A thicket of hair fell over Lou’s brow as James bounced across the uneven terrain.
“He didn’t ask for a little girl,” Mary retorted. She did not care for the accusing look on Lou’s face, as though she had done something wrong or immoral. “This man is dangerous, and I don’t believe he has any right to Josie.”
Lou sighed and ran his palms down his face. “James, you heading to Horn’s to pick up Josie?”
“Fixin’ to veer off now.”
“Good. If we haven’t heard from the authorities about Josie’s family in a week’s time, we’ll take her to Portland ourselves. I have unfinished business there. The ranch isn’t safe for Josie. That man was there once and now he’s been sighted in Burns—”
“It’s too soon.” The protest rolled off her tongue before she could stop it. “You’ll reopen your wound.”
Lou grunted. “I’ll be fine. Someone must be looking for her. James wired the bureau for me days ago, and they think they’ve found Josie’s mom. If not, we’ll track down another relative.”
They knew? Even the police hadn’t been in touch with her. She slumped down. It was for the best. It had to be.
Movement on the floor startled a gasp out of her.
The blankets reshuffled and out of their haphazard mound popped a blond head. Josie scowled up at Lou. “I’m not going back and you can’t make me.”
Chapter Seven
Why did the man have to be so stubborn?
Mary’s legs itched to pace, but she squelched the urge and forced herself to sit quietly as Lou moved across his living room floor. Only days after Lou had picked her up from the sheriff’s and announced that Josie was going home, he insisted he was well enough to travel into Portland.
Truthfully, he’d made it down the stairs on his own, but that did not mean he was fit for travel. She eyed the way he shuffled across the floor, noting the pallid tone of his handsome face because he insisted on venting his frustration by moving about. No, he needed more time to recover.
More important, Josie did not wish to live with her family. Specifically her uncle, who she’d confessed to being the stranger who’d visited. The little girl’s alarm fueled Mary’s own dismay. Surely a man wanted for the kind of assault he’d dished out on the man in the alley should not have the care of a child. Not to mention the way he’d ogled Mary....
“Did you hear me?” Lou stopped in front of her, a frown on his full lips.
She lifted her gaze to his. “I did not hear.”
His hands sliced through the air in an impatient gesture. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving tomorrow morning. If you don’t pack, you’re not coming. I’ve received information that reports Josie’s mom has returned to Portland.”
“It is a large city,” she said slowly. “Do you suggest we knock on each door?”
Lou grinned, the movement lighting his face and tugging at her heart. Here was the smile she’d missed, the crinkle around his eyes and curve in his cheek. “That, my dear, is taken care of. We’ve an address, and I already sent a telegram requesting a meeting with the mother.”
She picked at her skirt, unable to bear looking at the triumph splayed across his features. This would be the end, then.
“Mary, aren’t you happy?” He dropped down in front of her. She saw the wince that flashed across his face before he masked it. Eyes alight, he peered at her. “She needs her home. Her mother. This place is no good for a child. I’m going to make sure she and her mother are protected.”
He was right, of course. Allowing Josie to stay only fulfilled her desires. A lonely desert with scattered neighbors could not possibly meet a child’s need for companionship. She stared down at her hands, which she’d clasped in her lap.
Lou sighed. “I wish you’d talk to me. Communicate.”
“I have nothing to say.”
“Say we’re doing the right thing here. That you want to give a mother back her daughter.”
Her head shot up as a bolt of anger darted through her. Her nerve endings tingled with the prickly feeling. “If this mother wants her daughter, why has she not been scouring the countryside for her? Posting pictures and letters? I have seen little evidence that Josie is wanted.”
A gasp came from the front door, followed by pattering feet as the little girl raced away. Mary cringed.
“She needs to stop eavesdropping,” Lou said in a grim voice. He rose very slowly, and Mary could tell he’d fatigued himself.
She wanted to run after Josie but didn’t know what she’d say. The truth was, no one but that dreadful man had looked for the little girl. And Mary wanted her to stay. To be family.
Lou was still looking at her, seriousness shadowing his expression. Why did he want Josie gone so bad? Why did he shy away from the little girl and even seem afraid of her at times?
“And if I do not wish to travel with you?” she asked, watching him carefully. “You will be forced to care for Josie yourself. To see to her needs. To be her sole caretaker.”
“If you don’t pack, then you won’t go. That’s all there is to it.” He stood, turning away so she could no longer see his face.
Empathy battled with frustration. She could go with him now, but that would leave Josie in a bad place. The thought of leaving the little girl hurt too much to dwell on. If she refused to go, what could he do to her? Not much, she surmised.
Mind made up, she stood, straightening her skirt with the movement. He shuffled around, shoulders straight despite the obvious pain striking his features.
She leveled her gaze on him, refusing to let him see how horrible she felt that he was in such distress. “I will not go until you can move without pain.”
“That so?” he said quietly. Challenge filled the blueness of his eyes and an unwelcome ping of excitement zipped through her. These weeks together were revealing a side to her nature she hadn’t suspected existed. A side that seemed to enjoy his challenges, to revel in tension.
The thought was discomfiting, at best. She returned his stare, even though her stomach roiled and her palms slicked.
After a tense minute of silence, she spoke, her voice clear and even, much to her relief. “I must find Josie. She should not have heard our conversation.” It hurt to think her words had caused Josie pain. She, who tried so hard to be quiet and speak wisely, had been undone by her unreasonable, blasé employer.
“I’m coming with.”
She swished forward. “You can hardly walk. Lie down and recover if you wish to return Josie.”
“That girl’s leaving tomorrow.” As Mary passed, Lou reached out and gripped her arm. His touch imprinted her skin with heat.
“Why do you care so much? She’s just a little girl.” Slowly, she removed her arm, amazed she felt no fear at his handling but rather wary at what she did feel: a nervous tension that had nothing to do with fear.
“This place isn’t safe for her.” He gave her his profile.
“So you’ve said, but why? It is unlikely that man would think she’s here.” She studied the stubborn line of his nose, the shape of his square, unyielding jaw. Somewhere a little girl cried for a home she’d lost, and here she stood, interrogating a man who didn’t seem to care.
Annoyed at herself, she let out a huff. “Never mind. It’s obvious I’m not the only one who has trouble communicating.”
Aiming that last comment at the doorway, she stalked out of the sitting room and then hurried down the hallway. James was rocking