant call. Had he found Megan? Or was there another message from her kidnapper?
Chapter 4
Clay waited as Birdie ran toward him.
She was out of breath when she reached his side and gasped out her words. “What did you find?”
“Come and see for yourself.” He nodded toward the barn. He’d meant to surprise her with his find, but the color drained from her face, and she wobbled slightly. Afraid she would swoon, he caught her arm. “She’s safe. She’s inside.”
Birdie clung to him, her fingers digging into his arm.
He guided her into the barn and paused, letting his eyes adjust. When he could see clearly, he looked at Birdie and smiled. It seems the animosity between them had vanished. “Listen.” He tipped his head toward the loft.
She listened. “All I can hear is the thudding of my heart.”
“Take a few slow breaths.”
She did so, then turned toward the sound. Her eyes widened, and she gazed at him. “It’s Megan humming. But how can that be? I checked there.”
“Let’s see what she’s up to.” He led the way to the ladder. He was about to step back to let her go first when his cheeks warmed. Perhaps considering her skirt, it would be better if he went first.
He climbed up and squatted at the opening, waiting for her to join him, a hand ready should she need help. When she reached the top, he caught her arms and helped her to her feet. He quickly stepped back. There had been entirely too much touching the last few minutes, and it must stop now before he offended her, or worse, before he got to like the feel of something besides a dog or a horse.
Birdie rushed past him to Megan, who sat crossed legged on the floor, her back to them as she hummed softly. “Megan, where have you been? We’ve been so worried. You shouldn’t have sneaked out of the house. You know it’s dangerous.”
Megan pressed her finger to her lips. “Shh. Rags is having her babies.”
Birdie looked ready to continue scolding then looked at the cat and smiled. “So she is.”
Clay sat on the other side of the girl. Two mouse-like creatures had been licked and were on a rag in front of the mother cat.
“I’ve followed her around all morning. She kept meowing and looking for a place to have her babies. She went under the step at Cosette’s but didn’t seem to like that. She went into an empty trough but didn’t like that either. Finally, I picked her up and carried her here, and now look.”
“Didn’t you hear us calling?”
“Did you call me?” Megan never took her eyes off the cat. A third kitten was born. Megan’s voice filled with awe. “Do you think she’ll have six?”
Birdie hugged her niece. “Honey, I don’t know. You’ll have to wait and see.” Birdie met Clay’s gaze over Megan’s head. “Thanks be to God she’s safe.”
He nodded, and then they both turned their attention to the cat as she delivered a fourth kitten. And then a fifth. They waited a bit but no more kittens came.
Clay shifted away to sit with his back to a wall.
Birdie joined him. “How did we miss her?”
“We must have almost crossed paths a number of times. All that matters is that she is safe.”
“She does that, sometimes,” Birdie said. “She gets so absorbed in what she’s doing, she blocks out everything around her.”
He nodded. It made sense.
They sat in silence. He wondered if she expected him to make conversation, but he’d forgotten how. A tickle of humor rippled up his throat and escaped in a chuckle.
She looked at him, her eyebrows raised. “What?”
“You’ll think it foolish.”
“Seems you should let me decide if I will or not.”
He couldn’t say why he continued except it, after her comment, he figured he better try to be social. “I was wondering if I needed to try and make conversation. Then I recalled how Megan usually makes enough conversation for all of us, so figured you weren’t requiring me to talk.” And here he’d gone and spilled more words in a few seconds than he had in several months.
She laughed softly. “A person does get used to doing a lot of listening.” She leaned closer as if to share a secret. “I confess that sometimes I only half listen.” Her eyes flashed with humor, and she chuckled.
Caught in the allure of a shared moment, he grinned. He’d forgotten how good it felt to have this sort of communion with another human being. Last time he’d enjoyed such moments, it had ended tragically.
He turned away and watched dust motes dancing in the light from the crack of the poorly latched doors of the loft. Might as well fix that while he was here. He scrambled to his feet. He’d taken two steps when Megan called out.
“There’s another kitten. Come and see.”
He turned toward the little girl.
Birdie was already there, looking over Megan’s shoulder.
He couldn’t resist even though he understood it to only be the hunger of a long-starved soul.
A little taste of sharing, of being part of something outside himself, wouldn’t do any harm, not just once.
He sat beside Megan and admired the six babies.
Megan praised Rags for the good job she’d done, and Birdie smiled. When she turned, Clay caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes.
