by Maggie Ryan
"I'll take him now," she said, turning to look down at them.
"No, he can ride with me," Matthew said.
"No! I mean, I can hold him. Really, you've done enough. I'll just get him home and… and we'll be fine."
Something about the way the woman spoke sounded a bit desperate, and yet he couldn't determine exactly what put that tone in her voice.
"I'd rather take him," Matthew said. "I'll feel better knowing you made it home all right. I still can't believe you didn't kill yourself jumping my fences and coming down this bank."
"Mr. Stone, I'm a good rider, and Buttercup is a great horse. Now, if you don't mind, please give my son to me. The sooner you do, the sooner I can get something warm into him. I promise to return your blanket and, um, perhaps you'd prefer to take your shirt now?"
"No, it's best where it is," Matthew said, still undetermined about what he should do. The boy hadn't yet spoken but didn't seem to be suffering from anything but the cold.
"Please."
The one word, softly spoken, had him nodding as he carefully lifted the boy, who instantly settled himself against his mother. Perhaps the woman was afraid her husband wouldn't look too kindly upon a strange man appearing out of the blue, even if he was doing so because of the unusual circumstances. No matter the reason, Davy did need to get home.
"Fair enough," Matthew said, keeping one hand on Buttercup's halter. "But if Davy doesn't come around fully by this evening, take him to see Doctor Williams in town. He's a good man, and his wife, Harriett, has a very soft spot for children."
"I-I will," she said.
"And, young lady, if I ever see you pull a stunt like jumping over a cliff again, I promise you won't be sitting as easy in your saddle." He had absolutely no idea what had made him add that warning and yet, when her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in a small "O", he only continued, "Understand?"
"Um… yes," she said, a flush moving from the collar of her dress up her neck to stain her cheeks. "Thank you again."
He nodded, reached down to ruffle the dog's fur and then pointed to the path he'd taken to descend.
"Follow that up to the bluff and…" Before he could say anything further, he was looking at the backend of the butter color roan as the horse easily began the climb. He stood watching until they made it safely to the top, lifting his hand to wave, not at the woman but at the dog, who'd stopped and turned back, giving one deep woof as if saying goodbye.
Matthew sighed. His day's work, combined with the difficult swim and adrenaline inducing rescue, hit him all at once. Squatting at the river's edge to fill his canteen, he shook his head as his fingers hit the water. This river was always chilly, but with the snow melt high in the Cascades joining the river's flow, it was downright icy. How that boy had survived even a few minutes practically completely submerged was a miracle. On that thought, he stood, spying something caught in a crag in the boulder. Moving closer and bracing one hand against the slippery stone, he leaned over the water and grabbed what might just be a stick but instinct had him pulling it free. The broken bamboo told that it wasn't just a piece of flotsam, but what had been a fishing rod. So that explained what the boy had been doing, but still left a great deal of questions unanswered. Standing again, he looked back up the cliff. The boy had obviously been fishing but where had he come from? The climb down was difficult enough for a grown man, it should have seemed insurmountable to a child no older than five or six. How had Sally—make that Mrs. Jefferson—even known where to find him? Forget that, where in the hell was the boy's pa? Surely there were far safer places to take his son fishing. Shit, Matthew never should have allowed her to leave on her own. Blaming the decision on both her softly uttered plea and his exhaustion, he mounted Ranger and climbed the slope himself.
She might not have offered her home's location but even though Oregon was a large territory, he was pretty confident that someone in Cascade had to know where the Jeffersons had staked their claim. It would only be a matter of time before he knew exactly where the family lived. It might not be his place, but he had a few things to discuss with Mr. Jefferson. Allowing his son to wander unsupervised over land that could be dangerous and where animals were beginning to hunt after a long winter was just plain stupid.
