Paper Roses by Amanda Cabot

of dropping Thea if it buckled. “Has she been crying all day?”
    Though she’d said nothing while Sarah maneuvered herself, Sarah saw a hint of pity in Mary’s eyes. Whether the pity was for Sarah or Thea wasn’t clear. Mary shook her head. “Less than yesterday. She was cheerful as could be when we made biscuits.” The bits of flour in Thea’s hair confirmed the biscuit baking story. “I reckon she’s just tired now,” Mary continued. “Take a mother’s advice and don’t fret so much. It’s normal for a child to miss her mama. She’ll adjust.”
    Sarah hoped so. By the time they reached the ranch, Thea’s tears had dried and she was bouncing on the seat, her arms stretched out toward the horses, acting as if nothing had bothered her. If she’d been tired, she’d caught her second wind, for all traces of the petulant Thea were gone, replaced by a child with more energy than Sarah could ever match. As Mary had predicted, Thea was resilient.
    Sarah was smiling as she and Thea joined Clay for supper, but the smile faded when she realized Clay was in what Mama would have called a thunderstorm mood. He frowned when Thea called him “Papa Clay” and studiously ignored her for the rest of the meal, despite her attempts to catch his attention. Even more significantly, his responses to Sarah’s attempts at casual conversation were monosyllabic. Though no one would ever call Clay garrulous, he was not usually taciturn.
    “What’s wrong?” Sarah asked when she could bear the silence no longer. Perhaps Clay had learned something about Austin’s killer and that was the reason he seemed morose.
    His eyebrows shot up, as if he were surprised by the question. “We’ll discuss it later, once you’ve put Thea to bed.”
    Sarah tried not to sigh at the realization that whatever he wanted to discuss, it was not pleasant. Though the cabin Austin had built for her and Thea was cheerful and normally made Sarah smile, tonight she was so worried about what was bothering Clay that she took no notice of it and could barely keep her mind on the story she was reading to Thea. It was with a sense of foreboding that Sarah reentered the ranch house.
    Clay rose. “I heard something today that disturbed me,” he announced without preamble.
    “Is it about Austin?” As she sank into a chair, she noticed the door to Robert Canfield’s room was closed. Though the older man did not join them for supper, normally the door was left open so he could hear the conversation. It made him realize he was still part of the family, Clay had explained. For some reason, he was being excluded from this discussion. That could only mean that whatever Clay had learned was too painful for his father to endure.
    Clay shook his head. “No. It’s not about Austin. It’s about you.” He clenched his fists, then spat the words, “Martina said you’ve been torturing my father.”
    Torture? Sarah recoiled as if she’d been slapped. Though her leg protested, she rose and took a step toward Clay, unwilling to let him continue to tower over her. “I have not been torturing anyone.” She enunciated each word carefully. Though she’d known Clay might not approve of her efforts, she’d not expected this reaction. “I would never torture anyone.” Her denial was as vehement as Clay’s accusation. “What I have been doing is exercising your father’s feet. That’s the first step toward helping him walk again.”
    Clay was silent for a moment, and Sarah sensed he had only a tenuous grip on his temper. “Why would you do that? My father will not walk again. There is no reason to subject him to pain.”
    “I beg to differ with you. I believe he will be able to walk.” The raised eyebrows told Sarah Clay felt otherwise. “On just what do you base this opinion?” Now his tone was condescending. “I am a trained physician, and I know otherwise.”
    Perhaps she should have backed down. This was, after all, Clay’s father they were discussing. He