eyes.”
The sobbing stopped abruptly, and the small form on the other side of the bed was still. Seth kept on talking.
“Pa and me, we had a small place southwest of San Antonio with a few head of cattle. Texas had been annexed by the States, and Mexico decided to make an issue of it. I wanted to join the army and fight Mexicans. Pa absolutely forbade it.”
Seth paused, remembering the ferocious argument they'd had, the harsh words that had been spoken.
A small voice from the other side of the bed said, “I wanted to go to sea, to be a whaler, like my pa. I left a note when I ran away, but Mother came and made me get off the ship. She brought me here to keep me away from the sea.”
Seth smiled in the darkness. That explained why Molly Gallagher had accepted his offer of marriage so promptly. ‘That story sounds a lot like mine,” he said.
“One night, I took my hunting rifle and a bag of food and set out to enlist in the army. I didn't get far before I ran into a band of cutthroat Mexican outlaws. Those bandidos had my rifle and my horse, and I was saying my final prayers when my father showed up to fetch me home.
“I'd never been so glad to see anyone in my life. He'd been a Texas Ranger, my pa, and he knew how to fight bandidos. When the shooting stopped, what Mexicans weren't dead had turned tail and run. But my pa had been mortally wounded. He died on the trip back home.”
Seth didn't say that he'd always blamed himself for his father's death. Or that remorseover that one incident had shaped a great deal of his life. “My pa was one brave hombre,” he murmured.
“I saw my da fight once on the waterfront,” Whit said in a wistful voice. “He was a brave man too. I want to grow up to be just like him.”
“That's a good goal, Whit. A man can't wish for more than to have his son grow up following in his footsteps.”
Only Whit's father was dead. And the only footsteps for Whit to follow would be Seth's. Suddenly, the immensity of what he had done, the responsibility he had accepted, struck Seth. Would the boy see who he really was? Or would he only see the man Seth must pretend to be?
“I miss Da,” Whit admitted in a choked voice.
“You always will,” Seth said. It wasn't much, as comfort went, but it was all he could offer. “It'll get easier as time goes on. You'll always have your memories of him, of the good times you had together. They'll stay with you the rest of your life.”
“Da used to tuck me in at night.”
Seth held his breath. Was Whit asking him to do that? Would he let him? Not if Seth asked. The boy had too much pride for that.Seth didn't say what he was going to do, didn't ask permission that the boy couldn't, or wouldn't, give. He just sat up and leaned over and tucked the covers firmly around the boy, up one side, and down the other.
“You forgot my toes.”
Without a word, Seth leaned down and tucked the blankets firmly under Whit's long, narrow feet. Then he lay back down and turned on his side away from the boy. “Better get to sleep. Dawn comes early.”
Whit closed his eyes, unaware of how he had found solace, only knowing he had.
Almost as good as Da,
he thought as he drifted off to sleep.
When Seth walked into the kitchen the next morning, Molly greeted him with a smile that took his breath away. He remembered the night past, the taste of her, the feel of her lips. He wanted to kiss her good morning, to start the day with the feminine softness of her in his arms. But she had turned back to the stove the instant she saw him, sending a message loud and clear without saying a word.
She was wearing simple clothes this morning—a white shirtwaist and dark brown broadcloth skirt, covered by a faded redapron that he recognized as one from the sideboard—that made her seem more approachable. But though she was apparently not angry over what had happened last night, she was keeping her distance.
When he started to sit down at the kitchen table, she asked,
The sobbing stopped abruptly, and the small form on the other side of the bed was still. Seth kept on talking.
“Pa and me, we had a small place southwest of San Antonio with a few head of cattle. Texas had been annexed by the States, and Mexico decided to make an issue of it. I wanted to join the army and fight Mexicans. Pa absolutely forbade it.”
Seth paused, remembering the ferocious argument they'd had, the harsh words that had been spoken.
A small voice from the other side of the bed said, “I wanted to go to sea, to be a whaler, like my pa. I left a note when I ran away, but Mother came and made me get off the ship. She brought me here to keep me away from the sea.”
Seth smiled in the darkness. That explained why Molly Gallagher had accepted his offer of marriage so promptly. ‘That story sounds a lot like mine,” he said.
“One night, I took my hunting rifle and a bag of food and set out to enlist in the army. I didn't get far before I ran into a band of cutthroat Mexican outlaws. Those bandidos had my rifle and my horse, and I was saying my final prayers when my father showed up to fetch me home.
“I'd never been so glad to see anyone in my life. He'd been a Texas Ranger, my pa, and he knew how to fight bandidos. When the shooting stopped, what Mexicans weren't dead had turned tail and run. But my pa had been mortally wounded. He died on the trip back home.”
Seth didn't say that he'd always blamed himself for his father's death. Or that remorseover that one incident had shaped a great deal of his life. “My pa was one brave hombre,” he murmured.
“I saw my da fight once on the waterfront,” Whit said in a wistful voice. “He was a brave man too. I want to grow up to be just like him.”
“That's a good goal, Whit. A man can't wish for more than to have his son grow up following in his footsteps.”
Only Whit's father was dead. And the only footsteps for Whit to follow would be Seth's. Suddenly, the immensity of what he had done, the responsibility he had accepted, struck Seth. Would the boy see who he really was? Or would he only see the man Seth must pretend to be?
“I miss Da,” Whit admitted in a choked voice.
“You always will,” Seth said. It wasn't much, as comfort went, but it was all he could offer. “It'll get easier as time goes on. You'll always have your memories of him, of the good times you had together. They'll stay with you the rest of your life.”
“Da used to tuck me in at night.”
Seth held his breath. Was Whit asking him to do that? Would he let him? Not if Seth asked. The boy had too much pride for that.Seth didn't say what he was going to do, didn't ask permission that the boy couldn't, or wouldn't, give. He just sat up and leaned over and tucked the covers firmly around the boy, up one side, and down the other.
“You forgot my toes.”
Without a word, Seth leaned down and tucked the blankets firmly under Whit's long, narrow feet. Then he lay back down and turned on his side away from the boy. “Better get to sleep. Dawn comes early.”
Whit closed his eyes, unaware of how he had found solace, only knowing he had.
Almost as good as Da,
he thought as he drifted off to sleep.
When Seth walked into the kitchen the next morning, Molly greeted him with a smile that took his breath away. He remembered the night past, the taste of her, the feel of her lips. He wanted to kiss her good morning, to start the day with the feminine softness of her in his arms. But she had turned back to the stove the instant she saw him, sending a message loud and clear without saying a word.
She was wearing simple clothes this morning—a white shirtwaist and dark brown broadcloth skirt, covered by a faded redapron that he recognized as one from the sideboard—that made her seem more approachable. But though she was apparently not angry over what had happened last night, she was keeping her distance.
When he started to sit down at the kitchen table, she asked,
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