Page 7 of Sweet Courage

The sincerity took some of the steam out of her annoyance, which was inconvenient timing at best.

Before she could decide whether or not to throw him a crumb of mercy, he stepped back. “If you guys will excuse me, I’m going to go to my room, lie down, and pray for forgiveness.”

Was he teasing? The effort almost had her smiling—almost. Instead, she barely nodded.

Hanson nodded at Alice. “Thank you for the water.” Then turned down the back hallway. Movement that large should have felt heavy. Instead, even his retreat looked controlled. Steady. Measured. Like a man making sure every step went exactly where he intended it to go. At the far end of the hall, he disappeared into a doorway and a moment later the quiet click of a door shutting carried back to the kitchen.

“Oh, honey.” Floury hands still tangled in a dish rag, Alice looked at Kat with open concern. “I am so sorry.”

“It’s all right.” The words came automatically though all right wasn’t exactly how she’d describe anything about the afternoon. “No real harm done.”

“Your car?”

“A little bump. Barely noticeable.”

“Your shirt?”

“Probably salvageable.”

Jess finally set the cookie tin on the counter. “Should we call the sheriff?”

That startled a real laugh out of Kat. “For bad driving and crimes against pastry? I think Honeysuckle law enforcement has better things to do.”

The tension in the room loosened just enough for Alice to come around the table. “Still, if there’s damage, we’ll pay for it. And if the shirt doesn’t come clean, I’ll see to replacing it or having it dry-cleaned. Hanson served with Kade. He’s recovering after a little… accident.”

The pause before accident said more than the word itself.

Pieces clicked into place. The careful way he’d stood still instead of crowding her. The odd stop starts in his speech. The way apology had come easier to him than explanation.

Kat looked toward the hall and then back to Alice. “I didn’t realize.”

“No reason you should.” Worry pinched the older woman’s mouth. “He’s a good man. Just having a hard stretch.”

Before Kat could answer, sneakers slapped against the hall floor.

“Mama, is she here?”

A short blur shot into the kitchen and skidded to a stop beside Jess. Mason Sweet looked from his mother to Kat to the cookie tin on the counter with undisguised hope.

“Work first, cookies after,” Jess’s motherly tone left no room for argument.

Slipping slowly into a seat at the table, Mason nodded.

Pulling out the materials she’d packed that morning, Kat lined up a thin notebook, a pencil box, and a stack of small index cards with neat printed letter teams on the front. No bright toys. No nonsense. Just organization, and one careful step after another. “We’ll start easy.”

Mason leaned forward, clearly torn between wanting to bolt and wanting a cookie.

For the next hour, they went over short vowel sounds with flash cards. To her delight, Mason was working with her. He’d been able to place all the sounds, but struggled to put them together. No surprise there. Dyslexia was an umbrella with many different learning challenges, but Mason wasn’t withdrawing and that was the best news of the afternoon. Convinced that reading was a losing battle, too many kids shied away from their tutors.

Unbidden, her mind momentarily wandered to the man down the hall. The man struggling with…something, after some sort of accident, who apparently had been sent to recover here at the ranch. She doubted there was any place better on the planet for a man to heal… but what was this particular man trying to heal from?

Chapter Four

The sharp smell of pine shavings, horse sweat, and damp earth hung thick in the barn. For Alice Sweet, what might have been off-putting to many city folks was as comforting as a pleasant scented candle. Pitchfork biting into the soiled bedding, she worked her way across the stall one steady scoop at a time. Over the last few days, one ranch hand after the other had taken to bed. Her husband Clint had managed to fight a good battle with the bug until this morning when the fever took the starch out of him.

Grunting softly, she lifted another forkful into the wheelbarrow and straightened just enough to ease the pull in her back.

Boot steps sounded in the center aisle, brisk and familiar.