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“He’s still listless. Doing more than raising his head seems to be a chore, though he takes the bottle easily and well.” At least he was talking, even if it was only about his patient.
He nodded and freed Colby, watching to see how he reacted to freedom. Alice took in his every movement, watching just what he did. In this, he was an expert. There was no questioning, no hesitation. Doctoring animals was certainly different to him than dealing with her.
Colby immediately laid down, his legs thrust out behind him. The only indication he was pleased with the attention was the slight swing of his long, thin tail. Kent reached for him, scratching gently behind his ears and under his chin, but he said nothing.
“Are you hungry? You . . . seem tired.” She’d stopped herself before saying helookedtired. That would’ve reminded him that she could, in fact, see him.
He stretched his neck slightly; the action bringing his scar into clearer view. While it was deep and probably ghastly to those who didn’t know him, to her, it was part of the man he was. He’d saved her life, earning that scar. How could she ever look at it, or him, with disgust?
“I only came to check on the dog. I certainly don’t want to pester Mrs. Eliza this late in the evening.” His belly rumbled loudly, belying his words.
Alice held in a giggle. The man was human, praise the Lord. “Well, it’s a good thing Mrs. Eliza is back at her home, probably snug in her bed for the night since she arrives here so early. I’m quite sure I can manage some cheese and salt pork. You probably haven’t eaten all day if you went right out to the Oleson ranch.” She stood, brushing off her skirt.
“I didn’t have time.” The words broke free of his throat like he’d meant to keep them reined in, and she took it as a victory.
“I’ll leave you for a few minutes to watch Colby, though I haven’t nearly gotten my fill of watching you. I’ll be right back.”
She grinned at the surprise on his face as she walked around him. Good. She’d take that surprise any day of the week and twice on Sundays. The man was pleasant to look at. The whole of him. He was so focused on a couple of square inches that he didn’t seem to realize he’d been blessed with a manly physique that drew her eye like no other.
With a lightness to her step, she headed to the kitchen. Forgoing more than a small lantern, she raised the lid of the bread box and pulled out what Mrs. Eliza had left behind. Too much and she’d use it to make egg drenched bread in the morning. While that was a breakfast that stuck to the ribs, she needed the bread now. Alice cut off a thick slice, then did the same with the cheese left in the far corner of the icebox, away from the ice.
The coffee was another matter. Mrs. Eliza had banked the stove when she left, leaving the stovetop barely warm, certainly not hot enough to warm coffee. Cold coffee wouldn’t do and she couldn’t give a grown man milk. Yet, the bread and the salt pork for him would require something to wash it down.
She glanced around the dark kitchen, fretting over her meager choices. Water would have to do. If she took the time to light the stove, heat the water, boil the coffee, then bank the stove again, Kent would be long gone and probably in his bed fast asleep before she finished.
With a sharp knife and a practiced hand, she sliced off a hunk of the prized pork Leo had helped prepare last fall. It was still good and soon, they’d have to make more to fill their stock for the winter. She wrapped the small meal in a basket, then pumped a jar of cold water, tucking it into the side of the basket before she extinguished the lantern and headed back to the barn.
In the few minutes she’d been inside, doubts nagged at her. Was she pestering Kent? Did he want to remain in his solitude? She tugged her lower lip into her mouth and nibbled. Lord, am I doing the right thing?
There was no direct answer, and she certainly wasn’t expecting a show of lightning and thunder. Though maybe a nudge would be nice. She forced her feet forward and entered the barn, stalling in the door until her eyes adjusted to what seemed like a bright light after the darkness outside.
Kent sat in the hay near the puppy, his head bowed. Her heart cracked again for the strong man who’d been broken. Someone broke him while he was away. Someone had taken her strong, amazing protector and told him he wasn’t worth living.
He glanced up, eyes piercing. “I didn’t expect you to actually come back.” His gaze gave her a clear order without words that she should turn around this instant and march right back to the house. He didn’t want her company and didn’t want her help or her food.
Good thing she’d become used to questioning orders, silent or otherwise. She strode forward and placed the basket on his lap, then settled in next to him.
“You’re staying out here?” The low hum of his voice was more warning than welcome.
She held in a shiver as she scooted closer to him, telling herself it was the chilly evening, not the man, which drew her like a moth to flame. “Yes. I have to bring the basket back to the kitchen or Mrs. Eliza might be blamed for its absence.” Just like they could’ve blamed her for Alice’s negligence with the baseboards. The excuse was false but could be true if she let it happen. Better that she stick around and make certain it didn’t.
He tugged the napkin off the meager fare and sighed deeply. “Thank you, Al . . .” He stopped before saying her whole name.
Had he noticed her flinch and didn’t want to repeat it?
“Miss Johlman,” he finished.
They were not going that far back. Not that they’d ever truly gone through the stage of formality. Growing up as childhood enemies, he’d never called her Miss Johlman regularly. He’d called her many names, but not that one.
“I think Alice will do.”
He hung his head as he poked around in the basket, finally drawing the bread from the depths. “Only if you’re sure. It seems mighty improper now.”
What was improper were all the thoughts rushing around in her head regarding this one stubborn man. But she would quell them and be good, or mostly good. “Improper or not, when you ride behind a man on a horse, and he’s saved you from a bull, he’s earned the right to call you by name.”
* * *
Gnawingon the salt pork gave Kent something to do besides argue with Alice. He refused to take note of her willowy hands folded in her lap, nor would he think about the curve of her leg just inches from his. No. No thoughts. Head, empty.
