you know about protecting your men. I’m no different.”
That seemed to cause a shift in the man facing him. At last Ethan relaxed a hair. “This can’t get out.”
“Believe me, I know how to keep a secret. I was undercover DEA before I came here.”
That did the trick. “Micah Parish doesn’t know it, but he’s my father.”
Gage froze. “Oh, hell,” he said finally. “This could raise a real storm.”
“That’s why I don’t want it getting out until I talk to him.”
“I can sure understand that.” Gage paused to think again. “Okay,” he said finally. “Tell you what I’ll do. Micah’s on his day off, so I’ll drive you out to his ranch. But you better not tell his wife who you are before you get a chance to talk to him in private.”
“That’s how I was hoping to handle it.”
“Then we see eye-to-eye. Come on, let’s go. You can think up a cover story while we drive.”
* * *
That afternoon, Connie’s world blew up. It happened the way such things do, utterly without warning, and in an instant that was otherwise utterly benign.
On her day off, she always had plenty to do. Her mother, disabled by a severe fall several years ago, helped as much as she could, but being stuck in a wheelchair severely limited her activities. In many ways she created extra work for Connie, but it was work she didn’t mind, because she didn’t know how she would have been able to hold a job and care for Sophie properly at the same time without her mother there.
Sophie had reached the amazing age of seven, when girls start to act like little mothers, developing a streak of independence and becoming downright bossy. So far, Sophie’s imitation of motherhood had proved more amusing than anything else, although Connie suspected that at some point they would need to have a discussion before the girl alienated all her friends by bossing them around.
“Perfectly normal,” Connie’s mother said. “All girls do it. It’d be worse if she had a brother.”
“I suppose.”
Connie climbed down from the ladder where she’d been spackling a small crack in the ceiling. Some major problems had begun to brew in the old house, but she couldn’t afford to deal with them yet. “Want some coffee, Mom?”
“I’ll never pass up a cup of coffee,” Julia answered. “You know that. You don’t even have to ask.”
“Sophie should be home soon,” Connie remarked as she washed both her hands and the spackling knife at the sink. “She’d better hurry. It looks like we might get a storm.”
Julia turned her wheelchair so she could look out the tall window over the sink. “So it does. I wanted to ask you something.”
Connie grabbed a towel to dry her hands and turned, leaning back against the counter. She raised her eyebrows. “I always hate it when you say that.”
“Why?”
“Because it always means it’s not an ordinary question.”
Julia laughed. “Well, you’re too old for me to send to your room, so I think you’re safe.”
Connie laughed, too. Just at the edge of hearing, she heard a rumble of thunder. “What is it?”
“I want to get Sophie a dog.”
“Oh. Is that all?” Connie draped the towel on the rack by the sink.
Julia cocked her head to one side. “I don’t know how to take that.”
“Well, take it that I’m listening. Why do you want to get her a dog?”
“She’s been asking for one. And Pru’s dachshund just had a litter.”
“A little dog, huh?”
“Well...” Julia drew the word out.
“Well, what?”
“Pru’s not sure who the father is. And some of the pups have pretty big feet.”
Connie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Do you know what an image that is? A dachshund with those short, short legs and huge feet?”
Julia laughed, too.
“Sort of like a basset hound,” Connie remarked. “Long, low and short. It’s okay if she gets a dog, Mom. But she’s got to take care of it.”
“I was thinking it would be a chance to use her mothering urges on something besides her friends.”
“Every little bit helps. Just be sure you’re comfortable with the idea, because you know Sophie is going to forget at times.”
“I’m a great reminder.”
“Nag, Mom. The word is nag.”
They were still laughing together when Sophie burst into the room with her best friend, Jody, out of breath and looking scared.
“Mom! Mom! A man tried to talk to us when we were walking home! He chased us!”
As Gage’s SUV drove up the rutted drive to Micah’s house, neither man said a word. Then a two-story house with a gabled roof came into view, a barn not far away. A woman was visible outside the house, hanging laundry. She was small and blonde, looking as delicate as a flower petal.
“That’s his wife, Faith. The school bus won’t bring their kids home for another half hour, at least. I’ll wait for you unless you tell me otherwise.”
Ethan nodded. His face felt chiseled from stone. Gage wheeled into the large yard, waving at Faith as he did so. She waved back, one hand holding a shapeless piece of laundry.
“There you go,” Gage said. His hands were tight on the wheel as he stopped.
Ethan paused for a moment, then climbed out.
He had no idea what to expect. Faith froze like a frightened deer when she saw him. Statuelike, she watched him approach. He did so slowly, not wanting to frighten her more, wondering why she was frightened at all when Gage was here.
But then, in an instant, she dropped the laundry she held and gasped, “You look just like Micah when he was younger.”
Ethan paused awkwardly. “We’re related.”
“I thought so.” Then she astonished him by hurrying toward him and wrapping him in a hug. “This is wonderful,” she said. “Absolutely wonderful!”
A moment later she stepped back, holding his arms as she looked up at him. Her smile was wide and welcoming, and then perplexity entered her eyes, followed
