A Hero's Homecoming

by Laurie Paige

  J.D. waved her thanks aside. “You know, this cabin could be fixed up pretty quick if you wanted to use it for weekend getaways on a regular basis. An extra room could be added on the back side. The door could be cut where this window is. A porch around three sides would give you a shady place to sit no matter where the sun is.”

  “That sounds nice. I’ll have to find a handyman. When I have time,” she added.

  “I could do it.”

  She glanced at him in surprise. His expression was chagrined, as if he were angry with himself for volunteering, then it was gone, his face once more cast in granite.

  “I’m sure you’ll be much too busy at the ranch to come over here and work,” she murmured, excusing him.

  He hesitated before answering. “Right. I could draw you a plan, though.”

  “Do you know how?”

  He gave a mock frown at her doubting tone. “I worked in construction for a while, putting up expensive cabins in the mountains for the yuppies. I learned a thing or two.”

  “I’ll bet you did.”

  His slow grin picked up the corners of his sensual mouth. “You do have a wicked tongue. Do you use it for anything but lashing a man’s hide off?”

  “Sometimes.” Meeting his gaze, she realized she was flirting with him. The idea amazed her. She, Carey Hall, voted the most dedicated to her goals by her high-school class, flirting?

  Sophie and Freeway flopped on the rug in front of the stove, which was now putting out a generous amount of heat. He tended the fire, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a short reed.

  “I found this whistle today.” He handed it to Sophie.

  She blew through it. “This isn’t a whistle,” she said, disappointed in her new friend.

  “It isn’t? Let me look at it.” He peered at the reed. “Well, shucks, it doesn’t have enough holes.”

  He pulled out a knife and, with the tip of a blade, drilled three small holes along the reed. He stuck his finger over the bottom hole, then blew into the other end.

  A light note filled the room. Using his fingers to cover one, then another of the holes, he made different sounds so that the effect was like that of wind chimes, an oddly pleasing blend of airy tones that almost sounded like a melody. Sophie’s eyes rounded with pleasure.

  “Oh, let me try,” she cried. J.D. handed over the whistle.

  Carey was delighted when Sophie also made the reed flute sing. She realized J.D. had shown her daughter how a flute was made and how something as simple as a reed could make beautiful music, all without a word of instruction.

  She turned on the two-burner hot plate that had come with the old cabin and whipped up the batter for hoecakes with cornmeal, milk and an egg. Using a flat iron skillet, she ladled the batter out pancake-fashion to cook. She dumped barbecued beans and beef, which she’d made and brought with them, into a pan and set it to heating on the other burner.

  “That was kind of you,” she murmured when J.D. came over and watched.

  “I can be kind.”

  His gravelly voice stroked her like rough velvet, and she knew she was in danger of being enchanted by this mysterious drifter. She let herself inhale the masculine aroma of soap and shampoo and aftershave lotion and thought of losing herself in his arms…

  And when he was gone? What of enchantment then?

  The stern voice of practicality burst her pretty daydream. She had Sophie to think of. A drifter would do her child no good. Children trusted so readily. He would win the child’s love, then break her heart when he left.

  He traced the frown line between her eyes with a finger. “Lighten up, Carey. The world won’t come to an end, no matter what happens or doesn’t happen between us.”

  “No, it won’t,” she agreed briskly, letting her irritation show. She flipped the hoecakes on the flat skillet, let them brown and took them up. Then she ladled on the next batch and stirred the pot. “Sophie, time to set the table. Wash up first.”

  The girl gave one last pat to Freeway, then washed her hands in a basin before standing on tiptoe to retrieve plates from shelves on the wall. She put out forks and napkins for the three of them.

  Carey was aware of J.D. watching the activity. She gave him a questioning glance as she set the platter of hoecakes on the table, then poured up the beans and beef in a bowl.

  “Springwater okay?” she asked, holding up a glass.

  “Fine.”

