his mackinaw coat, a pair of old boots and a woolen cap, got his rifle and a pair of gloves and headed down the hill to Henry’s cottage.
Tara opened the door. “Hi, Mr. Russ. We were going to the house as soon as Mr. Henry finished feeding Biscuit. Mr. Henry gave Biscuit a red sweater so he won’t get cold.” He lifted her, walked into the house, and for the first time, he kissed the child’s cheek.
“Biscuit is a lucky little pup,” he said, wondering what had just gotten into him. “Henry, it’s snowing harder than we’d thought, so why don’t you come prepared to spend the night over at the house?”
“I was thinking I’d do that.”
Russ realized he was still holding Tara and set her on her feet, but a strange feeling pervaded him, shocking him. He shook his body as a bird flexes its wings after a bath. For the first time in his life, he had a yearning for a child of his own.
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