The Bounty Hunter's Heart

by Jillian Hart

  "He thinks I'm a terrible driver. Can you imagine? And I've never so much as driven into a ditch or anybody else's vehicle this whole time! He's a worrier, the good father that he is, and so I'd best say good night. I hope I see you and your son again, Mr. McMurphy!"

  Winn's stopped in mid pour. He set down the coffeepot. "I can't promise that, but I hope you have a safe trip home."

  "Thank you. Well, I do appreciate you taking care of my horse. Since you clearly care about Saydee, I'll keep your secret. Have a good night." Nola tilted her head to one side, considering him a moment, narrowing her assessing gaze before tugging the knit hat onto her head and pulling up the hood of her cloak. She pulled open the door and whispered sweetly. "He is a charming one. A good man, by the looks of him. I hope he stays around."

  Saydee had no chance to answer as Nola slipped out into the night and snapped the door shut behind her, leaving her alone with Winn.

  "Don't think I couldn't hear her." His voice rumbled with humor as he stirred sugar into his cup.

  "Sorry about that. Nola is a lot of fun and very hopeful for me to find wedded bliss again. Sometimes too hopeful." She reached for her emptied teacup and plate. The cup rattled in its saucer, betraying her. She might appear steady, but she was not. Interesting to know that as she headed his way, and he couldn't escape.

  He seemed to shrink the size of the kitchen, dominating her senses. She skirted the corner of the counter, and his wide shoulders slumped and for all his steel and might, he looked lost at heart. He stood in the brush of the lamplight, hands fisted at his sides, watching her with what looked like regret in his eyes. Like a promise made but destined, through no fault of his own, never to be kept.

  "Pa? I want my pa." Jack padded into view, hiding his yawn with one hand. "I fell asleep for a minute, and I thought you'd left me."

  "I'm right here. I told you, I won't go without saying goodbye. And I mean that."

  Saydee regarded the child in need of winning over, especially with a plate of Christmas cookies. "Do you want me to get you something warm to drink?"

  Saydee watched as Winn folded Jack into his brawny arms and drew the little boy snugly to his wide chest. The little boy's slim arms, so small compared to the man holding him, wrapped around his father's neck and held on with all his might. Tenderness mixed with sorrow for the boy, and she tugged open the pantry door. She searched the shelf by feel, since her eyes were tearing up. She blinked against the sting of the tears she refused to let show. Winn had enough to handle without her emotions getting attention, when his son deserved all of his.

  "Do you know what you need to get fully well, Jack?" Saydee set the tin on the counter. "You're going to need a great big cup."

  "Oh, then I guess I'm getting more of the medicine tea, huh?" His words sounded disappointed and muffled by his father's shirt but resigned.

  "Well, it is something hot to drink. I'm going to get something ready, so brace yourself."

  "Yes, ma'am." Polite but disappointed, Jack burrowed his face deeper against his father's neck and said nothing further.

  Winn saw the tin, bit his bottom lip and didn't say a word.

  She set a saucepan on the stove and grabbed the milk bottle. It was warmer from sitting out, so this would take just a moment. As she worked, she kept one eye on the boy. He looked frail, so tiny wrapped up in his father big, muscled arms. Winn hadn't looked so much different back then in the orphanage, if she remembered him right, although he'd been older, and her heart broke remembering that time of sorrow. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer and began to stir the pot, keeping her attention on the boy. He looked drawn with sorrow, holding on so tight as if needing the hug from his father to never end, for them always to remain together.

  At least he was recovering well. No fever, no congestion, just a little bit of a sniffle as he'd slept his way well through the day. But the little slip of a boy didn't look as rigid and those eyes didn't look as leery as before. Maybe there's a chance, Saydee realized, a chance for Jack's acceptance of her as his caretaker, however long or short of a time. She poured milk into the saucepan and placed it on the stove to warm.

  Pete padded close, nails clicking on the hardwood, to join the crowd and check on his humans. He nosed Jack in the shoulder with affection to reassure him. The boy turned around just enough to wrap one arm around the shepherd's neck in a gentle hug, holding on to both dog and man. It made a picture that made her chest ache with longing so severe, she had to look away, afraid she might break into pieces.

