calculating her way clear. Her dark eyes seemed to assess a new potential threat. Her girl had more sense than her mother, thought Morgan.
“Lisa, this is Mr. Strong. He will be staying in Pop-Pop’s room for a while.”
“Why?”
While Morgan debated how much to tell her, Ray stepped forward as Lisa slid a foot backward, preparing to retreat.
“Because the man who broke in here was looking for something of your grandfather’s. You have friends at school?”
Lisa nodded.
“Anyone ever have a big secret?”
Lisa nodded again.
“What happened to that secret?”
Lisa looked to her mother and then fixed her attention on Ray. “My friend told our other friend and she promised never, ever to tell, but she must have because I didn’t tell and then Bobby Farrow knew and he told all the boys.”
“Exactly.”
He didn’t draw the connection. Just waited. Morgan waited, too.
“So that man, the one who grabbed my mother, he’s going to tell Pop-Pop’s big secret?”
Ray nodded. “Smart girl.”
Lisa’s eyes widened in understanding. “And Mr. Heron. He knows because I told him that man asked Mom for the money.”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
Morgan went to her daughter and brushed her thick black hair from her face. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”
Lisa kept her attention on Ray.
“How did you know that the man would hurt us?”
“I didn’t. But I’ve been watching over you two for a while now.”
That made Morgan’s attention snap from her child to Ray. How long had he been watching them?
“I’ve seen you at the store and other places.”
Ray nodded. “That’s right. I got asked by a friend of your grandfather’s to watch over you and your mama.”
“Do you know the secret?”
“Just that it’s about money. Hidden money.”
Morgan didn’t think Lisa should know that. Didn’t want her at risk. But she was at risk, whether she knew or not.
“It’s here?” asked Lisa.
“Nobody knows where.”
“Except Pop-Pop, so let’s go ask him.”
Ray glanced back at her and Morgan nodded. That was the logical next step.
“Tomorrow,” said Morgan, knowing there were visiting hours then. “Wash up. Dinner is ready.”
Lisa moved to the kitchen sink and washed her hands. Morgan eyed him and he followed Lisa, but he had already washed his hands when he’d removed her intruder’s blood. Morgan fed the cat some mush from a can. Cookie, apparently, ate first.
They sat down to a meal of tomato soup with mac and cheese. Ray finished his portion and glanced around for more, finding the only remaining pasta on Lisa’s plate. He glanced at Morgan who shot him a stern look. She was such a fierce feisty woman it made him smile.
After supper, Lisa drew out her school books and mother and daughter sat together. Morgan read the paper and helped Lisa as needed. Ray took the opportunity to bring his things into Karl’s room and to peer out all the windows on the back of the house.
He heard someone enter the room and turned to see Morgan standing with a mound of folded sheets in her arms.
“I thought I’d change these,” she said, lifting her arms slightly to indicate the linen.
“Thanks.” He stripped off the lovely Pendleton wool blanket that had bold black stripes on a field of red and had the top sheet off before she reached the bed.
“I can do this,” she said.
“So can I. I was in the US Marines for a while. One thing I learned was how to make my bed.” He’d also perfected his aim with a rifle and handgun. Ray had already known a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat and had more practical experience tracking than most men gleaned in a lifetime.
“My father fought in Vietnam.”
Ray knew that. He’d shared a few stories with Karl at their medicine society.
“Sharpshooter,” said Ray.
Morgan’s jaw dropped but she recovered. “That’s right.”
She pulled free two corners of the fitted sheet and he released the corners on his side. Morgan began replacing the linen and Ray worked on the two pillowcases. They worked in silence with a fluidity that made their motions seem almost like a dance. They leaned over the bed from opposite sides to place the pillows and their eyes met. Morgan flushed so Ray guessed she was thinking of him stretched out on these clean white sheets...alone...possibly naked.
She straightened and threw out the top sheet so that it fluttered to his side. The blanket followed. She placed a clean sage-green towel on the foot of the bed.
“There. You’re all set.”
“Thank you again. And for letting me stay.”
“I have great respect for Kenshaw Little Falcon and for my father, despite what he has done.” She sat on the bed, her hands splayed on the red wool, her shoulders slumped again in that whipped-dog posture he despised. She glanced up at him. “Do you think people deserve second chances, Mr. Strong?”
He sat beside her. “I’ve already tried to kiss you, Morgan. I think you should call me Ray.”
He wanted to try again.
“Fine. Ray. My father killed a man. Probably for money. I can’t get my mind around that.”
He’d killed more than one man, Ray knew. More than Ray had killed. Karl had been very good at his assignment in Vietnam.
“I can think of two reasons he might want to earn money.”
She looked at him. “You mean me and Lisa. I would much prefer to have my father here with us. You might not believe this, but he was wonderful with Lisa. Very kind and patient. He’s been with her since she was born, more a father to her than a grandfather, and she doesn’t understand any more than I do why he would do such a thing.”
“We’ll ask him tomorrow.”
Her sigh was heavy and Ray felt an unexpected urge to comfort her. That wasn’t his forte, holding women who were wearing their clothing. But
