Keeping Katie (A Mother's Heart Book 1) Page 7

  Maureen watched Alan step inside the house and close the door. She was glad he hadn’t offered to let her come with him. She wasn’t the least bit interested in entering that house. Simmons obviously wasn’t particular about his living conditions—not the type of man she’d care to meet.

  Never very good at sitting still, she got out of the Jeep to stretch her legs. The rest of the yard and outbuildings were in even worse shape than the house. The yard was littered with all sorts of debris, from old broken-down vehicles and spare tires to rusted farm equipment she couldn’t name.

  It seemed a shame. So much waste in such a beautiful setting. The clearing was a good size, yet the forest surrounded them. She felt as if she were in the middle of a vast wilderness, though she knew the highway was only a few miles away. And the mountains. They sat behind the house, silent and majestic, the perfect backdrop for a not-so-perfect homestead.

  Then she saw him. A boy, maybe nine or ten, watching her from the barn door. She smiled, feeling guilty for her unkind thoughts about this place, which must be his home.

  “Hi,” she said, tentatively taking a few steps toward him.

  Instead of answering, the boy turned and disappeared into the dark interior of the barn.

  Maureen stopped. Reason told her to let him go, but instinct urged her to follow. Shrugging off her disquiet, she crossed the yard to the barn.

  As she stepped inside, a rancid odor hit her. She didn’t have much experience with animals or farms, but she knew they shouldn’t smell like this. Where was the aroma of fresh hay you always read about? Or the scent of leather tack?

  “Hello,” she called out, hoping the boy would show himself. She moved a little farther inside, fighting the urge to cover her nose and mouth with her hand.

  “I’m Maureen,” she said. “I’m new in town. What’s your name?” She knew she should turn around and walk out, back to the light and fresh air. But something drew her on, deeper into the barn toward the child she’d seen a few minutes ago. She passed rows of empty stalls. It seemed odd that the place should smell like this when it housed no animals.

  “Do you live here?” she called again, knowing he heard her, even if he didn’t respond. She walked toward a dim light at the rear of the building. When she got closer, she saw that the light came from a small open window. If nothing else, she’d get a breath of fresh air.

  Moving toward the sunshine, she found him in the last stall. But he wasn’t alone. He knelt next to a small deer lying on what was probably the only clean straw in the entire place. The animal was hurt and someone had bandaged its leg.

  “Oh my,” Maureen said, dropping down next to the boy. “Is it yours?”

  For a moment, she thought he would run again. Then he visibly braced himself. “No, ma’am.”

  Maureen bent to get a closer look at the animal, and the boy stiffened next to her. Not wanting to scare him, she pulled away, leaning back on her heels. “Have you had a vet look at him?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “I won’t hurt him,” she said. “I don’t know much about animals, but I know a little about people medicine.” She stopped, giving the boy time. “I could look at him if you like.”

  She saw the turmoil in his eyes. He was afraid. She thought of the conversation at Rita’s dinner table, and a knot of outrage tightened her stomach. This boy and his brother had been deserted by their mother. With an effort, she suppressed her anger.

  “Would you like me to take a look?” she asked again, willing him to trust her.

  He hesitated for a moment longer before nodding.

  She reached down and gently removed the makeshift bandage. As she did, the boy steadied the animal. “What’s your name?” she asked, surveying the damage done to the animal’s leg.

  “Tommy.”

  “Nice name.” She laid the bandage aside, wondering if she knew enough to help this creature. Her nursing career hadn’t done much to prepare her for doctoring a deer. “It looks like he got his leg caught in something.”

  “A trap.”

  She raised her gaze to the boy’s. “A trap?”

  “Wasn’t meant for the deer.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t. She didn’t know anything about traps, or deer for that matter. Looking back at the animal, she said, “It looks like his leg is broken.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She looked at the boy again. He probably knew more about doctoring animals than she did. “You can call me Maureen.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Smiling, she turned back to the animal. The boy certainly wasn’t short on manners. “You did a good job cleaning it, Tommy, but I think we better set that leg.” She glanced around the stall for something she could use. Before she could ask, the boy took off. When he returned, he brought several flat pieces of wood for her to choose from.