  She might never have the chance to have a child of her own to love and raise, because she feared at her place in life, at her age and widowed, what good man was going to love her? Not just to see her as convenient or as a solution to his problem of needing a wife, but to love her truly with his whole heart and, thinking of the fiasco that had happened back home with her parents, not because she was a comfortably well-off man's stepdaughter.

  When her stepfather had practically demanded that she stop being so stubborn and accept the proposal, she'd refused a second time. Why, the anger that had caused on their behalf toward her! She'd been terrified of her stepfather's anger at her once again, and hurt so badly at heart and in her ability to trust them that she'd left their home. They wanted her to have a loveless life, one of duty and benefit to them. Or, to serve as a maid in their home, and she couldn't do it. She refused to spend the precious days of her life trying to please a stepfather and mother who were ruthless and cruel, and who refused to love anyone but themselves. What damage they did in her brother's life, too. She wasn't their only target, and she never wanted to become as hard at heart as her mother, made bitter and cold from perhaps too much selfishness.

  Saydee blinked more pain from her eyes as steam curled up in foggy spirals. Jack didn't move from his father's arms and Pete's side, his face pressed into his pa's shirt, silently needing and fearing what was to come.

  With her heart aching for him, Saydee carried the steaming pan to the waiting mug and poured. The sweet aroma teased her with the good memories she had of her childhood, and in her heart she felt her resolve of what she had to give a child she was in charge of loving. There would be coziness and love and laughter, good food, comfort and plenty of sweet treats. If only she could give him his father.

  Saydee set the pan on a trivet and reached for the mug. Rich sweetness flavored the air, a dear and comforting scent that made Jack turn from his pa's chest. She set the cup on the kitchen table smiling at the boy with his eyes wide, where a drop of hope shone.

  "My favorite thing to drink when I'm recovering from an illness." Saydee peered over her shoulder. Yep, Jack had scooted back onto his feet and stood in the lamplight, his hands clasped together. Pete leaned against him, ears pricked and eyes bright and hopeful. He had no intention of letting the boy out of his sight or to be hopeless and alone. Winn stood and nodded, appreciation shining like a dark light in his sad eyes. "Hot chocolate is the best medicine. Everyone knows that. I prescribe a cup at night for the next week. Maybe one after lunch, too. Would you like that?"

  "Um, yes, Miss Saydee. I appreciate this very much, thank you." Remembering his manners like a good boy, Jack eased around the corner of the counter and climbed up onto the cushioned chair seat.

  "Careful to blow on it and let it cool just a bit or it will burn your tongue." She watched as Winn slipped into the chair beside his son, where his coffee cup steamed in the warm air, and had to turn her back to leave them alone or else her foolish heart would tug her right over to them and want to be a part of things, when she ought to leave them to the last of their time together.

  She returned to the kitchen where she poured fresh wash water, grateful for the glow in her heart that burned true and real, while father and son enjoyed this precious moment together. No matter what she did, she could not fix what was to come.

  * * *

  Winn padded through the house like a mountain lion on a hunt, silent and sure. This had been his last full day with his so
n, the last time he might ever be able to hold him. He was sure his confrontation with Brant might be a fatal one, few people walked away from the man, he was that sure of a shot and that good of a tracker. It was why he had evaded them for so long.

  Winn shivered, feeling cold to the marrow, even after he'd just fed the fire in the hearth, and he still felt as if he radiated heat from the experience. As he tracked closer, he heard the faint murmuring warmth of Saydee's voice as she chatted with her dog in the open doorway of her room. He kept going, moving through the darkness into the light.

  He saw her profile as she stood at the threshold, her forest green skirts belling beautifully to drape around her slender and long legs, making her look magnificent. His gaze zipped upward to admire her golden locks tumbling down to brush the delicate curve of her heart-shaped face. The book that dangled from one slender hand looked brand new and never opened. The spine creaked and the crisp paper rustled when she lifted it and opened it slowly, then turned the page. A dreamy smile softened the curve of her beautiful mouth. What a lady, he thought, refusing to let his heart feel anything at all.

