Cowboy Protector. Margaret Daley
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windows afforded a gorgeous view of the mountains and pastures cocooning the house. A curl of smoke from the chimney snaked upward toward the clouds.
As Hannah took in her surroundings, tranquility settled over her. A place she could find peace. If only that were possible. Maybe here she could finally stop being paranoid and enjoy the beauty, at least for a short time.
Austin pulled up to the front of his home under a wooden overhang that protected visitors from the elements. Hannah glanced back at the now-paved road and noticed the pickup continue on toward a barn set off about three hundred yards from the house. A corral with several horses in it flanked the structure’s left side while what must be a bunkhouse was on the right with a pen containing a huge, black bull.
As Hannah exited the SUV, a gust of wind blew through the carport, catching her long hair. Strands whipped across her face. She hooked them behind her ears and hurried toward the double wooden and beveled glass doors. One opened, and a small woman in her late seventies supported by a cane stood, her white hair cut short in a pixie. Her bright, dark brown gaze lit when it connected with Hannah’s.
“Goodness. It’s cold out here. I don’t think winter has left us yet.” The woman stepped to the side to allow Hannah to enter the warm house, then waved her hand toward the room to the right. “I have a fire going in here.” She plodded toward what looked like a living room through the opening off the large foyer.
Straight ahead a staircase led up to the second floor with a balcony and wooden railing overlooking the ground level. To the left Hannah peeked inside the dining room and saw a dark walnut table for twelve and two large crystal chandeliers hanging over it. The formality contrasted with the living area that Hannah finally turned toward and followed Austin into.
“This is my grandmother, Caroline Taylor. Granny, this is Hannah Williams.” He indicated Hannah take a seat next to her on the brown leather sofa. Slipping into a chair across from both women, he opened the manila envelope and perused the papers Hannah had included. His gaze collided with hers, held it for a few seconds before he said, “We had a nice chat in the car.” He swung his attention to Caroline Taylor. “Do you have any questions for Hannah?”
“Only one. Will you tell me about the children you’ve worked with? Saul mentioned you loved children.”
“Yes, there was a little boy who lived next to Saul’s and he loved visiting him. I started bringing extra goodies I made for the child and, of course, Saul, who has a sweet tooth.” Hannah went on and described a few children she’d cared for. By the time she’d finished, she’d relaxed back, leaning against one arm of the sofa.
“So you’ve worked with someone as young as Misty?”
“My second client was six. I was with her two months. I hated leaving but was so glad she was better.”
“I expect Misty to have a full recovery.” Austin slid her papers back into the envelope. “Although her casts will come off soon, her ankle was shattered by the accident and she broke another bone in her leg. It’ll be a while before she’s running around and playing like she’s used to. Right now she has a motorized wheelchair, and you better look out when she wants to go somewhere.”
“May I meet her?” Hannah looked from him to his grandmother.
“She was resting, but she should be up by now. We moved her bedroom downstairs next to mine since she’s in a wheelchair. There’s another one on the other side of Misty where you could sleep, and there are two empty ones upstairs where Austin sleeps.”
“I’ll take Hannah to Misty’s room.” Austin rose in one fluid motion.
Hannah followed him from the room, trying not to stare too much at his broad back. Even hidden beneath a white button-down, long sleeve shirt, she could see his muscular biceps. She got the feeling he was very involved in the running of his ranch. His large hands were work roughened, and as he’d driven down his gravel road, his gaze swept the terrain as though he were checking everything out, assessing what was going on. She’d learned to do the same thing but for different reasons. That skill had kept her alive.
He tapped lightly on a door then eased it open, peering inside.
“Is she here, Daddy?”
“See for yourself, munchkin.” He entered, stepping to the side so his daughter could glimpse her.
Hannah grinned and came into the room. “I’m Hannah, Misty. I hear you’ve been a brave little girl.” Crossing to the bed, she took the chair next to it.
Misty sat up, leaning back against the pillows, a pink satiny comforter pulled up over her hips. “Has Daddy showed you the horses?”
“I’ve seen some in the fields, but I haven’t seen any up close. Do you ride?”
The five-year-old nodded, strands of her long, black hair falling forward over her shoulders. “I have a horse of my very own.” Her mouth turned down in a pout. “I can’t ride now.”
Hannah slid a glance toward Austin, not sure what to say to that comment.
“You will when you get better.” He clasped the bedpost that supported the canopy. “Candy is waiting for you. I’m taking special care of her until you can.”
Misty’s warm milk-chocolate eyes lit at the mention of Candy. “I want to see her. I miss her.”
“I’ll arrange something later today. Maybe bring Candy up to the house and let you show Ms. Williams.”
“Oh, please call me Hannah.” She swiveled her attention back to the little girl. “And you, too, Misty.” Hannah was so much easier for her to remember to respond to than Ms. Williams. One of the toughest things she’d had to do was not to forget her new name, which was difficult since it was changing in some way about every six months. “I don’t stand on formality.” She looked again at Austin.
“We don’t here, either. Do we, munchkin?”
“What’s for-ma-now-tee?”
“Remember a few months back when we went to Grandma Kline’s house and had dinner with all those fancy dishes and white lace tablecloth. That’s formality.”
“Oh. I couldn’t talk at the table.”
Austin frowned. “Well, Grandma Kline likes things done a certain way. She never believed children should speak till spoken to.” He moved to Misty and ruffled her hair, then kissed her on the forehead. “You don’t have to worry about that here. I’ll leave you two to get to know each other.” Then to Hannah, he said, “When you’re through, come to my office at the back of the house.”
“Will do.” Hannah scooted her chair up to the bed while he left the room. “Tell me about Candy. Why did you name her that?”
Misty bent toward her, cupping her hands at the sides of her mouth as if to impart a secret. “I love candy. I love horses.”
“That makes sense. I love candy, too. Maybe too much.” She patted her stomach.
“I ate too much once and got sick. Daddy told me too much of a good thing can be bad for me.”
“Yeah, he’s right.”
Misty’s pout returned. “I haven’t seen Candy in a long time. Daddy says she misses me. But I miss her more.”
Like I miss my mother and little brother. All Hannah wanted to do was hug them again. She’d never let them go. She could still remember the fight her brother and she had gotten into the day before everything in her life had changed. She’d never really apologized and told him she was sorry, not face-to-face. A letter wasn’t the same thing.
Misty hung her head and twisted her hands together. “I miss Mommy, too. She’s with Jesus now.”
Hannah laid her palm against the little girl’s arm with the cast up to just below her elbow. “Honey, of course you do.”
Misty sniffled