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In the boy’s eyes, he could see so much turmoil and anguish, and Wade was startled at how much he wanted to ease that pain. He reached out and wiped a streak of blood from his cheek. “You’re going to meet my sister tomorrow and I don’t want you looking like a wild beast.”
His eyes lit somewhat and Wade was happy for that small sign.
“Get a good night’s sleep, boy.”
He nodded, then followed Prescott toward the kitchen. Five minutes later his brother returned to the great room. “Well, I think we best call it a night in fear of waking Kathleen.”
Wade vaguely nodded, and Prescott bid him goodnight then turned to leave.
“Prescott.” Wade stopped him. “The boy didn’t cry.”
Prescott looked confused. “I don’t understand.”
Wade took his tumbler glass and refilled it at the cabinet. “The boy has been to hell and survived. Since arriving at our ranch he has endured more suffering than anyone should his age, and yet he hasn’t shed a tear.”
“Maybe he’s tougher than you thought.”
Wade shook his head. “I know he’s hurting. I can feel it.”
“Then give him time to heal.” The wiser side of Prescott advised. “If the boy lost all memory of what happened that night in the mountain, then more than likely he is unconsciously blocking any painful memories. Perhaps when he recalls that particular event, it will release a tidal wave of emotion.”
“Perhaps.” He verbally agreed but wondered if the damage done would be irrevocable.
Prescott took his leave and Wade sat by the fire late into the morning. It was fruitless attempting sleep. His mind was far too concerned about the incident that occurred in his bunkhouse that night. As soon as the sun rose he went out to the barns and sent Neil into town to report back on the state of Chuck Rhodes.
The remainder of ranch hands went about their business. Wade sought out Kim Whong and informed him the boy would cook breakfast for him and his siblings. Then he headed back to the main house to wake him. In comparison to the goings on outside, the interior of the home was quiet. Neither Prescott nor Kathleen had stirred.
Going through the kitchen he went to the door to the cook’s room and opened it to find the boy sitting up on his bed. “Morning.”
The boy gave a meek nod. Huge bags hung under his eyes indicating he had slept as much as Wade.
“Would you mind preparing breakfast for Prescott, Kathleen and I?”
He nodded and Wade thought he was going to smile, but it disappeared before it could form.
“I’ve sent Neil into town,” He thought to update him. “I’ll let you know as soon as I know anything.”
Again the boy nodded, then slowly rolled off the bed.
“Did Prescott leave a change of clothes for you?” He wore an old night shirt that once belonged to Prescott, whom he assumed had loaned it to him after getting cleaned up the night before.
The boy gestured toward the small table in the room where a pile of clean clothing lay. Wade gave a curt nod then turned to leave, but
something caught his attention. An exposed leg slipped over the bedside. A soft and willowy leg with plenty of skin. Wade instantly looked away and frowned at his thoughts. It was not unusual for boys to have soft curves like females. It was unusual, however, for him to find them appealing.
He returned to the kitchen to put a kettle on the enormous white cooktop that Kathleen had insisted they purchase, heedless of the fact it would be used very little since Kim preferred cooking in the bunkhouse. Wade brought some wood in and began a fire in the pit of the stove for the boy to cook upon. After, he grabbed his coat off the hook near the back entrance and went out to chop wood. There was an ample supply so it wasn’t necessary, but Wade felt the need to release some pent up tension, or anger, he wasn’t entirely sure.
He kept up with it for several hours, pausing only to notice the boy slip out of the house to the ice box. He shot a glance in Wade’s direction, but hurriedly went about his business. Wade had discovered the boy had yet another hidden talent. Cooking. If Kim Whong hadn’t been his long and trusted cook, Wade would have happily fired the Chinese man for the boy. He hadn’t tasted such wonderful cooking since his mother’s personal servant was released years before after her death. Even Kathleen, whom was a trained cook from the kitchens of Paris, could hardly compare. Granted she didn’t practice the technique since she herself used a servant in New Westminster.
The sound of an approaching horse, had Wade raising his head and see Neil riding down the lane toward him. He lifted the ax over his head and lodged it deeply in a log. Stepping aside, he waited for his ranch hand to rein in his horse.
“How’s Chuck?”
Neil shook his head. “Crazier than ever but conscious.”
Wade sighed with relief.
“Kept going on about a woman disguised as a beast who tried to kill him.”
