Page 7 of If the Boot Fits

What could she say? That things were rarely black and white? That sometimes bad people did good things, and good people did bad things? Samantha’s mind turned back to her father. Or maybe actions that seemed bad at first glance had more complicated explanations.

“Well, whoever he was,” she said as she dried Clint’s face with a dry spot on her sleeve, “I thank God for his help. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you.” Samantha clamped her lips together and willed her tears not to return. Her father was almost upon them, and she wouldn’t have him think her a weak, weepy female who was worthless in a crisis.

She pushed to her feet, then offered a hand to Clint. He shivered and wobbled on unsteady legs, but when she offered support by taking his elbow, he brushed away her aid.

“I can manage.” He cast a glance at the approaching men. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who felt the need to display strength in front of Eli Dearing. “Go hide the boot.”

What?

Clint shot her a glance, his eyes pleading. “He saved my life, Sam. The least we can do is cover his tracks.”

Samantha frowned. Being grateful was one thing, but sacrificing one’s integrity was quite another.

She wagged a finger at him. “I’ll hide the boot, but I’ll not have you lying to Father. A man of honor lives uprightly in all circumstances, and you, Clinton Dearing, are a man of honor. Remember that.”

He rolled his eyes and gave her a little push. “Just do it, Sam. Hurry.”

Obviously, he was feeling more like himself. She supposed she should be thankful for that. Hiding a smile, she darted over to the boot and kicked it beneath a nearby juniper bush. She toed it deep beneath the ground-scraping branches, making sure no part of it was visible before hurrying back to Clint. Her brother had already started walking toward the approaching men, cleverly taking a path that would angle their attention away from where his rescuer had dropped his belongings.

Her father led the charge, a rifle in his hand and outrage on his face. Until he got a good look at Clint. The anger darkening his face immediately melted into concern.

“What happened to you, son?”

Clint hung his head. “I heard your shout and tried to catch the man running away from the house. He was too fast for me, though. I thought I could cut him off by swinging over the pond, but the limb broke, and I fell.”

Duke Kendrick, foreman for the Three Cedars, came alongside, looking nearly as shaken as her father. “What were you thinking, boy?” he scolded. “That fella coulda been armed. You got no business chasing down trespassers on your own like that.”

“Especially not swinging over your mother’s pond when you can’t even swim. Thunderation, Clint. You could’ve drowned!” Her father pulled the boy into a rough embrace, his face tipping heavenward. Moist eyes gleamed in the fading light.

Seeing the evidence of her father’s love for his son made Samantha’s chest ache with longing even as it made her feel closer to him than she had in years. Their own relationship might be rocky, but their love for Clint fostered a common ground they would never forfeit.

“What do you mean, the boy don’t know how to swim?” Duke’s brows arched almost into his hat. “How could you let him get this old without teachin’ him, Eli?”

“Can’t teach him something I don’t know how to do myself.”

She couldn’t recall ever seeing her father look anything close to sheepish, but that was exactly the expression he wore as he offered his foreman a shrug.

“Well, good night, man. Why didn’t ya say somethin’?” Duke patted Clint on the back as he eased out of his father’s hug and swung his gaze to the foreman. “You and me are gonna start swimmin’ lessons tomorrow.”

“Let’s make sure he’s recovered first, shall we?” Samantha smiled to take some of the sting out of her words. She knew Duke meant well and had Clint’s best interests at heart, but her brother had just coughed up half a lake. She had no intention of letting him anywhere near a body of water for at least a week. “For now, let’s get him back to the house and send for Dr. Abbott. We don’t want to risk a lung fever developing.”

“Of course, Miss Dearing.” Duke gave her a deferential nod. “I’ll ride for the doctor myself.”

“What about the thief?” Martin Hanover, one of the top hands at the Three Cedars spoke up for the first time. He was younger than Duke by at least a decade, but the quiet man had a deep reservoir of ranching knowledge and unmatched observation skills. Had a sixth sense about where to find strays when they went missing, too. Which made him a little too well-suited for tracking Clint’s rescuer. He jabbed a thumb in the direction the mystery man had fled. “Shouldn’t someone try to round him up?”

Clint grabbed his father’s arm. “He saved my life, Dad. He could have taken advantage of my fall to make his escape, but he didn’t. When he saw I was in trouble, he swam out to rescue me. Can’t we just let him go?”

Indecision etched Eli Dearing’s face. He wasn’t exactly known for his leniency, and Samantha could tell his gratitude warred heavily with his demand for recompense.

“Did you recognize him?”

Apparently forgiving and forgetting were not on the menu, even if he was willing to temporarily call off the chase.

Clint shook his head. “No. ’Course I didn’t really get a look at him. He dragged me out backward. And when I made it to shore, I was too busy trying not to choke on all the water I swallowed to pay him much mind.”

“What about you, Samantha?” Her father’s piercing blue eyes turned in her direction for the first time.

She fought the urge to squirm under his attention. “I only saw him from a distance. All I can tell you is that he was tall, lean, and had brownish hair.”