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“Don’t worry, son, I’m not going to do you harm.”
As soon as he was physically able, the youngster sat upright. It was apparent by the way he immediately edged away from Zane that he didn’t trust him.
“I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” Zane repeated. “Is anything broken?”
Another boy appeared around the corner, and with a yell Tarzan would have envied, he hurled himself at Zane. “Leave my brother alone.”
Zane captured the older boy and tucked him under his arm. The child kicked and screamed, legs and arms flailing out wildly as he lashed out in a desperate effort to save his younger brother from certain death. The boy on the ground leapt to his feet and kicked at Zane’s bad leg with all his might.
Zane bit off a groan at the stabbing pain that shot up his thigh. With his free arm, he circled the younger boy’s waist and lifted him off the ground. Now he had two squirming boys to contend with.
It didn’t take either one of them long to expend their energy. The oldest gave out first. The youngest stopped soon afterward, and glanced up at Zane with a look that revealed both anger and terror.
“Are you going to eat us?” the youngest boy asked.
Zane burst out laughing, the sound echoing with the wind.
“That was a stupid question,” his older brother admonished. “Of course he isn’t going to eat us.”
“Don’t be so hasty, boys. You look like mighty tasty fare.” Then because he was having such fun, Zane reared back his head and shouted. “Fee, fie, fo, fum, I smell the blood of an Englishman.”
“You won’t hurt us,” the older of the two announced. “Tommy got away and he’ll be back with the police.”
“Good,” Zane said calmly. “I’d like to talk to them myself. It seems the three of you were on private property. I’d be well within my rights to have you penalized.”
“What’s “penalized” mean?” the younger whispered out of the corner of his mouth.
The older of the pair ignored his brother.
“It means you’d be in big trouble with your parents,” Zane explained.
“Maybe we’d be better off if he ate us.”
Zane howled. Nothing had struck him so funny in years. He released both boys, certain they’d make good their escape.
Neither one did as he expected. Instead, they stared up at him as if they’d never seen a man laugh before.
“You’re not a monster,” the youngest stated.
“Don’t be so sure.” For effect, he raised his arms and roared. Both boys cowered, but stood their ground.
“I guess I can’t fool you,” Zane said as he walked back to Arabesque. He reached for the reins and swung up into the saddle with graceful ease. The leather creaked as the gelding accepted his weight.
“What are your names?” he asked.
“Eddie,” the oldest said.
“Dennis.”
“Last name.”
“Smith,” Eddie said quickly, too quickly. “Eddie and Dennis Smith.”
“Try again, and this time I want the truth.”
“Glasser,” Dennis confessed. “Our dad works for the gas company.”
“Mom’s an attorney.”