Stopping at the fence to retrieve his hammer and pouch of nails, he looked again across the pasture. He hadn't been lying, and apparently, neither had she. It truly had been both a dangerous as well as a remarkable feat of horsemanship for her to jump the fences and make it safely to the water's edge. His lips curled into a small grin as he remembered his parting words. As he mounted his horse, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd be quite so anxious to perform such a feat knowing that once the horse landed after flying over the rail, her little butt would bounce rather hard into the saddle. It would be jarring enough, but far more uncomfortable if that little rear had been reddened. Mounting his horse once again and turning him towards home, he kicked Ranger's flanks. "Let's go home, boy."
Chapter Two
Sally maneuvered Buttercup to a large rock, shuddering a bit at the far too vivid memory of the boulders at the river's edge. "Steady, girl," she said softly, dropping the reins and adjusting her son slightly. "Be careful, honey. Put your feet on the rock and climb down, all right?" Davy gave a small nod and, with his ma's help, managed to get to the ground, where he promptly fell onto his butt. "That's right, just sit there. I'm coming." Dismounting, she took up the reins again, and though she was still a bit shaky from the incident and was tempted to simply plop down beside her son, she placed an arm around him and helped him up.
Walking slowly, instructing Davy to hitch up the blanket that was threatening to trip him, she led the horse to a tree. "Stay right here," she instructed, releasing Davy. The boy sat again, exhaustion etched onto his small face as she unsaddled the horse and then hobbled her so that she could graze. Buttercup took a moment to make sure that her foal could reach her with ease. Sally smiled, giving both horses a pat as Buttercup turned to nuzzle her own baby, understanding perfectly the need for a mother to reconnect with her child. Turning back to her own, she held out her hand.
"All right, let's get you warm."
A few minutes later, she had a quilt spread out on the ground, reliving the memories of how she and her sister and ma had sat around the frame together, placing every stitch into fabric, talking about her upcoming wedding. That had been years ago, and the quilt showed the passing of time. Though a bit frayed and repaired in several places, she'd continue to love it and use it until the day it disintegrated. As Davy settled himself in the middle, she smiled as his finger reached out to trace the design of a flower that had been appliqued on one square. She'd told him the story of the quilt's making, how she, his auntie and grandma had created the squares and told stories themselves. It was a way for him to remember people he might never see again. Turning away from those thoughts, she busied herself with things that mattered right now.
Using a long, blackened stick, she stirred through the ashes of the fire, exposing embers she'd left burning in a ring of stones. Not only did they keep the fire contained, she'd added several larger, flatter stones that she and Davy had hauled from the river to use as cooking surfaces. After filling the battered coffeepot, she set it on one of the flat stones and placed a small pot on another. It wasn't until she had the remains of a stew she'd made the day before ladled into a small bowl and a cup of tea poured that she finally sank down onto the blanket herself. Wrapping her son's hand around the tin cup, she watched him take a few sips of the lukewarm brew. He managed but a few bites of the stew before his eyelids drooped, long black lashes resting on cheeks that were far too pale.
"Oh, Davy, you scared me so," she said, pulling him onto her lap. "Whatever possessed you to run away?"
Her question had his face tilting back, his eyes opening to reveal their blue depths as he shook his head, causing dark strands to fall across his forehead. Sweeping them gently back and reminding herself that she need
ed to take a pair of scissors to his curly locks, she bent and kissed his forehead.
"All right, if you weren't running, what were you doing?"
He sat up a bit straighter and made a motion that had her brows furrowing until he sighed, made another motion, and then one she recognized. "You were swimming?"
His entire body trembled with the vigorous shaking of his head. "All right, try again," she coaxed. This time, instead of using his body to wiggle like a fish, he pantomimed reeling one in. "Ah, you were going fishing?" His eager nod told her she'd guessed correctly.
