Colton's Folly (Native American contemporary romance) by Renee Simons Page B

went silent, and she turned on a small lamp. A knock sounded.
    “Open up. It’s us,” came Cat’s voice through the door. As she opened the door he herded the two boys into the room. Benjamin was the first to speak. “Cutter and me had a little talk. He wants to apologize.”
    Abby looked at their battered, bloodstained faces. “Did you have to beat him to a pulp first? And get yourself mangled in the bargain?” Then she turned angrily to Cat. “And you were supposed to ‘handle things.’ Where were you?” Cat grinned, and for a moment he looked as young as the two boys. He’s enjoying this, she thought with amazement.
    “As it turned out, Ben didn’t need my help at all,” he said. “He’s a pretty good convincer.”
    Benjamin gave them a shy smile. “Yeah, well, Cutter can be stubborn sometimes, but he got my message all right.” Abby looked from face to face and finally settled on Cat. “Are you going to administer first aid?” she asked resignedly. “Or shall I?”
    “I’ll do it,” he said, his expression suddenly serious. “And then I’m turning Cutter over to the sheriff.” He put an arm around Benjamin’s shoulders and led him into the bathroom. “C’mon, Ben, you first.”
    Wondering how Cat knew where to go, Abby gave Cutter the smallest shove into the kitchen and ordered him to sit down at the table. She wet a towel and began gently swabbing the various cuts and bruises he’d acquired. He winced occasionally, but bore her ministrations silently. Finally he said, “You fight good, teach.”
    “I warned you the day you came into school.”
    “Yeah, you did. So why you bein’ so nice to me?”
    “Feeling guilty?”
    He gave her a lopsided smile. “Yeah.”
    “That’s why I’m being so nice.” She chuckled as she turned her attention to his battered knuckles. “Works every time.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    They looked at each other squarely, Abby waiting for the rest, the boy searching her face for something he could trust.
    “I’m really sorry for what I did. I was mad and jealous. . .and stupid.”
    “Mad and stupid I can understand, but jealous? What of?”
    “Ben kept talking about you, and I was afraid .” He lost heart and went no further.
    “You won’t lose him, I promise,” Abby said with a hand on his shoulder. “Are you really cousins?”
    “Our mothers are sisters. Were. Mine’s dead.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    He shrugged.
    “What about your father?”
    He gave her another searching look, then seemed to square his shoulders and answered defiantly, “I never knew my father. They weren’t married.”
    “You’ve missed a lot, haven’t you?”
    His eyes became deep, angry pools, his lips a thin line beneath the faint tracings of a mustache. “Don’t get all weepy over me. I can take care of myself.”
    “I’m sure you can. What’s it like in Hungry Dog?”
    He looked startled. “What do you know about it?”
    “Not much, and nothing good. Why do you waste yourself in a place like that?”
    “What makes you think I’m wasting myself?”
    “Do you have a job?” He remained silent. “Did you finish school?” Again silence. “Have you ever done anything better on a Saturday night than get drunk?”
    Abby felt his anger, but when he made a move to rise she pushed him back down with a firm hand. “Stay put. I’m not finished.”
    Cutter glared at her. “You got no right to say them things, and I don’t have to listen.”
    “Do I have a right to turn you in for pulling a knife on me?” He lowered his eyes. “Which would you prefer: the sheriff, the tribal council or me?” He glowered at her once more, but sat quietly. “How far did you get in school?”
    He looked down at his clasped hands. “Tenth grade.” “How old are you?” He gave her a cold stare and said nothing. She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s not important.” She cleaned the sink and sat down once more. “Do you have anyone at all down there?”
    “No.”
    “Then