  He played the gallant, refusing to sit until they did, then holding their chairs for them. Actually, there were only two chairs. Sophie sat on a stool made from a section of log. He watched as Carey put a hoecake on Sophie’s plate, then spooned the beans-and-beef mixture over it.

  “I was wondering how you ate those.” He helped himself to a double stack of bread and barbecue.

  “Do you know why they’re called ‘hoecakes’?” Sophie demanded.

  “No, why?”

  “Farmers used to cook them on a hoe over the fire.” She laughed in delight when he clasped a hand to his chest and looked as if he might fall off the chair in amazement. “My granddad and I tried it once when he lived in town, but the hoecake caught on fire.”

  “Sounds as if your granddad was a fun guy.”

  “Yes,” she said in the manner of kids who take it for granted that everyone has wonderful grandparents.

  Later, the three of them had canned peaches with the rest of the cake and played Go Fish. After the game, Sophie changed into flannel pajamas with feet and fell asleep on the floor in front of the stove, her arm around Freeway’s neck, his chin resting on her shoulder.

  “Norman Rockwell could do justice to that scene,” Carey said, pointing to the two.

  “Yes.”

  She was aware that his eyes didn’t leave her. She put on a pot of coffee, then started on the dishes. He dried and put the dishes on the shelf.

  “You’re handy to have around,” she teased.

  “In more ways than one.”

  The smoldering laugher in his eyes invited her to relax and enjoy all he was offering. She wiped the wooden counter next to the hot plate and hung up the dishcloth.

  “Should she be in bed?” he asked, nodding to Sophie.

  “Yes.”

  He lifted the girl into his arms and took her to the bunk on the far side of the cabin. She settled into her sleeping bag without a sound. After adding another log to the stove, he resumed his seat.

  Carey poured the coffee and brought the mugs to the table. “It’s decaffeinated,” she said for no reason except to fill the silence. His gentleness with Sophie only added to her confusion about him.

  He caught her hand when she would have moved away. With a little tug, he pulled her into his lap.

  She glanced over her shoulder to where her daughter slept peacefully. “Don’t.”

  “We’re not going to do anything in a one-room cabin with a dog and a kid present,” he murmured, pressing his face against her neck and inhaling deeply. “Well, maybe a little quiet necking. Ah, the scent of a woman.”

  Chills ran helter-skelter over her while his breath caressed her throat. His hands—mmm, those long, graceful fingers—rubbed her back and along the muscles of her shoulders, massaging and soothing away the tightness she’d lived with all week.

  She felt air in the vee between her breasts. Looking down, she saw him unfasten the next button of her plaid woodcutter’s shirt. He kissed the dip between her breasts, then flicked his tongue there, leaving a cool spot on her skin, while heat erupted deep within and quickly spread to every part of her.

  “Pretty,” he said, gazing at the light-green bra with its floral motif of spring flowers. “So the doc has a soft side.”

  “It was part of a Christmas set from my mom,” Carey said defensively.

  His hand went to the snap on her jeans. “You mean, there’s more?” Devilish laughter leaped into his eyes, but he made no move to check further.

  She wondered if she would have the energy to stop him if he tried. The la
zy amusement in his voice almost did her in. His hands slipped under her loose shirt and continued their relaxing massage. Her thoughts blurred as he tilted his head to one side and covered her mouth with his.

  They kissed for a long time, his hands inside her shirt, hers finding his buttons and doing the same to him. Once he caught her hands and held them away from his body, although his lips didn’t leave hers. She moaned in protest.

  At last, he pressed her face to his chest and held her there, his fingers stroking through her hair while their blood cooled from sizzle to normal.

  “Ah, gal,” he whispered, “but you’d make a saint forget his promises.”

  “What promises?” she murmured, sleepy now that the passion had dissipated.

  “To never settle in one place too long.”

  He stood and set her on her feet, his eyes shaded by thoughts she couldn’t read.

  “You’re going to have to put the past behind you someday,” she told him.

  His expression hardened. “I have.”

  “Not yet you haven’t.”