  Jack sipped from the cup he'd perched on the very edge of the table, since it was too hot to hold. Both of his eyes, so wide and bright, glimmered with this small happiness he had over the surprise of hot chocolate. Winn's chest swelled with true appreciation for that. Appreciation was one emotion he allowed himself to feel for her. He breathed in the chocolate scent in the air as Pete padded toward him down the hall. Winn paused in the kitchen, grinning at his boy, who took one gulp and smiled back.

  "Pa, I sipped it as slow as I could, but now my stomach is burning hot. It was that good!" Jack jumped off the chair with a two-footed thud. "This is the kind of medicine I like. I'd drink it all up again and again and not even make a sour face."

  "That's the kind of medicine I like you to have." He brushed his hand over the top of Jack's head, smoothing his standing-up-on-end cowlick. "Come on, kid, let's get you to bed."

  18

  "I'm kind of tired." Jack yawned, revealing the truth of that statement with a touch of good humor.

  "Then I guess that is a yes to my question. Come along with me." Winn could feel the sensation of Saydee's gaze as he took hold of his little boy's hand and led him out of the kitchen. He paused at the archway to turn out the wick on the extra lamp and plunged them into shadowed darkness before moving out of her sight and into the parlor.

  "Can Pete sleep with me again, Pa, please? I don't know where he usually sleeps, but it is sure nice to have a dog, even if he's not my very own."

  "Maybe Pete will let you share him with Saydee. Maybe that's something you can ask her after I'm gone."

  "It's real nice with you here. Are you sure you can't stay? Maybe no one will know."

  "I wish that could be, I wish it with my whole heart, but I've got to be sensible and responsible. I have to." He gave that small hand tucked within his a squeeze, wishing he could do more for the boy. He, in fact, was giving Jack everything by leaving. He would be giving his boy life, and that was everything. He let go of Jack's hand. "Did you like Saydee's cooking?"

  "I don't want to say yes, because you might leave all the faster." Jack sighed and crawled into his bed. "Her cocoa was the tastiest I've ever had."

  "That sounds promising to me."

  "I'd rather have you, Pa." Jack sighed.

  "I know, kid. I'd rather have you. I'd choose you every time." The truth burned inside him so hard, he barely heard the mantel clock bong the late hour. "Now let's get you tucked in."

  "This is an awful comfortable bed." Jack's eyes held tears that hovered but did not fall. "I will be real cozy here."

  "That's why I chose her to keep you." He let his voice reveal with all that lived in his heart. "She's someone I know who is nice and knows what it's like to be on her own as a child. That's how much I love you. Never forget that, will you?"

  Jack nodded, understanding, although he was too young. Life wasn't always fair, and he was a good boy determined to do a good job. Winn ran a hand over the top of the standing-up-straight cowlick, but it refused to smooth down.

  "I hate to interrupt, but I have something for you." Saydee swept into the room, her green skirts swirling, her well-modulated voice as sweet as a strain of soft piano music. She avoided his gaze as she padded closer and when he caught sight of what she held in one hand, gratitude flooded his chest, making it hard to breathe.

  "I brought a book for Jack," Saydee said casually, patiently holding out the colorful volume. "In case you want to read him a bedtime story. It was always my favorite thing to help me fall asleep when my grandmother stayed over. She loved to read to me and Edwin."

  "I still do, too. It was thoughtful of you." Winn had to pause for a brief moment. Emotion got the best of him. "I had to leave all his books behind."

  "I'm glad I have a few children's books on hand. It's what you get when you visit a former schoolteacher. I still have so many books, I don't know what to do with all of them. Perhaps Jack might be interested in them tomorrow. He can help himself to the bookcase in the guest bedroom next to mine. I have a trunk of more things like books up in one of the spare rooms upstairs. You should go explore. You might like it up there."

