A Winchester Homecoming

When David bent over her, she was as pale as milk, but already her eyes were beginning to flutter open. The others gathered around to see if she was all right as David bent down and scooped her into his arms. Compared to bucking hay bales and wrestling livestock, lifting her was easy. He was surprised at how little she weighed. No wonder she’d gone down like a heart-shot buck.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, already starting to struggle. “Put me down!”

He was about to make some smart-alecky comment in order to lighten the tension when he got a look at her face. He’d expected to see confusion, embarrassment, perhaps even annoyance at the proprietary way he had hauled her up. What he read instead in her wide green eyes made him set her carefully back onto her feet.

In the instant before she managed to hide it, her face had been filled with fear.

Chapter Two

“I told you calling a doctor wasn’t necessary.” The irritation in Kim’s tone when she spoke to her father was a ruse intended to cover her embarrassment. “She said all I need is a nap.”

Emily had gone back downstairs to show the doctor out, and Kim’s father sat on the edge of her bed, his crutches propped up next to him and his callused hand covering hers.

“You fainted. What Dr. Wilson actually said was that you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself, so you’re dehydrated and probably exhausted.”

His tone was bland, but the concern in his eyes only increased Kim’s guilt. He probably deserved an explanation, one she wasn’t yet ready to give. She had gotten herself into this mess and it was her fault, all of it, but what she wanted to do right now was to regroup in the familiar surroundings from her youth.

“Like I told you,” she replied, “a rest and some water will fix me right up.”

She jutted her chin, gaze daring him to argue. For a moment she thought he’d push it as he assessed her.

The unyielding expression on his weathered face brought back so many memories of her frustration in dealing with him, of rebellious youth butting up against parental authority, of tears and tantrums on her part and refusal to bend on his.

Then he patted her hand, positioned his crutches and pulled himself to his feet. Just coming upstairs must have been a real struggle for him, she realized with a stab of remorse.

“I’m glad you’re here, Kimmie,” he said as he found his balance.

“Me, too.” Relief washed over her. Eyes misting, she managed a shaky smile, hoping it would ease his concern. “Thanks, Daddy.”

“Anytime. You know that,” he said gruffly. “Emily’s bringing you up some soup. If there’s anything else you need…” His voice trailed off, an open invitation for her to confide in him, but she wasn’t ready to lay out her mistakes.

“I’ll be fine, really,” she said.

Still he hovered. “I’ll see you in the morning, then.” He frowned at his leg as though it had deliberately let him down by allowing itself to get broken. “Emily won’t let me come back up here tonight.”

As if on cue, his wife appeared in the doorway carrying a tray.

“I feel useless,” he grumbled when he looked at her.

“Knock it off,” she responded cheerfully. “That hangdog expression isn’t fooling anyone, and I know you’d whisk the tray right out of my hands if you could.”

Husband and wife exchanged meaningful glances that told Kim they’d be discussing her later. She hoped they wouldn’t tell her aunts and uncles that she had collapsed in the living room.

It was bad enough that her stepbrother had been here to see her swoon like a Victorian maiden, worse that he was the one to lug her up the stairs with no more concern than a bag of feed. As her head cleared, she’d become too aware of his strength and her own vulnerability. The big show-off hadn’t even been breathing hard when he’d laid her on the narrow bed with its ruffled coverlet, but their gazes had locked for an instant before he straightened to flash her a mocking grin.

“I knew you were faking,” he’d whispered.

Now Emily set the tray across Kim’s lap. “How are you feeling?” she asked brightly.

“Better, thank you.” Kim glanced down at the steaming bowl of soup. As the appetizing aroma teased her nostrils, her mouth began to water.

“It’s homemade chicken and noodle,” Emily said as she transferred a small pitcher of ice water and an empty glass to the nightstand. “I had some in the freezer and I remembered that you liked it the last time you were here.”

That was surprising, since Kim hadn’t been home in five years. “It was nice of you to fix it for me.”

Emily glanced over her shoulder at Kim’s father, who hovered in the doorway. He must be waiting for Emily to help him down the stairs. Knowing how independent he usually was, Kim was surprised that he hadn’t just barreled ahead without assistance, even if it meant falling on his hard head. Risk had never slowed him down before, not that Kim could remember, but he’d sure blown up when he caught her riding on the back of David’s motor scooter, even though she had been wearing a helmet.

Emily clasped her hands together and leaned closer. “This is your home, dear,” she said quietly. “It always was, and it always will be.”

“I know that.” Kim’s voice faltered. Spreading the napkin beneath her chin, she blinked rapidly to prevent herself from bursting into tears and embarrassing herself even more than she already had.

“You’d better go help Daddy before he gets tired of waiting and falls down the stairs.” Wasn’t one patient enough for the woman to flutter over?

If Emily was offended by the abrupt dismissal, she didn’t show it. Instead she smiled patiently.

“Eat your soup before it gets cold and then have some rest. I’ll check on you again later to see if you need anything else.”

Before Emily had reached the doorway, Kim was already spooning up the soup. It was the first time she could remember being hungry in a long while.

From the landing at the base of the staircase, David watched Adam’s slow, careful descent. David itched to help him, but the rancher’s thunderous glare was a good indication that any offer of assistance would be forcefully rejected.

“I’m here to break his fall,” David’s mom joked, her hand on the curved wood banister as she reached the landing ahead of him. She must have realized that trying to keep him downstairs after Kim’s collapse would have been a waste of her breath, because she hadn’t objected when he’d gone up earlier.

She was the only person David knew who was completely unfazed by the force of Adam’s personality. He didn’t lose his temper often, but his intimidating stare was enough to make anyone who was thinking about crossing him reconsider immediately.

Anyone except his wife. Once, he’d stated dryly that the reason he laid down the law was so she would have something to step on.

“If you think you’re going to cushion me, you’d better put on some weight pretty damn quick,” he growled now in response to her comment about breaking his fall.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Her voice was teasing as he thumped down the stairs next to her. “You always know just what to say.”

Dressed in light-green shorts and a sleeveless print blouse, she was still as slim and pretty as she’d been when she’d relocated her newly divorced self and her hostile, defensive son from L.A.

To David she’d always been the most beautiful mom in the world, even when he was angry over being dragged away from everything that was familiar. Despite a few gray strands mixed in with the honey blond, and faint smile lines bracketing her mouth, she was still gorgeous. Adam must think so, too, from the way he was ogling her. Although the awareness between them still made David uncomfortable, he envied what they had found together.

His biological father, a hotshot entertainment attorney, had made a big mistake in trading his mom in for a younger model. That marriage hadn’t lasted very long, despite the early arrival of David’s half brother, Zane. Its demise had been quickly followed by wife number three, who was only a few years older than David. By now she, too, had probably joined the ex-wives’ club. Not that he would know, since he had finally stopped returning his father’s infrequent calls.

“How’s the princess doing?” David asked after Adam braced himself with one hand on the newel post.

“Who really knows?” He shrugged, nearly losing one of his crutches.

David figured the only way his mom was going to get Adam off his bum leg would be if David went home.

“I’ve got animals to tend to, so I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

Technically, Adam was his boss. Over the years they had developed an easy working relationship that usually started with coffee at the bunkhouse with the other men. Since Adam’s little accident, David had been dropping by here instead.

“Did you want to say goodbye?” His mother glanced upward. “She’s probably still awake.”