In The Sheriff's Protection

Tom wanted to tell her that his years of being a lawman had already taught him all that she’d said, and more, but instincts said it wouldn’t do any good. Hugh had a hold over her, and it infuriated him to recognize that hold was Billy. She hadn’t said it, but Hugh was holding her son over her head to the point she’d give up any opportunity for a normal life for her son. Instincts also told him she’d fight to the death for her son, too. Most mothers would, but she was beyond most mothers. Beyond most women.

As thoughts twisted inside his head, he started, “What if I—?”

“I’m sorry, Tom. I really am.” She stepped away. “But there’s nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her lashes were damp. “Will you believe me when I say I will never leave here? Not willingly? Because I won’t. Not for anyone or anything.”

He had little choice but to believe her. And he didn’t like that. Not at all.

She turned about and shouted, “It’s getting dark, Billy. Time to come in and get ready for bed.” As she turned back around, she said, “I’ll have breakfast ready early, and a bag of food for your travels.”

Without waiting for his reply, she walked into the house.

Tom didn’t follow, telling himself he had to be satisfied with the fact he’d tried.

Billy leaped up onto the porch. “You coming in, Tom?”

“No, I’m heading to the barn.”

Billy nodded, but then bolted forward and, to Tom’s surprise, wrapped both arms around his waist, hugging him with all the strength a seven-year-old had.

“Thanks for catching toads with me, Tom. That was the most fun I’ve had in my whole life.”

His heart took a solid tumble as he patted the boy’s back. “Me, too, Billy. Me, too.”

As quick as the hug had started, it ended, and Billy shot toward the open doorway. “See you tomorrow, Tom.”

“See you,” he replied, catching sight of the tears on Clara’s cheeks as she pushed the door closed behind her son’s entrance.

Though it was no different than any other night that he’d slept out there, the barn was quieter and lonelier, and his thoughts darker. Ultimately, he couldn’t force her to leave, and the longer he stayed here, the colder Hugh’s trail became. If he didn’t want to return to Oak Grove empty-handed, he needed to hit the road.

Empty-handed. Hell, he felt empty all the way to his toes. Clara had made it clear there was nothing he could do, nothing anyone could do, to make her leave here.

Tom considered packing up and heading out, stopping miles away, wherever exhaustion would finally kick in, but then decided he’d be better off getting in a few hours of sleep first.

However, his mind wasn’t up to cooperating. It took him down roads he hadn’t thought of in years. Being a kid. Playing with his brothers. Julia. How much he’d loved her and grieved over her death. His parents, and how even after all these years, a wink from his father still made his mother blush. That made him smile.

It must have also lulled him into slumber because he’d been sound asleep when something startled him so hard he jolted upright. A crack of thunder that rattled the barn had him letting out a sigh of relief. The rain arrived within moments, pelting the side of the barn so hard water flew in between the boards. He moved his bedroll farther away from the wall in order to stay dry as the wind drove the rain through every minor crevice.