His fists clenched. His heart cracked. He needed to escape while he could, but Megan turned to him. “What are you going to name your kitten?”
“My kitten?”
“Yes, the last one is yours because you were the
last one to come to the ranch.”
The last one looked to be a runt. Seemed appropriate. If the runt lived, it would always struggle to keep up to the others. Be half the cat, maybe not be right inside, his organs not fully developed. Just like Clay was a man with half a heart.
He realized Megan waited for an answer. “Well now, seems the last and littlest of the litter needs a name to make up for its deficiencies.”
“We could call him Fisher after you.” Megan nodded decisively. “I like that. His name is Fisher.”
The last thing he needed was for someone to connect the two names and remember who Clay Fisher had once been. “Fisher doesn’t seem like a good name for a kitten.”
“I like it.” Megan turned to Birdie as if the matter was settled. “What’cha going to name yours?”
“Which one is mine?”
Megan pointed to the black-and-white one. “It’s like the bald eagle, isn’t it? Maybe you should call it Eagle. Hey, that goes nice with Fisher. Fisher and Eagle. I like it.”
Birdie looked at Clay and shrugged. “Glad we got the opportunity to name our cats.”
He liked the droll tone of her voice. Her humor kept catching him off guard. With each of her smiles, chuckles, grins, and laughs, she strengthened the thin bonds silk they’d created.
He couldn’t have that.
He got to his feet. “I’ll be outside.” He climbed down the ladder, patted Mutt to his side, and left the barn.
Angus rode into the yard.
“Howdy,” the man said. “’Tis a fine morning, nay?”
“Fine indeed.” And Clay didn’t mean the sunny weather. Not only was Megan safe, those silken threads had already created a slender rope.
With Mutt keeping pace, he went as far as the corral fence. Clay leaned back against the top rail. From where he lounged he could see the barn door. No one would enter or leave without his knowledge. He would not be letting little Megan out of his sight again.
Birdie stepped from the shadowed interior and shaded her eyes. She saw him and walked over. “She’s letting everyone name them but has already chosen what they’re going to call them.” She chuckled. “Harrison’s is Big Boy.” She grinned at Clay, her eyes alive with humor. Another silken thread spun from his heart.
“If he didn’t adore his daughter so much, he might object having her compare him to a cat.”
“He’ll see it as a compliment.” He tried to imagine having a little girl who admired him so.
“She’s named hers Star.”
He waited for Birdie to explain. When she didn’t, he asked, “Why Star?”
“Because, ‘I’m the bright star in my papa’s life.’” Her imitation of Megan was impressive. “It’s something Harrison has said to her.” Again, that shining smile in her eyes and on her lips. And another silken thread spun into place.
He pretended a great interest in Mutt.
“Cosette and Angus’s cat is named Happy because they are so happy. And the house cat is named Homey for obvious reasons.” Birdie leaned beside him on the fence rail. “I’m so relieved she’s safe and sound. I expect you are too.”
“I’m not going to let her out of my sight again.”
“Nor am I.”
Why did he get the feeling they had vowed to spend together whatever time it took to discover who was threatening Harrison and his family?
And why did the prospect not fill him with dread?
* * *
For Birdie, knowing Megan was safe made the whole world sweeter. She even liked Clay better. She didn’t intend to let Megan out of her sight unless she was someplace safe like the loft. There was no way Megan could leave the barn without Birdie seeing her. Birdie and Clay both. Despite her insistence that she could take care of herself and her niece, this morning’s incident had proved otherwise and made her aware of how comforting it was to have another person sharing her concern.
“I’ve been here two years,” she said, “and I’ve never seen you before.”
“Yup.”
“Why don’t you come around more? The men all come in for the winter. Why not you?”
“Don’t see any need.” He held perfectly still, yet she got the feeling that he squirmed inside at her questions.
“Don’t you get lonely all by yourself?”
He snorted. “I’m not all by myself. I have Mutt and Buck for company. And the birds and wild animals.”
She gave a lady-like version of his snort. “Not to say pets don’t have their place, but they can hardly take the place of people.”
“Most times they’re less problem.”
Interesting. Seems he’d withdrawn from life. She understood how he could feel that way. “Sometimes people can be hurtful.”
“Yup.”
Birdie wasn’t normally curious about the men on the ranch, but Harrison had refused to say anything about Clay, and Clay was, if anything, even more reticent. It made her want to discover his secret. “You aren’t much for socializing.”
