Читать книгу McKettricks of Texas: Austin - Linda Miller Lael - Страница 13
ОглавлениеIT WAS THE sight of a horse trailer that brought Austin out of the house, Shep and Harry, the three-legged beagle, Calvin’s dog, scuttling to keep pace.
Garrett and Tate gave him passing nods but didn’t speak. They were intent on unloading the new arrival.
Austin, curious, unable to resist making the acquaintance of yet another four-legged hay burner, hung around, watching. Garrett opened the trailer and pulled down the ramp.
The small horse lay in the narrow bed of the trailer, delicate legs turned under, barely strong enough, it seemed to Austin, to hold up its head. A black-and-white paint, under all the scruff and dried mud and thistle burrs, the poor critter had been hard done by, that was clear. Its ribs jutted out from its side, each one as clearly differentiated from the next as the rungs on a ladder.
Austin spat out a swear word and started forward just as Libby and Paige drove up in two different vehicles—Libby was driving a jazzy red ’Vette, while Paige was in her dull subcompact.
As if by tacit agreement, Tate and Garrett stepped back out of the way so Austin could climb into the trailer. Squatting beside the animal, he ran a slow hand along the length of her neck. The hide felt gritty against Austin’s palm, and damp with sweat.
“Meet Molly,” Tate said, his voice gruff. Briefly, he sketched in the outlines of the call Libby had gotten from her friends at the animal shelter in town, told how he and Garrett had gone straight to the sparse pasture where the mare had apparently been abandoned—they weren’t sure how long ago.
Never taking his eyes off Molly, Austin listened to the account, swore again, once he’d heard it all and processed it. The mare’s halter was so old and so tight that it was partially embedded in the hide on one side of her head—evidently, somebody had put it on her and then just left it. Her slatted sides heaved with the effort to breathe, and the look of sorrowing hope in her eyes as she gazed at Austin sent his heart into a slow, backward roll.
“You’re going to be all right now, Molly,” he promised the mare.
She nickered, the sound barely audible, then nuzzled him in the shoulder.
The backs of Austin’s eyes stung. He stood and got out of the way, feeling worse than useless, so Garrett and Tate could get the mare to her feet, a process that involved considerable kindly cajoling and some lifting, too. Molly stumbled a few times crossing the barnyard, and they had to stop twice so she could rest, but finally she made it into her new stall.
Some of the other horses whinnied in greeting, watching with interest as the mare took her place among them.
Molly had spent her strength, and she immediately folded into the thick bed of wood shavings covering the stall floor.
“Farley’s on his way,” Garrett said, standing behind Austin in the breezeway, laying a hand on his shoulder.
Farley Pomeroy was the local large-animal vet; he’d been taking care of McKettrick livestock for some forty-odd years. When their dad, Jim, was ten or twelve, he’d fallen off the hay truck one summer day and splintered the bone in his right forearm so badly that he required surgery. It had been Doc Pomeroy, who happened to be on the ranch at the time, ministering to a sick calf, who treated Jim for shock and rigged up a splint and a sling for the fifty-mile trip to the hospital.
Austin nodded to let Garrett know he’d heard. If ever a horse had needed Farley’s expert attention, it was this one.
Tate came out of Molly’s stall, took off his hat.
Austin realized then that Libby and Paige were standing nearby.
“You’ll wait for Farley?” Tate asked, meeting Austin’s gaze.
Once again, Austin nodded. “I’ll wait.”
He was aware of it when Tate and Garrett and Libby left the barn, aware too, even without looking, that Paige had stayed behind.
Austin opened the stall door and stepped through it, dropping to one knee beside the little mare.
He didn’t ask her to do it, but Paige found a bucket, filled it from a nearby faucet, and brought it into the stall. Set it down within Molly’s reach. Austin murmured a thanks without looking back at Paige and steadied the bucket with both hands, so the animal could drink.
“Slow, now,” he told Molly. “Real slow.”
When she’d emptied the bucket, Paige took it and went back for more water.
Molly drank thirstily, then rolled onto her side, thrusting her legs out from under her and making both Austin and Paige move quickly to get out of the way.
Shep peered into the stall from the breezeway, Harry at his side.
The dogs made such a picture standing there that Austin gave a ragged chuckle and shook his head. Molly didn’t seem frightened of them, but he stroked her neck just to reassure her, told her she was among friends now, and there was no need to worry.
