Cindy Holby by Angel’s End Page B

his illness. That walking in the snow had dampened the legs of his pants and helped them sag lower on his waist than they should. Apparently she was aware of it too as her cheeks reddened and she turned away.
    Cade cleared his throat again. “So what do you do for water since your pump is broken?”
    She busied herself with the crock, wiping imaginary drips from the lip, placing the lid back on, and putting itback in its corner where it would stay cool and fresh. “Luckily we have snow,” she said. “Or I haul it from the stream.” He took advantage of her distraction to hitch up his pants.
    “Would it be too much trouble for me to wash up some? And shave?” He smiled at her. “The thought of going back to bed feeling this way…”
    She looked at the pot he’d put in the sink. “Oh my goodness, of course not.” She whirled around, grabbed the pot from the sink, then picked up a bucket from beside the stove and dumped the contents in the pot. It was melting snow, no doubt carried in before she went to bed. “Unfortunately the washtub is buried on the porch. I forgot to bring it in when the blizzard hit. But I can heat enough water to give you a quick bath…” The bucket hit the floor with a clang. “Er…” She stumbled over her words. Funny how she must have read his mind. He wouldn’t mind her giving him a bath at all. And then joining him.
    Dodger sat up, suddenly interested in the goings-on in the kitchen. Leah quickly ducked to the woodpile, picked up a few sticks to feed the stove and shoved them inside. She caught her fingers in the door as she slammed it shut. “Damn!” she exclaimed as she grabbed her injured fingers with her other hand. “Oh. My. Goodness. I am so sorry, I don’t usually…” Her voice trailed off.
    Cade grinned. She stared up at him with her face all flushed and guilt showing at having cussed in front of a preacher. He scooped a handful of snow from the pot, and took her fingers in his hand, wrapping the snow around them. “I think it was warranted, considering the circumstances.” He gently massaged the snow into them and she lowered her eyes to watch their entwined hands. He could see the glint of green and gold through her lashes.
    Oh he was
so
going to hell. An evil thought took him. If he was going, he might as well enjoy the journey. Cade closed his eyes, gripped her hand and pulled it up againsthis chest. “Lord I ask for healing for Leah’s hand. She injured it trying to do your work Lord. Amen.”
    “Amen,” she said after him.
    Cade resisted the urge to kiss her fingers. He wasn’t in that much of a hurry to get to hell. “There’s no rush,” he said. “I’ve got no place to go at the moment.” He didn’t bother to tell her that God wouldn’t help her fingers because of anything he’d done. He would more than likely have them fall off her hand.
    “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll get a towel and washcloth.”
    “I don’t suppose you have a razor around?”
    “I do. It was my husband’s. Nate’s.” She pulled a chair from the table and moved it to the counter by the sink.
    “What are you doing?”
    “It’s on the top shelf. I put it up there so Banks couldn’t…”
    “Show me where. I’ll get it.”
    She pointed to the cupboard on the far left corner next to the stove. Cade opened the door. A shaving brush stuck up from a small wooden box. Cade easily reached it and saw the contents, a brush, razor, soap and a strop. He handed it to Leah and turned to shut the door. There was a shadow on the shelf, behind where the box had sat. A shadow that looked very much like a rolled-up gun belt and the ivory handle of a.45. He shut the door quickly and quietly and gave Leah a perfect smile of contentment.
    Her cheeks flamed. His pants were sagging again. Cade casually hitched them up and she turned away to pull out a chair.
    “Sit down, please,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute getting the towels.”
    Cade wearily settled at the table as