"Son, you went way too far. I've told you time and time again you need to stay close. I-I need to know where you are at all times. If it hadn't been for King…" she paused, her emotions threatening tears again. At hearing his name, the dog came to sit beside the pair, dropping down to rest his head on her knee. Taking a deep breath and calming herself by running one hand through the dog's thick, golden fur, she said, "Davy, I know you want to help, and I thank you for that. But you could have died today…" She instantly regretted her choice of words as his frail body stiffened, and yet he needed to understand the severity of his actions. Hugging him a bit tighter, she continued. "You are never, ever to pull such a stunt again, young man. If you want to go fishing or anything else, you need to ask me and tell me where you are going. Is that understood? I couldn't bear for anything to happen to you. You are my entire life, and…" Looking down, she saw he had slipped into sleep. Not having the heart to awaken him, wondering if were just exhaustion or his attempt to run from her words, she decided that the lecture could wait until he'd regained some of his strength.
She sat for a long time, watching the embers of the fire burn as the sun began its descent in the sky. Finally, when the light began to wane, she stood and bent to lift the slumbering boy. God, he was so light. The long trek had definitely taken its toll on him in more ways than just physical. It had turned what used to be a vivacious little boy into a ghost of his prior self. It was up to her to bring him back and her heart ached with the question of how long it would be before—if—she ever heard the sound of his laughter again.
It wasn't until she unwrapped the blanket from around him that she remembered he was wearing another man's shirt. Davy woke just barely as she manipulated his arms, exchanging the garment for a nightshirt, and allowed his ma to tuck him beneath the quilts. Bending down, she kissed his cheek.
"I love you, little man," she said, once again brushing his hair back. Leaving him to sleep, she forced herself to eat the remaining stew and drink a cup of tea, knowing she needed to keep herself healthy for the both of them. Exhaustion pulled at her but she banked the fire, and taking a pail, walked down to the creek to fill it. This was the spot where Davy usually fished but, obviously disappointed in not catching anything, he'd walked away until he discovered what he thought a better fishing hole. Standing and looking downstream, the moonlight dancing across the ripples, she found herself hoping that had been the case. If not… if he'd somehow fallen into the water and been carried such a long distance, then it truly had been an even greater miracle than she'd believed.
"Thank you, Lord," she said softly, her gaze turning upwards as tears slid down her cheeks. "Thank you for not taking my son." The hoot of an owl sounded, and she wondered if it meant God had heard her prayer. Shaking her head and wiping her cheeks, she thought it more likely meant the nocturnal creature had spied its supper among the trees. Gripping the pail of water with both hands, trying not to slosh its contents onto her skirt, she went back and set the bucket before Buttercup.
"You are a wonderful girl," Sally said as the horse began to drink. "Thank you." After the horse had drunk her fill, she gave both horses a carrot, knowing she should save them for another stew but wanting to give Buttercup a reward for her efforts. When King had raced into the clearing where she'd been stacking firewood she'd chopped, she'd known something was wrong. The dog never left Davy's side unless the boy was within sight. It had taken her a few minutes to saddle Buttercup, the dog barking and dancing in circles, his antics telegraphing the urgency of his mission. Once she'd mounted, she'd said, "Take me to Davy." A solitary bark signified his understanding of the command and he bounded forward, never slowing as she followed. The fence hadn't given her a concern, as she trusted Buttercup to jump the obstacle with ease. However, she'd felt her heart lift into her stomach when King had ducked beneath the far fence and then simply seemed to disappear. Still, she had given the horse her head, bending forward as she felt the animal's muscles bunching before she took flight yet again. She'd remained low when the horse landed, having to grab a handful of mane in order to keep her seat. The angle was steep, and the sound of hooves scrambling for hold had her crying out. It had been King's urgent bark that had calmed her, enabling her to loosen her hold. Still, when they'd reached the bottom of the incline and she'd seen King jump into the water, she'd known that it was bad and had been unable to stop a sob before she slipped from the saddle to grab her lariat. If King hadn't gotten to her in time, if Mr. Stone hadn't followed—no, she wasn't going to think about what might have been. She'd just be eternally grateful that things had turned out the way they had.