“Shall I take them into the house?” Paige asked.
“Might be better if they weren’t underfoot when Doc gets here,” Austin answered, not looking at her. “Thanks.”
She left the stall and then the barn, and while Harry was cooperative, it took some doing to get Shep to go along with the plan. He wanted to stick around and help out with the horse-tending, it seemed.
Insisting to himself that it didn’t matter one way or the other, Austin wondered if Paige would come back out to wait with him or stay inside the house.
She returned within five minutes, handed him an icy bottle of water.
He thanked her again, unscrewed the top and drank deeply. His back didn’t hurt, but he knew he’d be asking for it if he continued to crouch, so he stood, stretched his legs, finished off the water.
Paige looked almost like a ranch wife, standing there in that horse stall, her arms folded and her face worried. Maybe it was the jeans.
“How can things like this happen?” she muttered, staring at poor Molly.
Austin knew Paige didn’t expect an answer; she was thinking out loud, that was all. He wanted to put an arm around her shoulders right about then and just hold her against his side for a little while, but he wrote it off as a bad idea and kept his distance—insofar as that was possible in an eight-by-eight-foot stall.
A silence fell between the two of them, but it was a comfortable one. Austin moved out into the breezeway, and he and Paige stood side by side in front of the half door of the stall, both of them focused on the mare.
Soon, Doc Pomeroy’s old rig rattled up outside, backfired, then did some clanking and clattering as the engine shut down.
Austin and Paige exchanged glances, not quite smiles but almost, and turned to watch as the old man trundled into the barn, carrying his battered bag in one gnarled hand. Probably pushing eighty, Doc still had powerful shoulders, a fine head of white hair and the stamina of a much younger man.
“Come on in here, Clifton,” he said, half turning to address the figure hesitating in the wide, sunlit doorway. “I might need a hand.”
Clifton Pomeroy, Doc’s only son, hadn’t shown his face in or around Blue River in a long time. Not since Jim and Sally McKettrick’s funeral, in fact.
As kids, Cliff and Jim McKettrick had been the best of friends. Later on, they’d been business partners. When Jim had shut down the oil wells on the Silver Spur, though, Cliff had objected strenuously, since he’d been making a lot of money brokering McKettrick crude to various small independents. The association—and the friendship—had ended soon after that.
Austin’s dad had never said what happened—giving reasons for things he regarded as his own business had not been Jim McKettrick’s way. On the rare occasions when Cliff Pomeroy’s name had come up, Jim had always clamped his jaw and either left the room or changed the subject.
Now, finding himself back on a ranch he’d left on bad terms, Cliff hung back for a few moments, sizing things up. Then, in that vaguely slick way he had, he strolled easily into the barn, approaching Austin with one hand extended in greeting. His smile was broad and a little too bright, reminiscent of Garrett’s late boss, Senator Morgan Cox.
Because there was no way to avoid doing so without hurting Doc’s feelings, Austin shook hands with Cliff and said hello.
By then, Doc was in the stall with Molly and Garrett. Tate and Libby were entering the barn.
Everybody clustered in front of the stall door.
Doc, crouching next to the mare, looked up and frowned. “What is this?” he demanded. “Some kind of convention?”
Doc had always been a cranky old coot, but he knew his business.
Cliff chuckled nervously, took off his baseball cap and ran a hand through his thinning brown hair. “You want a hand or not, Dad?” he asked, his tone falsely cheerful.
Austin recalled his mom saying that Clifton Pomeroy must have taken after his mother’s people, since he looked nothing like his father.
Doc opened his bag and rooted around inside with one of his pawlike hands. Brought out a round tin and a packet of gauze. Catching Austin’s eye, he said, “You’ll do. The rest of you had better occupy yourselves elsewhere and give this poor horse room to breathe.”
They all stepped away from the door, so Austin could go through.
Garrett struck up a conversation with Cliff, and the whole bunch receded, including Libby and Paige.
By then, Doc had filled one large syringe, set it carefully aside and filled another, and his expression was so grim that Austin was momentarily alarmed.
“What is that stuff?” he rasped, kneeling next to the veterinarian, near Molly’s head.
Doc’s mouth twitched, but he probably hadn’t smiled, or even grinned, in decades, and he didn’t break his record now. “Antibiotics, a mild sedative and a painkiller.”
Austin nodded, scratching lightly behind Molly’s ears and speaking to her in a soothing tone while Doc administered the shots, one right after the other.
