hair, her shoulders trembling as she rocked his tiny frame and prayed for strength and hope in a time when there appeared to be none. Zlatko placed a hand on her shoulder, and she loosened her grip on the child.
There were tear tracks on her cheeks, but she still smiled at Sudic, soothing him with soft words as her hands lingered on his shoulders one last time. With a sigh of determination, she stood and brushed off her dusty skirts. Then she took her son’s hand and led him to the bus.
She stood there for a long time as the bus pulled away. The women around her sobbed, some tearing at their hair with the force of their grief. But Zenaisa just stood there and watched her son’s face disappear into a haze of dust.
Zlatko came up behind her and placed his large, callused hands on her shoulders. She turned then, looking at him with a wide Slavic face that once had been beautiful, but now was worn and tired. Abruptly, she threw her arms around her husband’s shoulders, burying her head against his neck.
And right before Garret had to look away, the emotions burning his own throat, he saw her shoulders shake with the force of her tears.
“Darn it, Cagney, the man needs something to do! We can’t just keep him locked up in my house all day.”
Cagney eyed her with his calm gray gaze and arched an eyebrow. “Is there something I should know?” He’d never seen practical Suzanne so flustered before. It was only eight a.m., but half her hair had already escaped from its customary knot, and her cheeks were flushed.
“That’s none of your damn business!” she snapped, raising his brow even higher. “Just help me figure out something for him to do!”
Cagney sighed, rising from the corner of his desk to stretch out his leg while he contemplated her words. It was too early in the morning to be worrying about Garret again. He was a newly engaged man with a beautiful, passionate fiancée. What in the world was he doing arriving at the sheriff’s office at eight a.m.?
He dragged a hand through his rumpled black hair and gave Suzanne another thoughtful look. Garret always did wreak havoc on her nerves.
“How’s his back?” he asked presently.
“He gets around all right. He still sleeps quite a bit, but I think he’s about to eat me out of house and home.”
“Sounds like Garret.”
“You’re not helping.”
Cagney threw up his hands in self-defense and tried to fend her off with a disarming grin. “I’m working on it, I’m working on it. But for goodness’ sake, Suzanne, I haven’t received much more than a couple of phone calls and postcards from Garret in the past ten years. How do I know what he likes to do?”
“He’s your brother.”
“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.” Cagney pivoted, and unconsciously began rubbing his left leg. His limp was much better these days, since he’d started doing the doctor’s stretching exercises. Still, if he moved too suddenly, the old bullet wound plagued him. “Dad just overhauled his shop. I suppose I can ask him for his old tools.”
“Furniture tools?” Suzanne looked unconvinced, but pondered the idea. “Where would we put them?”
“Don’t you have that shed by your garden?”
“Yes, but my garden supplies are in there.”
Cagney gave her an exasperated look. “Surely you can move your garden tools for this. Remember, it’ll get him out of the house.”
That seemed to convince her. “Will they all fit?”
Cagney shrugged. “Only one way to know. Look, I’ll talk to Dad this afternoon and tell him I’d like to play around with his old tools. He’s never said anything, but I think he’s always wished one of his kids would show an interest in craftsmanship.” Cagney frowned, looking unhappy. “I hate lying to him, you know,” he said suddenly. “I hate having a deputy watching my own parents’ house and not being able to tell them.”
Suzanne’s gaze instantly softened, and she nodded her head. “It can’t be much
There were tear tracks on her cheeks, but she still smiled at Sudic, soothing him with soft words as her hands lingered on his shoulders one last time. With a sigh of determination, she stood and brushed off her dusty skirts. Then she took her son’s hand and led him to the bus.
She stood there for a long time as the bus pulled away. The women around her sobbed, some tearing at their hair with the force of their grief. But Zenaisa just stood there and watched her son’s face disappear into a haze of dust.
Zlatko came up behind her and placed his large, callused hands on her shoulders. She turned then, looking at him with a wide Slavic face that once had been beautiful, but now was worn and tired. Abruptly, she threw her arms around her husband’s shoulders, burying her head against his neck.
And right before Garret had to look away, the emotions burning his own throat, he saw her shoulders shake with the force of her tears.
“Darn it, Cagney, the man needs something to do! We can’t just keep him locked up in my house all day.”
Cagney eyed her with his calm gray gaze and arched an eyebrow. “Is there something I should know?” He’d never seen practical Suzanne so flustered before. It was only eight a.m., but half her hair had already escaped from its customary knot, and her cheeks were flushed.
“That’s none of your damn business!” she snapped, raising his brow even higher. “Just help me figure out something for him to do!”
Cagney sighed, rising from the corner of his desk to stretch out his leg while he contemplated her words. It was too early in the morning to be worrying about Garret again. He was a newly engaged man with a beautiful, passionate fiancée. What in the world was he doing arriving at the sheriff’s office at eight a.m.?
He dragged a hand through his rumpled black hair and gave Suzanne another thoughtful look. Garret always did wreak havoc on her nerves.
“How’s his back?” he asked presently.
“He gets around all right. He still sleeps quite a bit, but I think he’s about to eat me out of house and home.”
“Sounds like Garret.”
“You’re not helping.”
Cagney threw up his hands in self-defense and tried to fend her off with a disarming grin. “I’m working on it, I’m working on it. But for goodness’ sake, Suzanne, I haven’t received much more than a couple of phone calls and postcards from Garret in the past ten years. How do I know what he likes to do?”
“He’s your brother.”
“Guilty as charged, I’m afraid.” Cagney pivoted, and unconsciously began rubbing his left leg. His limp was much better these days, since he’d started doing the doctor’s stretching exercises. Still, if he moved too suddenly, the old bullet wound plagued him. “Dad just overhauled his shop. I suppose I can ask him for his old tools.”
“Furniture tools?” Suzanne looked unconvinced, but pondered the idea. “Where would we put them?”
“Don’t you have that shed by your garden?”
“Yes, but my garden supplies are in there.”
Cagney gave her an exasperated look. “Surely you can move your garden tools for this. Remember, it’ll get him out of the house.”
That seemed to convince her. “Will they all fit?”
Cagney shrugged. “Only one way to know. Look, I’ll talk to Dad this afternoon and tell him I’d like to play around with his old tools. He’s never said anything, but I think he’s always wished one of his kids would show an interest in craftsmanship.” Cagney frowned, looking unhappy. “I hate lying to him, you know,” he said suddenly. “I hate having a deputy watching my own parents’ house and not being able to tell them.”
Suzanne’s gaze instantly softened, and she nodded her head. “It can’t be much
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