Cindy Holby (13 page)

“You must have gotten pregnant right away,” he said.

Leah blushed. It was such a personal observation. Nursing him was one thing, sharing the intimate secrets of her life with Nate, quite another.

He studied her face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “None of my business.” She didn’t want things to be awkward between them, she felt strange enough as it was, so she decided to plow forward. “I did,” she said and it wasn’t as personal as she thought it would be. “Nate was beside himself with joy, especially when Banks was born.”

“He wanted a son?”

“What man doesn’t?”

He gave a slight humph in agreement. “Where did the
name come from? I’ve never heard of anyone named Banks before.”

“It was my grandmother’s last name. She raised me after my parents died. They drowned. We decided to name our baby after her. Sarah if it was a girl. Banks for a boy.”

“I like it,” he said. “It’s a good name.” His eyes studied her again, the anguish she thought she’d seen earlier now hidden. “A strong name,” he added. “Not that you need my approval.”

Finally the knot on his bandage came loose and she was able to unwind the length of linen. The padding on the back pulled off easily but the front was crusted with blood. “I’ll have to soak that off.”

He studied the wound. “I guess I was pretty lucky.” He placed his hand next to it. “I think the bullet nicked a rib. I feel like I got kicked by a mule.”

“I’ll make sure to rewrap it tighter.” Leah rolled the bandage and set it aside. “You must have a guardian angel.”

“I never would have thought so before.”

Once more his response was cryptic and totally unexpected. Leah lathered up a washcloth. “Lean forward,” she instructed. He obliged by folding his arms, placing them on the table and then resting his forehead upon them. One side of his face was turned up and the set of his jaw was tense, as if he dreaded what was to come. Leah moved behind the chair. She stopped, suddenly, as she went to place the cloth on his skin. His back was crisscrossed with long and faded scars.
Oh my goodness…
She hadn’t noticed them before. She’d kept the light dim in his room and most of the time he’d been on his back. How did he come to have such scars? It looked as if he’d been beaten, but it had to have been several years ago, when he was much younger.

He shivered. Leah shook her head. It wasn’t her place to ask. She quickly rubbed the cloth across his back, unaware at first that she used each stroke of the cloth to trace the line
of a scar. Did he realize it? Or were the wounds so old that he didn’t even think about them? He must have been barely more than a child when he got them. Why?
It’s none of your business.

He sighed and his face relaxed. Leah pushed harder with her palm and used the cloth to knead the muscles that followed the long line of his spine. He arched against the pressure and she consciously felt his body give in to the sensation. Leah rinsed the cloth in the bowl, dipped it once more in the clean water and wiped the soap from his skin. After lathering the cloth again, she touched the back of his right arm and he lifted it. She took his wrist in her hand and scrubbed from his shoulder down to his fingertips. He relaxed into her hold and she turned his arm back and forth, to cover every inch of his skin.

Time ceased to move for Leah. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock, the slosh of the water and Dodger’s soft snores. She did not think of anything beyond the section of skin that she washed. When she finished with his arms she decided to wash his hair. He kept his eyes closed when she tilted his head back. She placed a bucket behind the chair and poured water over his hair to wet it. She used the almond shampoo that Nonnie made and worked it into his thick locks.

He groaned with pleasure as she massaged his scalp. He wrinkled his nose when some of the soap escaped and trickled in the groove between his nose and cheek. She quickly captured it with the towel, rinsed and then dried his hair until it hung in thick waves. It needed a trim, but that could wait until she was done with his bath.

She moved beside him, her knee against his thigh as she faced him. He raised his head, opened his eyes and the look he gave her was so tragic, and so very, very lonely, that her heart shattered.

What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t be doing this.
She was playing Delilah, tempting him, or maybe he was tempting her, she didn’t know. She did know she was in way over her head. She wasn’t thinking clearly. Not thinking at all.

“I’ll let you finish up.” She stepped away, and left the cloth within easy reach. “Don’t worry about the mess, I’ll get it in the morning.”

Leah fled to her room and sought the comfort of her bed. Ashes greeted her with a sleepy meow and wrapped her tiny body under her chin. Leah listened to the sounds the pastor made. The slosh of the water as he finished washing. The heavy gurgle as he dumped the pail in the sink, and then saw darkness descend when he turned down the lamp.

I didn’t bandage his wound. I didn’t change his sheets.
Those were the least of her recriminations, but she felt too guilty to risk seeing him again so soon. Instead a litany of her faults ran through her head as she listened to his slow step down the hall, then Dodger’s as he followed him. She lay, stiff as a post when she heard the squeak of his mattress, and then the heavy huff Dodger let out at the many disruptions that had kept him from his sleep. Even though the pastor was in a different bedroom hearing him so close felt oddly intimate and Leah cursed to herself.

I need doors she thought once again. Sleep was a long time coming.

H
e didn’t expect to wake up to find a kitten staring at him. Why not? Dodger had had his turn already. The gray ball of fluff extended a paw and touched his cheek. Cade sneezed. It startled the kitten, which laid its ears back and stared at him with wide green eyes. It seemed to think about leaving for a few seconds, then relaxed, kneaded its paws into his bare chest and purred.

“Hello.” Cade looked toward the sound and saw a boy with tousled blond hair and huge blue eyes staring at him.

“You must be Banks. Where’s your mom?”

The boy seemed scared of him. He hung back in the hall as if he were afraid to come in. “At work.”

So they were alone in the house. “What does she do?”

“She’s a waitress.” Banks swiped his sleeve across his nose. “At the Devil’s Table.”

Cade grinned. A restaurant called the Devil’s Table in a town called Angel’s End. Whoever named it that had a
wicked sense of humor, something he always appreciated. “Where is the Devil’s Table?”