The mare flinched, but that must have been all the resistance she had in her, because she lapsed into a noisy sleep right away.
Doc used some hand sanitizer from a bottle in his bag and began pulling away the half-rotted remains of Molly’s halter. Now and then, some hair and hide came away with it, and there were places where scabs had grown right over the strips of nylon.
Austin felt sick to his stomach.
“There are sterile wipes in my bag,” Doc told him quietly in a tone that indicated both understanding and stern competence. “Disinfect your hands, boy, then start cleaning the wounds as I uncover them. We’ll apply some ointment after that, and hope to God an infection doesn’t set in.”
Austin did as he was told, working quickly.
Maybe forty-five minutes had gone by when they’d finished. Molly came to right away, shook off the sedative and even scrambled to her feet.
Doc finished cleaning her up and dabbed on more ointment.
“She’s a good strong girl, then,” the old man proclaimed, patting Molly’s flank. “What she needs now is some supper and some rest and a whole lot of TLC.”
Austin fetched an armload of grass hay and dropped it into Molly’s feeder, then made sure the automatic waterer in her stall was working. Doc tarried long enough to watch her eat for a few moments, then picked up his bag and left the stall.
Austin shut and latched Molly’s door.
The other horses snorted and nickered, calling for room service.
“Thanks,” Austin told Doc.
Doc merely nodded. He wasn’t much for idle conversation.
While Austin fed the rest of the critters, Doc washed up at the sink in the tack room. Austin finished the chow chores pretty fast and washed up, too.
For some reason, Doc lingered in the tack room, rolling down the sleeves of his shirt, carefully buttoning the cuffs.
He and Austin left the barn at the same time, while Tate and Garrett came out of the main house by way of the kitchen door. Clifton was with them.
Austin looked for Paige, but there was no sign of her.
Probably for the best, he thought.
But he wasn’t quite convinced.
Libby hooked her arm through his and smiled up at him. “Paige went to town to fetch Calvin,” she said.
Austin chuckled, shook his head. He liked Libby, liked Julie, too—they were the sisters he’d never had. Paige was harder to categorize.
“Did I ask where Paige got to?” he challenged, grinning a little.
Libby just made a face at him, then walked over to speak to Tate.
Doc and Clifton said their goodbyes, got into Doc’s old truck and drove off at a good clip, stirring up a dry swirl of dust behind them. Libby stood on tiptoe to kiss Tate’s cheek, then she got into the red Corvette and made for the main road.
That left Tate, Garrett and Austin standing in a loose circle in front of the barn, strangely quiet now that the crowd had thinned out a little.
Tate rubbed the back of his neck, looked as though he might be nursing a tension headache.
“How long’s it been since Clifton Pomeroy paid his ole daddy a visit?” Garrett mused, his gaze following the departing rigs.
“Long time,” Tate remarked. He seemed distracted.
Austin wondered if his oldest brother had more on his mind than the sick horse he and Garrett had rescued at Libby’s request.
Just two months before, they’d had some trouble with rustlers, and one of the thieves turned out to be Charlie Bates, a longtime employee on the Silver Spur. Charlie and a few other crooks were in jail now, unable to make bail, but nobody figured the bad guys were all in custody. Charlie didn’t have the mental capacity to run an operation that big and complicated, but he wasn’t naming any names and neither were any of his partners in crime.
“How are things in the cattle business?” Austin asked, keeping his tone light.
Tate frowned, and his jawline hardened. Evidently, he’d used up his daily allotment of good cheer saving the horse. “As if you gave a damn,” he retorted, peevish as hell, just before he turned to walk away, vanishing into the barn.
Austin watched him go, didn’t look at Garrett when he spoke. “What’s chewing on him?”
“We’re still losing livestock,” Garrett replied after a long time and with significant reluctance.
Austin faced Garrett straight on. “Stolen?” Before Charlie and his gang had been rounded up, they’d raided the McKettrick herd a number of times, carted off a lot of living beef in semitrucks. Another half-dozen cattle had been gunned down and left to rot.
“About a hundred head, as far as we can tell,” Garrett replied. “A few more were shot, too.”
Austin swore. “You and Tate were planning on mentioning this to me—when...?”
Garrett sighed, folded his arms. Scuffed at the ground with the toe of one boot. “We figured you had enough to worry about, what with your back being messed up and everything.”