  “Great,” she said. “These will do fine. Now, I believe we should go ahead and clean his leg again while it’s uncovered. What do you think?”

  Tommy scurried away again and returned in a few minutes carrying a stack of clean rags, hot water, and an over-the-counter antibiotic.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Tommy knelt down beside her and once again steadied the animal. She did what she could, trying to think of the deer as a person, cleaning the wound and applying the antiseptic. Then, using the wood and strips of rags, she set the leg. The boy had good instincts—holding the animal steady and soothing it as needed.

  “You like animals, Tommy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’re very good with them.”

  She finished tying the last rag to secure the makeshift splint and leaned back on her heels to survey her work. “There, that’s about all I can do.” She glanced at Tommy, who still held the animal’s head, stroking it with gentle fingers. “I think he’s going to be all right. Just keep the wound clean and covered.”

  Tommy nodded his response.

  The sound of Alan’s voice surprised her, and she threw a quick glance toward the barn entrance. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  She started to stand, but the boy stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Don’t tell no one, please.”

  Maureen looked down into his pleading eyes, and something melted inside her. She hated to think what could make this boy so afraid. And why would it matter if she told someone he sheltered an injured animal? Whatever the reason, she knew she wouldn’t betray him. “Of course not,” she said. “It’s our secret.”

  Rising, she turned and hurried out of the barn, nearly colliding with Alan as she reached the door. “Where have you been?” he asked, obviously irritated.

  Shrugging, she turned toward the Jeep. “Oh, I was just exploring.”

  “Exploring?” Alan reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her retreat.

  “Yes,” she answered. She met his gaze, then turned her eyes purposely toward the hand that held her. “Exploring.”

  He released her suddenly, and she met his gaze again, unconsciously rubbing at the spot where his hand had been. Then she turned away and headed across the yard.

  She got into the Jeep and closed the door before realizing Alan hadn’t followed. Instead, he’d stopped a few feet away and stood motionless, his back to her, facing the house. Straining to see around him, she let out an involuntary gasp as a bear of a man stepped out of the house—a rifle dangling from one hand.

  CHAPTER SIX

  At Maureen’s surprised gasp, Alan stiffened. He had to get her out of here. Under normal circumstances, Simmons possessed a mean streak a mile wide. After a few beers and the unpleasant words they’d exchanged inside, he was worse than mean. He was unpredictable. Cursing himself for getting them into this situation, Alan shifted his hat to the back of his head before settling his hands on his hips. He should have seen this coming.

  “Put the gun away, Bud.”

  Simmons lifted the rifle to rest across one arm. “This here’s private property, Parks.”

 
Alan didn’t move, knowing he had only two options. He could bully Simmons into getting rid of the gun, or he could get into the Jeep and drive off. Backing down was the safest course, but it ate at him. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a slight movement by the barn.

  Damn! It was one of the boys.

  “Go on, now.” Simmons made a sweeping gesture with the hand holding the rifle. “Git.”

  The decision had been made. With Maureen behind him in the Jeep and one of the boys hiding in the barn, there was only one course of action. Without taking his eyes off the other man, Alan backed up and climbed into the Jeep.

  “Remember what I said, Bud.”

  “Ain’t no reason for you to come back here, Parks.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Alan said with a nod. “Hope you’re right.”

  Starting the engine, Alan forced himself to move at his own pace, unconcerned, deliberate. He even sat for a few seconds while the engine purred, his gaze never leaving Bud. Then he shifted into gear, backing out slowly before turning and heading for the road.

  The few seconds it took to reach the trees stretched like minutes, but he took it slow and casual. Finally, the woods closed around them, blocking his view of the ranch in the rearview mirror. Only then did he pick up speed, putting the Simmons place as far behind them as possible.

