Marrying a Delacourt Read Free

worse.
    “We ain’t done anything, mister,” the older boy said, facing him defiantly. Wearing a ragged T-shirt, frayed jeans and filthy sneakers, he stood protectively in front of the smaller, injured boy. The littler onegave Michael a hesitant smile, which faded when confronted by Michael’s unrelenting scowl.
    Michael’s gaze narrowed. “What are you doing here?”
    “We just wanted someplace to sleep for the night,” the little one said, moving up to stand side by side with his companion whose belligerent expression now matched Michael’s. His fierce loyalty reminded Michael of the four Delacourt brothers, whose one-for-all-and-all-for-one attitudes had gotten them into and out of a lot of sticky situations when they’d been about the same ages as these two.
    “Come over here closer to the light and let me see your hand,” he said to the smaller child, preferring to deal with the immediacy of an injury to the rest of the situation.
    “It ain’t nothing,” the bigger boy said, holding him back.
    “If it’s bleeding, it’s something,” Michael replied. “Do you want it getting infected so bad, the doctors will have to cut off his arm?”
    He figured the image of such an exaggeratedly gory fate would cut straight through their reluctance, but he’d figured wrong.
    “We can fix it ourselves,” the boy insisted stubbornly. “We found the first aid kit. I’ve already dumped lots and lots of peroxide over it.”
    “It hurt real bad, too,” the little one said.
    The comment earned him a frown, rather than praise for his bravery. “If he’d just hold still, I’d have it bandaged by now,” the older boy grumbled.
    “You two used to taking care of yourselves?” Michael asked, getting the uneasy sense that they’d frequently been through this routine of standing solidly together in defiance of adult authority.
    The smaller boy nodded, even as the older one said a very firm, “No.”
    Michael bit back a smile at the contradictory responses. “Which is it?”
    “Look, mister, if you don’t want us here, we’ll go,” the taller boy said, edging toward the door while keeping a safe distance between himself and Michael.
    “What’s your name?”
    “I ain’t supposed to tell that to strangers.”
    “Well, seeing how you’re on my property,” he began, stretching the truth ever-so-slightly in the interest of saving time on unnecessary explanations about his own presence here. “I think I have a right to know who you are.”
    The boys exchanged a look before the older one finally gave a subtle nod.
    “I’m Josh,” the little one said. “He’s Jamie.”
    “You two brothers?” Michael asked.
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Do you have a last name, Josh and Jamie?”
    “Of course, we do,” Jamie said impatiently. “But we ain’t telling.”
    Michael let that pass for the moment. “Live around here?”
    Again, he got two contradictory answers. He sighed. “Which is it?”
    “We’re visiting,” the little one said, as Jamie nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. We’re visiting.”
    Michael was an expert in sizing up people, reading their expressions. He wasn’t buying that line of bullfor a second. These two were runaways. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that. Hadn’t they just said they’d been looking for a place to spend the night? He decided to see how far they were willing to carry the fib.
    “Won’t the folks you’re visiting be worried about you?” he asked. “Maybe we should call them.”
    “We’re not sure of the number,” Jamie said hurriedly, his expression worried.
    “Tell me the name, then. I’ll look it up.”
    “We can’t,” Jamie said. “They’ll be real mad, when they find out we’re gone. We weren’t supposed to leave their place. They told us and told us not to go exploring, didn’t they, Josh?”
    “Uh-huh.” Josh peered at Michael hopefully. “You don’t want us to get in trouble, do you?”
    Michael faced them with a stern, forbidding expression that