“I get a little sore once in a while,” Austin bit out, stung to a cold, hard fury, “but I’m not a cripple, Garrett. And what happens on this ranch is as much my concern as it is yours and Tate’s—whatever you think to the contrary.”
Tate came out of the barn again. Because of the angle of his hat brim, his face was in shadow, and there was no reading his mood, but Austin figured it was still bad.
As if you gave a damn, Tate had said.
Where the hell had that come from?
Garrett thrust out a sigh. “Tate’s pretty worried,” he said, keeping his voice down. “And I can’t say I blame him. Rustling is one thing, and killing cattle for the hell of it is another. It’s hard not to conclude that somebody out there has worked up a pretty good grudge against us, for whatever reason, and we figure it’s bound to escalate.”
Tate waved but headed for his truck instead of joining the conversation between Austin and Garrett.
At the moment, that was fine with Austin, because he was pissed off at being left out of the loop. Okay, so he had a herniated disc. He couldn’t ride bulls anymore, and for the time being, he wouldn’t be doing any heavy-duty ranch work, either. But one-third of the Silver Spur was his, and he had a right to know what went on within its boundaries, whether it was good or bad.
He watched as Tate got into the truck and drove off.
Garrett started toward the house and, after a moment’s hesitation, Austin fell into step beside him, but there was no more talk.
Once they were inside, Garrett headed for his part of the house, and Austin went to his, glad to find Shep there waiting for him. It made him feel a little less lonely.
A little, not a lot.
He fed the dog, then made for the bathroom, kicking off his boots and stripping down for a hot shower.
The spray eased some of the residual knots in his back, and he felt damn near human by the time he toweled off and pulled on fresh clothes. He ran a comb through his hair, put his boots back on and then went downstairs.
Shep, having finished his nightly kibble ration, went along, too, curious and companionable.
Austin searched the large storage room adjoining the garage until he found the camping gear. He took a rolled-up sleeping bag out of a cabinet—it smelled a little musty—and returned to the kitchen.
There he ate two frankfurters straight from the package, drank what was left of the milk and called it supper. If he got hungry later, he could always raid the kitchen again. Before going off to El Paso to take care of her niece and the new baby, Esperanza had cooked up and frozen enough grub to last for weeks.
He was in no danger of starvation.
* * *
THE TEENAGE ACTORS were on a break, and Paige sat with Julie and Calvin in the front row of the small auditorium, the three of them sharing a submarine sandwich from the supermarket deli.
Paige wanted to tell her sister all about the little mare, Molly, and how gentle Austin had been with the animal, but with Calvin right there and some of the drama club kids within earshot, that didn’t seem like a good idea.
“Did you decide whether or not you’ll take the job?” Julie asked, finishing her part of the sandwich, crumpling the wrapper and stuffing it into the bag.
“What job?” Paige asked, momentarily confused.
Of course, the moment the words left her mouth, she remembered Garrett’s offer, made that morning in the ranch-house kitchen. Basically, he and Tate wanted her to play nursemaid to Austin.
“You knew Garrett and Tate were planning to ask me to serve as Austin’s nurse?” Paige wondered aloud.
Of course she had, and Libby, too. Most likely, her sisters had set her up, hoping she would fall for Austin the way they had for his brothers and make the wedding a triple.
Even after a long day of teaching, Julie’s smile was brilliant. She seemed to have boundless energy, and it took a lot to catch her off guard.
“Sure I did,” she replied, unfazed. “Garrett and I talked about it last night.”
Paige sighed. “I see.”
Julie elbowed her lightly. “Answer my question,” she said.
“Right now, I’m inclined to refuse,” Paige replied, taking the sandwich bag from Julie and dropping in what remained of her supper and a couple of wadded paper napkins. “Austin didn’t exactly take kindly to the idea.”
“That’s just his pride,” Julie said with a dismissive wave of one hand. “This is serious, Paige. If Austin isn’t careful, he’ll have to have surgery, and that’s always a risk.”
Paige widened her eyes at Julie. “Yes,” she said pointedly, “as an RN, I’m familiar with the risks.”
Julie smiled angelically. Since she’d fallen in love with Garrett McKettrick and the two of them had decided to get married, she seemed to float through life, unconcerned with the moods of ordinary mortals like her younger sister. “It’s not as if you’re terribly busy or anything,” she reasoned cheerfully. “You probably won’t have to do anything more strenuous than make sure Austin doesn’t sneak off to enter some rodeo. How bad could it be?”