  The meeting had been a disaster. Still, Alan had thought he’d contained it—until Simmons stepped outside. He thought of Maureen and the boy, and his anger at Simmons resurfaced.

  The Jeep gained momentum as they left the dirt road behind and skidded onto pavement. For the first time since Bud had walked out of his house, Alan risked a glance at Maureen. She sat with one hand braced on the roll bar, her features set in concentration. It struck him that she hadn’t uttered a sound. He was pretty sure she was scared senseless, yet she’d kept her head. He’d discovered another layer to this multifaceted woman. The lady had guts.

  She must have sensed him looking at her. Meeting his gaze briefly, she acknowledged his concern with a nod. Then she released her death grip on the roll bar and turned away, visibly trying to relax.

  Alan cursed under his breath. How could he have been so stupid? He knew Bud Simmons’s reputation. He never should have brought Maureen here. A deputy or two would have made sense. Not a woman. And what if Katie had come with them?

  “Damn!” he said aloud, bringing his fist down hard on the steering wheel.

  He caught Maureen’s quick glance in his direction, and in a flash, he knew the reasons for his carelessness. He’d wanted to get her alone, to back her into a corner and win this little game of cat and mouse they’d been playing. He’d told himself he wanted to know who she was and what she was doing in Wyattville. That had been true. At first.

  Lately, however, he’d been more interested in the woman herself, in making her admit the chemistry between them. Hell, he’d wanted to finish what they’d started on Rita’s back porch weeks earlier. Like a sex-starved adolescent, he’d been thinking with the wrong part of his anatomy. And he was just lucky—damn lucky—that no one had gotten hurt because of it.

  “We need to go back,” she said, her voice cutting into his thoughts.

  It took a moment before he realized what she was saying. “Are you kidding?” He shot a quick glance her way and saw she was serious. “We can’t go back.”

  “Tommy’s back there.”

  “I know he is,” Alan said, another rush of guilt washing over him. He’d worried about the same thing. What about those boys? He’d stirred up their father. Would they pay the penalty? He’d been trying to help, for God’s sake, not make matters worse.

  “He’ll be all right,” Alan said aloud.

  “You don’t know that!”

  He looked at her again. She’d turned toward him, one hand braced against her seat while the other gripped the dashboard. Her eyes sparked, and she looked ready to make a grab for the steering wheel. Alan pulled the Jeep off the road and brought it to an abrupt stop.

  “Look,” he said, turning to face her. “We can’t go back. Not now. The gun was for me. A warning gesture. A way of telling me to mind my own business. If we go back, someone will get hurt.”

  “So we just leave Tommy there with that maniac?”

  “Bud’s not a maniac.” Alan pulled off his hat and tossed it on the dashboard. How could he make her understand? After all, he’d wondered the same thing. Only he had the advantage of knowing Bud Simmons and his boys. “You just don’t understand how things are around here. We aren’t in Chicago.”

  An angry flush brightened her cheeks. “Don’t give me that good-ol’-boy routine. Abuse is abuse, no matter where you’re from.”

  “Bud’s drunk and he’s angry, but he’s not going to hurt Tommy.” Alan ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling very tired. “He may be a little heavy-handed with the belt occasionally, but there’s never been any evidence of abuse.”

  “How would you know?” Her voice rose, adding a level of hysteria to her words. “They live way out here, miles from town.”

  “They go to school, Maureen. In a town this size, I and everyone else would know if Bud beat those boys.”

  She didn’t look reassured, and his patience, what was left of it, wore thin. Retrieving his hat, he placed it back on his head and tried to reassure her one more time. “I wouldn’t leave Tommy if I thought he was in jeopardy.”

  Maureen wanted to believe him. She didn’t want to think of Tommy in danger. And, in a way, what Alan said made sense. Hadn’t she discovered just how hard it was to keep secrets in a small town? Still, she wasn’t sure. She kept remembering how skittish Tommy had been. And she was an outsider. Would Alan tell her the truth if Bud really did abuse his boys?