Dodger appeared by Banks’s side. The boy wrapped his fingers into the thick scruff of hair of the dog’s neck. “Across the street.”

Cade put his finger under the kitten’s chin and scratched. The kitten stretched his neck out to follow his finger and then rolled over on its back to give Cade better access. Cade looked at Banks. “So I reckon we’re the only ones here?”

Banks’s eyes grew wide, and he nodded nervously.

“Which means you’re in charge.” Cade kept his face serious.

“She said for me to tell her if you wake up before it’s time to go to school.” He hitched up his pants. “Can I come in and get Ashes?”

“I take it this is Ashes?”

“Yes sir.”

“You may.” Cade waited until Banks had grabbed his kitten and hurriedly stepped away. “Don’t bother your mom. I’m going to go right back to sleep.”

“You are?”

“Just as soon as I take a trip to the outhouse.”

“Um…all right…”

A bell rang out, clang-clang, as it was jerked back and forth on its rope. The kitten sank its claws into the front of Banks’s shirt and laid its ears back at the noise. Dodger looked at Banks and the kitten and whined hopefully. The kitten hissed at the dog and climbed up Banks’s chest with its claws still extended. It had to be painful, yet Banks bore it, showing nothing more than a grimace at the discomfort. He was a good kid. Tough. Losing a parent usually did that to you. Made you grow up before you had to. Babying him wouldn’t help him. It wouldn’t give him what he needed to survive in this world.

The noise had to be coming from the building next door.
He recalled seeing a steeple when he looked around the town last night. “Is that the school bell?”

“Yes sir.”

“Then you best be on your way. You don’t want to be late.”

“Yes sir, I mean no sir…” He stood there for a minute until Cade moved his head toward the front door. Banks whirled around, put the kitten on the bed in Leah’s room, scooped up his bag and ran to the front door. It slammed behind him. Cade slipped from the bed and went to the front door with Dodger padding along beside him. He stood to the side of the window and peered out. There was no sign of Banks, which meant he either ran as fast as he could to get across the street or else he’d gone directly to school. Cade hoped it was the latter.

The snow on the street was windblown and drifted. It piled up on the buildings, rooftops and windowsills like a sugar coating. The sky, clear the night before, had turned gray and ominous with the promise of more bad weather to come.

There were a few tracks in the snow, mostly foot traffic, and smoke poured from the stovepipe across the street. Two horses stood at the hitching post outside, their heads hanging wearily, proof that whoever had ridden in on them had come a long way on a hard trail.

The building was two stories with a huge sign that went all the way across the porch roof. The top parts of the letters were visible above the snow that piled against it. Devil’s Table was written in big, bold, black print. Beneath it were the tops of swirling letters, impossible to read because of the snow. The windows on either side of the entrance were covered with condensation, definite proof that there was a crowd of people inside.

“And I’m betting the weather isn’t the only thing they’re talking about.” Leah had mentioned the search committee.
One of them had already come calling and would no doubt be back soon, especially if Leah told him he’d been up and talking last night.

Last night…Cade had never felt anything like that before. He could not recall a time since his mother died when anyone had given him such tender care. Never had anyone touched him in such a way that he felt it, inside, deep in his soul.

It’s because she thinks I’m a preacher. That’s all. If she knew who I really was and what I am, she wouldn’t be leaving her kid alone in the house with me. She’d have me out on the street in a heartbeat.
He couldn’t think about it. Couldn’t let it affect him. Thinking about things like that made him weak and vulnerable. His only thought should be about how to get out of town, and how soon he’d be able to travel.

His wound felt raw and his ribs bruised and tender. Cade put a hand to his stomach and immediately pulled it away. It was too sore to touch. He looked down and saw the wound, red and raw, along with an ugly bruise radiating from it. He reached around and found the exit wound on his back. He’d been lucky.
God’s plan?
Timothy’s words haunted him and he shook them off.

Leah said she’d bandage him after the bath, but she didn’t. She’d left so abruptly, leaving him to finish his bath on his own and fall wearily into a bed that still stank with his fever. What made her run? He hadn’t done anything to scare her, had he? He had to admit he’d enjoyed it when she bathed him. He could have done it himself, but why should he when he had someone willing to do it for him. The memory of her touch was still with him.

Cade felt confident Banks hadn’t told his mother Cade was awake. It kind of bothered him that the kid had been so easily convinced. He wasn’t used to people trusting him. He moved to the kitchen and checked out the window one
more time. A man stood on the stoop of the restaurant. He pulled his hat down, hunched his shoulders against the cold, and started down the opposite side of the street. Cade noticed that the building next door to the café was the sheriff’s office. It looked dark and deserted and there was no fire coming from the stovepipe. Strange, it seemed like the sheriff should have been over to check on him. Leah mentioned that her husband used to be the sheriff. Had they replaced him? Surely in four years’ time they’d found a replacement. If so he would be here soon to question him about the shooting. It would be another thing to look out for. Another lie to add to his ever-growing list.

Dodger sat in the middle of the floor, with his head cocked to the side, and watched Cade as if he were trying to make up his mind about him. Cade opened the cabinet, shoved the shaving kit aside and removed the gun and holster. He popped the cylinder. It was empty and needed cleaning. He didn’t have to look at the barrel to know it needed it too. It probably hadn’t been touched since her husband died and she shoved it on the shelf and shut the door. He looped the belt around his waist. The cinch was well worn where it had hit her husband. He had to take it up another two notches. He removed it and checked the ammo slots. They were half full. He’d need more if he was going to leave.
When I leave…
Cade checked the shelf again by poking his hand into the back corner. He pulled forth a box of cartridges.
Yes! For once things are going my way.