  “Is this a free consultation, Doc?” he drawled, his way of telling her she was stepping across his bounds.

  “Yes.” She pulled the open sides of her shirt across her breasts and held the ends in place with her arms folded over her chest.

  He buttoned his shirt, then snapped his fingers. Freeway thumped his tail, but didn’t raise his head.

  “Come on, you mangy mutt, it’s time to leave.”

  Freeway sighed and closed his eyes. J.D. looked resigned. “He can stay the night. Throw him out tomorrow when you leave. He’ll head back for the ranch.”

  She hesitated, not sure she even wanted his dog in the cabin. “Okay.”

  He stopped at the door, then slipped an arm around her and pulled her against him, giving her a hard, soul-stirring kiss. “There, that’s one for the road.”

  And one to dream on, she thought later, nestled into her sleeping bag on the other hard bunk. For a few heartbeats, she let herself think about snuggling up to a tough male body, then she put the thought aside.

  Marriage and medicine didn’t mix. She’d learned that the hard way. No more dreams of tomorrow. If she and J.D. shared anything, it would be for the moment.

  When he was gone, she’d be alone again.

  The wind picked up and whistled around the cabin, reminding her of the notes from a reed flute. It was the loneliest sound.

  She finally went to sleep, and didn’t wake until a cold nose touched her cheek at dawn the next morning. She pushed it away. Freeway huffed in her ear. Sitting upright, Carey realized where she was. She patted the dog’s head and got up to let him out. He bounded across the lawn and loped down the dirt road. She realized he was going home.

  When Sophie awoke, the first thing she wanted was the dog. “Where’s Freeway?” she demanded, sitting up, instantly wide-awake and ready for play.

  “I think he headed for the ranch. He probably wanted his breakfast and knew we didn’t have anything for him. He gave you a goodbye kiss.”

  “He did?”

  “Uh-huh. Right on your nose.”

  It was the kind of fib she’d told her daughter for years about her father when he didn’t show up. She’d say he had called and would catch her next weekend. Once she’d even sent the child a card and pretended it was from him, but she’d felt so guilty for the lie that she hadn’t done it again. She’d suggested to Jack that he might write to make sure Sophie didn’t forget him. That had struck his vanity, and he actually remembered to do it a couple of times a year.

  Sophie laughed, rubbed her nose and was happy.

  “Time to get dressed. You have school and I have to get to the office at nine this morning.”

  “That’s late,” Sophie said with a child’s knowledge of adult ways.

  “Yes. I’ve decided to start my workday a little later so I can get you off to school before I leave. Next year when you go to first grade, you can ride the bus to Lorrie’s house so she won’t have to come get you.”

  “Okay.” Sophie pulled off her pajamas and dressed.

  The all-too-ready tears rushed to Carey’s eyes. She was so lucky to have this easygoing child.

  She glanced out the window to where J.D.’s pickup had been parked. She had her work, her daughter, her house in town and now a ranch—well, sort of. She didn’t need anything else, no matter how nice it had felt to cuddle in J.D.’s arms and be kissed right to heaven.

  Five

  “Yo, Cade.”

  Wayne stopped and waited for the young cop to come down the courthouse steps and join him on the sidewalk.

  “Your hunch was right,” Reed Austin said. “The mineral block was laced with poison. It would have been slow death for any animal that licked it.”

  “Arsenic?” Wayne knew it had a cumulative effect, the poison lurking in the body until enough had built up to kill.

  Reed shook his head. “It was something the crime lab hadn’t run into before. A muscle relaxer that isn’t used because of the danger. I don’t have a clue where anyone would get the stuff. It isn’t on the market.”

  Wayne considered this information, one part of him going cold with fury. If he could get hold of Dale Carson for just five minutes—

  “You look as if you’re contemplating murder,” Reed remarked, a warning in his tone.

  “Nah. Maybe a little friendly persuasion on a couple of guys.” He rubbed his chin and tried to think. Something was niggling at the back of his mind. “A muscle relaxer, huh? Sure seems odd to use something like that.”