  After a few minutes, Alan turned back around and started the Jeep. Before he could put it in gear, Maureen stopped him with a hand on his arm. When he turned a questioning face to her, she met his gaze, begging for the truth. “Are you sure, Alan?”

  He smiled softly. “I’m sure.”

  She hesitated a moment longer, thinking that when this man smiled, he could convince a woman of anything. The warmth of his eyes and the gentle slope of his mouth stirred parts of her she considered best left dormant. Pushing her wayward thoughts aside, she nodded and released his arm.

  Alan pulled back out onto the road. After a few minutes, he said, “Those boys have been dealing with their father all their lives. More than likely they do a better job of it than I just did.”

  Detecting a note of self-reproach in his voice, Maureen considered asking what had happened inside Simmons’s house. Obviously, things had not gone as planned.

  When she’d seen Bud Simmons with his rifle, she’d never been so frightened in her life. In the hospital, violence was an all-too-familiar adversary. But it was always the aftereffects she saw. For the first time in her life, she herself had faced the possibility of violence. It left her weak-kneed and sick to her stomach. She had a right to know what had happened. Didn’t she?

  Glancing at Alan, she saw his smile was gone, and something told her now wasn’t the time to ask. Despite his confident words, he was tense. His body showed the strain, from the straight, rigid lines of his jaw and the hard focus of his eyes, to the way his hands gripped the steering wheel.

  She also saw the strength in him, and a slow swell of desire curled inside her. This man drew her. And she didn’t understand it. All her life, she’d been surrounded by powerful men, and she’d always avoided them.

  First there was her father. She’d loved him so much. Yet he’d pushed and pulled at her, trying to mold her into someone she didn’t want to be. She’d fought him every step of the way and finally ended up marrying David against his will. Quiet, gentle David, who didn’t try to change her.

  Then there were the doctors. Always the doctors. Smart, aggressive men who always wanted something from her. She would have nothing to do with any of them. She always went home to David, assuring herself that he was what she
needed. Never admitting—even to herself—that she’d married a weak man.

  Looking at Alan again, she realized that here was a man whose strength matched her own. And instead of resenting him, she wanted to soothe the lines of tension from his brow and kiss away the hard lines of his mouth.

  She fought it. She didn’t want this. He would bring her nothing but pain. Turning away, she forced thoughts of him aside.

  She considered Tommy instead. Why was he hiding the deer? What must he go through on a day-to-day basis living with a man like Bud Simmons? She knew about growing up without a mother. Her own had left when she’d divorced her father. But her father, although often overbearing, had never brandished guns at visitors in the front yard. How much worse must Tommy’s life be?

  He was such a quiet boy, with good instincts and gentle hands. When she’d looked into his eyes, something inside her melted. She wanted to know more about him, about his brother, his mother, and yes, even his father.

  The night Millie and Rita had talked about the Simmons boys, she had listened with half an ear, grateful the conversation had turned away from her. And then today, when Alan told her about stopping at the Simmons ranch, she’d been curious. Now she wanted to know more, and she wanted to help. But what could she do? This wasn’t her town. And she had Katie to think about.

  Within minutes, they were back on the highway, heading for Seattle. Maureen absently watched the passing scenery. The sun was a little higher, the air a little warmer, but otherwise it was as if they had never stopped.

  As they got closer to Seattle, her thoughts shifted to what lay ahead. The night before, she had lain awake trying to determine how she was going to pull this off. For weeks, she’d wanted to go to Seattle to discover if the authorities were searching for her and Katie. She was almost there. But so was Alan Parks.

  Searching through back issues of a newspaper took time, even online. Would Alan give her that time? Plus, there was the small matter of finding the library. All she had was a street address in downtown Seattle. How was she going to get Alan to drop her off somewhere in the middle of the city, preferably close to the library, without telling him where she was going?