Linda Ford Read Free

and Buck both laughed, sharing something more than enjoyment of Joey’s conviction. Something he couldn’t name, but it felt like a gift from God.
    Strange. He hadn’t thought of God, or His gifts or anything of the sort for a long time.
    Rosie leaned forward on her elbows. “So how did you and Joey find each other?”
    “Bless you, Rosie.”
    “For what?”
    “For saying it like that.”
    She shrugged. “I have never been able to stay annoyed with you.” She shifted her attention to Kathleen. “Does that make me weak?”
    “No, Rosie,” Kathleen said gently. “It makes you a good sister.”
    “She is that. We learned to stick together a long time ago, didn’t we, sister?”
    “Then we found out we were better off not being together.” Her words contained more than a hint of warning. “Now tell us about Joey. Unless you’d rather wait.”
    He understood her unspoken acknowledgment that he might prefer not to speak of it in Joey’s hearing. Or before her own children who hovered at the doorway, hearing and seeing everything. “He knows every detail already.”
    “I was there,” Joey pointed out as if they might have forgotten.
    Buck wished the little guy could have missed certain portions of the experience, but at least God had protected him. Again, he thought of God. Not once until now had he stopped to consider God protected Joey throughout an ordeal that might have ended much differently. Why was he suddenly realizing it?
    He shifted so he could consider Kathleen out of the corner of his eyes. Something about her nudged him toward nobler, kinder thoughts than he’d enjoyed in a very long time.
    What would she think after she heard Joey’s story?Would she be repulsed? Warmed? He could only hope it would give both her and Rosie a kindly disposition toward his son.

Chapter Two
    K athleen leaned close, not wanting to miss a word of Buck’s explanation. Something about the fondness between Buck and Joey made her wonder if a heart could weep with emotion.
    Buck settled back in his chair, a distant look in his eyes, as if he lived the past again. “It was a year ago this past spring and I was heading west. Heard a rancher out there needed a few more hands. Figured it was as good a place as any to find work. I rode up a little ridge and stopped to look around. Remember thinking the mountains made a mighty purty sight, glistening with their winter snowcaps under the bright sunshine. Then I brought my gaze closer to hand and saw what appeared to be the remains of a wagon accident. Rode on down to investigate.” He paused and swallowed hard.
    Kathleen guessed what he’d found had been unpleasant.
    “A man and his wife had been killed.”
    “Bad man shoot Mama and Papa,” Joey said, his voice betraying a thread of sorrow.
    “The woman was Indian, the man appeared to be a white miner. I gave them a decent burial and marked the place with fragments of their wagon. There were no papers, no identification. Everything had been picked through and scattered.”
    “Man look for Papa’s money. Find it. Steal it.” As Joey listed the deeds he kept his attention on his bowl of soup, though he no longer lifted the spoon to his mouth.
    Buck squeezed the back of Joey’s neck and the boy relaxed visibly. “I knew from the things left that a child had been with them. I hated the thought the murderers had taken him. It was late in the day so I made camp, intending to resume my journey in the morning. During the night I heard something or someone, but the intruder was gone as fast as he came.”
    “I was hungry,” Joey explained.
    Buck chuckled. “When I got up I knew no critter had been in my camp. Only things missing were biscuits and beans. So I hunkered down over my breakfast and studied the tracks. Knew it was a child. Guessed it was the one who’d been on the wagon.”
    “I hide from bad man. Hide from Buck, too. I not know he not be a bad man.”
    “Took me a few days to prove it. Then I headed to the