Manuel is proud and won’t take handouts. He insists he’ll pay Doc.”
“Doc’ll cut his fee in half.”
“Probably. But although Manuel doesn’t speak English fluently, he does understand it fairly well and knows the score. Convincing him to stay could be a problem. These two are stubborn. Manuel parked his truck on Black Rock Road last night, and he carried Carmen across the fields to the barn so no one would hear them.”
Logan looked away, to the willow tree not far from the house with its graceful branches silent and still in the August heat. After a pause, he said, “Manuel has to do what’s best for his wife and child.”
Something in Logan’s voice told her he’d had to make that decision. “I hope he will. He loves Carmen very much. I can feel the bond between the two of them. It’s the same kind my aunt and uncle have.”
Logan faced her again. “How long are you going to stay in Willow Valley?”
She was more comfortable talking about Manuel than herself. “I’m not sure. I’ve already been here a month. But it’s really hit me this time that my aunt and uncle are getting older. I think I’d like to stay until Thanksgiving, anyway.” The explanation was reasonable, but she knew her decision to stay was more complicated than that.
Disconcerted by the sheriff’s probing green eyes, Meg pushed away from the barn. “I’d better talk to Aunt Lily. It was nice meeting you, Sheriff MacDonald.” She started toward the backyard.
“Meg?” His deep voice vibrated through her.
She turned. “Yes?”
“My name’s Logan.”
With the hint of a smile, she nodded and headed toward the house.
Logan watched Margaret Elizabeth Dawson disappear. But he still felt the impact of her searching brown eyes. He could have gone back to the office, but he told himself he had to make sure the situation here was under control. In Willow Valley, helping sometimes became more important than enforcing. He liked that.
A half hour later, he and Doc Jacobs carried an old door from the basement of the farmhouse to the barn.
Meg sat on the floor next to Carmen and Manuel, speaking in Spanish. Manuel looked agitated. All three stopped talking when he and Doc came closer.
Huffing and puffing, Doc helped Logan lower the door down to the straw-covered floor beside Carmen and her baby. “I’m getting too old for this,” he grumbled.
“More like you should take the advice you give to your patients,” Logan suggested blandly.
“I suppose you mean about trimming down and getting exercise. You’re only forty, Logan. When you hit sixty, then you come tell me how easy it is to do that.”
Logan caught Meg looking at him as if wondering what kind of physique was hidden under his clothes. Her appraisal sent a surge of desire through him. This time he almost welcomed it. He couldn’t help but say to her in a low aside, “I jog.”
Her cheeks pinkened. She avoided Logan’s gaze and looked at Doc. “Lily says Manuel and his family are welcome to stay until Carmen feels well enough to travel, but Manuel won’t agree.”
“We go north,” Manuel said in explanation.
Doc glared at the young Hispanic and said slowly, “Lily and Ned are good people. If they invited you to stay, they want you here. You must think of your wife and child.”
Meg put her hand on Manuel’s arm. “Carmen and the baby need a few days to get stronger. Do this for them.”
His almost black eyes searched Meg’s face, then his wife’s. In halting English, he said, “We stay tonight.” Then he lapsed into Spanish. “Sólo esta noche.”
Doc nodded. “We’ll start with that. Tomorrow’s another day.” He pointed to the door. “Manuel, you and Logan can carry Carmen to the house using that as a stretcher.”
Meg asked Manuel, “Lo entendió?”
“Sí.”
As Manuel helped Carmen and the baby get situated on the door, Meg slipped a folded towel under the mother’s head. When she did, the edge of her sleeve caught on the corner of the door, pulling it above her shoulder. Logan saw nasty red lines, healing but not completely healed. He remembered she’d been shot in the shoulder. He wondered just how serious the injury had been.
His gaze found hers. She quickly pulled the sleeve down, then fiddled with the towel swaddling the baby.
Logan and Manuel carefully and slowly carried Carmen to one of the guest bedrooms. Lily seemed to be everywhere, her smile warm, her manner gentle, making sure the new mother was comfortable. With a broad grin, Ned carried in a cradle. “I made this for Meg when she was born.” He winked at her. “I guess you don’t remember.”
She smiled fondly at the balding man. “I remember putting my dolls in it for their naps.”
Lily flicked back a stray strand of hair that had escaped her bun. “I’ll get it ready. We found a few baby blankets and kimonos in the attic. I threw them in the washer. We’ll be all ready for this little one in no time. Now, how about all of you come down to the kitchen and we’ll get some lunch.”
Manuel looked worried. “No trouble.”
Lily planted her hands on her hips. “Meg, tell him we have to eat. A few more mouths are not a problem.”
In Spanish, Meg explained her aunt’s philosophy. Manuel didn’t look convinced. Doc Jacobs motioned everyone out of the room. “C’mon folks. Let’s let mother and baby get some rest. Meg, after lunch I want to go over a few points with you about nursing. You can explain it to Carmen.”
Logan watched as Meg said a few last words to the young mother. Then she followed him into the hall.
Standing close to her, he blocked her from going down the steps. “How serious was the injury to your shoulder?”
“It looks worse than it was.”
“How bad?” he pressed.
Her back straightened, and she lifted her chin. “Does the sheriff want to know?”
“No. The man wants to know.” He wanted to know too badly for his own good. Something about Meg Dawson drew him. Maybe it had to do with them watching a new life enter the world.
Tension hummed between them for a moment—man-woman tension…and awareness.
Finally she let out a pent-up breath. “I finished with formal physical therapy in Lynchburg last week, but still do exercises every morning and night. I’ll recover completely.”
The vulnerability in her eyes told him she might recover physically, but he wondered about the emotional toll the incident had taken. He knew about emotional tolls. First there had been Shelley’s accident, then his son’s change in behavior…now his disappearance.
Logan’s job sometimes drew crisis situations like a magnet. But he was used