In her mind’s eye, Paige saw Austin tending the ailing mare, recalled the way he’d touched the animal, the gentle, rumbling tone of his voice. And she felt new emotions, things that had little or nothing to do with the girl she’d been so long ago, and the boy that girl had loved.
She was a woman now.
Austin was most definitely a man.
And watching him that afternoon, sitting on his haunches in that stall, next to Molly, Paige had come to the startling realization that this was a whole new ball game.
“Paige?” Julie prompted in a happy whisper. “Since you seem to have something—or someone—else on your mind, I’ll repeat my question. How bad could it be, taking care of a hunk like Austin McKettrick?”
It could be really, really bad, Paige figured, but again, this wasn’t the time or place to talk about such things.
Paige shook her head, but she was smiling. “I think Calvin and I ought to get back to the ranch. Harry will be wanting his kibble, for one thing.”
“Garrett will feed Harry,” Julie said. But she stood up, and Calvin stood, too, and Julie slipped an arm around her little boy. Bending, she kissed the top of his head and then ruffled his hair. “I won’t be late,” she told the child, her voice tender. “Mind your Aunt Paige and wash all over when you take your bath and don’t ask for more than one bedtime story, okay?”
Calvin looked up at his mother, blinking behind the lenses of his glasses. “Okay,” he said in a tone of mock resignation. Turning to Paige, he added solemnly, “I won’t need any help with my bath, because I’m five now, and I can pretty much read any book on my own, too, but I still like the sound of your voice when I’m falling asleep. It’s almost as good as when Mom reads to me.”
Paige laughed. “Well,” she said, “I guess that’s settled.”
Julie gave Calvin another hug and then started the rehearsal again.
“I’ll be glad when Mom is married to Garrett and making a baby,” Calvin confided as he and Paige left the auditorium, hand in hand, walking toward her car. “The play will be over then, and she’ll be at home every night, like most moms.”
Paige bit her lower lip and helped her nephew into his car seat, checking to make sure that he was properly buckled up. She was behind the wheel with the headlights on and the motor going before she responded to his remark, and then she took pains to speak casually. “The musical is this month,” she said. “And there are only a few performances, aren’t there?”
Turning her head, she saw Calvin nod in confirmation. “Two Friday night shows and two Saturday night shows and then she’s all done.” He paused. “And there’s the class trip to Six Flags, too. You’re going, aren’t you?”
Paige suppressed a sigh. She’d forgotten about the kindergarten field trip to the famed amusement park, scheduled for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Hadn’t even discussed it with Julie yet, and of course that had to happen before she could make any promises.
“Your mom and I will talk about it,” she said.
“When?” Calvin asked, sounding a little plaintive. The poor kid was tired, she reasoned, and with Julie so busy helping the drama club rehearse their play, he missed his mother.
“Tomorrow,” Paige answered, pulling carefully out onto the main road, pointing the car in the direction of the Silver Spur.
“Promise?” Calvin persisted.
“Promise,” Paige said with a little smile.
After that, Calvin lightened up, having conveyed his dissatisfaction with the long hours Julie had been putting in lately, and told her all about his day. One of the other kids in his class had eaten a bug and thrown up, and his teacher had a headache after that and had to rest in the teacher’s lounge while the librarian’s assistant took over the art program. He asked, as he often did, how long it would be, in “actual days,” until he could start first grade and “learn stuff.”
“You are learning things, Calvin,” Paige pointed out, keeping her eyes on the road.
“How to weave pot holders with those stupid little loops,” Calvin said.
Paige laughed. “I think those pot holders are lovely,” she told him. “I use mine all the time. Your mom and your Aunt Libby love them, too.”
Calvin would not be mollified. “We make hand-prints with finger paints,” he went on scornfully. “I don’t see how any of this stuff is going to prepare me for life.”
“Calvin,” Paige reminded her nephew, “you’re only five. Believe me, you have plenty of time to ‘prepare for life.’” She paused. “What exactly is it that you want to learn right now, immediately, anyhow?”
“How to ride a horse,” Calvin said.
Paige smiled again. “You ride with Garrett all the time,” she said. “What else?”
“Higher mathematics,” Calvin replied. “World history.”
“I think it’s mostly simple arithmetic and the alphabet in first grade,” she ventured, flipping the signal lever and starting the turn onto the Silver Spur Ranch.