  “It’s hard to detect. One of the new lab guys thought of checking for a relaxant because of the recent death of a kid who got in his parents’ medicine cabinet and tried one.”

  Wayne was reminded of Jenny and her illness. He had a sense of time speeding by faster and faster. He needed to talk to Kate and Ethan and others before it ran out.

  “I don’t suppose they could detect fingerprints on the block, could they?”

  Reed shook his head. “I’ve got an appointment with the city attorney. It seems we’re being sued for false arrest. A cop can’t win for losing.” His grin was cynical as he headed for his car.

  Wayne started for his truck. He was going to stop by the McCallum house. He wanted to talk to Sterling about the ranch. Hell, he wanted to talk him out of selling. For some stupid reason, it had become important to him.

  Down the street, he saw Janie Carson come out of one of the department stores, several packages in her arms. He wondered, not for the first time, if she knew where her brother was hiding. Could he find out?

  For a second, his conscience bothered him, then he grimly stalked along the sidewalk. Some things were more important than personal ethics. Besides, he hated to see whoever was trying to ruin the ranch succeed.

  “Hey, Janie, going to work?” he asked, striding up to her with a falsely cheerful smile.

  She blinked at him as if not quite sure he was talking to her. “No, taking my packages to my car.”

  “Here, let me help.” He took the largest bags from her and swung into step beside her. “Nice day, huh?”

  It was. The temperature was in the forties. The sun was shining, the air was clear and the sky a robin’s-egg blue. Some store windows were decorated with hearts and red and white streamers for Valentine’s Day, still a month away. He was reminded of a gift he had to take care of.

  Adjusting his step to hers, he walked with Janie to her car, which was located on the street next to the city park. He chatted with her about her job and teased her about buying valentines for all the guys in town.

  She tossed her head and gave him sassy answers and flirted with him outrageously. His smile became a real one as he enjoyed her performance. She was good with her eyes, flashing him under-the-lashes glances as she told of a humorous incident while shopping.

  She locked her packages in the trunk of her compact car.

  “How about a coffee?” she suggested. “We could drin
k it here in the park.”

  A pinch of guilt took hold of him. He shook it off. After all, he was on important business, even if he was going about it in an underhanded fashion. “Sure.”

  He went with her to the café and paid for the two coffees. He grinned. “We’re getting citified here in the sticks, aren’t we? Gourmet coffee, bagels and all that.”

  She laughed, a tinkling, teasing, girl’s laughter, wrinkled her pert nose at him and pushed her lips into a pouty expression that begged to be kissed. She was as subtle as one of Freeway’s pups, wriggling all over itself wanting to be petted.

  For an instant, he was reminded of Kate and him, back when they’d both been eighteen and in love, and life had seemed theirs for the taking. God, what a long time past that had been.

  He dusted off one of the park benches and invited her to sit beside him. The sun felt good on his back as they sat facing the street. Their shoulders touched as Janie snuggled closer. He hoped Reed Austin didn’t see them.

  Wayne suspected the cop was more than half in love with Janie. If she was smart, she’d snap the young man up. She’d have a secure future with Reed, which was a lot more than any woman would get from him.

  It was time to be moving on. He could feel it in his bones, in every breath he breathed. Yet this place of his birth was growing on him. Sometimes he remembered only what was good about living here….

  “How are things on the ranch?” Janie asked.

  Ah, the perfect lead-in. “Not so good. McCallum has ordered it closed down. It would be a shame to lose his daughter’s inheritance, especially now when she might need the money for her treatment. I understand it’s expensive.”

  He sat silently, letting the words soak in.

  Janie stared into the middle distance, her young face pensive and troubled. She swallowed, then licked her lips.

  He held his breath, sure she was going to tell him where the young man was hiding. Maybe she knew who Dale was in cahoots with, too. He leaned closer, taking on a confidential air, his lips close to her ear.