“Nope.”
“How did you and Harrison meet?”
“We ran into each other.”
“Literally?”
“Sort of.”
She laughed. “Did he knock you flat?”
“I was already down. Harrison helped me up.” Clay met her gaze, his eyes steady, perhaps even challenging. Was he giving her information he wondered if she could sort out? She considered his words.
“Down? You were hurt?”
“Not so’s you’d notice.”
She squinted at him. “Why do I get the feeling you’re giving me a hint?”
He shrugged.
Megan ran from the barn and didn’t slow until she stood before them. “Auntie, I need to look for my dolly.”
Birdie pushed away her questions about Clay and squatted to face Megan. “Honey, I don’t think your dolly is there anymore.”
“I have to look.”
“I think a wild animal might have taken it.” It was the truth. Any man who would leave that sort of warning was a wild animal.
“Please can I go see if I can find her? Pleeeeeease.” She batted her big blue eyes.
Birdie sighed. She’d never been able to resist Megan, and she suspected the child knew it. She faced Clay. “Let’s take her. It’s her favorite play place.” With both Birdie and Clay in attendance, the child would surely be safe.
He nodded and pushed off the fence. Patted his gun with one hand as if to assure himself he was adequately prepared, and then tapped the other hand against his hip. Mutt bounded to his side. “It will be okay with you, me, and Mutt on guard.”
“Goody, goody.” Megan danced across the yard, her arms flung wide. She stopped at the house and turned to give Birdie an expectant look.
Birdie ignored the look and walked by.
Megan looked puzzled. “Auntie, aren’t you going to take your sketchbook?”
Birdie stopped but didn’t shift direction. She didn’t want to draw with Clay watching. Bad enough that he had hovered nearby last night without her aware of it.
Megan persisted. “Thought you had to get some pictures done.”
“Of course. I’ll get my things.” Inside the house, she pulled her sketchbook and two pencils from her bag. Her art was special to her, a bit of something from her mother, and she hadn’t wanted to share it with Clay. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow it did. What if he mocked her? Called it a spinster’s pastime? She tucked in her chin and returned outside, prepared to ignore Clay and any comments he might have. What a relief to see he had gone ahead and waited for them at the trees.
Her chest muscles relaxed. Why would he show any interest, negative or positive, in her art work? And why should she care if he did? So what if she was a spinster? Being so allowed her to take care of Megan and to pursue an interest she enjoyed.
There was no concern about being quiet this time. It would have been impossible with Megan singing and talking constantly.
They reached the clearing, and Meg
an dashed about, looking for her doll. “She isn’t here.” She went again from spot to spot, repeating the words.
Birdie watched, her heart growing heavy.
Clay leaned on a tree next to her. “Hate to see her wasting her time.”
“I know. But she has to make sure for herself.” Birdie’s voice quavered. “Her mother made that doll.”
“Ahh. That makes it worse.”
“A thousand times worse. It can’t be replaced.”
After searching everywhere several times, Megan lifted a teary-face to Birdie. “Maybe she’s by the river.”
Birdie and Clay followed Megan down the path that widened, allowing them to see that nothing threatening lay ahead.
Birdie hung back so Megan wouldn’t hear her. “I would do anything to prevent the pain this will bring her. But there’s nothing I can do.”
“Pain’s part of bein’ human.”
“It shouldn’t be part of a child’s experience.”
“I agree.” He was silent a few moments.
She thought he’d lost interest in the conversation.
“Truth is,” Clay continued, “I wonder why God allows bad things to happen.” Something in his voice told her that he wasn’t talking about Megan anymore.
She glanced to him. “I, too, have wondered.”
They had reached the shore of the river. Megan was searching among the rocks and boulders that lined it. Birdie and Clay stopped and turned to each other.
“I’m sorry.” His dark eyes were gentle.
“I don’t know what brought your pain,” she said, “but I’m sorry too.”
He blinked, turned away. “It’s life.” He followed Megan as she searched for her doll.
After a three times thorough search, Megan sighed. “She’s gone.”
Birdie hugged her and let her cry. “I’m sorry. I know how special Miss Molly was.”
“Mama would be sad I lost her.”
“I think she’d be sad because you’re sad, not because your doll got lost.”
Megan wiped her tears. “I want Miss Molly.”
“Would another one make you feel better?”
Megan gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “I don’t hardly think so.”