About to give a soft whistle to call King, she smiled, seeing it wasn't necessary. The labrador was already curled up beside Davy, the boy's arm having come free of his quilt to lie across the dog's back. "Good boy," Sally said as she slipped out of her clothing and pulled on her gown. Lying down on Davy's other side, she wrapped her arm around him, adding her warmth to his own. Her last thoughts before sleep claimed her were about Mr. Stone.
He'd been incredibly brave, risking his life without hesitation for a boy he didn't even know. It was only now, in the still of the night, darkness hiding the blush she could feel heating her face that she dared to consider the man. He'd gone into ice cold water without taking a second to ponder the danger and… he'd gone entirely nude. She'd not given it a moment's thought at the time, hadn't even considered the impropriety of it as he'd strode to his horse to retrieve a blanket, yet now, with her eyes closed, she could easily see his form. She could see the width of his shoulders narrowing to a trim waist, and the contours of his buttocks as he'd reached to untie the blanket. Unlike hers, they weren't plump, weren't soft, and definitely didn't jiggle.
He'd looked like a Greek God as he stood in all his glory while wrapping her son first in his shirt and then his blanket. The man was huge, towering over her by a good foot. He was lean but not skinny, every inch of him toned with muscles that were well defined in his broad chest and flat abdomen. She felt her tummy flip as she remembered the dark hair on his chest and the line that led from the indention of his navel to the dark, curly hairs of his groin. As her memory took her eyes further south, she felt a twinge between her legs, remembering what had lain between his. Even shriveled from its icy bath, his cock had been impressive.
Moaning a bit, she thought of what it would look like when erect, would it be straight as an arrow or bend up towards his belly? How far would it reach? What would it be like to have that man resting on his arms above her, his cock ready to impale her, to fill her? What would his eyes, the same color as the water rushing over the boulders, look like as he thrust into her? What would it feel like to have his hands, large and strong, slip beneath her to lift her bottom as he buried himself completely inside her body? Her mind took another leap back as she remembered his threat… no, it hadn't sounded like a threat, more like a promise to use those hands in a far less pleasant fashion… to punish a naughty girl. God, what would that feel like? To be turned across thighs as thick as a tree limb and feel that hard, calloused palm descending upon her ass, continuing its strokes until she cried out her apology for being foolish?
A soft cry jerked her from thoughts she had absolutely no business thinking. Rising up on her elbow, she bent forward, her lips but a fraction of an inch from Davy's ear. "Shh, it's all right. You're safe. I'm right here. Go to sleep, sweet boy." She kissed his cheek again, cradled him
a bit closer, and began to sing softly until she felt his body ease as sleep claimed him once again. It took far longer for her to release the worries of the day and allow herself to slip into the sandman's embrace.
Chapter Three
"Everything go all right?"
Matthew dismounted, stretching to work out the kinks of the day before answering Roger's question. "Yep, the fence is all repaired. We can begin moving the cattle any time."
Roger's chuckle had Matthew turning to him. "What's so funny? Didn't think I could finish without your help?"
"Not at all," Roger said, his grin wide. "Just glad to hear you were working and not off playing cards."
"Cards? Why in the hell would you think that?"
"Oh, no particular reason," Roger said, but his chuckle belied his nonchalance. Gesturing, he got himself under control. "Though I admit you're a pretty darn good poker player, I was wondering if your luck had changed, which would explain you losing your shirt."
Matthew had actually forgotten he wasn't wearing a shirt. Shaking his head, he unbuckled the throatlatch and then the nose band, lifting the reins over the horse's head, removing the bridle, pausing to allow Ranger to drop the bit from between his teeth. Giving his cheek a pat, he grinned as Ranger rotated his jaw as if making sure he was free of the metal.
"So?" Roger asked.
"So?" Matthew repeated, knowing it would annoy his best friend. Moving to Ranger's side, he lifted the saddle flap to unbuckle the girth. Lifting the saddle free, he moved to place it over the saw horse in the barn's aisle.