  "Thanks, Saydee." He took the book. "Judging by Jack's emphatic nod, it's a yes."

  She said nothing more, retreating into the shadows. He didn't know what to say to break the silence between them either. Too much remained unsaid, and he knew she'd heard Jack's pain in his voice. He didn't know how to fix the situation either except for taking the time it required to hunt down the men after him and try to end things. Who knew what consequences would come from that? No one as of yet had ever survived the attempt.

  Pete opened both eyes, listening up right along with Jack when Winn began reading. It was a peaceful feeling that settled around them as the growing blizzard gusted against the side of the house, shaking the windowpanes, and the fire popped in the grate. Jack yawned once and then twice as his eyes drifted shut.

  At the end of the story, Winn closed the book and sat in the warmth, in the light, feeling hollow in the place where his heart used to be.

  * * *

  "I take it he liked the story. You look happy, Winn." Saydee looked up from her book laying open on the kitchen table and closed it with a quiet rustle of paper. She rose out of the chair, and the wood joints squeaked just a little and her shoes knelled like music on the floor when she took a few steps.

  It was these little things, the snatches of impressions, of sights and sounds that he would remember when he was out in those mountains, riding a hard trail north. He turned down the wick in the parlor, leaving the room in near darkness, only the fire glowing orange in the hearth tossed dancing, eerie light across the floor and the sleeping child.

  Winn turned toward her and stepped into the kitchen. "Thanks for the loan of the book. Jack enjoyed it and it put him right to sleep. Pete, too."

  "I'm glad it was so wildly popular with both of them." Saydee picked up the book and tucked it into place in the crook of her arm. "You're a good father, Winn."

  "Not even close to the kind of pa I wished I could be." A lifelong one. He hung his head for a moment, hiding the pain of that regret before he lifted his chin to meet her gaze head on. "We have a lot to talk about."

  "Right now?"

  "This may be all the time we have." He moseyed closer, the hollowness within taking over until it felt like it dominated, becoming every last emotion, so there was nothing left but a barren emptiness he could not endure. But had to. Well, he intended to do the right thing, no matter the cost. "I need to buy a good trail horse since the man after me has mine. I got off to buy some food and came out to see him waiting by my gelding, and we had to move on foot."

  "And that surprise blizzard caught you before you could find my place?"

  "Yep." He nodded. "If I move now, he won't backtrack, and that means you and Jack are safe. I don't want you to worry about that."


  He paced close like a prowling cougar, and his intense knife-sharp gaze felt as if it could see straight into her heart. She lowered her eyes so he couldn't see how much she cared. "What do I tell people about Jack?"

  "The truth, that you are keeping him for a friend. Maybe I can be that to you." He held his heart still, and it didn't sound in his voice. He braced one hand on the edge of the buffet cabinet, half lost in shadows, surrounded by sorrow. "I know I can trust you to make his life a good one. You and your brother went through the same things I did living while living in that orphanage, although you two got out. I wasn't so lucky, not until I was fifteen and I got a full-time job."

  She heard what he couldn't endure to admit to, all the pain and loneliness, all the hardship and heartbreak. She watched him rub one large hand over his rugged, chiseled face and sigh. She ached for him. It had to be unthinkably painful to be forced to give up a child. She listened to the hard wind of the building blizzard batter against the northern side of the house, and she wished there were more she could do for the man. He eased up next to her, smelling wonderfully like soap, warm clean man and wood smoke.

  Heat radiated off him, and her heartbeat leaped. She breathed in air, attempting to ignore the roar of blood thumping in her ears, and she stared hard at the book she was holding. Her entire being shook. Did it show?

  "I know without question that you will give Jack the kind of life I would want for him." His big, work-roughened hands pulled out a thick envelope, perfect for holding greenbacks, out of his pocket. A wry grin crooked one corner of his mouth as he studied it so thick in his hand, impossibly thick. There was a lot of money in there. "This should help. You've got spare attic rooms upstairs for him to take over. You'll need clothes for him. This is my entire savings, everything I've ever worked for. You take it. You are the best thing that could happen for him."