“Well, that’s just ridiculous,” he said. “I can already read and write and everything.”
“Maybe you should just go straight from kindergarten to college, then,” Paige teased, noticing that the lights were on in the barn and wondering how Molly was doing.
“I could skip a couple of grades,” Calvin replied seriously, “but Mom and Garrett and my dad all said no. They say I have to put in my time as a kid, like everybody else.”
“There you have it,” Paige said. Calvin’s birth father, Gordon Pruett, had contacted Julie a couple of months before and informed her that he wanted to get to know his son. Things were moving slowly on that front. “So many people can’t be wrong.”
She felt the change in Calvin before he spoke. “What’s going on in the barn?” he asked. “All the chores should be finished by now.”
“Let’s find out,” Paige said, stopping the car in the square spill of light at the entrance to the long, rambling structure housing the McKettrick horses, including the golden ponies Austin had given Audrey and Ava for their sixth birthday, back in June.
Calvin had unbuckled himself and pushed open the door before Paige could pull her keys from the ignition and reach for her purse.
She had planned to give him a modified rundown on Molly’s situation, but she didn’t get the chance. Calvin sprinted into the barn.
Paige sighed and followed.
Austin was standing in front of Molly’s stall door, looking deliciously rumpled. A cot stood in the center of the breezeway, with a sleeping bag spread over it and Shep curled up underneath.
“You’re going to sleep out here?” Calvin demanded of Austin, sounding delighted. “You’re going to camp out in the barn?”
Austin slanted a glance at Paige, greeted her with a nod so slight it might not have happened at all.
“That’s the plan,” he told the boy, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
Still impressed, Calvin climbed up the rails in the stall door to peer over the top. Austin looked ready to grab him if he slipped.
“This is Molly,” he explained. “Molly, this is my good friend, Calvin.”
Paige wondered why his voice made her heart flutter, weak as the first motion of a hatchling’s wing.
“Hey, Molly,” Calvin cried exuberantly.
By that time, Paige was standing close enough to hook an arm around Calvin’s middle and hold him up so he could see the black-and-white mare without clinging precariously to the stall door.
Her arm touched Austin’s, and she took a half step to the side.
Molly had been groomed since Paige had seen her last, and she was on her feet, too. There were raw strips on the animal’s head, where the nylon halter straps had been, glistening with ointment.
“Can Molly be my horse?” Calvin asked, squirming so that Paige had to set him down. “I could feed her and ride her and put medicine on her cuts—”
“Calvin,” Paige interceded softly, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
He was so excited, he was practically vibrating.
“Could I pet her?” he implored, tilting his head back to gaze up at Paige’s face, then Austin’s. “Please?”
Paige felt a jolt worthy of a stun gun when her gaze connected with Austin’s. Again she had that odd sense that he was a stranger, that he’d never been the Austin she’d loved so much when they were both teenagers.
“If it’s okay with your aunt,” Austin drawled, looking at her instead of Calvin, “then sure.”
Paige hesitated, then nodded her permission.
Austin unlatched the stall door and stepped slowly inside, holding Calvin by the hand.
“I can’t reach,” Calvin said.
Paige took a step toward the boy, intending to lift him up again, but Austin beat her to it. He paled slightly, beneath the bristle of his beard, holding Calvin in the curve of one arm.
“Austin,” Paige said, reaching out to take the child from him.
He hesitated before he let Calvin go.
Calvin, for his part, was too busy petting Molly’s nose to care who was holding him. He hooked an arm around Paige’s neck, though, and she felt a rush of such love for her sister’s child that it made her light-headed.
After a few more moments, she carried Calvin out of Molly’s stall and set him back on his feet. She was aware of Austin moving behind her, shutting and latching the door.
“Can I sleep out here in the barn, with Austin and Shep?” Calvin asked, his upturned face earnest with hope.
“Not tonight,” Paige told him gently.
Conveniently, Shep wriggled out from under the cot, wagging his tail, and Calvin, distracted from the camping prospect, squatted to ruffle the dog’s ears.
Looking up at Austin through her eyelashes, Paige was both gratified and shaken to find him watching her.
His color was coming back, but she couldn’t help wondering if he’d hurt himself, lifting Calvin up to pet Molly the way he had.
The grin came suddenly, nearly setting Paige back on her heels, dazzled.
“You know,” he drawled, leaning in close and keeping his voice low, “I’m starting to think I might need a nurse after all.”
