such shenanigans. Not wanting him to question her recovery, she said, “I’m too old to chase toads.”
“Too old?” He shook his head. “Chasing toads is like going fishing. And no one’s ever too old to go fishing.”
“Are we going fishing?” Billy asked, running up the steps. “When? Now?”
“No,” Clara replied. They hadn’t gone fishing since Uncle Walter had died and Hugh had sold the horse and wagon. The river was too far away to walk. “You two worked so hard to catch those toads, why did you let them go?”
The look Billy and Tom shared was identical. It was as if they couldn’t believe she’d just asked that.
“Keeping them isn’t any fun,” Tom said. “It’s the catching them that’s fun.”
“Yeah,” Billy said while nodding in agreement. “And I’m gonna go see if I can find some more.”
She was about to tell him to put the pail in the house first when Tom held out a hand.
“I’ll take that inside for you,” he said.
“Thanks!” Billy handed over the pail and was gone in a flash.
Tom set the pail down beside his chair and pushed a foot against the floor to set the rockers in motion. She rocked in her chair, too, as her mind wouldn’t let go of what he’d said.
“Is that how it is with most things? Fun to catch but not fun to keep?”
He shrugged. “I suspect that depends on what you catch.”
“I suspect,” she said, not certain why a statement so simple troubled her mind.
“Take fish, for instance. Keeping them isn’t as fun as catching them, but some are mighty tasty.”
She nodded. “That’s true.”
“Whereas toads, well, no one wants to eat toads.” He turned her way and gave an exaggerated look of shock. “You don’t, do you?”
She tried, but couldn’t suppress a giggle. “No.”
“Well, that’s good,” he said, turning back to watch Billy run around while keeping his chair rocking slow and steady.
She wondered if he liked chasing outlaws, for that was what he did. It was dangerous and hard, but he must like doing it or he wouldn’t do it. He hadn’t told her that, just as he hadn’t told her he was a lawman, but she knew. Was certain of it. He was the good in the good against bad. The lessons he’d already taught Billy proved it. The most intriguing part was that Billy hadn’t even known he was being taught a lesson, yet the things Tom had shown him would stay with him forever.
They sat in silence, listening to nothing but the wind rustling the leaves of the cottonwood tree at the side of the house, a few evening birds and the echoing thuds of Billy’s footsteps as he ran about, searching the ground for toads.
Maybe Tom was listening to a few more things than that. She certainly was. Her inner thoughts were screaming inside her head. Proclaiming things that could never be and denying things that were certain.
Those certainties won out. The barn door was fixed, as were the corral and the porch roof; there was enough wood piled up to make it until this time next year; and he’d brought home a smoked pig. Withholding a heavy sigh that threatened to collapse her chest, Clara rose to her feet and took a step in order to press a hand against one of the rough-hewn beams holding the porch roof overhead. “You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?”
She felt more than heard him rise and step up behind her, and when she turned around, she was unable to look away. His eyes were so dark brown, and so, so full of sincerity. If only...
“That depends on you, Clara.”
Her heart stalled in her chest and she leaned heavier against the post. “On me?”
“You know why I’m here.”
She did, so it shouldn’t be so hard to admit. But it was. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, “I don’t know anything. Don’t know where he is or what he did.” When his lips parted, she shook her head. “And I don’t want to know.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Not knowing—”
Reaching out, she laid a hand on his forearm. “I know not knowing doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t even mean it didn’t happen. But...” She withdrew her hand because she had to pat her chest in order to keep from crying as she forced the words out. “If I don’t know the particulars, someday, when Billy asks why I didn’t tell him, I can honestly say it’s because I didn’t know.” She drew in a breath. “That may sound paltry to you, but it’s not to me. There is very little I can give my son, except love and protection.”
He grasped her elbow. His hold firm, solid, while being kind. Just like him. Which made tears threaten to erupt.
“I can help you with that, Clara. I can take you away from here.”
Another if-only. “To where? There’s nowhere I can go.”
“Yes, there is. There are places you can go. People who will help—”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “I tried that once, Tom, shortly before Walter died.” Removing her fingers to press them against her lips, she swallowed before she was able to continue. “We made it all the way to Denver. Billy and I. I thought it was a big enough town, that we could get lost in the crowd, or move on when...” There were certain things she refused to remember.
“I won’t let anything happen to you or Billy.”
He was sincere and it was easy to believe he thought that, but she knew different. Didn’t want to, but did. “And I don’t want anything to happen to you. But it will.” Touching one of the tiny pinholes on his vest, she said, “Just like lawmen, outlaws band together. Even those who don’t know each other. They have rules they live by, and though they don’t put out wanted posters, they let each other know who they’re looking for and why, and how much they’ll pay to get them back.”
Twisting, she watched as Billy dived to the ground and a toad hopped away, barely missing being captured. “Here we only have one outlaw to worry about. Out there, in the rest of the world, there are hundreds.”
With a gentle touch, Tom laid a hand on her cheek, forcing her to turn back to him. “I’ll find him. Arrest him.”
Her heart was wrenching so hard her entire chest burned. “Oh, Tom, if anyone can, I believe it could be you. Which is one more reason why Billy and I can’t go anywhere with you. I don’t even want Hugh to know you were here.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does to those who know how outlaws think. When someone rats on an outlaw, all the other outlaws hear about it, whether they ran together or not, and if there’s any chance that person knows anything about them, they’ll be on the lookout for that person.”
That was a simplistic way of explaining an integral lifestyle that she’d come to understand thoroughly over the years. One there was no escape from.
Tom’s gaze was thoughtful as he asked, “Do you have any idea where he’s at?”
She shook her head.
“Would you tell me if you did?”
Once again, though it pained her, she shook her head.
Frustration like he’d never known burned inside him, but Tom couldn’t determine if it was because of her commitment to Hugh Wilson, or his desire to pull her into his arms and hold her there until she realized how big he was. How strong and steadfast. How the reputation that preceded him, the one he lived